Why take the risk of getting too close? Sly wasn’t about to set himself up for that kind of heartache again.
“Now that you sweated that hangover out of your system, you’re lookin’ a sight better,” Ace commented some hours later, when they’d finished the branding.
“I suppose I’ll live,” Sly replied. “Go on now and have a nice weekend—all three of you.”
He headed for the house. Mrs. Rutland, his part-time housekeeper—with just him to feed and clean up after, he didn’t need her full-time—left at noon on Thursdays and Fridays, but cooked enough meals to last until Monday. After showering and changing, Sly filled his belly and then headed outside again to tackle the late-afternoon chores. He fed and watered the horses, giving Bee, his bay, her usual carrot. He checked on the stock and noted additional chores that needed doing the following day.
Then he flopped on the sofa with the remote. Nothing on the tube interested him, and his mind kept wandering to last night. As worn-out as he was, he felt oddly restless—too restless to hang around at home. He considered grabbing a beer someplace, but after last night he needed a rest from alcohol.
He called his sister to ask if she wanted to catch a movie. Dani didn’t answer, which wasn’t surprising on a Saturday night. She was probably out with her boyfriend of the month or her friends.
Sly hung up without leaving a message. He almost wished he had Lana’s number...until he reminded himself that it was better he didn’t.
Moments later he grabbed his keys from the hook by the door and left through the mudroom. He wasn’t sure where he was headed, but anyplace was better than sitting around here, thinking about a woman he didn’t plan on ever seeing again.
* * *
IT WAS LATE Sunday when Lana parked in front of the house where she’d grown up. It was a beautiful afternoon; the sun was slowly sinking toward the horizon, casting the distant, snow-covered Cascade Mountains in rosy hues. Spring was her favorite time of year, when the air smelled fresh and sweet, and life seemed to bud and surge everywhere.
Usually she looked forward to the noisy Sunday night dinners with her parents and her younger sister and family. But tonight, Lana was dreading it.
All because last Sunday, she’d finally told her parents about her decision to adopt a baby. She’d waited until two months after the social worker had cleared her as a prospective parent, and six weeks after she’d begun to actively search for a pregnant woman wanting to give up her baby for adoption. The social worker had given her the web address of a county-wide site called AdoptionOption.com, which put prospective parents in touch with pregnant teens who wanted to give up their babies. Although Lana visited the site daily, she had yet to make a contact that might work out. Discouraging, but she understood that the process would take time. Eventually she’d find someone.
Not wanting to keep such a big decision to herself, she’d told her sister first. That had been easy. Telling her parents, who tended to be old-fashioned, not so much. Lana had known they wouldn’t approve. Not of adoption itself, but of her decision to adopt as a single woman.
Apprehension had ruined her appetite and she’d barely managed to eat her mother’s delicious meal. She’d waited to spring her news until after dessert, when her niece and nephew had scampered off to play. She’d quickly delivered the news to her parents, then left while they were still digesting the news.
The fallout had come later, in a series of increasingly upset phone calls, one from her dad and too many to count from her mother. All of them about finding a husband and then adopting. With their old-fashioned values about raising kids—values Lana had supported until Brent had divorced her—they didn’t understand.
“I would love to have a husband to help me raise a child, but I’m not even dating right now,” she’d explained. “Besides, I’m thirty-two years old, and I know in my heart that this is the right time for me to adopt.”
No amount of reasoning had changed their minds. So Lana was cringing at the prospect of another of her mother’s lectures tonight. She was banking on her parents having to behave in front of their grandkids.
Which was why, knowing Liz et al usually arrived about five, Lana was pulling up to the house a little later.
Crossing her fingers for a pleasant evening free of judgment and criticism, she crossed the brick stoop, wiped her feet on the welcome mat and walked into the house. She hung her jacket on a hook by the door.
The living room was empty, but through the window that faced the backyard she noted her brother-in-law, Eric, and her father lighting what looked to be a new barbecue grill. Connor, age six, and Emma, who had just turned four, were racing around the same pint-size log cabin Lana and Liz had once played in. There was no sign of Lana’s sister or their mother. They were probably working on dinner.
Lana was about to slip back out the door and head around the house to play with the kids when her sister called out. “Is that you, Lana? Mom and I are in the kitchen.”
No chance of sneaking away now. “I’ll be right there,” Lana replied.
Shoulders squared, she headed down the hall. Liz understood Lana’s aching desire to have a child, and supported her decision. Why couldn’t her parents be as accepting?
She forced herself to be cheerful, declaring, “Something smells really good,” as she entered the big, homey kitchen.
Her mother was sautéing mushrooms and didn’t look up. “I’m just finishing the rice dish. Why don’t you toss the salad, Lana?”
Not even a hello? Lana exchanged a glance with Liz, who shrugged. “Um, hi, Mom, it’s nice to see you, too?”
“Hello,” she said in a cool tone.
Liz scanned Lana up and down. “You look fantastic. Doesn’t she, Mom?”
At last her mother turned her attention to Lana. Bracing for whatever she might say, Lana sucked in a breath.
“You are wearing a certain glow.” Her mother gave her a curious stare, as in, “Where did that come from?”
This was good, much better than another criticism about choosing single motherhood. Maybe her mother had decided to lay off the awful lectures tonight. Lana crossed her fingers. And thought about the “certain glow” that apparently was still with her.
It had been almost forty-eight hours since her night with Sly. By now any afterglow should have faded. Yet inside, Lana was still purring like a satisfied cat. Turning away from her mother’s and sister’s curious expressions, she washed her hands. “I caught up on my sleep last night—that must be the reason,” she said over the hiss of the water. “Did Dad get a new grill?”
“Yesterday, and this one has more bells and whistles than the old model—it does everything but shine shoes,” her mother answered. “He’s as excited as a boy on Christmas morning. He couldn’t wait to show it to Eric.”
“Men and their toys.” Liz shook her head, her ultrashort bangs and chin-length hair making her appear twenty instead of thirty. “If I know Eric, he’ll want one exactly like it, just to keep up.”
“With Eric’s construction business doing so well, you can certainly afford a new grill,” their mother pointed out.
The kitchen door opened and Connor and Emma rushed inside. “Aunt Lana! Aunt Lana!”
They raced straight for Lana. Her heart swelling with love, she leaned down and hugged them both. She envied Liz, with her loving husband and two adorable children. “It’s been a whole week since I saw you. What’s new?”
“Daddy’s gonna sign me up for T-ball in June,” Connor said proudly. “When is that, Aunt Lana?”
“Let’s see. Today is April 6,” Lana said. “After April comes...?”
Connor