Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gideon
I took the last turn to my dad’s house. The last time I’d been in town, I hadn’t seen him. I hadn’t seen Dad for over twenty-five years.
My stomach was twisted in one giant, convulsing knot.
It was mid-October and the green in the area had faded to brown.
The grasses were brittle, and the short, bare mountains were the same color.
The taller slopes were filled with dark green thanks to the trees dotting the sides.
The pastures and fields between us and the horizon were empty of cattle.
The dirt that had once been tilled with growing crops had long grown over.
Some of the fencing was new, with shiny wire and metal posts. Why bother when there were no cattle to contain?
As we drove, memories assaulted me. Mom, riding one of the many ranch horses her family had raised, carefree and laughing. She had a favorite, but she made sure we rode them all. She enjoyed having cattle and farming. She’d loved her life. All the way to the end.
Part of me was glad she hadn’t seen the accident coming. That she hadn’t known she’d be leaving me alone. That Dad would barely survive losing her. Knowing any of that would’ve broken her big heart.
I concentrated on loosening my grip on the steering wheel. The road wound closer to the house. I hadn’t visited Dad, but I’d been on the land. I’d taken a road that overlooked the house. And it’d pissed me off. The place wasn’t run down. He’d done some work on it and dammit—I’d been furious.
“Do you think he’ll be there?” Autumn asked.
I’d been so angry that he’d kept up the house enough to look decent and then sobered himself up enough to fucking sell it.
“Gideon?”
And then he had the audacity to tell me that he wouldn’t talk about the sale on the phone. I had to come home.
“Gideon.” A warm hand landed on my forearm and my rising anger dropped like a boulder in water.
My knuckles were white and the speed of the car was creeping up. It wouldn’t have mattered that her all-wheel drive handled nicely on the dirt road, I’d land us both in a ditch.
“Do you need a minute before we arrive?” she asked softly.
“No.” I wanted to see his face when I showed up with a Bailey bride talking about kids.
My gut heaved again. Kids. I wouldn’t think about it yet. How did Autumn know she could have them? How did I? I had enough on my mind. The idea of a baby I was responsible for would have to wait. I had time.
My determination to avoid the topic didn’t stop my dick from waking up and reminding me how kids were made. My cock wanted to berate me for not taking Autumn up on the sweetness she had offered last night.
I had never had a hard time being an honorable man until her. After watching her moan over my food this morning, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep from being rabid when I was in bed with her again.
How quickly I returned to my roots—wild and dirty.
I rounded a curve and the house came into view, dousing my libido. Mom had been so proud of this place. We’d gone from a small, manufactured home to a stick-built two-story ranch house with an attached two-car garage.
So much space, Giddy! Mom’s voice was clear as the summer Montana sky. I’d been six. We can even expand it. Maybe someday you’ll fill it with kids.
My heart twisted as hard as my stomach. Mom had wanted more kids, but she’d hemorrhaged during my birth and doctors had performed a hysterectomy.
I swallowed rising stomach acid. “Home sweet home,” I said bitterly.
“I’ve never been this far onto your land,” she said. The awe in her voice made me want to puff my damn chest. “I always thought your place was beautiful when we drove by the pastures.”
“He painted.” I could tell her everything about the buildings and land.
I could tell her that there was an abandoned cabin in the foothills to the north where my grandparents’ ranch manager used to live.
The old stable and shop were falling down, but a newer shop and barn stood a few hundred yards behind the house.
Both had been built by Mom and Dad. The place had prospered after Mom had taken over.
Those buildings now loomed isolated against the stark, brown landscape.
As if all the life on this place had died with Mom.
I parked by an old, beat-up flatbed truck. The white paint on the front was covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt. I was tempted to turn around and leave. Tuck myself into Autumn’s small house and attempt to make babies.
Babies. I could fucking puke.
I didn’t have a weak stomach, and I wasn’t vomiting in front of my wife.
I opened the door and got out, taking a deep inhale before I realized I was sucking in all the fresh Montana air like I’d been suffocating for the last twenty-five years.
Oxygen infused my veins. There was no smell of cigarettes or pot, no scent of exhaust or hot asphalt.
I didn’t even smell dust. Just pure, fresh mountain air.
A door creaked open. “Giddy?”
I faced my dad, unprepared for the shock.
He was older. But where he had once stooped with a permanent grimace on his face and lank, greasy hair, his fist shaking in the air at me while I drove off, he was now hale.
He wasn’t hearty, but some of the muscle tone that had wasted away when he’d been in his darkest years had returned.
His hair was grayer and thinner but neatly trimmed, same with his salt-and-pepper beard. The mustache portion of his beard was thicker and in a horseshoe shape. His shoulders were rounded but no longer bowed, and his clothing looked clean. The worst shock was the clear gaze.
“Hank.” My voice wasn’t as strong as I’d intended.
He stepped out farther. The screen door slammed behind him. It’d be an easy fix. I’d helped him repair more than a few doors growing up.
A lump formed in my throat as memories rose from the depths of my brain.
Usually, I thought about Mom when I recalled my time growing up.
But this time, I could picture myself walking next to Dad as he talked about growing seasons, soil conditions, and moisture levels.
I could see him next to me beside one of the tractors, handing me a tool and telling me to try it myself.
The back of my throat burned hot. I refused to recall those times. He’d ruined them all.
He’d ruined everything.
A warm hand slipped around the fingers I hadn’t realized I’d curled into a fist. Her cotton-candy scent blew across me, and she put her other hand on my forearm. “It’s okay,” she said under her breath.
Dad’s gaze fell to where she was touching me. Again I felt a resurgence of pride I usually only experienced when it came to my job. I stuffed the feeling down.
“Hank, this is Autumn James. My wife.”
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t played out how Dad would react. He’d yell at me like he used to do when he drank the hard stuff. When he had too much beer, he got loopy. He’d think he was charming. When he drank liquor, he turned mean.
Would he collapse from shock instead? Would he be so stunned he’d gape at me and then rage? He’d have to know I was doing this to stop the sale. The easiest part would be getting him to believe my intentions of wanting the family land to pass on to my own family. I didn’t have to believe it myself.
I didn’t know a damn thing about children.
Autumn’s hand tightened around mine. I might’ve squeezed back. I wasn’t paying attention to extremities or how her skin was impossibly softer than I could’ve imagined.
A wide grin broke out on Dad’s face, lifting the sides of his horseshoe mustache. “Hot damn, that’s wonderful news.” He charged down the porch stairs. When his boots hit the sandy path bordered by dry grass, he opened his arms wide. “Autumn James now, huh?”
“Yes, sir.” She crowded into my side, much closer than we had sat on the plane. Her body heat seeped into me, and I got a good feel of her curves from my arm down to my thigh. I could tuck her under me, but as Dad grew closer, she broke away.
I missed her touch instantly.
He encompassed her in his wiry arms. “Sir isn’t for family. Call me anything but sir or Mr. James.” He stood back. Lines flared from the corner of his eyes, carved deep into his skin, like one of Mom’s fans. “Congratulations.”
He stepped toward me, but I yanked Autumn back into my side. A clear “no hugging” signal, and maybe an excuse to have her close again. “You’re happy?” I sounded dismayed.
Was I?
He laughed. “Ecstatic.”
I’d worried about him buying the ruse. Was he delighted because he thought I wouldn’t be a pain in the ass anymore?
He clapped his hands together. “A celebration is in order.” My veins flooded with dread. He caught my alarmed expression and his smile dipped. “A meal,” he clarified.
“That’s not necessary,” I said at the same time Autumn said, “How wonderful.”
She wrapped an arm around my back and hugged me. Hard. “I’d be delighted to get to know you and tell you how your son swept me off my feet.”
“He takes after the old man.” Dad’s eyes twinkled. I wanted to be sick. Whenever the subject came close to Mom, he got melancholy. Then he’d drink until he blacked out.
Autumn giggled and rubbed my back like she could feel the tension vibrating through me. “I’m sure he does.”
Dad shook his head, grin back in place. “I jest. It was his mother who had to hit me over the head with a rock to get me to notice more than my own good time. But once I came around, she was the center of my world.”
My heart slipped and slid down into my gut. He was talking about Mom. And he was smiling.
Mom had chased him? I doubted it.
He used to surprise her with wildflowers and leave me with grandparents to take her on dates. He was always trying to woo her.
Memories of various bouquets over the years popped into my head, clear as a cloudless sky. I hadn’t thought about those since I was a kid. I used to tease Dad when he was stooped in a ditch, searching for the perfect cone flowers.
“We’ve still gotta spread the news,” I said abruptly. “We haven’t told her family.”