Bonded Read online

  She grabbed the box and with shaky fingers tore it open and pulled out one of the tests. The toilet felt cold against her backside, but she followed the directions and placed the white strip of plastic on the sink counter when she was done. As she waited, she stared at herself in the mirror and picked up where she’d left off in the chastising department. She wasn’t one of those girls who believed that a night of incredible, mind-blowing, still-could-feel-his-lips-and-tongue-and-hands-on-her sex couldn’t end in a full belly. Oh, she’d known. She’d known and she’d let it happen anyway.

  No. She’d reveled in it.

  Because the man had made her feel things she hadn’t even known existed. It had been like a damn awakening.

  Hot Blue.

  Drunk Blue.

  Blue who hasn’t sought you out since. Hasn’t called or come into the Bull’s Eye. Who probably doesn’t even remember anything beyond throwing those assholes out the barroom door.

  Or he remembers it all but wishes he didn’t.

  Slowly, she let her gaze fall. Please. Please don’t be . . . “Oh damn,” she uttered on an exhalation, staring at the readout. God in heaven, how had she let this happen?

  Stupid.

  And pregnant.

  With Blue Perez Cavanaugh’s baby.

  * * *

  Cutting his horse left, then right, and calling out, Blue came around the twelve or so stragglers, driving them toward the fresh pasture. Stubborn females. Got your whole herd over there taking down the green stuff, and look at you.

  In reply, the flink moved like damn snails toward their final destination. Wanted him pissed. Appreciated his frustration—his lack of control. Like most females he knew. Well, maybe not most. There was the one . . . But he wasn’t thinking about her. She wasn’t real. He’d decided. She was a dream. A dream that had up and left his drunk and sorry ass in the middle of the night.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Blue muttered, then gave a loud “Yip” as he came up on the shoulder of one of the cows. His horse, Barbarella, had an easy way with the girls, unless she felt they weren’t obliging. Then she just liked to use her breath on the backs of their necks to get them moving.

  Suddenly, the cow startled and took off toward the rest of the group. But it wasn’t Barbarella that had gotten her going. A rider was coming—kicking up dirt, barreling toward them on a young brown-and-white paint. Behind Blue, the cows scattered in anticipation, like dogs at bath time.

  “Hey,” Mac called, coming up, circling him. “Where’s the fire, cowboy?”

  The mare the Triple C foreman, Mackenzie Byrd, was training looked as pleased as a pig in shit to be out and about. She eyed Barbarella, who gave the new girl a friendly whicker.

  “I should be asking you the same thing,” he returned, his tone cool. Something his foreman, and the woman who used to be his closest friend, was accustomed to now. “Barreling up like that. I’m trying to get the rest of these cows to the west pasture.”

  “I see that,” she said, taking a quick glance around. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t wait for the others. This is at least a two-person job.”

  “I managed fine.”

  She tipped her hat back so he could see her face. Confusion, frustration, worry . . . they were all there. As usual. “Sure, but it’s not how we do things here and you know it.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe things need to change.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed. “But not today.”

  “Understood,” he said tightly, then added, “Foreman.”

  She released a breath. “Come on, Blue.” She eyed him, the deep blue Texas sky stretching out behind her.

  He circled Rella. “Come on what, Foreman?”

  “Don’t call me that. Not that way.”

  “It’s what you are. My boss.” He placed his hat back on his head. “Until maybe you ain’t.”

  Her jaw tightened.

  “Until maybe you go home to your own ranch.”

  “You’re being a jackass,” she ground out.

  He couldn’t argue with that. Hell, he didn’t want to argue with that. Just wanted to go about his business. “If there’s nothing else, I got a dozen head—”

  “How long is this going to continue?” she interrupted. Her paint was starting to get antsy. “Seriously.”

  “Seconds, if you’d like.”

  “Oh, I’d like,” she returned.

  “Well, I can make that jumpy mare of yours take off with one click of my tongue.”

  Her blue eyes flashed. “I meant how long till you stop acting like you hate me, or don’t know me, or like we weren’t best friends for a damn decade.” She sat back in the saddle, hand over the horn. She took another deep breath and blew it out all pensive-like. “I’m worried about you.”

  A month ago, her words would’ve penetrated his armor. Would’ve cut him, made him think back on their relationship and confide his troubles to her. But his skin had grown armadillo-thick these past weeks; her words just bounced right off. Besides, there was no heat, no passion, inside him anymore to get to anyway. He was cold all through. Everett’s death had started it—bringing on the icy rain within him. Then finding out his mother had lied to him his entire life about who his daddy was. That had turned rain to snow. And just three weeks ago, that snow had turned to hail when the woman he’d met online, his “cowgirl,” the one he’d been falling for and had allowed himself to trust, turned out to be none other than goddamned Natalie Palmer. Daughter of the man who’d tried to kill Sheridan O’Neil, a bald-faced liar, and a woman who’d had Blue’s half sister Cass’s diary in her possession for years.

  That hail had turned into a solid wall of ice when the River Black sheriff claimed to not have enough evidence to arrest the woman.

  Everything Blue had once wanted—and been willing to fight for—happiness, peace, the Triple C, love, family . . . It didn’t hold any kind of value for him anymore. He just wanted to keep closed, do his work, forget . . .

  “You ain’t going to say nothing?” Mac pressed.

  Blue turned to stare at the cows. Five of the twelve were staring right back at him. Your move, they seemed to be saying. I ain’t got no moves, Blue answered. Not anymore.

  “Nothing to worry about here, Foreman,” he said on an exhalation.

  Mac cursed under her breath. “Bull.” She eyeballed him. “I worry, Blue. Christ, I’ve been worrying since I found out you were a Cavanaugh. You’ve been tryin’ to block shit out ever since. I know how that feels, and how it looks.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m married to it, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Yeah, how’s Deacon doing?” Blue asked dryly. “Either him or James or Cole find out anything to put that lying bitch behind bars yet?”

  Mac recoiled. “When did you start talking like that?”

  “Like what? Honest?” He sniffed. “She did it, Mac. Natalie Palmer. Or had something to do with it. I know it. Your husband knows it. You know it.”

  “No, I don’t,” she assured him.

  “She had Cass’s diary.”

  “Doesn’t mean she killed her.”

  He blew out a breath. “Did you even read it?”

  “Of course I read it.”

  “She was following them, Mac. Cass and the kid. Sweet.”

  “She had a crush.”

  Blue shook his head. Pointless. The whole thing. Why was he trying?

  “What?” Mac pressed.

  “Just strange seeing how gullible and naive looks from the outside.”

  “I’m not either of those things,” she returned hotly. “What I am is cautious. Deacon’s private investigator is on this—on her. We’re doing everything we can to find out the truth. If she’s involved we’ll need more proof than a diary. Trust me when I say the whole family is working together on this.”

  “How nice,” he drawled.

  She instantly realized her blunder. “Blue . . . I didn’t mean—”

  “Got work to do, Foreman.” The ice was back, colder and thic
ker than ever. The word family couldn’t even touch him now. He kicked Rella hard, sending her forward toward those cows. Leaving Mac behind, licking up his dust.

  Three

  Hunger assaulted Emily as she plopped another scoop of her mother’s mashed potatoes on her plate. Tuesday night was Emily’s night in their house. Each kid, grown though they were, got to pick his or her favorite meal. Nothing Susie Shiver loved more than taking care of her family. And her fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn dressing were the very best in the world.

  Emily reached for a third drumstick, and a duo of male snickers came floating her way across the table. She glanced up. Her younger brothers, Steven and Jeremy, were sitting side by side, wide, wicked grins on their faces. Like they were ten and twelve and not twenty-two and twenty-four with facial hair and broad chests covered by work uniforms. Back when she’d been an only child and had all her parents’ attention, Emily had made such a fuss when her mother had told her she was bringing home a baby brother from the hospital, and then another two years later. But Lord have mercy, she’d come to adore them. Even with all of their annoying, smelly, loud ways.

  “Mama,” she drawled. “Tell your sons here to stop passing wind at the table, please. My floral arrangement can only handle so much.”

  “Emily!” their mother cried from the head of the table. Susie Shiver was always head of the table, boss, baker, and bearer of children that she was. She turned to her grown boys and gave them a reproachful look. “You didn’t.”

  “’Course we didn’t,” Steven said for them both, his green eyes flashing.

  “Then what are you laughing about?” she demanded.

  “Emily,” he answered.

  “And why would that be?” Emily asked before taking a bite of her chicken. When Steven didn’t answer right away, she looked to her youngest brother and gave him a smile. “Jeremy, you want to tell me?”

  The blond, blue-eyed, baby-faced male snorted. “Not saying a thing,” he muttered. “Not one thing.”

  “Chicken,” she accused.

  “No,” Jeremy said, trying not to laugh. “But interesting choice of words.”

  Realization dawned and Emily’s eyes narrowed on her kin. “You two have a problem with what’s on my plate?”

  “Not the what, sis,” Steven said nonchalantly. “Just the how much.”

  “Jerks! Both of you.” Emily very nearly lobbed spoonfuls of mashed potatoes at them. Would’ve if her mother hadn’t called out, “That’s enough, boys. Leave her be.”

  “Yeah,” Emily said. “Leave me be.” Then she slid the spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth with a grin.

  “After all, she’s a growing girl,” her mother continued.

  All of a sudden that grin died. Heat rushed into Emily’s cheeks like she’d just opened the oven. And hell, maybe she had.

  “A growing girl?” Steven said with a snort, wiping a bit of chicken grease from the sleeve of his sheriff’s deputy uniform. “She’s twenty-six. How much more can she grow?”

  Granted, the question was innocent enough, but only because they didn’t know. Her eyes dropped to her plate. Oh God, she was going to grow. Big. Really big over the next nine months. Soon she wouldn’t be able to hide it.

  Anxiety pulsed within her blood. Her appetite gone, she put down her fork and released a weighty sigh.

  “Look what you did, Steven Shiver,” their mother scolded. “Just wait till your father gets home.”

  This was pretty much an empty threat, as Ben Shiver was moving cattle for the next couple of days. Emily’s father was a small-time rancher in River Black. Not nearly doing the business that some places like the Triple C were. But it provided a comfortable life for them all. An honest life. It was too bad that not one of his sons or his daughter were interested in taking over the family business someday. It was her father’s greatest sadness.

  “Come on, Ems,” Steven said, not even a hint of amusement in his tone now. “You know we’re just kidding around.”

  Of course she knew that, and normally it wouldn’t have bothered her a bit. Normally, she’d have given it back good—after knocking them each in the face with Mama’s mashed potatoes. But what Steven had said . . . about her growing . . . it’d just sent her there . . . to reality, to the end point. No going around it or pretending it didn’t exist. She was going to have a baby. Blue Cavanaugh’s baby. And she had no idea how she was going to manage it.

  “You don’t ever mention a woman’s appetite, boys,” Mama was continuing with her scolding. “Not if you ever want one to stick around.”

  “You must be mentioning appetites on every first date you go on, Steven,” Jeremy put in wryly. “Explains why there’s never a second.”

  “Very funny,” he grumbled.

  “That’s not nice, Jeremy,” their mother said.

  “Or maybe it’s not the appetite comments, but the fact that you don’t shower regularly.”

  Steven’s lip curled. “You really want to talk about who smells in this house? Shoot, boy, I share a bathroom with you.”

  “How was work?” Susie asked quickly. “Jeremy? The construction going as planned?”

  Easily distracted, Jeremy thought for a second, then said, “We put the roof on Depro’s barn today. I think we’ll be done with all the upgrades by next week.”

  “And you, Steven?” she asked. “Any arrests?”

  “One DUI and a petty theft charge.” Steven shrugged. “Nothing exciting.”

  “It’s River Black,” Jeremy said with a snort. “Cow tippin’ and chicken stealin’ are about as exciting as it gets around here. Except for maybe that Natalie Palmer/Blue Perez thing.”

  Up until now, Emily’s head had been elsewhere. Telling her parents, opening her flower shop, moving out . . . all the things a baby needed . . . And then someone had to go and mention Blue.

  “Oh, yes,” their mother said, nibbling on a biscuit. “Whatever happened with that, Steven? You were at the station that night, weren’t you? When the call came in? I remember you telling us something about it.”

  They were talking about that night. The night she and Blue had officially met. The night he’d come into the Bull’s Eye and drank too much. The night she’d taken him home and . . . She swallowed hard and reached for her water glass. He’d been upset. And the next day, Emily had found out why. Steven had told them about Blue and Natalie, how they’d been dating online or some such. How Blue had found Cass Cavanaugh’s diary at Natalie’s and called the sheriff.

  “Nothing too much came from it,” Steven said. “All Blue Perez had was that young Cavanaugh girl’s diary. Said Natalie had been keeping it all these years. Felt that was suspicious at the very least. That maybe she had something to do with the girl’s disappearance. But Natalie claimed she’d found the diary years ago. Way after the girl’s passing.”

  “Why didn’t she turn it in to the sheriff at the time?” Susie asked. “Knowing the case was still unsolved. It is a little strange.”

  “Maybe so,” Steven agreed. “But then, Natalie’s strange. Doesn’t make her a killer—which was what Perez was insinuating. ’Course, now Deacon Cavanaugh and his brothers are on our ass about it. Want me and the sheriff to investigate the woman. Told ’em if any new information comes to light, I’d let ’em know. Not much more we can do without courting a lawsuit.”

  Blue had been pretty torn up that night. Emily remembered him saying random things about trust and lies and getting something—someone—out of his head. It was then that she knew she’d made a mistake. That she had to get out of there and forget the whole incredible, amazing, erotic mess ever happened.

  Can’t do that now, Em.

  Beneath the table, her hand came to rest on her belly.

  “I remember the day that girl went missing,” Susie said thoughtfully. “I held my babies tight.” She put down her fork and looked straight at Emily. “Nothing worse for a mother than losing her child. When their mama lost her faculties and had to go to the h
ospital I understood completely.”

  Something stirred inside Emily at her mother’s words. Pain for the Cavanaughs and a niggling sense of worry for the life growing inside her.

  “I think Everett’s stepping out on her didn’t help matters,” Jeremy put in.

  “Don’t talk like that, Jere,” Susie scolded.

  But he was on a roll. “Maybe she even knew about the kid the old man fathered.”

  “Stop it,” Emily ground out.

  “Finding out your husband fathered a bastard right after you lose—”

  “I said shut the hell up!”

  Both her brothers turned to stare at her. Her mother too. They all looked stunned, concerned. She didn’t give a damn.

  “Don’t you dare call him that,” she warned Jeremy. “What is wrong with you? Calling an innocent child that!”

  “Cripes, Em, I didn’t mean anything—” Jeremy tried, but Emily was seeing only red.

  “You don’t even know him,” she continued, her heart slamming hard against her ribs. “His life. What he’s had to deal with. Do you think he chose that? A father and mother who had an affair? Can you even imagine what his life is like now? Now that it’s out in the open?”

  Jeremy was ashen, and Steven cursed.

  “I agree with her,” Susie put in. “That was incredibly distasteful and ungenerous, Jeremy. Not how I raised you.”

  Before either of them could respond, Emily was pushing her chair back, standing up. She needed some space, some air. Maybe a hot shower and a good cry. “I’m done.”

  “Ems,” Jeremy said, sounding mournful and embarrassed. “Come on, I’m sorry. I was a jerk. I didn’t mean any harm. Perez seems like a decent guy . . .”

  She hated hearing the sadness in her brother’s voice. Truth was, she believed him. He didn’t mean any harm. But hell, he’d used the word bastard around her. The father of her baby . . . It was all just too damn close to home.

  “I’m going to bed,” she muttered as she headed out of the room.

  “It’s only eight thirty, baby,” her mother called after her as Emily left the room.