That Last Night In Texas

Yes, definitely. Now.

“Donny!” she called. “Enough. Put Cochise away and—”

“That was nothing,” the boy said. “Watch this!”

He urged the palomino into a tight, circling canter, kicked his feet out of the stirrups, then swung himself around in the saddle until he was mounted backward.

Really frightened for him now, Cassie made a move in his direction. “Stop that right now.”

“But, Mom—”

Josh caught her arm. “Cassandra—”

“I said stop!”

Donny pulled the horse to a halt, slipped front-ward again easily, then began walking Cochise toward them.

Cassie’s facial muscles froze as he approached. She spun around, understanding that radical change could come to her life in a heartbeat. She searched Ethan’s face for any glimpse of recognition. His eyes were on Donny, but she couldn’t spot the slightest shift of interest in him.

“It looks like you’ve got a daredevil on your hands,” she heard Meredith say mildly.

Obviously feeling thwarted, Donny slumped in the saddle like a beaten warrior. “I can’t do anything around here!”

Cassie turned back to him. “Put Cochise away and go inside,” she snapped. The last thing she wanted was for the boy to come any closer. “Feed Ziggy and take your bath. We’ll talk later.”

As though sensing Cassie’s tension, Meredith spoke up, offering a light laugh. “Kids! They can really make you want to pull your hair out, can’t they?”

“I’m sorry,” Cassie said, her heart starting to settle at last as her son headed off toward the horse barn. She pulled in a deep breath. “We were discussing the property…” The words rose clear and steady from a throat she would have sworn was paralyzed.

“Yes, we were,” Ethan said. Nothing showed on his face. Nothing had to. The too quiet, too silky timbre of his voice said it all. “I thought we might agree on a price for the property fairly quickly. But now—” his eyes followed Donny’s departing figure “—it appears there may be something else we have to negotiate.”

CHAPTER FOUR

BY THE TIME ETHAN PULLED into the parking lot of his hotel, he was ninety-nine percent certain he had a handle on the situation.

He had a son. A son he’d never known existed.

But that didn’t mean his world had to be turned upside down.

This sort of thing happened sometimes. People made mistakes, lost control. You couldn’t always erase what you’d done. Sometimes, no matter what you planned, you had to live with the consequences of your actions. Hadn’t he learned that years ago, the hard way?

So here was a new challenge. A big one. But he knew he’d find a way to manage it. So what if this was Cassie’s turf, and she had the home field advantage? They could still work this out. Calmly. Reasonably. He’d call his attorney, see what his options and responsibilities were. Cassie didn’t need to worry. He had no desire to play daddy. This didn’t have to impact his game plan for the future. Not one damned bit.

Yanking off his tie, Ethan threw it onto the passenger seat. He caught his eyes in the rearview mirror. Who do you think you’re kidding, Rafferty?

Just that quickly, his life was on a different track, like a train careening off its course. He had a kid, a twelve-year-old handful by the looks of it. A child who was so much a younger version of Ethan that he could have been looking in a time-traveler’s mirror.

Unwanted emotions churned through him, feelings he couldn’t even put a name to.

My son.

Mine.

He sat in the silence of the parking lot, listening to the ticking of the car’s engine as it cooled. For just a few moments, a hard knuckle of anger sent a jolt through his body.

Why had Cassie kept him in the dark all these years? How did she dare? By what right…?

Restraint shattered inside him. Only one way to find out.

Ethan threw the rental car in Reverse, heading back toward the I-10 and the Flying M Ranch.

WHEN HE STOOD AT THE ranch’s front door, he was a little calmer, but not by much.

There were questions he wanted answers to, but he wasn’t likely to get them if he came charging in full of righteous indignation. Conquering the impulse to pound his fist on the thick wood, Ethan drew a huge breath and knocked with all the practical determination of a traveling salesman.

He wasn’t expecting Cassie to answer. A housekeeper had led them to the backyard earlier that afternoon, but when the door swung wide, it wasn’t either woman.

It was Donny.

For a moment Ethan was completely tongue-tied, something that rarely happened to him anymore. He felt slightly breathless, as though he’d been jogging. Worst of all, he couldn’t seem to stop staring.

The boy, either uncomfortable under Ethan’s scrutiny or simply impatient, shifted. He jerked his chin up in acknowledgment.

“Hey,” he said without any particular grace. “You’re the guy who was here earlier.”

“Yes,” Ethan answered. “And you’re Donny.” Named after Cassie’s old man, he supposed. He wondered what would happen if he added, “And I’m your father.”

But of course he said nothing like that. Instead, he gave the boy a smile. “Are your parents home? I’d like to speak with them.”

“Dad’s staying at River Bottom. Mom’s in the Torture Chamber.”

Josh was staying at his parents’ old place, instead of here with Cassie? What did that mean?

Ethan lifted one brow. “Your mother’s in the Torture Chamber?”

“It’s just a gym, but that’s what she calls it. She hits the hot tub almost every night, but she should be out soon.”

Ethan enjoyed a fast, private fantasy about how Cassie would look relaxing in bubbling, steamy water up to the swell of her breasts. He might be furious with her, but when he’d first seen her this afternoon, it had pained him to accept the brutal truth. Over the years he had convinced himself that she meant nothing to him anymore, but his body, his senses, seemed to have remained infatuated.

It annoyed him that just the sight of her could still pack that kind of wallop. He shut those thoughts down before they could take hold. “Can I wait?”

“I guess,” Donny answered with a shrug.

The kid led him across the oak-floored foyer, into what Ethan remembered as the living room. It looked the same as when Mac McGuire had been alive. Lots of heavy furnishings, a high-end Western theme courtesy of Neiman Marcus. Leather and suede and beaten iron.

Ethan moved to the center of the room, then turned toward his son. Donny was slipping into a denim jacket. The dog Ethan had seen earlier came up to join them, and the boy leaned down to give its head a scratch.

“I gotta go,” he said. “You can park it here until Mom gets out. Will you tell her I’m going for a walk? We’re just going down to the pond. I like to look at the moon on the water while Zig chases frogs.”