She could never know how he felt about her.
He didn’t want to feel the way he did about the mother of his brother’s child. So, to get away from the temptation to look at Valentine again, Crockett followed Hawk, Jellyfish and Mason to the shade of a tree so they could talk.
“We were able to confirm that Maverick was in Alaska, for a long time,” Hawk said. “Your father lived with an Alaskan woman of Inuit descent. She found him slumped in a boat one day, floating offshore. Not knowing who he was or where he’d come from, she had friends help her carry him to her home. When he awakened, Maverick had no memory. She lived in a remote area, far from any town where a tourist group might have lost a member. Mannie kept him with her for four years, always hoping he might tell her something about himself.”
Crockett looked at Mason, who surely had to be feeling the same lead in the pit of his stomach that he was feeling. Finally, some trace of Maverick had been found, but he also feared there must be more to the story.
Jellyfish put a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “You should know that Maverick only told Mannie a few things about himself, once some of his memory returned. She awakened one day to find him gone. He’d left behind food to keep her for a long time. Gifts, but not his heart. He was a natural wanderer. During the entire four years he’d stayed with her, she’d sensed he wasn’t really with her by the distant look in his eyes when he searched the horizon.”
“Oh, jeez,” Crockett murmured. They were all wanderers. Right now, their father might still be out there somewhere, searching for what would ease his heart. Even with this new information they were not much closer to finding him.
“Maybe there is more to learn,” Hawk said. “But we felt it was important to come back and tell you the news, then let you decide what more you want to know.”
Crockett felt a deep tug in his chest. Now they would hold a family council to decide what to do. It was good they’d found out now, since all the brothers were at the ranch for the annual Fourth of July gathering and Bandera’s wedding.
Now that so many of the Jefferson brothers had married and moved away, Mason wanted to hold a family reunion at least twice a year—Christmas in the winter and Fourth of July in the summer. Christmas was a natural choice, but Independence Day was a time when the pond was warm enough for the children to swim, Mason had said. But Crockett knew his request really had nothing to do with pond water. Mason just wanted the brothers and their families together at so-called Malfunction Junction ranch, their home.
Crockett had to admit there was something to the power of family bonding as he again watched Valentine help her tiny daughter across a field. Right now, he wanted to get away from all thoughts of family—and Maverick. It simply hurt too much to know that their father had been living on whale meat in a hut somewhere. It was life—but it wasn’t life with them.
Could Maverick have been happy? Had he regained his memory? Or had he given up after their mother died? Crockett doubted they’d ever know all the answers. They’d been haunted for too many years by the questions, and each and every brother had learned various ways of dodging painful soul-searching.
“Thanks, guys,” Crockett murmured to Hawk and Jellyfish since Mason seemed dumbstruck. “I’m sure Mason will call a family council after dinner to discuss what you told us. Stick around. Helga’s made ribs, sweet peas and grilled corn, and I believe Valentine whipped up some blueberry pies. Comfort food is what we all could use right now. And good friends.”
That said, he headed in Valentine’s direction. He grabbed the box of petits fours from her so that she could play with Annette. “Go on,” he told Valentine. “You jump, too.”
“Thank you, Crockett.” Giving him a smile that tugged at his heart, Valentine pulled off her shoes and got inside the inflatable house-shaped structure. She bounced gently with her daughter.
With pleasure, he noted that all of Valentine bounced. Her hair, her breasts, even her laughter seemed to go up and down as she played with her daughter. He loved watching her be a mother.
Crockett lowered his head for a second, pushing his cowboy hat down. It was a shame that Valentine and his youngest brother, Last, had not worked out as a couple. They had a beautiful little daughter; Annette was such a sweet baby. And, wanting to support the new addition to the family, the Jefferson brothers had backed Valentine in her own business, a bakery she’d named Baked Valentines.
He would never have dreamed that the onetime receptionist at a beauty salon would have been such a smart businesswoman—and an awesome baker. It was hard for him to understand why Last didn’t love this talented, hardworking woman…. Boy, he was getting in a groove with being jealous of his brothers.
Lately, he’d found himself stewing over things he shouldn’t. It was affecting the way he felt about his family.
First Calhoun, then Last.
Before his brother Calhoun had stolen Crockett’s thunder and his creativity by becoming a better artist than him. Only more commercial, Calhoun always said, as if that made it more acceptable. Crockett had put his soul into painting. It had been a good life: cowboying by day, painting by night.
But he hadn’t been able to paint in a long time. And now all he seemed to think about was Valentine.
The woman in question turned and fell over, laughing. Her jeans-clad bottom jiggled—-and Crockett’s artistic eye was transfixed.
He’d never seen anything with such rounded perfection. Bountiful and sexy. Lush and full.
“Only sculpting would do that form justice,” he mused. “The warmth of fired clay, touched with the hue of a rosy—”
“What?” Valentine asked, sitting up to look at him. “Do you want to join us?”
His mind ablaze with creative thoughts, a new idea and a fierce desire to be near her, Crockett set the box of petits fours on the ground, pulled off his boots and got into the inflatable house. Annette giggled because he was unstable, not used to being on something jiggly, so he put his hands down and pushed on the floor to make her pop up and lose control, too.
Valentine playfully pushed back, catching him off guard. This time, it was Crockett who flew—right into her lap.
Oh, God, she felt good. She was every bit as soft as she looked, and even better, she smelled like cinnamon. Her smile faded as she stared down at him, seeing something in his eyes he didn’t want her to see.
Bad, bad timing.
Rolling away, he rose to his feet. Valentine watched him, her smile completely gone now, her gaze questioning.
He was going to ruin a good friendship with his curiosity about Valentine. Curiosity? That was a shifty word for what he now realized was full-blown desire.
He was on a path toward certain heartbreak.
VALENTINE WATCHED as Crockett exited the inflatable house. He put his hat on, tipping the brim to her, and touched one finger to Annette’s small hand. Then he left.
Just like that. Gone.
Had he thought she was flirting with him? Something miserably like rejection seeped through her—an experience she’d had all too often recently, every time she came into accidental contact with Last.
She didn’t know what she would have done without the other Jefferson brothers. In her heart, she knew Last was a good man—he was very good to Annette. But there was always that wall of discomfort between them, and she’d really relied on the kindness of his brothers to make her feel less awkward.
She had been determined to make good in their eyes, to show them that she wasn’t the bad girl she’d been. Her sister Nina had made a wonderful marriage to Navarro Jefferson. Navarro and Nina were so happy on their land up North that sometimes Valentine was tempted to follow them up there. She would love to be near her sister, and she would love for Annette