Chapter Five
“S o now that we’ve all gotten past the oh my God part and the how did I not see this from the beginning part,” Matilda said one evening in the early part of March, “can we go back to the you’ve seen Ryder Carey naked part?”
Rosie froze, her fork halfway up toward her mouth.
They were sitting in their brother Jack’s house, which had once been the caretaker’s house up on the top of the hill, next to the lodge. Maybe it was still the caretaker’s house, given that Jack was the one leading the slow and steady charge to restore the old lodge and open it again. Tonight Rosie was just glad that there were no parents, grandparents, or other historic personages of note around to hear that come out of Matilda’s mouth. And thank goodness the boys were in the other room, completely entranced by one of the cartoons they loved.
Matilda was smiling innocently at Rosie from across the table. For his part, Jack looked like he would love nothing more than to walk out the back door and fling himself off the nearest mountain.
Rosie felt the same.
“Matilda,” Jack said in that disappointed voice of his. “I am trying to eat my dinner.”
Matilda waved a dismissive hand. “He’s a remarkably good-looking man, Jack. I’m sorry for you that you can’t see that. Truly I am.”
“I’m aware that he’s not a troll,” Jack said with a sigh. “But I’m also aware that the topic is probably a sensitive subject around here.”
Then Jack and Matilda set about exchanging important looks, hefty with meaning , as if Rosie was so fragile that a simple mention of Ryder’s name might shatter her into pieces where she sat.
When surely if that was going to happen, it would have happened already.
She lowered her fork and stabbed it into the heap of buttery spaghetti smothered in Jack’s signature sauce in front of her, so violently she made herself smile.
“Thank you for this frankly unnerving show of sympathy,” she said, smiling tightly at Jack. “But of all the people sitting at this table, I’m the one who’s always known the truth about Ryder Carey. And no, Matilda, I don’t mean his pectoral muscles.”
Though they were splendid, as she recalled.
“I bet they’re amazing,” her sister muttered, making Rosie wonder if Matilda could read the truth about Ryder’s truly stunning physique on Rosie’s face, and if she could… could everyone? Could Jack? The very idea made her want to cringe off into the snow. “And to think. There’s two of him.”
Rosie kept her smile welded onto her face. It was one of the greatest accomplishments of her college career. Because here’s what she’d learned in her sorority at UT. The more she smiled, the more people believed that smile, and it didn’t matter if she was screaming on the inside.
“There’s been a lot of talk about the situation,” Jack said gruffly, returning his attention to his food. “You know how folks like to talk around here. How are you holding up?”
“I’m used to a lot of talk,” Rosie assured him. “What you find out when you show up pregnant in the tiny little town where you grew up, but with no husband or explanation, is that a lot of the people in it aren’t quite as nice as you used to think.”
“That just makes me furious.” This wasn’t the first time Matilda had expressed such sentiments. She’d been outraged on Rosie’s behalf from the start. Once she’d even ‘accidentally’ let an overly fed cattle dog she’d rescued bound out of her cute red pickup to bowl over Gwen Sheen, the daughter of the owners of the feed store, as she stood on the sidewalk talking smack about Rosie. Matilda didn’t play, people only thought she did. “What business is it of anybody else’s anyway?”
“On the other hand,” Rosie continued, “other people come out of nowhere and are wonderful. You just never know what you’re going to get. So no, I’m not worried about people talking about Ryder and me. The boys are too young to understand, and from their perspective, they have a new friend who plays with them all the time and that they get to call Daddy. It’s a win-win.”
This was all true. Ever since Ryder had appeared at her doorstep, both the first and the second time, she had been scrupulous in separating out the things she felt allowed to feel—because it supported the boys and what they needed—and the things that were hers. The private things that only she knew.
The things that kept her up at night, mixing memory with fantasy, and driving herself wild.
That part was hard enough to deal with every night. It certainly wasn’t something she intended to discuss in the presence of her older brother.
Also, and more importantly, she meant it about the surprising support from other people.
Take, for example, Kendall Carey and Cat Lisle—though, she corrected herself, she was pretty sure Cat went by Cat Carey now, not that it mattered in Cowboy Point where she would forever be a Lisle. Rosie had seen the two of them at Mountain Mama one chilly afternoon. Rosie had been stopping in to pick up one of their handmade half-baked pizzas for dinner before she swung by to pick up the boys. Cat and Kendall had been there, sitting close together in the corner, making each other laugh. A lot.
Rosie had expected that when they met eyes, they would all nod politely, and pretend not to know each other. That was how folks rolled in a tiny little mountain town in winter, when it was only the locals around, Mountain Mama was pretty much the only restaurant in the community that was open all the time, and every hello came with the risk of an in-depth conversation about everyone’s business, and their parents’ business, and each and every one of their cousins’ business too.
Selective blindness was a necessity around here.
But the opposite happened. Kendall waved when she saw Rosie. And when Rosie only blinked at her in confusion—and likely some alarm—she got to her feet, came over, and tugged Rosie with her back to that table.
We’ve been wanting to talk with you , Cat had said when they got there. And here you are. It’s like fate.
It’s like a small town , Rosie had replied.
Cat and I like to get away every now and again , Kendall had carried on, as if Rosie hadn’t said something deliberately grumpy. Just the two of us.
Because only the two of us have the exquisite pleasure of knowing entirely too much about the inner workings of the Carey brothers. Cat had smiled at Rosie. And you are the only other person in town who could join that club.
Rosie reacted so strangely that even now, thinking back on it, she hardly knew what to make of it. For one thing, those words went through her like an electric shock. A deep, chaotic, endless humming , deep and long.
And she was pretty sure that she blushed hot and red.
Oh no , she’d said at once. I can’t be in your club.
More of a support group , Cat had replied with a grin.
In case the rumor mill hasn’t gotten around to you yet with the full story, Ryder and I did not have a relationship , Rosie had told them. That is not the word used to describe what happened between us.
There were other words. She thought about those other words all the time, but that was inappropriate for an early afternoon discussion in a family-friendly joint like this.
You have the most intimate relationship that anyone could have with a man , Kendall corrected her, gently enough, but with enough intensity that Rosie found herself surreptitiously looking to see if Kendall looked like she was getting rounder. Looking wasn’t rude, asking was rude, she assured herself, but her quick sweep was inconclusive. You’re the mother of his children. It doesn’t matter if you spent fifteen minutes with him. That was then. Now you’re going to be part of his life forever.
That had definitely sounded like something a pregnant woman would say.
That makes you one of us , Cat had chimed in, smiling so wide and so happy that Rosie knew she had to do something to stop whatever runaway train this was.
Maybe Kendall had seen that on her face. It’s okay if you’re not the joining type.
What we really wanted you to know , Cat had said then, in the same tone, is that we’ve got your back.
Apparently , Kendall said with a smile, Careys stick together.
I’m not a Carey , Rosie had gritted out, and there was no reason why a simple statement of fact should have been so hard for her to say. She shouldn’t have felt as if she was tearing out her own throat in an effort to save it.
Your sons are Careys , Cat had pointed out. Gently enough. So I’m sorry, but you’re kind of one too. By default.
Rosie had never been more relieved to hear her name called by Indy Bennett up at the counter, giving her the perfect excuse to get the hell away from the two of them. She could appreciate the gesture, she told herself as she hurried out to her car, meeting no more eyes. She could appreciate it, but it was misplaced.
Later, she watched her boys roughhouse in the small aisles of the general store while she picked up a few essentials and was very aware of all the eyes on the two of them. And on her.
It had been like that for weeks. Just as Ryder had predicted.
The difference this time around was that when Nevaeh Higgins saw her, she didn’t charge right over to share whatever word the Lord had put on her heart. Something that had happened with alarming regularity before, since Nevaeh was the pastor’s wife. These days, however, Nevaeh only looked at Rosie sadly, as if the Lord himself didn’t have anything to say when there was a Carey brother involved.
Maybe she needed a little support group after all.
She didn’t feel like that was something she needed to tell Jack.
After dinner, Matilda started playing an involved game of tag with the little ones and Rosie knew what was coming when Jack came and sat with her on the sofa. He favored low-slung, comfortable leather, and she liked to sink into it. His house was decidedly male, with an emphasis on dark woods, dark walls, and what she could only describe as Montana-style furnishings.
Except unlike the short-term rentals she worked in, she knew that the buck on the wall was one Jack had shot himself.
Authenticity was important.
But her brother had gotten his steel-gray eyes from their father, who had been famously harsh. Jack knew exactly how to use them to his best advantage, and he was training them on her now.
“Here’s the thing,” he said quietly, looking at the beer in his hand, not her. “You know that I support you no matter what. I support you. I love you. I would do anything for you and those boys.”
“This is sounding more ominous by the moment.”
“It was unfair, the way people treated you when you came home. I never liked it. This isn’t the 1800s. They never dared say those things to me, and that just made it worse, in my opinion.”
Rosie actually smiled at that. “It’s almost like people are sexist.”
“The thing is, I can’t understand is why you kept Ryder’s involvement a secret,” Jack said, and those steel gray eyes seemed to pierce her straight through. He lifted a hand before she could reply. “I’m not asking you what happened between the two of you. I am fully aware that a man can seem one way in his everyday life, and still treat women terribly in private.”
It made Rosie want to throw up, but she couldn’t let that pass. “He didn’t treat me horribly,” she gritted out. “Not the way you mean. Is this really something you want to talk about?”
“Not at all.” Jack swore under his breath. “But this is the thing, Rosie. You moved back here. You settled in, had the babies, and stayed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you did. But you must have known that sooner or later, someone was going to realize that those twins are the spitting image of their daddy. And their daddy is well-known here.”
“Everyone who lives here is well-known here,” she managed to say, though her throat was tight.
Jack continued to stare straight into her with all that steely gray. “Some might argue that he’s the least known of the Carey brothers, but here’s what folks do know. He’s not a monster. Even if he was, his entire family is here, and everyone knows that Zeke Carey wants nothing more than a few grandchildren. It’s hard to understand why you kept this to yourself all this time.”
Rosie blew out a sigh. “I don’t know.”
Jack only looked more disappointed in her, then. “Come on, Rosie.”
“It seemed wrong to tell other people when I hadn’t told Ryder. And I couldn’t find him to tell him.” She felt all the old grossness of it bubbling up inside her. “I couldn’t think of a good enough reason to ask one of his brothers for his number. Much less his dad . And then somehow, in the middle of all that, they’re about to turn three. I didn’t mean to keep a secret. Mostly I was thinking about keeping me, and then them, safe. And, you know, alive .”
“Matilda says he’s been taking an interest these last couple weeks.”
“More than an interest. I think that if he could, he would move in so he could be with them night and day.” Rosie swallowed, but it was hard. “And I can’t blame him. I feel the same way about them.”
“Because you know that’s not how they’re spinning it in town,” Jack told her, his voice going stern and that beer bottle in his hand like a judge’s gavel. “The story goes, he wanted nothing to do with those babies, so you moved back here and settled in, knowing that sooner or later he’d have to face them. And now you got what you wanted. He’s forced to pretend to care, because there’s no way Zeke and Belinda are going to let him abandon his own kids. Seems like you’re in line for that big rodeo payday.”
Rosie didn’t actually implode at that, though it was close. She was pretty sure that she was smoking with rage.
“I don’t need his money.” There was smoke in her voice, too. “You should know that already. I’ve been taking care of my babies just fine.”
Jack only watched her, all of that cool, assessing steel, and it made her want to squirm around in her seat like a naughty little girl. It cost her something to keep from doing it.
She made herself shrug with an attempt at a nonchalance she certainly didn’t feel. “I think that it’s good for the boys to know him. I think it’s good for him to have a relationship with them. He’s their father, no matter what people think. The great news in all of this is that despite the shock of it all, everything with Ryder has been perfectly civilized.”
At that, Jack let out a short, sharp laugh. “Has it now.”
Rosie looked at him, frowning. “What does that mean?”
“Rosie.” Her big brother looked at her with something a lot like pity in that gaze of his. “We’re talking about a man who has spent the bulk of his adult life on the back of bucking bulls. For fun and profit.”
“I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean by that. I know what he does for a living.” She shook her head. “How does that have anything to do with the situation?”
“Ryder Carey is not a civilized man,” Jack told her, with a note of finality in his voice. “If you think he is, that can only mean one thing. He’s just waiting for the right time to show you his real face.”
That was the moment Matilda came charging in with the boys, and Rosie had to pretend that she hadn’t felt a chill at Jack’s words, down deep into her soul. Making her feel brittle and cold, even when Jack stoked the fire.
But the following morning it was the boys’ birthday, so there was no time to worry about Ryder’s true face .
His actual face was problematic enough, and he presented it at the house later that day, with all of his family in tow.
One of the many civilized decisions that Ryder and Rosie had made was this one. Rather than overwhelm the boys with a stream of visitors coming by and being, in all likelihood, a little overly emotional in their presence, they decided to have this birthday party instead.
It had actually been Rosie’s idea. Ryder had completely agreed.
The boys had taken cupcakes to their nursery school, and played with their little friends, like the famous Jacinta, but this evening party had a different agenda altogether.
It was still celebrating their birthday, but more than that, it was celebrating the fact that they were all family now.
Rosie bustled around, serving the cake on paper plates featuring Spider-Man, Eli’s favorite, and Superman, Levi’s hero.
“This is like the cocktail party from hell,” Matilda muttered from beside her at one point as they hunched in the kitchen, maniacally putting together another tray of sweet treats.
Because obviously, any perilous emotional moment could be handled with enough sugar. Or at least a person could get through it that way.
“And how,” Rosie muttered in reply.
Out in the living room, the boys were hopped up on cake and candy, and were loving holding court for all these new adults who hung on their every word.
Harlan had his arm around Kendall, who was looking a little misty eyed and a good bit rounder than the last time Rosie had seen her. But then, Zeke and Belinda were looking emotional too. They sat with Jack on the couch and made no bones about the fact that they were instantly and irrevocably in love with their grandchildren.
Rosie’s cousins stood a line against the wall, like they thought this was an Old West saloon. On the other side of the room, she saw the younger Carey brothers, Boone and Knox, staring right back at them, like at any moment it might be time to draw a six-gun, or break out into fisticuffs.
“Ignore them,” came a voice from beside her.
She glanced up and froze. She thought it was Ryder, but only for a second. Because this version was smiling. There was a particular gleam in his gaze that suggested a deep good humor, and she knew instantly that it was Wilder.
“I always do ignore them,” she said. “As my longtime personal policy.”
“Apparently,” Wilder told her, as if they were buddies who always clustered together to talk like this, when they most certainly were not, “words were exchanged in the Copper Mine, feelings were hurt, panties were twisted, and now someone owes someone else an apology. Yet none are forthcoming.”
“Sounds like every single night of the week of the Copper Mine,” Rosie replied dryly.
“So it does,” Wilder agreed. He crossed his arms, a smile on his face as he looked down at her. “Have to say, I really don’t know how I missed it before, but it sure is something to see mirror images of my brother and me running around like this.”
Rosie felt her smile shake a little. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Wilder replied, and she could see that he meant it. “I know how my brother behaves.”
What she wanted to say was that Wilder hadn’t behaved all that differently himself, until recently. But he was a married man now. And Rosie had always thought that bringing up people’s dirty pasts when they turned over a new leaf was mean. So she didn’t say a word.
But there was suddenly another male body on her other side, and he was less careful.
“I can’t help it if women find me fascinating,” Ryder drawled at his twin. “I was never required to roll up on tourists and try to convince them that I was the cowboy of their dreams.”
“You just had to make sure you were out of there before dawn,” Wilder replied with a laugh. “If they saw you in the light, they might figure you out.”
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Ryder told Rosie. “He’s always been jealous.” He looked at Wilder again. “I can’t help that I’m the pretty one.”
Wilder only laughed at that, and as he did, Rosie let her shoulders creep back down from her ears. Because clearly, neither one of them was offended. In fact, if she looked closely, she was pretty sure that Ryder was even smiling.
“Got to get more cake,” she muttered out loud, but when she turned around and rushed back into the kitchen, Ryder came with her.
“Are you good?” he asked her.
She didn’t look over at him, not directly, but she was all too aware of him. He seemed to fill up the kitchen, as if his shoulders were so broad they were brushing against the walls. Even though she knew she was making that up in her head.
She knew it , so she turned around to face him, and that was worse.
Today he was wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and a fancy belt buckle that she didn’t have to examine closely to know represented one of his many rodeo wins. Jack’s words about his true face, and his lack of civilization, seemed to haunt her. It was like she was waiting for him to… shift. Become a wolf, right between the door to the living room and the kitchen table. Right here where he’d watched the kids eat meals and had started to see their less charming sides too, but still showed up every day.
He’s a wolf , something in her repeated, a little too warmly. And here you are, all dressed in red.
The fairy tales wrote themselves.
And that was a line of thinking that could only lead to badness.
He was studying her, and as he did, his head tilted a little to one side.
Suddenly, everything between them changed.
Or maybe the truth was, they reverted back to their original factory settings.
Because this was the Ryder she’d met in Texas. This intoxicating drink of a man, packaged so exquisitely in jeans and a shirt just tight enough to remind her what it felt like to press her face against the hard wall of his chest.
This was the man she’d spent that whole, wondrous, life-altering night with. A night that she thought was tattooed into her skin and would be a part of her forever, and that was before she’d known she was pregnant.
But she was pretty sure that this wasn’t Ryder showing her his true face. He hadn’t been hiding it. This was her finally letting go of the blinders she’d been wearing since he’d showed up in the yard.
Because all she had been thinking about were the boys. What this would mean for them. How this would look like to everyone else. How she would tell her family. What she would do when his knew, too.
All of those things still swirled around her, even though the questions had largely been answered already, but now it was as if she could finally see the truth about herself again.
And the truth was this.
This taut, searing intensity that sparked between them, as if no time at all had passed between that night and now.
As if nothing could possibly matter as much as the sizzle of it. The crackle that worked its way down her limbs, blazed into her blood, and pooled with a white-hot intensity deep in her belly.
This was the truth. She had gone to that bull-riding expedition that night knowing that he would be there. Hoping that she would see him, because who wouldn’t have a silly little crush on one of the Carey twins? She’d never met anyone who didn’t.
And when she’d actually found herself standing in front of him, there had been this.
This glimmering, impossible thread between them that only pulled tighter and tighter all the time.
If it hadn’t been for the boys, she would have noticed it sooner. Now that she did, she felt like she was wrapped up tight in the web of this. Like if she wasn’t careful, she’d start shining so bright they’d be able to see her in space.
She could hear everyone else out in the living room. She could hear her boys shouting, and the mother in her was already calculating exactly how long they had left before the inevitable sugar crash.
But in the kitchen, where it was only the two of them, it was even louder. And neither one of them was saying a word.
“Keep looking at me like that,” Ryder suggested in a low voice that connected, immediately and intensely, to all that bright heat. “And I think we both know exactly what’s going to happen next.”