Baby's First Homecoming

“How old is he?” Caitlin asked Sierra.

Sierra hesitated, thinned her lips and twirled a strand of glossy brunette hair around her finger. “About a year.”

Clay knew that look and habit, having seen it a hundred times before. He’d spent almost as much time at Powell Ranch as he had his own family’s while growing up. Sierra was the pesky, always-in-the-way little sister. While she didn’t lie, exactly, she’d occasionally exaggerated, and the hair-twirling was a dead giveaway.

So, what was she exaggerating about this time?

“He’s walking well for a year,” Sage commented.

“Did he have his birthday already?” Cassie asked. “Maybe we can have a party for him.”

Sierra thinned her lips again and twirled her hair even faster. “He already had a party.”

Wayne said something to Sierra about her and Jamie staying in Ethan’s old room, that her room had been given over to the girls.

Clay listened and watched.

Jamie fascinated him. He picked at the laces of Isa’s sneakers with amazing determination and quickly had them untied. Clay admired that quality, having plenty of it himself. He’d inherited it from his father and grandfather Jamie.

Suddenly, the air was too thick to breathe and the room stifling hot.

Clay mentally calculated how long since he and Caitlin had last seen each other. Last slept together. Not quite two years. She had mentioned Jamie was about a year. But if he was older, say thirteen or fourteen months…

She’d lied, and not just about Jamie’s age.

“Sierra.” The volume of Clay’s voice surprised not only himself but everyone else in the room. He didn’t care. “We need to talk.”

The fear he’d seen in her face earlier returned tenfold, only now he knew the cause.

When she didn’t move, he started toward her. “Right this minute.”

“I—I—” She bent and picked up Jamie, who was not happy about being separated from Isa and started to wail. “I really should unload the car.”

“I’ll help you.”

“What’s going on?” Wayne moved to stand in front of Clay.

“This is between me and Sierra.”

Wayne might be pushing sixty but he presented a formidable obstacle when protecting his daughter. “Whatever you have to say to her, you can say to me.”

“Is that what you want?” Clay’s gaze locked with Sierra’s.

“No.” Her answer was hardly more than a whisper.

He went to the kitchen door, opened it and waited for her to join him.

“Sierra, you don’t have to go with him.” Wayne laid a protective hand on her arm.

She squared her shoulders. “It’s okay, Dad.”

She was brave, he’d give her that much.

“No, it’s not,” Wayne said. “I don’t like him ordering you around.” The glare Wayne shot Clay reminded him it hadn’t been that long since he’d reconciled with the Powells.

He didn’t care. He’d lost one child already, he wasn’t about to lose a second.

“You harm one hair on her head—”

Clay cut off Wayne before he could finish. “I won’t. I swear.”

Wayne reluctantly backed off, his narrowed gaze informing Clay they weren’t done by a long shot.

When Sierra reached the door, he held out his arms to Jamie. “Let me take him.”

“No!” She curled her body away from Clay. “He doesn’t like strangers.”

Jamie made a liar of his mother by extending his arms to Clay. She held fast but lost her grip when Jamie squirmed and wriggled sideways.

Clay caught the boy easily and balanced him on his hip as he’d seen Sierra do.

“Give him back,” she demanded.

“I will, after you and I talk.”

Sierra went outside with Clay. Whatever she felt, she did a good job of keeping it to herself.

Clay was ready to explode.

They’d no sooner stepped off the back patio when he stopped and reeled on her.

“How dare you keep my son from me!”

Chapter Two

“Let me explain,” Sierra insisted, jogging to match Clay’s long strides.

“You lied to me.”

He was right. She’d done everything in her power to hide Jamie’s existence from him. Worse, if there was any way she could go back in time to an hour ago, she’d drive past her family’s ranch and keep driving until she found someplace safe.

“Give Jamie to me, I can—”

“He’s fine.”

And he was fine, if his silly grin and happy babbling was any indication. Damn Clay.

She wanted to cry out, tackle Clay and wrestle Jamie away from him. It would be fruitless, of course. Clay was easily six-two and strong as a linebacker. What if he took off with Jamie? Made a mad dash to his truck? She might never get her son back.