[Allred Katherine] What Price Paradise(BookFi.org)

What Price Paradise by Katherine Allred

Cerridwen Press Publishing, Inc www.CerridwenPress.com Copyright © 2005 by Katherine Allred A Cerridwen Press Publication, July 2005

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. A Cerridwen Press Publication ****

**** www.cerridwenpress.com What Price Paradise ISBN #1-4199-0264-4 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. What Price Paradise Copyright© 2005 Katherine Allred Edited by: Pamela Campbell Cover art by: Syneca Electronic book Publication: July 2005 With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole

or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Cerridwen Press, 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.®

What Price Paradise Katherine Allred

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Resistol: RHE Hatco, Inc. Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Corporation

Chapter One Pregnant. The word rang in her head as sweat popped out on her face. Impossible, but true. One time. She'd had sex one time in her life and this was what happened. Abby dodged yet another groping hand and made her way to table four, a tray loaded with drinks balanced on her hip. The three men at the table barely looked up as she served them, which was fine with her. Having them pretend she didn't exist was preferable to fighting them off. For her there was no middle ground. She handed the bottles of beer around, putting one in front of the only empty chair at the table. Friday and Saturday nights at Delly's were always loud and crowded since it was the only tavern within a hundred-mile radius that sported a dance floor with live music. Picking up the ashtray from the table, she emptied it into another one on her tray, the odor of stale cigarettes assailing her nose. A wave of nausea rolled over her and she closed her eyes, willing her stomach to settle. It had been happening all day and each time seemed to get worse. If this was what she had to look forward to for the next seven and a half months, she didn't think she'd make it. Didn't even want to. Her gaze moved to the dance floor. He wasn't hard to find. Tate McCullom was the tallest man in the room. He wasn't the best looking, not if you liked the slick, polished look of a model, but his craggy, rough features were certainly enough to attract lots of female attention. Even from across the room she could feel the force of those crystal blue eyes as he looked up and studied her intently over the head of the blonde he was holding in his arms. Diane. His fiancée.

Abby lowered her gaze and turned back toward the bar just as a wave of heat swept through her. The edges of her vision went black and the nausea hit again. This time, she knew, it wasn't going away. With an urgency born of desperation, she tossed the serving tray onto the bar and dashed down the long hall. Only a screen door blocked her path outside and she went through it at a run, barely making it outside before she started to heave. Not that it did much good. She hadn't eaten since yesterday, but her traitorous stomach seemed bent on emptying itself anyway. Hands braced on her knees, she leaned against the side of the building and sucked in deep breaths of the cool night air. Suddenly, the hair stood up on the back of her neck and, even though she hadn't heard the door open, she knew Tate was there. “Abby?" Well, at least he knew her name. Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble from her throat, but she forced it down as her stomach roiled again. “Go away. Please, just leave me alone.” She couldn't look at him. Not now. “You're sick." “Virus.” She wanted to say more, to come up with a good explanation, but her tongue seemed to be choking her. Even that one word brought on another heave. She felt more than saw him take a step closer, then those broad, strong hands were supporting her, holding her up. She flinched from his touch, wanting nothing more than to just lie down and die. But of course, nothing was that easy. “Why don't you ask Pete to give you the rest of the night off? You're in no shape to work." Her nausea eased, replaced by a surge of anger, and Abby pulled away from him. “This is the only job I've got. I can't afford to take off. Now please leave me alone. What I do or don't do is no concern of yours. Go back to your fiancée. I'm sure she's wondering where you are." There was a second of hesitation, then he turned and walked away. As soon as she heard the door close behind him, Abby slid down the wall and buried her face against her knees. She wouldn't cry, couldn't let herself go like that. In the ten years she'd lived in Cooper Creek, Texas, this was only the second time Tate had ever said more than two words to her. Considering what had happened the first time, it was probably a good thing. And she doubted he even remembered it. She allowed herself one sniffle, then stood and wiped the sweat from her forehead. If she didn't get back to work, Pete, her boss, was going to come looking for her. Only one more hour until closing. She could hang on until then. **** “Where did you go?" Tate parked himself in an empty chair and glanced at Diane. Her blonde hair framed the face of an angel and, as always, a surge of emotion washed over him. He had known her forever, couldn't remember a time when he hadn't known they would spend their lives together. Now he

was beginning to think he might have blown it for good. “Outside." A bottle of beer sat in front of him and he'd started to lift it to his lips when her well-manicured hand covered his. “Tate, please reconsider. We could have so much fun. And I really want this. You know I'll pay for everything." “I can't, Diane. Even if I could leave the ranch for that long, I can't leave Buddy alone. We've been all through this. When are you going to understand I have responsibilities I can't abandon?" Her perfect lips puckered into a pout. “Buddy is sixteen. He can take care of himself. You just don't want to go.” She gathered up her things. “I'm leaving first thing in the morning. If you change your mind, you know where to find me." A sense of desperation hit him. “Look, why don't you forget this trip? We can find a justice of the peace tonight and be married by tomorrow." “I told you, Tate. I refuse to live in that ramshackle barn you call a house. When you build a new one, we'll talk about it." “I don't have the kind of money it takes to build a house. Especially when there's nothing wrong with the one I have." “It's old.” She wrinkled her nose. “And ugly. Why can't you just do one thing for me? Is that too much to ask? I'm beginning to think you don't really love me." “That's not true.” He kept his voice low. “Isn't it? Clayton wants to build a house for me." Tate couldn't control the anger that flashed through him while she studied his face. “For that matter,” she continued thoughtfully, “I bet he'd love a little vacation.” She yanked the diamond engagement ring off her finger and tossed it onto the table. “We're through, Tate. And this time, it's for good.” With a swirl of sleekly styled blonde hair, she flounced out of the bar. “She did it to you again, didn't she?” Joe Blackburn sat down in the chair Diane had just vacated and picked up the ring, turning it over and over in his hands. “How many times does this make? Ten? Fifteen?" Tate took a drink of beer. Joe had been his best friend since they were little more than babies, but sometimes even friends could get on your nerves. “What was it this time? She wanted you to go to another one of her daddy's fancy parties?" “No.” Tate's gaze wandered to the back of the building, searching. “She wanted me to take her to the Caribbean for two weeks." Joe stared at him for a minute. “You're joking. Did she think the ranch was going to run itself?

That's pretty extreme, even for little miss rich--” His words cut off as Tate glared at him. “It's not her fault that her daddy is the richest man in town. You just don't know her like I do. She'll be back.” Tate only hoped he'd be here for her when she did, but he was beginning to doubt it. “Damn right, she will. Look, Tate. How long is it going to take before you start listening to me? I keep trying to tell you, she's not worth it. She's only stringing you along. Diane Prentis doesn't care about anyone but herself. She never has and she never will. She's been seeing Clayton Caldwell. You know it. I know it. Everyone in town knows it. Face facts. She's never going to marry you." Tate stared at the ring in Joe's hand, then pulled it away from him and stuck it in his pocket. Joe was right about one thing. He had known about Clayton. It had caused their last big fight six weeks ago. That night, he'd been the one who called the engagement off for a change. Then he'd gone out and gotten drunk. It was what had gotten him into this mess to start with. Again, his gaze wandered uneasily to the bar, searching for and finding Abby. She was loading a tray with drinks, her skin pasty white under the bar lights. She looked horrible, like she might fall over face-first any minute. Strands of long black hair had escaped from her ponytail and clung to her sweat-dampened neck. He might not remember much else about that night, but he remembered what her lips had felt like on his, the heat that had roared through him when he touched her. The soft curve of her body under his. Remembered how it felt to sink himself into her warm, welcoming depths. God help him, he'd sported a raging erection for a solid week afterwards, every time he thought about it. And then the fear had set in. She'd been a virgin. That little fact had sobered him up real fast, but not fast enough to keep him from taking her. Not fast enough for his brain to realize he wasn't using protection. Had she told him the truth tonight? Was it just a virus or was she pregnant? He'd been holding his breath ever since that night, waiting for the ax to fall, waiting for the words that would end forever his relationship with Diane. “So, what are you going to do about it?" Tate's head whipped around in shock before he realized that Joe was still talking about Diane. Diane and Clayton. “Nothing." “Nothing?” His friend sounded disgusted. “You're just going to let her get away with it.” Joe waved and caught Abby's attention, holding up two fingers when she looked at him. She nodded and turned back to the bar. “What do you expect me to do? Lock her up?” He watched Abby head toward their table, two more beers in her hands. They both fell silent as Abby put the bottles in front of them. Tate tried to catch her eye, but she refused to look at him. Joe watched her walk away, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I think if I were you, Hoss, I'd at least want to get even. Maybe you should take a shot at some of that.” He tilted his head at Abby. “I've heard she's pretty hot in the sack."

The rage that hit Tate was uncontrollable. Before he even knew he was going to, he'd grabbed the front of Joe's shirt and hauled him halfway across the table. “I think you better learn to keep your mouth shut until you know what you're talking about.” He forced the words through tightly gritted teeth. “Easy, there, Hoss. Easy.” Joe held up both hands, palms out. “I didn't mean anything.” He sank back into his chair as Tate released him. “I just don't understand how you can keep taking Diane back time after time. No woman is worth what she puts you through." Tate reached for his wallet and slapped some money on the table. “It's not your problem. It's mine and I'll handle it my way.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “See you later." **** Abby tied the sleeves of her sweater around her waist and stepped out the door. Normally, she enjoyed the walk home after work. The air of calm serenity that fell over the town in the wee hours was soothing after the noise and crowds of the tavern. But tonight nothing would soothe her. Panic hit her as she thought of the tiny life that had taken up residence inside her. What did she know about having a baby, much less raising one? She could barely buy food for herself. There was no way she could afford a doctor or medical bills. And as soon as Pete discovered she was pregnant, she'd lose her job. Admittedly, it wasn't much of a job, but at least the tips kept a roof over her head. She angled across the parking lot and turned north. There were no sidewalks here. Delly's was on the very edge of town, too far out for such amenities. She walked on the grassy verge, her sneakers silent in the dew-dampened weeds. Deep in her own whirling thoughts, she didn't hear the pickup until it slowed almost to a stop next to her. “Get in. I'll give you a ride home." The voice sent a burst of anxiety through her. She glanced up but kept going, fear making her heart pound against her ribs. He couldn't possibly know. “Thanks, but I'd rather walk." The truck shot ahead of her and pulled over, the red flare of lights almost blinding her as he hit the brakes. The sound of the door slamming behind him echoed across the empty street. She hesitated, then increased her speed, intending to go right by him. When she was even with the truck, he caught her arm. His hand was warm, his grip firm and determined. The speed of her heartbeat increased another notch. “Abby, we need to talk." “There's nothing to talk about. Go home, Tate.” She pulled her arm loose and started walking again, praying he'd just go. He fell into step next to her. “You're pregnant, aren't you? You don't have a virus." The air went out of her lungs as though she'd slammed into a brick wall, and the blackness threatened again. She staggered to a halt, fighting to draw in a breath. He knew. Dear God, he

hadn't believed her earlier excuse for being sick. Until he caught her, lifted her, she hadn't realized she was falling. There was a dizzying sense of motion, then she found herself propped up on the seat of his truck. “Abby?” His voice seemed to come from a long way off. “Abby, if you don't answer me I'm taking you to the hospital." That got her attention. No way could she pay a hospital bill. She forced her eyes open. Tate leaned over her, blue eyes reflecting concern. Dark hair spilled onto his forehead. Would the baby look like him? Hysteria welled in her at the thought. Fighting it off brought her back to her senses. “I'm okay.” At least, she would be if he'd just go away. He shot her a look that said he didn't believe her, his eyes narrowing to speculative slits. “No more arguments. I'm driving you home.” He climbed in next to her and started the motor. Abby managed to slide across the seat until she was huddled tightly against the door, as far from him as the space allowed. “It's on Maple." “Yeah, I remember.” The words carried a cynical edge. He glanced at her. “You weren't going to tell me, were you?" Abby remained silent. There was no way he could know for sure. He was only guessing. “Did you think I wouldn't notice after a while?" She turned from the window to look at him. “Assuming you're right, that I am pregnant, what makes you think the baby is yours? I'm the town whore, you know. Or hasn't anyone told you that yet?” Abby tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. The label shouldn't hurt after all this time, but it did. Just because it was true about her mother didn't mean she was the same. But try to convince the people in this town of that. And now they had even more ammunition to convince themselves she was a carbon copy of her mother. “I may have been drunk that night, Abby, but I wasn't unconscious. You were a virgin. If you're pregnant, we both know it's mine. Don't you think I have the right to know if you're carrying my child?" “No,” she whispered. “I don't think you have any rights at all where I'm concerned.” The lights of the town grew closer together, plunging them in and out of darkness. “This isn't your fault. It's mine. So if you're feeling guilty, you can forget about it. It was my choice, my body, and it's my baby. Mine, and no one else's." “You're wrong, Abby. It's mine, too. Whether you like it or not." “Oh, right, Tate.” She was dangerously close to panic again. “You're just going to proclaim to the whole town that this is your child. Your fiancée should really love that. Maybe we can all get together and have lunch after you break the news to her. She and I can even compare notes on your technique. Should be really interesting. Of course, I only have that one time to use as an example, but it was enough. Boy, was it enough.” To her horror, tears streamed down her face and she made a belated attempt to wipe them away. It didn't help. The harder she tried to stop them, the faster they fell. She wasn't aware that the truck had stopped, but suddenly Tate was holding her, pressing her

face into his shoulder. Weeks of keeping the fear and worry bottled up inside spilled out. She clung to him, embarrassed and ashamed of losing control. “Oh, God. I'm sorry. I've just been so scared,” she sobbed the words. “There's no one I can talk to and I don't know what to do." She felt the tension in his body as his arms tightened around her. “You don't have to be scared anymore, Abby. We'll figure something out, I promise. We're in this together." As much as she hated to, she pushed away from him. They were parked in front of her house and she glanced at the darkened windows. Anything to keep from looking at him. It hurt too much to hope. “When was the last time you had a decent meal?" “Yesterday.” She hesitated, unwilling to admit that there was no food in the house. “It's the morning sickness. Except I seem to be having it all day. It makes it hard to eat." “Have you been to the doctor yet?" Abby looked down at her hands, twisted together in her lap as if they had a mind of their own. “No. I just used one of those home pregnancy test kits. I'll go soon.” Like never, she added mentally. “Come on.” He opened the truck door and then held his hand out. It was a large hand, the fingers long, the back corded. “You don't have to come in. I'll be fine." His hand never wavered. A light sprinkling of dark hair showed under the cuff of his sleeve. “I told you, we're in this together. Now, come on." Reluctantly, she let him help her out of the truck, then followed him up the steps. As soon as they were inside, he made a beeline for the kitchen. Mortified, Abby listened to the sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing. Before she had time to blink, he was back, his broad shoulders blotting out her tiny, shabby living room. “You aren't planning on going to the doctor, are you?” Even though his words were soft, they rang with accusation. Hands clenched at her sides, she squared her chin and faced him. “No. I couldn't pay him." His expression lost some of its grimness as he stared at her. “That's what I thought. Get your clothes. You're coming home with me. At least I can make sure you're fed." Shock warred with surprise. “Are you crazy? I can't go home with you! Everyone in this town would know it by tomorrow night. I can't let you do this." “You can't stop me. Now, either you get your clothes or I will. You're coming with me if I have to drag you. You're going to eat, then you're going to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow we can decide what to do."

Pride urged her to argue, common sense forced her not to. The truth was, she couldn't handle this alone. Part of her had known that from the beginning. And besides, she was hungry. The thought of food, real food, made her mouth water. One night surely wouldn't hurt. Head down, she went to the bedroom and packed.

Chapter Two Abby clutched the plain brown bag to her chest and stared at the outline of the huge old house as Tate's truck came to a stop. The bag, containing only a change of clothing and her ragged nightshirt, had suddenly become her only anchor in a world gone mysterious and strange. She shouldn't be here, didn't belong in a place like this. “Looks like Buddy's in bed already." They were the first words he'd spoken during the entire fifteen-minute ride. “Buddy?" “My brother. He's sixteen.” He shut the motor off and reached for the truck door. “Tate, wait. I don't think I can do this. I have to be at work tomorrow. I can't lose my job. And what's your brother going to think? Please, just take me back home and we'll forget the whole thing. You don't owe me anything. I told you, it was all my fault." His eyes glittered icy blue in the beams from the light that sat atop a pole at the far edge of the front yard. “Get out of the truck, Abby." She stared at him for a minute, then grabbed the door handle and yanked, pinching the skin on one finger when it got trapped between the metal and the frame. Stifling the pain, she climbed out and followed him up the steps. A scrabbling of claws on the wooden porch made Abby take a quick step to the side as a rather large dog appeared out of the darkness. Uneasily, she watched him approach. “He doesn't bite, does he?" By the time Tate glanced around, the dog was sniffing her ankles, head turned to one side, tail erect and unmoving. “Lie down, Dog.” Tate's voice barely changed from a conversational tone but the dog turned and flopped to the floor, his unblinking gaze still fixed on Abby. She watched the animal warily as a light came on, almost blinding her. As Tate held the front door open, she edged past him, then stopped and looked around. Her entire house would fit in this one room alone. The floors were a rich, dark hardwood, polished by years of wear. The few scratches here and there only gave it character. And the furniture. Abby couldn't help staring. The couch and chairs weren't new by any means, but the floral material didn't have a single hole that she could see. They looked over-stuffed and comfortable. Next to the stairs at one end of the room, sat an old grandfather clock, its pendulum swinging back and forth hypnotically. Between a set of windows on the other side resided a huge fireplace, its mantel covered in pictures and ceramic figurines. An upright piano, its top adorned with more pictures, inhabited the space just down from the clock.

“Oh, it's beautiful,” Abby sighed. Instantly, a wave of heat rose to her cheeks when Tate gave her a strange look. “It's just an old, run-down ranch house." To him, maybe, but she'd never been in a house this fancy before. Or as big. It was the kind of house she dreamed of on the rare occasions she let herself dream. The kind of house meant for a real family. “Put your things on the chair for now. I'll show you where you can sleep later." Abby looked at the chair, then at the bag in her hands. When Tate turned his back, she deposited the bag on the floor next to the chair. “I'm not much of a cook and neither is Buddy.” His voice floated from the next room and she arrived in time to hear him finish. “Sandwiches all right?" “Yes, thank you.” Since he was leaned over peering into the fridge, she addressed the remark to his rear, feeling her cheeks heat at the memory his anatomy aroused. Not that she'd gotten to see much of it that night. Tearing her gaze away, she looked around the kitchen. The sink behind him was full of dirty dishes, mostly glasses and cups, she noted. “Have a seat." The table was massive, taking up almost half the kitchen. Abby pulled a chair out and sat down gingerly, watching while Tate pulled dishes out of the fridge and carried them to the counter. He worked in silence, concentrating on the job at hand. Two slices of thick bread slathered with mayonnaise went onto a plate first. Abby stared as he started piling ingredients on each one. First went the meat, what looked like ham, turkey and roast beef, and then two different kinds of cheese. To these he added tomatoes and lettuce and, almost as an afterthought, pickles. The top layer of bread went on and Tate stepped back to contemplate his masterpiece. The sandwiches looked a little top-heavy to Abby and apparently they did to him also. With one hand, he squashed each of them down onto the plate. “There. Eat up.” He put the food in front of her then filled a glass with milk. It was more food than she'd consumed at one sitting in ages. Lately, her daily intake of nourishment consisted of cereal for breakfast and a bowl of soup for supper. If she were careful, she could afford crackers to go with the soup, and maybe a peanut butter sandwich. She shot a fast glance at Tate, but he had his back to her, making coffee. Tentatively, she picked up a sandwich and nibbled at one corner. When her stomach stayed in place and the world didn't collapse around her, she took a bigger bite. Her eyes closed in bliss as she chewed. It was a battle not to cram the entire sandwich into her mouth, but she still had her pride. Even so, by the time he'd finished the coffee, she was almost done with the second sandwich. She stopped long enough to take a drink of milk, and saw his gaze go to the plate. His expression never changed.

“You can stay in my parents’ room. It's the biggest one in the house. No one's used it in a few years, so you might want to open the windows and let it air out." Abby swallowed another bite. “Where are your parents?" “Mom died when Buddy was twelve. Dad had a heart attack about two years ago. It's just been me and Buddy since then.” He nodded toward her now empty plate. “There's more if you want it." Another wave of heat swept over her face. “No thanks. I'm full.” She was, finally. Uncomfortably so. The faster she got out of his presence and into bed, the faster tomorrow would get there and she could leave. She drained the rest of the milk. “I am tired, though." “Bedroom is this way.” He put his cup on the table and led her back through the living room and up the stairs, ducking when they reached the top to keep from banging his head on the edge of the floor above. “This is Buddy's room,” he pointed at the first door on the left. “This one is mine.” It was directly across the hall from his brother's. “Bathroom is there.” He gestured at the door next to his brother's. He opened the door next to his own and ushered her inside, putting the bag he'd picked up in the living room on the bed. “There are sheets and blankets in the cedar chest next to the closet. If you need anything, just let me know." “Thanks. I will.” She listened to his steps going back down the hall, then turned and looked around her. It was a corner room with windows lining two walls, curtains tied back on either side. Here, the furniture was wood, the bed a huge four-poster, with a dresser and chest to match. Abby went to the windows and opened them to let the late spring breeze in. The room did smell a little musty. She ran a finger across the top of the dresser then wiped the dust on her jeans. Tate was right. It looked as if no one had been in here in two years. As soon as the bed was made, she hurriedly undressed and donned her nightshirt. With a sigh, she climbed in and snuggled down under the blanket, the faint scent of cedar drifting up from the sheets and filling her nose. In spite of her unease, a full stomach combined with a long day of work forced her eyes closed. Soon she was sound asleep. **** Tate picked up his coffee and carried it out to the back porch, leaning against one of the supporting post as he drank. A square of light from the second floor window illuminated a patch of new spring grass and he watched the shadowed movements of the woman inside as she readied for bed. As soon as the light went out, he stepped off the porch. Even in the darkness his feet found the well-worn path with no trouble. Lord knew, he'd spent plenty of time following it in the last two years. Every time he had a problem, every time he'd been overwhelmed with running the ranch alone and trying to raise a younger brother, this was where he wound up. The gate of the white-washed fence squeaked a little as he pushed it open and he made a mental note to oil the hinges. Thin bars of moonlight created silvery lined shadows on the headstones as he picked his way between them. There weren't many on the acre that had been set aside for a family plot. His grandparents. Two of his uncles who had died before he was born. A maiden aunt. And his

parents. He squatted next to the newest mound and absently pulled a weed that had sprung up. “Well, Daddy, I got me a real problem this time.” He paused, thinking. “But I guess you know that, don't you? See, there's this girl sleeping upstairs in your bed tonight. She's a stranger, Daddy. I barely know her, but she's pregnant and it's my baby. She lives in a worn-out old house, not much more than some boards and a tin roof, but I guess it's the best she can do, only working two nights a week." He lowered one knee to the ground, sitting on his heel, and propped one arm across his other knee. The coffee in his cup had long since cooled. “She's starved half to death, too. Not that she'd admit it. She wasn't going to tell me about the baby even though she's scared out of her mind.” He smiled slightly. “She's too proud to ever ask for help, keeps telling me it wasn't my fault. I guess nobody told her the facts of life before. It's kind of hard to get pregnant all by yourself." His smile faded. “You always taught me to take responsibility for my own actions, Daddy, and I've tried. But this time, it's tearing me apart. I know you never cared much for Diane. Just the fact that you never said anything about her told me that much. She may come across as a spoiled rich kid, but deep down she's just a lost, lonely little girl. Joe was right. She has put me through hell, but I understand why she does it. And I have a responsibility to her, too. Even though she fights it, part of her knows that sooner or later she'll give in and marry me.” He hesitated and his voice lowered. “I guess what it comes down to is who has the greatest claim on me. I know what I have to do, what the right thing is. I can't let that girl go through this alone. I've known it all along. But it's not going to be easy, Daddy. Telling Diane is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. It's going to hurt her bad." He straightened, his gaze going back to the silent house. For a moment he stood in the moonlight, then with one final look at the grave, he turned and started back. Something else that wasn't going to be easy was getting Abby to go along with the solution he'd come up with. But the truth was, neither of them had much choice at this point. One thing she hadn't seemed was stupid. He'd have to put it to her the right way, a way that let her keep her pride intact. **** Tate broke another egg into the bacon grease, then eyed the piece of shell that had fallen in with it. He was chasing the fragment of white around the cast iron skillet with a spoon when Buddy clattered down the stairs and into the kitchen. Almost as tall as Tate, if still somewhat on the scrawny side, the sixteen-year-old came to a sliding stop and stared in amazement. “You're cooking?" “I think the right word here would be ‘trying,'” Tate mumbled as he continued to fish for the shell. He finally gave up and grabbed it with his fingers, burning them in the process. “Would this have anything to do with whoever that is barfing up a lung in the bathroom upstairs?" “Damn.” Tate dropped the spoon on the countertop and headed out of the room. “Watch the eggs,” he called over his shoulder. He could hear the sounds of Abby's distress from down the hall and cringed inside. It was his fault she was in this condition, no matter what she said. Without bothering to knock, he pushed the bathroom door open.

Abby was sitting on the floor, her legs tucked to the side, her forehead resting on the arms she'd propped on the toilet seat. What he could see of her face was pale, with a green tinge. She didn't as much as twitch while he wet a couple of washcloths in the sink. Squatting next to her, he folded one and pushed her hair aside to lay it on the back of her neck. “Abby?" She groaned. “Please. Just go away and let me die in peace." “You aren't going to die, even though it may feel like it right now.” He held out the other cloth. “Here, wipe your face with this." Blindly, she reached out and he deposited the wet lump in her hand, watching as she pressed it to her face. “Finished now?" A weak nod was her only answer. “Good. Then let's get you back in bed." Suddenly she sat bolt upright, strands of long black hair tumbling across her face. For the first time, he realized she was still wearing a nightshirt, one worn to the point of transparency. She might have been a little on the thin side, but, although small, her breasts were full for their size and plainly visible through the material. Tate quickly averted his gaze, but not before he saw the tinge of red that stained her cheeks, the involuntary move to cross her arms over her chest. And not before he felt his own body reacting with great enthusiasm. “I'm fine, really. I don't need to go to bed. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed." He studied her brown eyes, barely visible through the curtain of hair, then nodded. “Come downstairs when you're ready." Buddy was at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of him. “The eggs burned, but at least they match the bacon.” He tilted his head toward the stove. “I told you to watch them." “Hey, you don't see any flames shooting through the roof, do you?" Tate stared at the congealed mess in disgust, then picked the skillet up and dumped it in the sink. Abby probably wouldn't feel like eating, anyway, if that episode upstairs was any indication. “So, are you gonna tell me who you've got stashed upstairs?" There was no doubt Buddy would find out soon, but he wanted the chance to get things settled with Abby before he gave him the details. He couldn't do that with an audience. He leaned back against the sink and looked at his brother. “I'll give you a rundown later, but for now, I need a favor." “What?"

“Make yourself scarce for a while. It's your turn to feed the stock anyway. Don't come back to the house until I come and get you." “That serious, huh?” Buddy looked intrigued, but he scooted his chair back and stood. “Okay, but you owe me. Big time." The back door closed behind him just as Tate heard Abby's tentative steps descending the stairs. He turned when she stopped in the doorway. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and T-shirt, the brown bag once again clutched in both arms. She hadn't put her hair in a ponytail, but she had combed it back. Her face looked as if she'd scrubbed it to a shine. “Why don't you sit down? Think you could eat some toast? Seems like I remember Mom doing that when she was pregnant with Buddy." “Thanks, but you don't have to do that. If you could just give me a ride home..." Tate ignored her words and dropped two slices of bread into the toaster. While they browned he took a glass and a bottle of juice to the table. “We have to talk, Abby." “No, we don't.” Her chin lifted defiantly. He caught the toast as it popped up and slid it onto a plate. “Yes, we do. You may as well sit down and eat." “I'm not hungry." “At least drink the juice. You need it." Keeping a wary eye on him, she sat down in front of the glass. “Fine. I'll drink the juice, but then I want to go home." Tate pulled out the chair across from her. “What are your plans?" “Plans?" “You're pregnant, Abby. Have you thought about what you're going to do?" She looked down at her glass. “I guess I'm going to have a baby. I really haven't had much time to get past that fact yet.” She glanced back up at him. “You don't have to worry though. I won't tell anyone it's yours. Maybe I can move to another town before anyone even finds out." “So, you've got enough money to rent a place and hold you over until the baby comes?" “If I had that much money I'd have left this town a long time ago. Maybe Pete will let me start working more nights. I could save everything extra I make for the next few months." “Abby, you and I both know you couldn't save enough money if you worked twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And that's even if Pete does have the extra time, which I doubt. Rent is expensive and medical bills are worse. No one is going to hire you when they find out you're pregnant, so you won't even be able to get a job. Then, after the baby comes, you'll have to feed it, take care of it. If you do find a job, you'll have to pay someone to baby-sit."

Abby remained silent, but her face went two shades whiter and her grip on the glass tightened. Tate waited a beat. “I don't think you should go back to work at Delly's. It's too hard on you and you don't make enough money to survive anyway. You've got to think about the baby now, not just yourself." Her eyes shot to his face and he could see the anger filling them. “I suppose you think it would be better for me to get thrown out of my house and starve to death? That would really help the baby, wouldn't it? Why is it so hard for you to understand that I need that job? It's not much, but it's all I have. I can't lose it." “What if I could offer you a better job? It doesn't pay much, but you get room and board and all your medical bills will be covered. And after the baby is born, you'll be able to take care of it yourself." “A job?” The anger in her eyes subsided, changed to a look of puzzlement. “But I don't know anything about ranching. I've never even had a pet." “Ranching wasn't exactly what I had in mind." “Then what did you have in mind?" Tate looked up and held her gaze. “A wife. My wife." The glass of juice crashed to the table, spilling the contents everywhere while Abby stared at him in shock. “Oh, God. You're crazy, aren't you?” she whispered.

Chapter Three “Crazy?” He shook his head. “No. It's the only logical thing to do. Take a look around. Dishes need washing, clothes are dirty, there's dust an inch thick on everything. Buddy and I need someone to help out around here. Right now, I spend half my time taking care of things in the house when I should be working on the ranch and I'm barely scratching the surface." Abby stared at his back while he got a towel and mopped up the juice. Her stomach was roiling again, but this time morning sickness wasn't to blame. “To tell the truth, you'd be doing us a favor. I sure can't afford to hire anyone.” He tossed the towel at the sink and sat back down. “And there's something else. That's my baby you're carrying. I'm going to take care of you no matter what you decide to do. If you don't want to marry me, then I'm going to help you with your rent, food and doctor bills. It'll put a big strain on the ranch, trying to support two households, but I'll do it somehow. It would make things a lot easier if you lived here."She heard him. The words even made sense. But a strange buzzing filled her head, questions spinning too fast to utter. Only one thing stood out clearly from her confused thoughts. He'd said they needed her. It wouldn't be charity. She'd actually be helping him. And yet... “What would your brother think?” It wasn't what she really wanted to know but it was a place to

start. Tate shrugged. “I'll tell him what's going on. Buddy's pretty smart. He'll understand.” He looked pensive for a moment. “I think he's missed having a woman around since Mom died. Having you here will be good for him." Abby took a deep breath and forced the next question out. “Aren't you forgetting something? You're already engaged. It might be a little difficult to carry on a courtship with a wife at home." He looked down at the table but not before Abby saw the flash of pain that crossed his face. “I'm not engaged.” His voice was so low she had to strain to hear him. “But even if I were it wouldn't matter now. She's out of town for two weeks. As soon as she gets back I'll tell her." Anger mixed with pain inside Abby, for both her and Tate. “Do you really think I'm going to let you do this? You're in love with her. Everyone in this town knows it. So what if she called the engagement off again? She does it every other day. We both know she'll come running right back to you. This...” She put her hand over her stomach. “This was an accident. It never should have happened. I'm not going to let you ruin your life because of it. Maybe I don't know how yet, but I'll manage things on my own. I always have before." She picked up the bag again. A drop of juice trickled down one side, leaving a dark stain in its wake. “Please, just take me home and forget this whole thing. Marry Diane like you want to." “No.” He leaned across the table and grabbed her wrist with one big hand. “I told you, that's my baby, my blood. I wasn't raised to ignore my responsibilities whether they were caused by accident or not. No matter what you do, it'll be over with Diane as soon as I tell her. And I will tell her, Abby. I'm not going to ignore any baby of mine. So what if my life isn't turning out exactly the way I'd planned? It's not ruined, it'll just be different." Abby twisted her arm out of his grasp and rubbed it, but apparently he wasn't done yet. “You can be selfish if you want, and make me spend money I can't afford to help you, or you can make things easy on both of us and help me out at the same time.” He paused. “Do you really want the baby growing up a bastard?" The word ripped through her, dredging up painful memories from her own childhood. Voices that taunted her before she was old enough to know what the word meant. Her eyes closed with the force of remembered pain. Was her pride worth letting her own child suffer the same torment? Especially when she'd know she could have prevented it? A fierce surge of protectiveness swept over her. Suddenly Tate's ruined plans didn't matter. Nor did her pride. The only thing that mattered was the tiny life growing inside her. It had to come first, before either of them. Abby opened her eyes and looked at him. “Okay,” she whispered. “I'll marry you." **** The barn door leading to the pasture was standing open when Tate got there, every stall filled with a contentedly munching horse. Dust flew into the air from the far end of the building and he could hear Buddy whistling.

Pausing only long enough to grab a curry comb and brush, he went to the stall next to Buddy's and started working. The mare was a sorrel, one they'd had for years, and she continued eating, only the tilting of her ears indicating she was aware of his presence. The whistling had stopped as soon as Tate appeared and for a while they worked in silence. “Diamond's been rolling in the mud down by the creek again,” his brother commented. Tate nodded. “She always does when the weather starts getting hot. Cools her off." “Yeah, but it's heck getting the mud out of her coat." “Maybe you should just hose her down first.” He hesitated then cleared his throat. He'd told Abby that Buddy would understand. He could only pray it had been the truth. “The person you heard upstairs this morning is Abby Grayson. We're getting married Monday as soon as we can get the license from the courthouse in Austin." The curry comb came to an abrupt halt and Buddy's head appeared over Diamond's back. “Abby Grayson?” His face reflected his shock. “You're marrying Abby Grayson?" “You know her?" “Not exactly. I mean, I've seen her around town, but we've never met.” His tone was decidedly uneasy now. “It's just that I've heard some of the guys at school talking about her." “Don't believe everything you hear." Buddy's curry comb started moving again. “I don't. But sometimes it's hard not to. She's pregnant, isn't she? That's what all the throwing up was about." “Yes.” Tate gave up all pretense of grooming the mare and leaned against the side of the stall. “And before you ask, it's mine." “How do you know?" He looked down at the serrated metal edges of the tool he was still holding. “Because I'm the only one she's ever slept with. She was a virgin, Buddy. I know this is all happening kind of fast, but I'd appreciate it if you could at least try to treat her decent. She doesn't have anyone else." The only sound in the barn was the swishing of tails and the occasional stomp of a hoof. From somewhere near the door a horse snorted. “When is she moving in?" “I thought we'd run into town this afternoon and pick up her things. She'll be staying in Mom's and Dad's room." “Need any help?" It felt as if a giant fist was squeezing his heart and it took him a second to answer. “Sure. I can always use an extra hand."

Buddy nodded thoughtfully. “You know, it might be kind of nice to have a baby around the house.” He glanced at Tate again. “I just hope to hell it looks like her, ‘cause I'd hate to have a niece as ugly as you are." Tate grinned and leaned over the stall partition to cram his brother's hat down around his ears. “Since we look just alike, doesn't say much for you, does it? Besides, it may be a boy." “Either way, at least you'll have somebody else to boss around. Maybe I'll get a break." “Don't count on it. Have you done your homework yet?" “Oh, for gosh sakes, Tate. It's Saturday. I've got all day tomorrow to get it done." “Just make sure you do. There are only three weeks of school left this year and I don't want to see any failing grades when you bring that report card home." “You won't. I always make good grades." Tate went back to grooming the mare. “Buddy? How would you like to be my best man?" “Sure, but I thought I already was." The curry comb sailed over the stall and Buddy dodged, laughing. Tate smiled. “Come on. Lets get done here and then we can go to the house so you can meet Abby." **** Abby sat at the kitchen table and watched Tate through the back door as far as she could see him. Her husband. He was going to be her husband. She rolled the word over in her mind, wondering if it sounded this strange to everyone. “Hus-band.” The syllables sounded even worse when she said them out loud. She lifted one hand to her forehead. She must have a fever. Things like this didn't happen to her. Getting married was something she'd never thought about. But then, she hadn't thought about having a baby either. Every day had been such a struggle to survive that she didn't think about much past getting her diploma. Until last week that had been her only goal. She still couldn't believe she'd agreed to do this. Her gaze swept the room. A real house, with decent furniture, a stove that actually had four working burners, and even a fireplace. And she got to live in it. At least for a while. He hadn't said how long this was supposed to last. Maybe after the baby was born he'd get a divorce and get on with his life. That gave her about nine months, assuming he'd give her time to recover from the birth. By then she could finish her studies and get her G.E.D. And in the meantime, she'd have a job. She wouldn't have to worry about her next meal, or stay terrified that something would happen to the baby without medical attention. He was going to take care of that. Her glance landed on the dirty dishes and she jumped to her feet, the paper bag that had been in her lap falling unnoticed to the floor.

Emptying the sink took only a moment. She found the stopper and detergent in the cabinet beneath it, and a clean cloth in a drawer to one side. Soon, the draining board was full of sparkling glasses. The floor next, she decided, but she needed a broom. There was a door near the one that led outside and she pulled on the porcelain knob to open it. Her eyes widened. It was a pantry and it was stocked full of food from top to bottom. More food than she'd ever seen in any place except the grocery store. The room was rich with the scent of spices and apples and she inhaled deeply. For people who didn't cook, they sure kept a lot of food on hand. The smell of apples was coming from an open bag on the middle shelf. Her mouth watered at the sight of the crisp green skins. Surely they wouldn't miss just one? She picked the smallest in the sack and held it to her nose an instant before sinking her teeth into it. The flavor was tart and sweet at the same time and juice dribbled down her chin. She was just about to take another bite when the back door flew open. It hit the pantry door, slamming it shut and leaving Abby in total darkness. Panicked, she crammed the apple to the back of the shelf. “Abby?" It was Tate's voice and she cracked the door open, peering out through the slit. He was looking into the living room, a younger version of Tate standing right behind him. She pushed the door open all the way, heat flushing her face. They both turned as the pantry door squeaked. Tate's gaze ran over her. “I see you found the pantry. Sorry it's not full. We can stop at the grocery store while we're in town." Was he joking? There was enough food in there to last her a year. “I was just looking for a broom.” She almost stammered the words in her embarrassment. “It's in the utility room. And there's a freezer on the back porch full of meat.” His gaze shifted to the clean dishes then back to her. “I didn't mean you had to start working right now." She gave a tiny shrug, well aware of the boy staring at her from Tate's side. “Abby, this is my brother, Buddy. Buddy, this is Abby." “Hi.” He grinned at her. “Now that we've gotten the amenities out of the way, can you cook?" In spite of her nervousness, Abby couldn't stop herself from responding to him. “Yes." “Thank God,” he staggered dramatically. “We're saved." Tate rolled his eyes. “You'll find out real fast that Buddy's main concern in life is his stomach. He's going to help us get you moved in. Do you know how many boxes you'll need?" “Not many. Mostly, it's just my clothes." He nodded. “Ready to go?"

She had to try one more time. “Are you sure about this?" His blue eyes met hers steadily. “I'm sure." “Then I guess I'm ready." **** Abby sat with elbows tucked into her sides, hands clasped in her lap and feet planted firmly together, but she still felt squashed between the two males in the cab of the pickup. Both were totally relaxed as they talked over her head about ranch work. She listened with half an ear and tried to make herself even smaller. It wasn't working. On either side of her, a long male leg pressed against hers. Buddy's she could kind of ignore. Tate's was a different matter all together. Every time he changed speeds she could feel the flex of muscles that tightened the denim of his jeans. She studied as much of him as she could see without turning her head. The foot on the accelerator was encased in a scruffy black boot that looked like it had seen better days. A bit of mud clung to the outside of the sole. The hem of his jeans flared a little where they brushed the top of the leather, and then narrowed where they hugged his calf snugly just below his knee. His thighs looked rock-hard and she wondered if there would be any give in them if she were to poke him with a finger. The thought brought an instant surge of heat to her face. She'd had one chance to find out, but as much as she'd wanted to, she'd been too scared to do it. There wasn't likely to be another opportunity. He'd made it clear this morning that she was going to stay in the room she'd slept in last night, even after they were married. Not that she minded. He was a stranger to her, in spite of what had happened between them. And while the kissing had been okay, what followed had been very painful. At least, it had for a little while. It was just starting to feel kind of nice when suddenly it was all over with. She wasn't naive enough to believe it would be like that every time--she even knew why it had hurt--but the idea still made her uncomfortable. Touching him made her uncomfortable, set her stomach to roiling again. Gently, she tried to ease her leg away from him. It didn't help. His hip was still pressed against hers. With a tiny sigh Abby concentrated on where they were. Tate had decided to stop at the grocery store first so they could pick up some empty boxes along with the food. And hadn't that been an experience? She'd followed them around the store, virtually in shock as they randomly tossed items into the basket with no thought to the price. At the checkout counter, she'd cringed when the total came to almost a hundred dollars, but Tate hadn't batted an eye. He'd just paid it and they'd loaded it into the truck under the watchful eyes of the cashier. From her expression, Abby had no doubt the girl was itching to spread the news that Tate McCullom had been grocery shopping with the town whore. She glanced up at his face, wondering if he'd been as embarrassed as she had. Not so much for herself--she was used to it after all--but for him. His left elbow was propped on the open truck window, his right hand on the steering wheel. He looked down at her, his blue eyes meeting hers briefly, then back to the road, slowing as he turned onto her street. If he felt anything at all about the situation, she couldn't tell it from looking at him. His rough, chiseled features maintained the same stoic appearance they had from the start.

Nervously, she unclasped her hands and wiped her sweat dampened palms on her knees as the truck came to a halt and both Buddy and Tate climbed out. Indecision as to which way to go hit her, but Tate was holding his door open, waiting. She slid under the steering wheel and stepped out, feeling tiny and delicate next to him. The door closed behind her. “Sure you won't need more boxes than this?" Abby glanced at the stack in the back of the truck. “No, that's plenty.” More than plenty. She didn't think she could fill half of what they had. Buddy grabbed an armload of boxes from one side of the truck and Tate lifted more from the other, leaving Abby with nothing to do but follow them inside. “What goes from the kitchen?” Buddy had paused in the door. “Just the dishes.” And not many of those, she thought. Only the ones she'd kept after her mother died. The teenager nodded. “I'll start in there." Tate was still standing in the middle of the living room, looking around. “None of this belongs to me, so it can stay here.” She tugged a box out his hand. “I'll go pack my clothes." She hadn't realized he'd followed her until he dropped the rest of the boxes on the floor. Silently, she opened drawers and put the contents into a box. It didn't take long to empty them. “Are the bed linens yours?" “Yes.” She'd bought them at a rummage sale a year ago. The pink flowers on the sheets were faded, but the material was still serviceable. They were the only set she had. She moved to the closet, keeping one eye on Tate. He had folded the chenille bedspread and the blanket, and put them in a box. The pillow followed, then he reached down and pulled the top sheet off. Suddenly he froze, his gaze fastened on the bed. Abby took a step away from the closet to see what had captured his attention. When she did, it felt as though every drop of blood drained from her body. She had tried to get the stain out, she really had. As soon as he'd left that night, she'd yanked the sheets off the bed and scrubbed at the spot of blood until her fingers hurt. But in spite of her efforts, a faint brown outline remained. Even if she could have thought of something to say, she didn't have time. Tate raised his eyes and stared at her, an unidentifiable emotion in their crystal depths. He turned away abruptly, stooping to pick up the box she'd already filled. “I'll take this one to the truck.” His voice sounded choked and harsh and Abby cringed inside. As soon as he was out of the room, she grabbed the sheets and crammed them to the bottom of another box. ****

What was wrong with him? Tate tossed the box of clothing into the back then leaned against the truck. Had he gone crazy? He'd known what the stain was the instant he'd seen it. If he'd really thought about it, he might even have expected it to be there. What he hadn't expected was the barrage of images it had set off in his mind. Actually, they were more impressions than images. The feel of silky smooth skin under his hands. The softness of her hair. The clean smell of soap. The way her lips had moved under his, so damn innocent, so sweet. He groaned and dropped his forehead onto the cool metal in front of him. When the sensations had swept over him in the bedroom, his erection had been instantaneous and painful. God. He was crazy. It was Diane he wanted, not some stranger he'd slept with one time. It had to be the virgin thing, he decided. Some primitive, testosterone-crazed part of him seemed to take control every time he thought about it. And he'd been thinking about it a lot. Every night for the last six weeks to be exact. Always with the same reaction he'd just had. He'd never taken a woman's virginity before so he had no idea if the emotion was unique or not, no basis for comparison. He'd never even really thought about it. Lord knows, Diane had been no virgin. Deep down, he doubted she ever had been. It hadn't mattered. She more than made up in skill what she'd lacked in innocence. And yet there was something about Abby that drew him, something he couldn't fight-“Hey, I thought I was helping, not doing it all." Tate raised his head and looked at his brother. “I was just checking the tire. Thought it might be a little low." Buddy walked around the truck and glanced down. “Looks fine to me. Come on, Abby is almost done." Tate looked toward the house with trepidation, then nodded. “Right behind you."

Chapter Four The dress wasn't much, certainly not stylish or new, but it was the only one she had. Abby took a second to run her hand over the cotton material as she hung it in the closet. Normally she wouldn't have wasted money on it, but she'd thought she should wear one when she applied to the G.E.D. program. She'd gotten the dress and a pair of loafers at the second hand shop in town. So far, that was the only time she'd worn it. Monday she'd wear it to get married. It was a size too big for her, but she'd loved the pale green color right away and it was one of the few in the shop she could afford. Probably because the owner had thought it was just a limp rag. But after she'd washed it and invested in a can of spray starch, the dress had turned out to be beautiful. At least, to her it was. The sleeves where short, the neckline rounded. Empire style, a row of tiny pearl buttons ran down the front of the bodice, ending just where the skirt started under her breasts. She hung it in the virtually empty closet and pushed it all the way to one end so it wouldn't get

wrinkled. The rest of her clothes were already put away in the chest. How much longer would she be able to wear them, she wondered, and what was she going to do when she couldn't? She couldn't ask Tate for money. He was already planning on paying all the medical bills. The muted sound of voices drifted up from the floor below as she turned to survey herself in the mirror. In a little over a week she'd be two months along, but so far, her stomach was as flat as it had ever been. As far as looks went, no one would ever know she was pregnant. She glanced toward the bedroom door, then grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under her shirt, turning sideways as she eyed her now swollen shape. She looked like a watermelon with sticks in both ends. It sure didn't look like she was going to be one of those women she'd read about who got more beautiful when they were expecting. Abby pulled the pillow out and threw it back on the bed, then leaned closer to the mirror. Nope. Not a sign of any glowing going on there. Instead, her skin looked pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. Not that she'd ever been remotely beautiful before. Her face was too narrow, her eyes too big. And they were brown. Plain old brown. It would be nice if the baby had Tate's eye color. They were such a wonderful blue. The thought of Tate had her scurrying for the door. He'd said he was going to put the groceries away while she unpacked, but that was her job. It was what he was marrying her for and she wasn't going to give him a chance to find any fault with her. **** “I think I like her." Tate glanced up at his brother's words. “Abby?" “Yeah.” Buddy pitched a loaf of bread at him. Tate caught it, then put it in the pantry. “She's a little on the skinny side, but kind of pretty, you know? She's awfully nervous, though." “Give her time. She's just not used to us yet." “I guess you're right. But then, the idea of being tied to you for life would probably make an iron statue nervous." Tate paused, rolling that thought over in his mind. For life. Right now, he was having trouble thinking past Monday. He shook his head. “Truthfully, she didn't seem real thrilled at the thought. It took a lot of talking to convince her. I had to make it sound like she'd be doing us a favor." Buddy leaned back against the cabinet. “I wondered what all that cleaning stuff was about this morning." “I think she took me a little too literally.” He stopped in the pantry door. “She's got a lot of pride, Buddy. If she thinks we're getting married just for the baby's sake, she won't do it." “Aren't you?" Tate looked down at the apple in his hand. One bite had been taken out of it. He shoved it back where he'd found it before answering. “No. I'm doing it for her too. No one should have to live like she's been doing. You saw that house. And there was no food. None at all.” He hesitated. “I might not be doing it if it weren't for the baby, but she needs help. Even more now than she did before.

I'm the only one around who can do it." “Have you told Diane yet?" Tate shook his head. “And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone until I have a chance to talk to her. I know there's no way to keep it secret forever in a town this size, but Diane at least deserves to hear it from me." “You got it. And if it's any consolation, I think you're doing the right thing. Abby needs you even if she won't admit it. Diane doesn't need anything but a mirror." “Buddy--" He cut off the warning abruptly as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Abby rushed into the room and came to a sliding stop as she looked around. “Oh. You've already got them put up. I was going to do it." “There wasn't that much. Only took a second." “Well, in that case, I'll start supper." Buddy straightened. “Don't fix anything for me. I'm going out.” He raised an eyebrow at Tate. “If I can have the truck keys?" Tate fished them out of his pocket and handed them over. “Don't run all the gas out. And if you do, fill it up before you come home.” Saturday had been Buddy's night to use the truck since he'd gotten his license. Friday night was his. At least it had been. He supposed that was going to change now that he was getting married. “Don't I always?” Buddy took the keys and started out of the room. “No, you don't. And be home by midnight,” Tate yelled at his retreating back. “Okay, okay. I won't forget.” His words were muffled as the front door slammed behind him. Tate glanced at Abby, suddenly uncomfortable. She was taking a pan from the cabinet and putting it on the stove. “Is spaghetti okay?” She spoke without looking up. “It's fine. Is there anything you want me to do?" “No, I can do it.” She got the meat out and dumped it in the pan, setting the burner for medium heat. Tate stuck his hands in his pockets as he watched her work. Buddy was right. She was pretty in an elfish kind of way. She reminded him of those paintings of the scraggly kittens with big eyes. The ones that made you want to take the animal home and feed it, clean it up and give it a warm place to sleep. For life. Buddy's words rang in his head again, but he pushed them away. He couldn't afford to think about that right now.

“Did you call Pete and tell him you quit?" “Yes, although I'm not sure it was a good idea. I could have worked for a few more months before he found out and I need the money." “Abby, you don't need the money. There's an envelope in the top drawer of my desk with cash in it for household stuff. If there's anything you need, just get it." This time she looked at him, her eyes even bigger than normal. “I can't do that! It's your money." “No.” His voice was quiet. “It's our money. You're going to be my wife. Anything that belongs to me belongs to you, too.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling like a clumsy giant next to her. It was a miracle he hadn't killed her when he ... He yanked his mind back from that topic real fast, trying to stifle his body's immediate reaction. “Do you have a copy of your birth certificate? We'll need it for the marriage license." Abby turned back to the stove and gave the contents of the pot a quick stir. “Yes. I had to have it for...” She halted and her face turned red. Tate looked at her in curiosity. “For what?" “Nothing.” She shook her head. “It's upstairs with the rest of my things." He pulled his hands from his pockets. “Well, if you don't need any help, I guess I'll go work on the tractor until supper's ready. You can stick your head outside and yell. I'll be in that shed next to the barn." “Okay." Just as he started by her, she turned and reached for a spoon. Their gazes met and Tate stopped. “I know you're nervous right now and everything seems strange. It does to me too. But it will get better, Abby. I promise." Mutely, she nodded and he turned and walked out the door. **** Abby stepped out onto the back porch and started down the stairs when the dog appeared around the corner of the house. She froze. He was even bigger and meaner looking in the daylight than he'd been in the dark. His coat was shaggy, a mottled brown and black. He stopped and stared at her for a second, then came closer, his gait stiff-legged, his tail unmoving. She held her breath while he circled her, sniffing her legs, not letting it out until his tail began a gentle waving. “Nice dog?” At her words, the tail movement increased and she patted him on the head. Maybe he wouldn't rip her leg off after all. Trying her best to ignore him, she started hesitantly for the shed. The dog fell in behind her. Both doors were open on the metal building, but the heat inside was oppressive. The roar from the engine of the monstrous tractor was deafening in the enclosed space and diesel fumes filled

the air. She paused in the door, looking for Tate. It didn't take her long to find him. He had the side panel of the tractor open and was leaning over the motor, tinkering with something. At some point, he'd pulled his shirt off and it was lying draped over a huge tire. A thin sheen of sweat coated the bronzed skin of his back, glistening with each flex of muscle as he moved. Abby swallowed hard, and suppressed the urge to run her hands over that back. She could still remember what it had felt like that first time, vividly. For a while, the ache of loneliness had eased a little. She'd felt connected to someone for once in her life, even if it hadn't lasted long. “Tate?” She couldn't hear her own voice over the noise and he didn't even look up. She moved closer and tentatively put her hand on his arm, jerking it back hurriedly when he straightened abruptly, banging his head on the folded-back metal of the engine cover. His mouth moved as he faced her, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. He shook his head, then reached back inside the motor. The noise died, leaving her ears ringing in the sudden silence. “Sorry. I guess I didn't hear you yell." There was grease on his hands and he pulled an orange shop towel out of his back pocket and wiped them off. But that wasn't what caught Abby's attention. His chest was covered in a light sprinkling of black hair that tapered into a vee where it disappeared into the top of his jeans. Suddenly realizing she was staring, Abby lifted her gaze. He was watching her and the heat rushed to her face in a solid wave of embarrassment. “Supper's ready,” she blurted. He nodded. “I need to wash up first. Grab my shirt, okay?” He held his hands up to show her the grease, then went through a side door she hadn't noticed. Was she supposed to follow him? Apparently. Holding the shirt by the collar, she stepped through the door. There was a spigot on the side of the building, the water spilling into a tin tub below it. Above it, a wooden board perched on several nails, holding more shop towels, soap and a broken piece of mirror. Tate plunged his arms into the water, then picked up the soap and started scrubbing while Abby watched, fascinated. She'd never seen a man built like he was before. The patrons of Delly's usually sported pot bellies that stretched the buttons on their shirts to near bursting. The ones that didn't were so skinny a light breeze could blow them away. There was nothing skinny about Tate. His stomach looked like a washboard. Everything about him seemed larger than life. Something poked her on the thigh and she tore her attention from Tate to look down. The dog was back, looking up at her expectantly. “I think he likes you." “Really?” She glanced at Tate. “How can you tell?" “He's usually pretty standoffish with people he doesn't know."

She patted the animal on the head again, this time with more assurance. “What's his name?" “Don't guess he has one. We just call him Dog.” He rinsed the soap from his arms and reached for a towel. “Does he ever come in the house?" Tate dropped the cloth into a bucket that sat next to the tub and took his shirt from Abby, pulling it on, but not bothering to button it. “No. He's too dirty." He'd only taken two steps toward the house when he stopped and put one hand on Abby's shoulder. “Look." The touch sent heat shimmering through her and set her stomach in motion again, but obediently she followed his pointing finger. At first, the only thing she saw was what appeared to be a wad of mud stuck up under the eaves of the shed. Then there was a flurry of motion and three tiny heads popped from a hole in the side, mouths open wide. A slender bird with sharply pointed wings poked something into one of the mouths before swooping off again, feathers flashing in the sun. “Oh, she's beautiful,” Abby breathed. Tate was close enough that she could actually feel him laugh. “That wasn't a she. It was the male. They're barn swallows. Every spring they show up and use the same nest." “Did something happen to the mother?" “No. She'll be along in a minute. Both parents raise the young.” He dropped his hand. “Let's go eat. I'm starved." Abby studied his back as she followed him the rest of the way to the house. Why had he shown her the birds? Was there supposed to be a message in there somewhere? If so, she wasn't sure she'd gotten it. Surely he hadn't meant he was going to help her raise the baby. A small sigh escaped her as they went up the steps. She had almost nine months to worry about it and there wasn't much she could do now, anyway. She'd handle it when it was time, one way or the other. Tate went right to the table and sat down, helping himself to the spaghetti, salad and garlic bread. “Looks good. Smells good too." “Thanks.” She took the chair across from him and filled her own plate. “I made some fried apple pies for desert. I hope that was okay." “Better than okay.” He spoke around a full mouth. “You'll have Buddy's undying gratitude. Where did you learn to cook?" Abby gave a small shrug. “I did all the cooking before my mother died. We couldn't afford any of that ready-to-eat stuff." “When did she die?" “A little over a year ago. She had cancer."

“Oh. Sorry." “It's okay. She was in a lot of pain for a long time. I guess dying was a relief for her." “And you've been working at Delly's since then." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. “Yes." “Wasn't there some kind of help you could have gotten from the state?" Abby bristled. “I don't take charity. When my mother was hospitalized, I saw the way doctors, nurses and hospital officials treated her. Like she was a lower form of life because she was on state aid. They took away her humanity, humiliated her and withheld the pain medication she needed so desperately until the last minute. It caused her needless suffering. No one will ever do that to me. I'll starve first." Silence fell as they kept eating and Abby's nervousness increased. Was this how it was going to be every time they were alone together? Desperately, she searched for something else to talk about. “What do you use the tractor for?" Tate looked up. “Everything. Breaking, disking, cultivation, harvesting, pulling wagons. We couldn't survive without it." “I thought ranchers just raised cows and horses." “We do that too. But with the drought, we've had to sell off more cows than I'd like. That means more cash crops than we normally plant and a lot more irrigation." “Cash crops?" He took another bite and nodded. “Yeah. Things that we can sell, like cotton and soybeans. Most years we just plant Milo, corn, sorghum, and hay grass. Feed for the animals. We've got a couple of silos, so we can store our own grain. And sometimes, if the weather's good, we even have enough to sell to other ranchers." It was the longest speech she'd ever heard him make and she was fascinated by the sound of his voice. It was obvious he loved what he did. “I haven't seen any cows at all." “That's because they're all out on the range. We'll be bringing them in later in the year for branding and dipping. Probably wait until around September to start that. Give all the cows time to drop their calves, and give me a chance to get the crops taken care of first." “You do all that by yourself?" “Until Buddy gets out of school. Then he helps. And during round-up all the neighbors pitch in. Saves us all from hiring extra hands when we swap out the work like that." “What time do you get up in the mornings?"

“On the weekdays, by six. Weekends are different. Tomorrow's Sunday, so I'll be probably be gone a couple of hours earlier." “Gone?” Abby paused. “Where are you going?" “Fishing. If I'm lucky we'll have fresh trout for supper tomorrow night. That's one thing I can cook." “You don't have to,” she hastily assured him. “I can do it." “Nope. Family tradition. If you catch them, you have to clean ‘em and cook ‘em.” He took the last bite and blinked as Abby whisked the plate out from under him and carried it to the sink along with her own, returning with a platter piled high with fried pies. She seemed agitated and it suddenly occurred to him why. Casually, he picked up a pie and took a bite, pausing to chew thoughtfully. “Tell you what. We'll split the job. I'll cook the fish and you can fix the stuff to go with it." “What kind of stuff?" At least she appeared calmer now. “The usual. French fries, cole slaw, hushpuppies." “Hushpuppies?" “Can you make corn bread?” He took a bigger bite of the pie, and licked his lips. Damn, it was good. She nodded. “That's the hard part. When it's mixed, just chop up an onion and put it in the batter. Then you drop spoonfuls into the grease.” He popped the last bite of pie into his mouth. “Okay." It was the first time she'd ever smiled at him and it transformed her. Had he actually thought she was merely pretty? She was beautiful. When she smiled, two dimples appeared on her cheeks and her entire face lit up. Tate cleared his throat and wrenched his gaze away from her. “Well, I've got some paperwork to do. I'll be in the office if you need me.” Even before he got out the kitchen door he could hear her running water to wash dishes. If he didn't keep an eye on her, she was going to work herself to death.

Chapter Five Tate pulled his clothes on quietly, then slipped from his room, carrying his boots in one hand. Daylight was still several hours away, but he didn't mind. Early mornings, before the world started stirring, were his favorite time. And he'd spent Sunday mornings fishing for so many years now that he wasn't sure he'd be able to break the habit even if he wanted to. He dropped his boots in the kitchen, ready to make a pot of coffee to take with him, then stopped. There was already a full pot simmering under the coffeemaker. Next to it was a plate containing four cellophane-wrapped biscuits. Homemade ones, with slices of bacon in the middle.

When the hell had she made them? He picked one up in puzzlement. It was still warm. And there wasn't a single dirty dish in sight. In fact, the kitchen was spotless. More so than at any time since his mother had died. Abby must have stayed up most of the night working. It couldn't be good for her or the baby. Putting the biscuit down, he turned and climbed back up the stairs, stopping at Abby's room and knocking softly. When there was no answer he pushed the door open and moved quietly to the side of the bed. She was sound asleep, the setting moon casting silvery shadows over her. She had kicked the blankets to the foot of the bed and was curled up on her side, one knee pulled tightly into her chest, the other leg stretched out straight. Her dark hair was spread partially on the pillow and partially tangled over her face, but he could still see the long lashes that brushed her cheeks, and the lightly curled fist next to her head. Her left hand lay relaxed, palm up on the sheets. Such a small, delicate hand. For that matter, all of her looked tiny in the big bed. She barely took up a quarter of the space. It made her look young, more like twelve than ... what? All at once it occurred to him that he didn't know how old she was, that he really didn't know anything about her at all. Except that she was carrying his baby. A fierce wave of emotion swept over him, staggering in its intensity. It took him a moment to identify it. Why was he suddenly feeling so damn protective? Because she was pregnant, or because she looked so helpless? Maybe it was a little of both. A light breeze ruffled the curtains from both open windows and washed across her. With a tiny murmur of sound, she pulled in both arms and tucked both legs up tight against her body. Smiling at his action, Tate reached down and pulled the blankets up over her, tucking them in around her shoulders. With one final glance at her face, he slipped from the room and back downstairs. **** Abby took the mop out to the back porch and propped it against the wall to dry. She'd spent the entire morning cleaning the bottom story of the house and now it shone like a new dime. Everything but Tate's office. She'd left it alone, afraid she might misplace something he needed. It was amazing how much pleasure she got from cleaning something that actually looked good when she finished. And how much pleasure she'd gotten when she saw the biscuits and coffee were gone. She hadn't been at all sure she was doing the right thing when she'd gotten up early to make the food, but he'd taken them. That had to mean she hadn't done anything wrong. She had eaten several before returning to bed and what was left after Tate departed, Buddy had polished off in short order. She glanced toward the barn before going back inside. Occasionally, a faint noise drifted from that direction and she knew Buddy was still tending the stock. Maybe this would be a good time to do some of her homework. She had several lessons due later in the week and she didn't know when she'd have another chance. Back in her room, she got down on her hands and knees and slid the cardboard box out from under the bed, piling the contents in orderly stacks on the mattress. She selected the history and

math books, some paper and pencils, and then glanced around the room. There was nowhere to set up the cheap typewriter she'd spent two dollars on at a garage sale. She'd just have to take them downstairs to the kitchen table and hope no one came in. Carrying the books and supplies in one arm, she picked up the typewriter by the white handle. The blue case was made from cheap plastic, as was the rest of the typewriter. It wasn't much more than a child's toy, but it worked and that was all that mattered. She went back down the stairs, pausing in the kitchen door for a quick look. The house was still empty. Treating it like it was made of solid gold, she lifted the top off the typewriter and rolled the answer sheet under the carriage. History first, she decided, opening the book to the chapter on World War II. Soon she was so absorbed that she lost track of time. “What are you doing?" A small squeal of surprise erupted from Abby and she almost threw the book across the room. Buddy was looking at her with a great deal of curiosity. “Nothing.” She finally started to breathe again. “Just reading." “Reading what?” He strolled casually to the table and glanced down at the cover. Abby caught the faint scent of horses drifting from him. “History? Why are you reading this stuff when you don't have to?" Abby could feel her face turning red even though she fought it. “I do have to. I'm trying to get my G.E.D." “G.E.D.?" She nodded. “General Education Diploma. I'm taking correspondence courses." “Oh.” He hesitated. “You any good at this stuff?" Abby looked down at the book and gave a small shrug. “I like history and science, but I'm afraid the math is getting away from me." “Really?” He seemed to brighten. “I'm pretty good at math but I suck at history. I'll make you a deal. I'll help you with your math if you help me with history. I've got to turn in a final report in a couple of weeks." “On what?” She couldn't stop the spark of interest that ran through her. “Chivalry.” Buddy rolled his eyes. “About the only thing I know about the topic is that guys used to throw their clothes in mud holes for women to walk on." Laughter bubbled out of her. “I think there's a little more to it than that. Here, there's a whole chapter on chivalry and it even has a list of books at the end for further reading.” She offered him the book, wondering why he was looking at her with a dazed expression on his face. “Is something wrong?” She was starting to get embarrassed again. Buddy cleared his throat. “Uh, no.” He took the book and looked over the list. “Wonder if they'd

have these at the library?" “Probably. At least some of them." “We could go after I get out of school some evening. The library stays open until nine." Abby paused. “You want me to go with you?" “Sure. I'll need all the help I can get finding these books. And we can pick some up for you on algebra while we're there." “Well, I guess it would be okay.” She hoped her voice sounded surer than she felt. What if someone made a remark about her being there with Buddy? She was used to the humiliation. He wasn't. “Great. I may as well get my books and start working too. Keep Tate from yelling at me again." “He yells at you?" Buddy grimaced. “Only when I don't do my homework. Tate's a real stickler for education. Guess he got it from Mom. She was the same way.” He left the room, returning shortly with a stack of his own books and sat down next to her. **** Tate left his fishing rod in the tack room of the barn, then carried the stringer of trout to the back door. Voices drifted through the screen as he deposited the fish in a cooler full of water and he leaned to one side to look into the kitchen. Abby and Buddy were sitting side by side at the table, their heads so close together they were almost touching as they studied a paper in front of them. Books were spread out everywhere. “Show me how you got that answer,” Abby said. “It's easy. Just remember to do all the operations inside the brackets first. See? XY squared plus X equals 2XY squared. Then you multiply that by the numbers outside the bracket." Abby's pencil scratched for a second then she laughed in delight. “I did it!" “And you got it right." Buddy was staring at her with rapt attention and Tate grinned wryly. Apparently his little brother had discovered the same thing he had last night. When Abby smiled the whole world seemed to light up with her. All he needed was for Buddy to develop a crush on her, but if he was any judge, it was already too late to head him off at the pass. Buddy definitely looked smitten. Leaving his muddy boots on the porch, Tate opened the door and stepped inside, catching it before it could slam. “This must be a first. You're actually doing homework before I force you into it." Buddy looked up and grinned smugly. “Abby and I are studying together. She's getting her G.E.D. you know. I'm helping her with math and she's helping me with history."

“Is that right.” He glanced at Abby. She had leaped to her feet at his first words, her face a deep pink. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was that late." “It's not that late. Go ahead and finish what you're doing.” Even he could detect the trace of irritation in his voice. With Buddy she seemed comfortable, even laughing out loud. But let him walk into the room and she panicked. What did she think he was, some kind of monster? No, the logical part of his mind answered. You're the stranger who took her virginity and got her pregnant. He couldn't blame her for being easier around Buddy than she was around him. He barely caught the sigh that was trying to escape. Abby was already gathering up her books. “I'm finished. I'll just put these upstairs and then start supper." It sounded like she ran all the way and irritation hit him again. When Buddy started closing his books, Tate glowered at him. “What do you think you're doing?" “Putting these up. I'm almost done. I thought I could help Abby with supper." This time the sigh made it all the way out. Buddy never volunteered for kitchen duty. He could see where this might get to be a problem. “If she needs help, I'll help her. Since you're so close to being done, you might as well go ahead and finish your homework." “Aw, Tate. I can do it later." He shot him a glare that had Buddy settling back into his seat with a grumble. After waiting a second to ensure there would be no more protest, he pulled open a drawer and rummaged until he found his cleaning knife. By the time he'd cleaned, gutted and filleted the fish, Abby was back in the kitchen, stirring something in a bowl. “What's that?" She glanced up. “Cake. I thought it could bake while the rest of the food was cooking." Buddy's head came up like a pointer who'd scented a covey of quail. “Chocolate? With icing?" She gave him a quick smile. “Yes." Tate arched an eyebrow. “At the rate you're cooking, none of us are going to be able to fit through the door in six months." Abby froze, her eyes huge as she stared at him. “I can cook less." He stopped her just before she dumped the batter in the sink. “Abby, it was a joke. You aren't cooking too much." She kept her gaze on the bowl in her hands. “Are you sure?" “Positive. You're doing fine.” He waited a second, but when she didn't go on stirring, he turned to

the door. “I'm going to run upstairs and take a fast shower. I'll put the fish on to cook when I get done." “Okay." Tate started up the stairs in deep thought. He'd told her yesterday that things would get better, even promised they would. At the moment they seemed to be deteriorating rapidly. Maybe it was time they had a talk. Somehow, he had to convince her that she didn't need to be afraid of him. **** Tate waited until the last dish was put away after supper and the kitchen was again spotless. Buddy had gone to his room earlier and the sounds of Country Western music now drifted down from the floor above. Alone with her, he'd had to squelch the urge to offer to dry the dishes. The way things stood right now, she'd probably believe he thought she was doing it wrong. “Finished?" She looked at him warily and nodded. “It's a nice evening. Why don't we go sit on the front porch for a while?" The idea seemed to startle her. “I was going to clean the upstairs bathroom." “It can wait.” Tate stood and held out his hand. He would have sworn he could hear the clock in the living room ticking while he waited for her to take it. She finally did, but left him with the impression that she was ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Retaining his grip on her hand, he led her out onto the porch and sat on the swing, pulling her down next to him. Even when she tugged slightly, he continued to hold her hand. “The courthouse opens at nine tomorrow. I thought we'd leave here about eight-thirty, if that's okay with you." She gave a slight nod, her gaze focused on the horizon. “You don't have to fix breakfast. We'll get something to eat in town." This time there wasn't even a nod and Tate felt his irritation rising again. So far, subtlety had gotten him nowhere. It was time to be blunt. “Abby, are you afraid of me?" “No.” Her voice was low and she still refused to look at him. “Then what's wrong?” He hesitated, not quite sure how to say what he wanted to, except to just say it. “I know I must have hurt you that night, but I didn't intend to. It always happens the first time." He'd seen her blush before, but now her cheeks were bright scarlet. “I know. It's not that." “Then what?"

It was her turn to hesitate. He waited. “It's just that I don't know what you expect from me. And now I don't have a job or a house to go back to." Good Lord. No wonder she was a nervous wreck. She was afraid if she made a mistake he'd toss her out. He looked down at their hands. Hers was swallowed in his and, to his shock, he realized his thumb was gently caressing the soft skin on the inside of her wrist. He forced himself to stop. “Abby, I know I said we needed help with the house, but I didn't mean you were going to be a servant. You're going to be my wife. I don't expect you to do anything you don't want to do. This is your home now. Everything in it is yours. The food, the furniture, everything. You aren't going to make a mistake and, even if you did, I wouldn't throw you out. I don't expect you to spend every minute of the day working. I want you to be comfortable here, do the things you want to do. For instance, what would you like to do right now?” Hastily he added, “Besides clean the bathroom, I mean." She gave a half smile, but at least she was looking at him now. “It'll sound silly." “No, it won't." “Well, I'd like to go for a walk. Just to see what's here, you know? The only place I've been so far is the house and the tractor shed." Mentally, Tate kicked himself. He should have thought of that, and not have made her have to ask. The truth was, he didn't know how to treat her anymore than she knew how to react to him. “That I can do.” He pulled her to her feet. “You're going with me?" She sounded surprised and he shrugged. “I don't have anything better to do right now. Might as well give you the grand tour.” Not to mention, the more time they spent together, the faster they'd both get over this case of nerves. “Were do you want to start?" “I don't know. The barn?" “The barn it is.” He released her hand and stuck his own in his pockets as they walked toward the building. “The horses are out in the pasture right now, but I figure some of them will show up when they hear us.” He ushered her inside. The light was dimmer here, the setting sun not reaching this far. “You don't keep them in here all the time?" “We let them in to feed and groom them in the mornings, then turn them back out to pasture unless we're going to need them.” He pointed toward the end of the barn. “Those are the box stalls. They're kind of like our maternity ward. When a mare gets close to her time, we bring her in and keep her in one of those until the foal is born. They'll be full next week. We've got a few mares that are coming due." “How many horses do you have?" “We,” he emphasized the word, “have about thirty-five head. Most of those are brood mares.

About ten are just for working stock. And then there's Cody, our stud. You won't see him tonight. He's a couple of pastures over." He stopped to open a wooden door at the very end of the barn, and flipped on a light so she could see. “This is the tack room. All the saddles, bridles, blankets, ropes and grooming tools are kept in here. The room next to it is where we store feed." As soon as they left the barn, Tate unchained a gate enough to let them slip through, then whistled. Several horses shuffled out of the gloom. One of them, a black with a white mark on her face, came right up to them while the others watched curiously. “This is Diamond.” Tate held her head with one hand, the other rubbing down her neck. “She was born on the ranch. I learned how to ride on her and so did Buddy." Abby had taken a step behind him when the horses appeared. Now she peeked around his arm. “I've only seen them from a distance before. I didn't realize they were so big." “Don't worry, Diamond is more like a pet than anything. Here, let me have your hand." She held it out and he took her wrist. “Flatten it out, palm up." When she did, he held it under Diamond's nose. The mare lowered her head and woofed, blowing air gently on Abby's skin. “Oh, she's so soft! Like velvet.” Gathering her courage, she stroked Diamond's neck. The mare stood still, enjoying the attention. “What's this all over her back?" “Mud,” Tate said in disgust. “Don't ask. It's a long story." Tate continued the tour until it was too dark to see. Dog joined them on the way back to the house and Abby stopped to pet him. “He's wet.” She wrinkled her nose and Tate smiled. “He's probably been chasing armadillos through the creek again. Just be glad it wasn't a skunk.” They started toward the house. “Tomorrow afternoon I'll show you the rest of the place and take you down to the creek. It's pretty this time of year." “Don't you have to work?" “I think I can take one day off without breaking the bank." She smiled up at him as she went through the door he was holding open. “I'd like to see the creek." A funny feeling twisted inside Tate's middle. And for the life of him, he couldn't decide if it was fear or anticipation.

Chapter Six It was fear, he decided the next morning. He'd barely gotten an hour of sleep the night before and

was seriously wondering if he was going to have to share the toilet with Abby. Thank God he'd told her not to cook breakfast. He didn't think he'd be able to keep it down. He sank onto the side of the bed and buried his face in his hands. Somehow, even with Abby here at the house, it hadn't seemed real until now. But today his whole life would change. Today, he was marrying a woman he didn't even know and ending all his hopes for marrying the one he'd been with forever. Was it a mistake? Was he really ruining three lives instead of solving a problem? He didn't know and now it was too late to back out. For better or worse, this was his wedding day. He'd promised Abby he'd take care of her and the baby. He had to keep that promise even if meant spending the rest of his life in a loveless half-marriage. Tate took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then stood and walked to the dresser. A small velvet box lay on top and he picked it up and flipped it open. The large diamond engagement ring glittered at him mockingly. Diane had picked it out herself and he was still making the payments on it. Lately it seemed like the ring had spent more time in its box than it had on her finger. Now, it would never be on her hand again. He closed the lid gently and tucked it away in the top drawer of the dresser. Moving to the closet, he reached up to the shelf and took down another, larger, cardboard box. After a bit of searching, he found what he was looking for. This box was similar to the first one, but its blue velvet cover was older, faded with time. It resisted a little when he opened it, the hinges showing a trace of rust. Compared to the sleek elegance of the ring he'd gotten for Diane, this set looked ancient. The diamond was small, surrounded by a white gold design that gave the illusion of more stones where there weren't any. It had been worn by two generations of McCullom women, including his mother, and part of him had always thought his wife would be the third. Diane hadn't liked it. That's why it had been stored in his closet. He'd had a vague hope that maybe someday Buddy would use it. Now, it would belong to Abby. He probably should have given her the engagement ring as soon as she'd agreed to marry him, but he hadn't thought about it. Or maybe he hadn't wanted to think about it. Tate tried to force Diane out of his mind, but she wouldn't go. Was she lying on some warm beach even now, wearing one of those skimpy bikinis she seemed to favor? How many times had he rubbed lotion onto that soft, tanned skin? And who was doing that for her now? It would only take one phone call to find out if Clayton Caldwell was still in town, but he couldn't make it. Didn't even want to know. And from now on, it would be none of his business who she saw. The only thing he had to worry about was how to tell her about Abby. He had almost two weeks yet to decide how to handle it. The sounds from the bathroom had stopped several minutes earlier and Tate glanced at the clock. It was almost time to leave. He pulled the engagement ring out, then dropped the box into the pocket of the suit jacket he'd taken out. Buddy was waiting in the living room, his clothing more casual since he had to return to classes after the wedding.

“Thanks for feeding the stock this morning." His brother smiled. “Don't worry about it. You had to get ready.” He looked Tate over. “Nice. Not everyday we get to see you dressed up." “Well, take a good look. It'll be the last time for a while.” He ran a finger under his collar. “Feels like I'm choking to death." “You'll live." They both turned as Abby's footsteps sounded on the stairs. He only got a glimpse of long bare legs before Buddy breathed an awed “wow” from next to him. Tate knew exactly how he felt. Abby was wearing a pale green dress that hit her just above the knees. The high waist emphasized her breasts. She'd left her hair loose and a ribbon the same shade as the dress circled her head, holding the dark locks away from her face. If she hadn't been so pale, she would have looked beautiful. And apparently Buddy thought she did anyway. “You look great!" “Thank you.” A blush tinged her cheeks as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Did you remember your birth certificate?" Abby handed him a piece of paper, folded twice, and Tate stuck it in his shirt pocket with his own. When she would have moved by him, he stopped her. Lifting her hand, he slid the engagement ring onto her finger. It was a little loose but he didn't think it would fall off. “I should have given you this before now." She stared at her hand for so long that Tate started to get worried. What if she hated it? “Is it okay?" “It's wonderful,” Abby said, her voice soft. “It's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen." “It was our mother's,” Buddy piped up. “And before that, it was our grandmother's. It's kind of turned into a tradition for it to go to the oldest son's wife." Abby lifted her eyes to his, the question in them plain to see. “Are you sure you want to use it? If you'd rather keep it, I really don't need a ring." “I'm sure." She searched his face an instant longer, then nodded. “I'll be careful and take good care of it, I promise." She acted like he was just loaning it to her. Didn't she realize it was hers now? He gave a mental shake of his head. “Ready?" “Yes." Buddy held the door open. “I brought the truck around earlier."

“Good.” He waited while Abby climbed in, then slid onto the seat next to her. Even as he started the motor, his brain was chanting a steady refrain. “Too late, too late." **** They reached Austin just in time to catch the tail end of the morning rush hour. The traffic slowed them enough that it was well after nine by the time they reached the court house. Luckily, they didn't have to wait in line. Tate wasn't sure his nerves could have stood it. He watched as Abby signed the last of the papers, then pushed them back to the clerk. The woman folded them and placed them into a blue packet, handing them back with a smile. “You're all set. Congratulations and best wishes to both of you." “Thanks.” Tate took the papers. “You don't happen to know where there's a justice of the peace, do you?" “Judge Wilson's office is about two blocks down on the left. A red brick building. You can't miss it." Tate nodded and took Abby's arm. Buddy was still sitting in a chair against the wall and Tate motioned for him to follow them. The walk to the judge's office was as silent as the whole trip had been. Buddy had tried to carry on a conversation when they'd first left, but even he had quieted when it became obvious that neither Tate nor Abby were paying much attention to him. The carpet in the judge's outer office was thick and the air was heavy with a flowery scent that emanated from bowls on either end table. A neatly dressed secretary looked up from her desk as they stopped in front of her. “May I help you?" Tate gestured at Abby. “We want to get married. The clerk at the court house sent us here." She smiled up at him. “Do you have the papers with you?" He handed them to her and she thumbed through them rapidly. “Everything seems to be in order. Why don't you have a seat and I'll let the judge know you're here." She carried the papers into another room and in a second was back. “It will be about fifteen minutes. The judge is on the phone right now." Fifteen minutes wasn't long, especially not when it meant the end of everything you'd dreamed of your whole life. He glanced at Abby. She was holding her purse in her lap, twisting the strap with both hands. It hit him all at once that he might not be the only one giving up his dreams. Abby was being forced into this just as much as he was. They were both victims of the circumstance that had occurred six and a half weeks earlier. Somehow, they'd have to learn to live with it and neither of them could do it alone. In spite of his nerves, he reached for Abby's hand, closing his own around it. Her fingers were cold as she clutched him, but the look she shot him was full of gratitude. Guilt shot through him.

None of this was her fault. He had to try and remember that, had to remember to think about her needs for a change instead of his own. The phone on the secretary's desk buzzed and she picked it up. “Yes, sir?” There was a slight pause. “Right away.” She stood. “If you'll follow me, the judge is ready for you now." Abby's grip on his hand tightened to the point where he couldn't have released her even if he'd tried. He leaned down and put his mouth next to her ear. “It's going to be okay, Abby. I promised, remember?" Slowly, she nodded and then stood, still holding on to his hand. The judge's office was a larger replica of the front room, with row after row of books lining the walls. He stood when they entered but stayed behind his desk, peering at the papers in his hand through the thick lenses of his glasses. “Which of you two gentlemen is the groom?" “I am." The judge looked up at Tate. “Good. Joyce, we'll need you to stay and act as the second witness.” He pointed. “You can stand there, next to the bride. And you, young man,” he directed Buddy, “will stand next to the groom." As soon as everyone was arranged to his satisfaction, he turned to Tate and Abby. “Join hands, please." Tate faced Abby and took her other hand, trying to concentrate on her eyes instead of his shaking knees. The judge's words became a blur in his mind until Buddy poked him. “I do,” he mumbled in automatic response. He heard the judge repeat the words, then Abby's small “I do." “Is there a ring?" Tate pulled the wedding band from his pocket and managed to get it on Abby's finger without fumbling too badly. “By the powers vested in me by the great state of Texas,” the judge intoned solemnly, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." Oh, shit. Why hadn't he realized sooner this was going to happen? Buddy, the secretary and the judge were all looking at him expectantly. He glanced down at Abby. Panic was written all over her face. Apparently she hadn't realized it was going to happen either. Tate took a deep breath. Okay, they could handle this. Just one little peck and everyone would be happy. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but Abby's eyes widened even more as he leaned down. Just a fast brush, he promised. Then his lips touched hers and he saw her eyes drift shut, tasted the sweetness and innocence that had been plaguing him for weeks. And his lips clung to the warmth, savored it against his will. When her lips parted, he deepened the kiss, unaware that his arms had gone around her to pull her tighter to him.

Someone cleared their throat and Tate jerked away from her, shock running through his system. What the hell was he doing? Abby looked as stunned as he felt, the paleness of her skin replaced by a high flush of color across her cheekbones. He released her abruptly, using the excuse of paying the judge to give him time to get his tingling body back under control. It wasn't nearly long enough. He was still blessing the length of his jacket when they reached the sidewalk out front, and praying it hid the bulge. “Let's find a restaurant.” Buddy was looking up and down the street. “I'm starved." Tate added Buddy's stomach to his list of blessings. The cover of a table was just what he needed right now. That and a tub full of ice water. **** It was true, Abby thought, looking yet again at the wedding rings on her finger as the truck pulled up next to the house. It was really true. They were married and her life was never going to be the same again. She glanced up as the motor shut off, her gaze going straight to Tate's mouth. She'd never been to a wedding before and, while she'd read about them, she certainly hadn't been expecting a kiss like that one. Her lips were still tingling and she had the urge to rub them with her fingers to make them stop. Oh, he'd kissed her that night. A lot. But somehow, it had been different then. She hadn't even been sure she'd liked it. On the other hand, she'd liked that one this morning quite a bit. It wouldn't even be so bad if it happened again. Tate interrupted her thoughts. “I'm going to go put these papers up. I'll be right back and we'll take that walk down to the creek." “Shouldn't I change first?" His gaze swept over her. “No, you'll be fine.” He paused with one foot on the bottom step. “I don't think I told you earlier, but you look real pretty today." A tide of pleasure mingled with embarrassment rushed over her. “Thank you." Abby watched him vanish into the house and then looked down as Dog trotted up. “Did you hear that, Dog?” she whispered, scratching his ear. “He thinks I'm pretty. No one has ever thought I was pretty before." She shut up when Tate came back out. He'd removed his suit jacket and tie, and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. “It's this way.” He started off toward one of the pastures and Abby ran a few steps to catch up to him. “Have you lived here on the ranch all your life?" “Yeah. I was born here, in that room you're staying in. So was my dad.” He slowed a little so she

could keep up with him. “My grandfather built the original house. Dad added onto it after he and Mom got married." “It's a beautiful house. You're lucky, you know.” Abby pulled a stalk of grass and ran it through her fingers as they walked. Ahead she could see a line of cottonwoods rustling in the breeze. “Why am I lucky?" She shrugged. “To grow up in a house like that with a real family. It's like you've put down roots here and every generation they grow a little deeper. You'll always have this place, no matter what else happens to you." Tate held a tree limb out of the way so she could get by. The sound of gurgling water was louder now. A path wound through the grove of trees ahead and she followed it, coming out on a grassy bank beside the creek. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, giving the light a greenish cast. The water rippled over and around shiny stones, turning them dark and mysterious. Abby paused to look around and felt Tate stop next to her. “I can see why you like to fish. It's almost like being in a church. So quiet and peaceful." “It's a good place to come when you need to think.” He lowered himself onto the grass and looked at her curiously. “You go to church?" “No. Not really.” She sat down and curled her legs to one side. “When I was little, this church group would send out a bus during the summer for vacation bible school. They always picked me up. I think that was in Tennessee. All the places we lived sort of run together now." Tate stretched out on his back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Why did you move so much?" “I'm not really sure.” Abby found a rock and tossed it at the creek, watching as the water shot into the air. “Mama was just restless, I guess. She didn't like to stay in one place for too long." He turned his head slightly and studied her. “Is that why you didn't graduate from high school?" “No, there were always schools. Not long after we got here, Mama got sick. She just kept getting worse. The state paid for her medical bills, but when they were sure she was dying, they sent her home. There was a nurse that came by everyday to check on her and give her medicine, but she had to have someone with her all the time. The state wouldn't pay for that, so I quit school and stayed with her myself." “It must have been hard." “Hard?” She stared at the water. “I don't think I ever thought of it that way. It was just something that had to be done and there was no one else to do it but me.” Abby glanced at him. “You're a lot older than Buddy aren't you?" “I was thirteen when he was born." “Why did your parents wait so long to have another child?" “It wasn't intentional. They both wanted more children, but it just never seemed to happen until Buddy. It was pretty late in life for both of them and I suspect he came as a real surprise. It was a

good surprise, though. They were thrilled." He unlaced his hands and pushed up on one elbow. “How old are you?" “Twenty-three." “You look younger." Abby nodded and looked down at her hands. “I know. That plus not having a diploma made it hard to get a job. Pete was the only one who'd hire me and he made me bring in my birth certificate first. He said he'd lose his liquor license if he couldn't prove I was at least twenty-one." “That's why you're getting your G.E.D? So you could get a better job?" “Sort of. I thought maybe one of the factories near Austin might hire me full-time. But they won't if I don't have a diploma." “A factory.” His voice sounded flat to her ears and resentment bubbled up in her. “There's nothing wrong with working in a factory. Lots of people do it." “They aren't as little as you are. A factory would have killed you in a month." “No, it wouldn't. I'm healthy and I'm a lot stronger than I look." “That reminds me.” Tate rolled to his feet. “We'd better get back to the house. You need to call and make an appointment with a doctor." Abby stood. “I don't know any doctors." “There's bound to be some in the phone book. Come on and let's go see." He held out his hand again and this time Abby took it with no hesitation. She was actually getting used to his touch, she decided.

Chapter Seven They reached the house just in time to see a rotund figure heading back to a strange pickup that was parked behinds Tate's. Abby tried to hang back a little, but Tate still had her hand and he pulled her forward with him as a deep voice rang out. “There you are, boy. I was just about to head out to the fields to find you. Wanted to see if you had any extra soybeans. Decided to increase my acreage since I had to sell off more of my cows." “Sure, Hank. You know I always keep plenty on hand." Abby suddenly found herself pinned by a pair of faded green eyes.

“Well, well, now. Ain't you a pretty thing? I'm Henrietta Donley but most folks just call me Hank. Don't see why you shouldn't do the same." Now that they were closer, Abby could see that what she'd mistaken for a man was, indeed, a woman. Her sandy hair, liberally sprinkled with gray, was twisted into a bun at the back and all but covered by the battered felt Resistol she was wearing. A bright red, flannel shirt was set off by the largest pair of denim coveralls that Abby had ever seen. She wasn't quite sure how to react, but Tate took the problem out of her hands. “Hank, this is Abby.” With a barely noticeable hesitation, he continued. “Abby McCullom. We got married this morning." Hank's wide cheeks rounded in a huge grin. “Well bless my soul if you ain't a sneaky snake in the grass! Here everybody in the county has been worried half to death about you and all this time you've been keeping secrets. If that don't just beat all." Abby suddenly found herself swallowed in a bone-crushing hug. “Welcome to the community, darlin'. And don't you worry. You might be a little on the scrawny side now, but we'll put some meat on you real fast." “Thanks. I think.” Abby gingerly rubbed her arms. Hank's laughter rang across the yard. “Yep, she's a keeper, Tate.” She slugged him in the arm and he rocked back on his heels before catching his balance. “You should have let us know. We could have had a nice fancy wedding right here on the ranch." “We were in kind of a hurry, Hank. Didn't take much time for plans." She looked at him knowingly. “Like that, was it?" Abby felt heat creeping up her neck and warming her cheeks. Maybe if she held still long enough she'd just vanish completely. At the moment, that was all she wanted. “Well, don't you worry none. Won't be the first time a youngun’ predated the wedding vows a little and sure won't be the last. Why, my own oldest was a mite premature if you get my drift. Ain't hurt him none. And my man, God-rest-his-soul, sure was proud of hisself. Strutted around like a banty rooster with ten hens when that boy was born.” Head tilted to one side, she considered both of them. “Guess you know we're gonna have to have a party to celebrate. Saturday, I think. Yep, that'll do fine. It'll be potluck, naturally. Wouldn't be right to make you do all the cooking for your own party. You can cook, can't you?” She eyed Abby. “Yes, Ma'am." “Good, good. Never know with townies. And now that I think about it, I'll take that glass of iced tea after all.” She turned and started toward the house. Abby looked at Tate, totally lost by the turn in conversation. He grinned at her and leaned closer. “Hank has a tendency to hear what she wants to hear, even when you don't actually say it."

“I heard that, boy.” Hank called over her shoulder. “I ain't deaf, you know." By the time they reached the kitchen, Hank had already lowered her bulk into a chair at the table. Abby edged around her carefully. “I'll just get the tea going.” She filled the kettle and put it on the stove as Tate joined Hank at the table. “Been thinking.” The woman tipped her hat back. “I got me about a dozen laying hens that I could do without. Let you have them cheap." “Chickens?” Abby paused, tea leaves drifting to the countertop. “Yep, all the rancher's wives around here raise chickens. Nothing better than fresh eggs." Abby went back to measuring carefully. “I'm afraid I don't know anything about chickens." “Nothing to know,” Hank commented. “Stupidest critters ever put on Earth. Just keep them fed and watered and they'll lay all summer long." “I don't know...” She looked at Tate for direction. He shrugged. “Up to you. We've got a henhouse and coop, but it hasn't been used in years. Neither Buddy nor I have time to mess with them." “Well--" “Good,” Hank interjected. “I'll bring them by later this week and get you started. Got your garden broke up yet?” A wistful expression crossed her face. “Jenny McCullom used to have the best garden in the state. Never could figure out how she did it. Things just seemed to grow better for her. Lord, how I miss that woman.” She watched Abby pour boiling water over the tea. “It'll be nice to have another female close again. Specially one with a youngun’ on the way. I got three of my own, did I mention that? All boys. Couldn't work the ranch without them. So anytime you need any help or advice, you just give me a holler." Abby added sugar to the pitcher she'd gotten out. “Well, Tate wants me to make a doctor's appointment, but I don't who to call." “Doc Spanos,” Hank replied without hesitation. “He's a little long in the tooth, but he's still the best Doc around for this kind of thing. Been delivering babies for years and he keeps right up to date on all that new-fangled stuff folks seem to want now." Abby added the tea to the pitcher, gave it a quick stir, then poured it over the ice she had ready in glasses. Hank took a tentative sip of hers, then a longer drink. “Perfect. You make the tea for the party. We'll need at least eight gallons. I'll make one of my special cakes." Tate stifled a groan as Abby joined them at the table and she looked at him in question. He gave her a slight shake of his head. “Hank, we really don't need a party."

“Bull puckey. You know folks will expect it, so you might as well get used to the idea. We're gonna show up here Saturday whether you want us to or not. Besides, any excuse for a party is a good excuse. Oh, and be sure you set the tables up under those trees out back.” Suddenly she cackled with laughter. “Haven't had a good chivaree in a long time. This is gonna be fun." Abby glanced at Tate just in time to see the blood drain from his face. She had no idea what a chivaree was, but apparently Tate wasn't thrilled with the idea. A twinge of nervousness hit her. If his reaction was that strong, she was probably going to hate it. Hank finished the rest of her tea in one long gulp and pushed her chair back. “Well, I best be heading home. No telling what the boys are up to without me around. I'll spread the news about the party and drop back around Saturday morning to help you get ready." Tate stood with her. “You want me to deliver those seeds for you or are you going to pick them up?" “I'll send one of the boys around later this week to get them. Won't start planting until next week. What about you?" “Got most of mine in the ground last week. Only a few more acres to go." Abby listened to their voices chatting about weather and crops as Tate walked the woman outside. He reappeared in the kitchen soon after the sound of an engine starting and leaned casually against the door frame. “There's something you need to know about Hank's cakes before the party." “What?" “She kind of experiments with her baking. Sometimes, the results are fantastic, but other times, you'd think she was trying to poison you. The problem is, you never know which it's gonna be until you take a bite. Since most folks don't want to hurt her feelings, they just close their eyes and pray beforehand." Abby smiled at him wryly. “I'll be sure to remember that. Now, tell me what a chivaree is." To her surprise, his face reddened. “It's kind of an old tradition. Sort of a serenade for the newlyweds, only the instruments are pots and pans." “That doesn't sound too bad." Tate cleared his throat. “That's not exactly all. You see, while they're serenading, the guests put the bride and groom to bed. Together. The women take the bride up first and get her ... ready. Then the men bring the groom up." Abby felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, my God." “There's no need to panic yet. Maybe I can talk them out of it." “Do you think so?” She stared at him hopefully.

He sighed and came back to the table. “No, not really. I doubt they'll listen to me. But I'll try.” He pulled his chair out and sat down. “Not much sense in worrying about it now. We'll get through it if we have to and, to my knowledge, no one has ever actually died from the embarrassment yet. Why don't you go ahead and call the doctor's office?" Easy for him to say, Abby thought as she walked to the phone and picked up the book from the table under it. Just because no one had ever died of embarrassment before didn't mean there couldn't be a first time. And it would probably be her. The thought of having Tate shoved in bed with her in front of strangers had her hands shaking so hard she could barely turn the page of the phone book. She finally found the number and punched it in, waiting until a harried-sounding voice answered the phone. “I need to make an appointment." “Name, please?" “Abby Gr--McCullom." “What kind of problems are you having, Ms. McCullom?" If you only knew, Abby thought. She took a deep breath and blurted, “I'm pregnant." “How far along?” The voice never changed tone. “Six and a half weeks." There were some paper rustling sounds then the voice came back. “How does Wednesday morning at nine sound?" Abby glanced at Tate. He was watching her. “Wednesday at nine?" “That'll be fine." “Okay,” she spoke into the phone again, then hung up after the woman's “We'll see you then." Unease settled over her as she turned from the phone. She'd told Tate the truth last night. She really wasn't afraid of him. She just didn't know what to say to him. For a second she racked her brain trying to think of something, then gave up. “I guess I need to get changed and start supper." Tate nodded. “Okay. I'll help you." She looked at him blankly. His face reddened. “Cook supper, I mean." Abby fled the room like the hounds of hell were on her heels, but she slowed once she reached the second floor, her brain whirling. She never would have thought Tate was the type to be embarrassed about anything. She'd watched him at Delly's even before that night, longing filling

her body. Watched the easy way he'd laughed and cut up with his friends. Watched the gentle way he'd treated his fiancée. And she'd watched the way Diane acted when he wasn't around. Tate was one of the few people in town who hadn't either totally ignored Abby or treated her like trash. He had always nodded hello when they met on the street, and once he'd even held the door for her at the grocery store. Part of her hated to see the way the blonde treated other men when Tate wasn't looking, but she suspected he knew. Knew and loved her anyway. Now she'd ruined it for him. When it came right down to it, she'd had very little choice in the matter. And it was his baby as well as hers. She couldn't replace Diane in his heart, but at least she could do everything possible to make this whole mess easier on him while she was here. Maybe if she just thought of him as a friend, she decided, pulling on her jeans. He had been good to her after he'd found out about the baby, trying to make her feel comfortable here. It might be nice to have a friend. Even if it was one she'd been in love with for years now. But that was something he'd never know. Not if she could help it. It had been her secret for all this time. It was going to stay that way. When she went back downstairs, Tate was still in the kitchen, but she noticed he'd changed into jeans and a T-shirt, too. He was standing at the sink looking out the window, but he glanced around when she came in. He motioned her closer and Abby moved next to him. “See that plot of ground there that's a little higher than the surrounding area? That's where Mom always had her garden. I've been thinking. If you'd like to take a shot at it, I can till it up for you." She smiled up at him. “I'd like that, but I'm afraid I don't know any more about gardens than I do about chickens." “I'll help you." Abby went to the refrigerator and started removing items. “What do we need to plant?” She handed Tate a plastic-wrapped package of chicken. “Here. You can cut this up for me." He took it and pulled a knife out of the drawer. “Mom always planted tomatoes, purple hull peas, snap beans, okra, potatoes.” He gave a slight shrug. “Things like that." “Maybe some peppers?" Tate's hands slowed, his head tilted as he stared out the window. “Yeah, now that I think about it, seems like there were two or three different kinds. And radishes and onions. I think we've got some seed catalogs around here somewhere. We'll make a list later tonight and pick everything up after you see the doctor Wednesday." “Where do you get them?” Abby dumped the batter she'd been stirring out onto a floured board and began to knead the dough. “At the feed and seed in town.” Tate finished the chicken and put it in a bowl to one side. “Now what?" “You can peel some potatoes." He got the bag out of the pantry and went to work. Abby watched his precise movements from the

corner of her eye as she cut out the biscuits from the dough and put them in a pan. When she was done, she got another knife and began cutting up the potatoes as he finished peeling them. “What was your mother like? Was she pretty?" “I doubt most folks would have thought so, at least until they got to know her. But she had this way of making people comfortable. She never met a stranger, never had a bad word to say about anyone. And she laughed a lot. I guess she was one of the happiest people I've ever known." “Do you look like your father?" “Buddy and I both took after Dad. Mom's hair was mostly brown when she was young." Abby glanced at the thick ebony strands of hair spilling onto his forehead. His father must have been gorgeous. “What was his name?" “Jonathan Sean, but he went by Sean.” He handed her the last potato. “What about your father? You've never mentioned him." Abby stared at the potato in her hand. “I don't know who my father is. Neither did my mother. He could have been anyone." Tate leaned against the cabinet next to her. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." “It's okay. I learned to live with what my mother was and I learned to live with the way people treated her because of it.” She looked up at him seriously. “But that didn't make her a bad person. She did her best for me." “Did she love you?" “I guess in her own her way, maybe she did. At least she tried to protect me from the men who visited her. The older I got, the harder that was to do. I started spending a lot of time at the library on her busy nights." “You didn't turn out like her.” His voice was soft, quiet. “No. I don't think I could have. I saw too clearly what it did to her. She was only in her forties when she died, Tate, but she looked sixty. She was worn out even before the cancer. Her pride was gone. There was nothing left for her to care about." He reached out and pushed a lock of hair away from her face. “And yet, you let me in that night. Why, Abby? I've tried to figure it out. Why then? Why me?" Tears misted her eyes but she blinked to clear them before they could spill over. “Because you needed me,” she whispered. “No one had ever needed me before. You were the only one who'd ever treated me halfway decent. And maybe a little because I was lonely, too." Suddenly he gathered her in his arms and buried his face in her hair. “I'm sorry, Abby. God, I am so sorry. For everything. But especially the way I treated you that night. It must have been awful for you." “It wasn't your fault. I didn't have to let you in.” She leaned back a little and looked up at him, forcing herself to smile. “And it wasn't that bad, really."

He returned her smile. “You don't lie worth a damn. I know it couldn't have been what you were expecting." “From everything I'd read, it pretty much was. Well, except for--” Abby stopped abruptly and heat rushed to her face. “For what?” He was looking at her curiously. “Nothing.” She shook her head. “Come on. You started it, now you have to tell me." Was it possible for a face to actually burst into flames? She lowered her gaze to his chest and kept it there, wishing fervently she'd kept her mouth shut. “It's just that there was a little ... more ... of you than I thought there would be." Tate made a choked sound, his whole body shaking, and her gaze flew back to his face. He was laughing! Before either of them could say another word, the front door slammed and Buddy's voice rang though the house. “Anybody home?" Abby felt a tiny stab of disappointment when Tate released her and stepped back. “We're in the kitchen,” he yelled back. Buddy came through the door and dumped his books on the table. “I hate to break this to you, but the news is out. Everyone in town knows the two of you are married." Tate sighed. “Looks like Hank didn't waste any time. She stopped by earlier today. Seems we're going to have a party Saturday.” So much for breaking the news to Diane himself. He couldn't even call her, since he had no idea where she was staying. His only option was to make damn sure he got to her before anyone else did when she got back. “All right!” Buddy's grin went from ear to ear. “Can I invite Amy Fletcher?" “Might as well. Her folks will be here anyway.” He gazed at Abby for a long moment. “Well, if you've got things under control here, I'll go check on the stock." She nodded. “Thanks for the help." “No problem."

Chapter Eight “Mrs. McCullom?" Tate poked Abby gently on the arm when she didn't respond. “That's you." “Oh.” Her face heated as she put the magazine down and stood.

The doctor's waiting room was filled with women in various stages of pregnancy and Tate was feeling more than a little out of place. When he stood with her, Abby shot him a look of surprise, but he suspected that if the doctor gave her any prescriptions, she'd never tell him about it. He was going to make sure she got them filled even if it meant suffering through this ordeal every time she had an appointment. The nurse led them to an examination room, pausing at a set of scales to get a weight, then directed Abby to a table that sat in the middle of the room. “Just have a seat there, Mrs. McCullom and we'll get started." Tate took the only chair in the room, listening as the nurse fired questions at Abby, marking her answers on a sheet of paper. When she was done, she stuck a thermometer in Abby's mouth, then wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm. She added the results to the chart before opening a drawer in the bottom of the table, pulling out what looked to Tate like a paper tablecloth, which she placed on the exam table. “I'll need a urine sample. The bathroom is right down the hall on the left. Just leave it there.” She took a plastic cup from a cabinet and set it on the countertop. “When you're done, go ahead and get undressed and slip the gown on. It opens in the back. I'll be back in a few minutes to draw some blood.” The door closed quietly behind her. Abby slid from the table and picked up the cup. “I'll be right back." He stood until she'd left the room, then sat down, thinking about yesterday. He'd spent the whole day in the fields, getting the last of the crops in the ground. He'd been sweaty, covered head to toe in dust raised by the tractor and, by lunch time, starved half to death. He didn't want to take the time to go back to the house and eat, though, deciding instead to just keep going until he was finished. He hadn't expected to see Abby standing at the end of the row with a basket on one arm. A tiny surge of pleasure ran through him at the memory. Since his mother had died, no one had ever taken the time to care if he ate or not, but she had. Then again, something seemed to have changed between them since they'd gotten married. Abby seemed more relaxed, looser, around him. Like she'd decided to finally trust him. His mind ran back over Monday. No, it wasn't since the wedding, he thought. It had happened later that day. After she'd gone upstairs to change. Maybe it was the talk they'd had in the kitchen while he helped her with supper. He only knew that they had spent a comfortable evening going over the seed catalogs together while Buddy did his homework upstairs. A grin split his face as he remembered Abby's comment about needing a ladder to pick strawberries, and the laughter it had prompted from him. Apparently she'd never picked strawberries before, or even seen one of the low growing plants. She'd actually slugged him in the arm for laughing at her. And that wasn't all. The house was so clean he was almost afraid to walk though it. She'd even washed clothes. For the first time since his mom died, you could actually find Buddy's bed. Yesterday, they had sat under a tree while he ate the left-over chicken and cobbler she'd brought, washing the food down with about a gallon of iced tea. And even when they hadn't been talking, the silence hadn't seemed so uneasy.

The door to the exam room opened and Abby came back in, hesitated and then clutched the gown to her chest, staring at Tate helplessly. Tate knew how she felt. There was nowhere in the room to offer her any privacy. He cleared his throat. “Uh, I'll just wait outside the door while you change." He stepped though the door, closing it behind him. The nurse was at a desk near the end of the hall and she looked up, one eyebrow arched in question. “Problem?" Tate thought fast. “No, just wondering if you have a drinking fountain." She pointed to her right. “Down there." “Thanks.” He took his time, dawdling to give Abby a chance to change, then went back to the room and knocked softly before opening the door a crack. She was standing in the middle of the room, one hand behind her clutching the gown closed, looking like she was about to cry. He slid all the way into the room. “Abby, what's wrong?" “I broke the strings on the gown trying to get them tied." “Turn around. Maybe I can fix it." She presented her back to him and Tate tried his best not to look at the long expanse of bare skin that led down to a nicely curved bottom. It wasn't easy. Carefully, he examined the gown. “They're only broken on one side." He took out his pocket knife and poked holes in the paper, threading the remaining strings through them and tying them off. “There. You're all fixed up." He didn't have the heart to tell her that there was still a two inch gap in the back of the gown. She was nervous enough as it was. “What do you think they're going to do to me?" He shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. I've never been through this before either." They both looked up as the nurse came back in carrying a packet. Tate watched as she put a rubber strap around the top of Abby's arm, but turned away with a wince when she pulled out a syringe. God, he hated needles. “There we go. Just hold your arm closed for a second and I'll get a Band-Aid on that for you." He looked back as the nurse collected the vials. Abby didn't look like she was in mortal pain and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Doctor Spanos will be in shortly."

They were both quiet while they waited, Abby fiddling nervously with the sheet the nurse had draped over her lap. She literally jumped when the door opened again. A short, stout man with hair as white as the jacket he wore came in, looking at the chart in his hands through black rimmed glasses. The nurse followed him. He nodded at Tate, then turned to the table. “Abby, isn't it?" “Yes." “Well, Abby, you are definitely pregnant. When was your last period?" “March first." The doctor did some rapid figuring on the chart then peered at her over his glasses. “That would put your due date about December sixteenth.” He handed the chart to the nurse. “Now, I'll need you to just lie back on the table." Moving up beside her, he slid the shoulder of her gown down. Tate suddenly found a scuff mark on the floor of major interest, but not before he caught a glimpse of one bare breast. “Hmm. A little tender?" Abby must have nodded in answer, because the doctor continued. “That's to be expected at this stage. Nothing to worry about and it'll go away soon." There were more rustling noises. “Okay, you can slip that back on now." Tate inhaled and looked up. Surely that would be the worst of it. It wasn't. Not by a long shot. Just about the time he was starting to relax, the doctor pulled up what looked like metal stirrups from the end of the table and put Abby's feet in them. “Scoot your bottom down to the very edge. We need to take a look and make sure everything is where it should be.” When Abby complied, looking almost as panicked as Tate felt, the doctor parked himself on a stool between her legs. The nurse helped him put on rubber gloves and then handed him a tool that looked suspiciously like a post hole digger to Tate. Surely he wasn't going to ... Tate blanched. Apparently he was, indeed. His stomach rolled. That must hurt like hell. His gaze shot to Abby's face, but she was staring fixedly at a spot on the ceiling. It was only a minute or two before the doctor handed the post-hole digger back to the nurse, but to Tate it felt like hours. Doctor Spanos patted Abby's sheet covered leg. “Everything looks normal and you're right about the dates. I'd put you at about seven weeks along. Just relax there a second and we'll take a look at the baby and see how it's doing." Take a look at the baby? Tate was still trying to decide whether or not to protest when the nurse moved to a machine behind the table and pulled out a long wand-looking thing. When she rolled a condom down on it and coated it with lubricating lotion, Tate broke out in a sweat.

As the nurse flipped switches on the machine, the doctor bent over Abby again, doing something mysterious under the sheet. There was a burst of static and the doctor, nurse and Abby all turned their heads toward a flickering light. “Dad, you might want to move a little closer so you can see this, too." Slowly, Tate got to his feet and moved to stand near Abby's head, his eyes on the screen beside her. He stared at it for a second before he realized what he was seeing. Most of the screen was white, but there was a darker half-arc in the center. And inside that arc, something was moving. Awe ran through Tate, filled him to near bursting. His breath caught in his chest. “My God,” he whispered. “Look! Is that the baby?" Doctor Spanos chuckled from the end of the table. “It's always easy to tell who the first-time parents are. Yes, that's the baby." Tate tore his gaze away from the screen and looked down at Abby. She looked like she was about to cry again, but she was smiling. At the same moment their hands moved, fingers joining tightly together. “There's its head.” The doctor pointed out a larger, rounder shape on one end. “Let's see if we can get it to hold still long enough to get a fix on its size. Sure is an energetic little thing." Tate looked back at the screen intently. After some shifting around and some loud static, the shadowed image of a curve appeared, indistinct, but obviously alive and active. Unconsciously, his grip on Abby's hand tightened. The image on the screen froze and several dots popped up with a white line stretching between them. “What's wrong?” Tate glanced at the doctor. “Not a thing. Just getting some measurements. We'll print this out for you so you can show it off to all your relatives. Baby's first picture." The machine clicked and then spit out a strip of paper. The frozen image vanished and Tate could see the baby moving, almost bouncing from one side of the dark area to the other. “Can you tell if it's a boy or girl?" Doctor Spanos shook his head. “It's still too early for that. We'll do this again in about four months. We should be able to tell then.” He flipped the machine off and handed the wand to the nurse. “Okay Abby, you can sit up now.” He rolled his stool to the counter and picked up her chart, looking through the pages. “Everything seems to be right on schedule and the baby looks healthy and normal. However, you're a little anemic and you're also underweight. I'm going to give you a prescription for some vitamins with an extra supplement of iron. How are you feeling, generally?" “Fine.” Abby was sitting up, holding the sheet tightly around her, but she hadn't released Tate's hand.

“She's been getting sick and throwing up,” Tate added helpfully. Abby glared at him, but he ignored her. “That's normal and should ease up soon. In the meantime, I'll give you something for nausea that should help. Other than that, just eat well-balanced meals and rest when you feel tired." He wrote the prescriptions out and handed them to Abby. Tate took them away from her and stuck them in his shirt pocket. The doctor stood. “One last thing. Most folks are usually too embarrassed to ask, so I always make it a point to tell them. Sex is fine right up until the end as long there's no discomfort.” He smiled at both of them. “The nurse will give you your pictures and some reading material. Abby, I'll see you in a month." The nurse handed them a bunch of pamphlets and the pictures. “These should explain what to expect over the next seven months, but if you have any questions, don't hesitate to call us. Did you want to sign up for the Lamaze classes? They won't come until you're much farther along, but we usually have a pretty long waiting list. It's better to schedule early if you want to be sure and get in." Abby looked at him blankly. Tate shrugged. “Sure. Sign her up." The nurse smiled at him then turned to Abby. “You can get dressed now. Just stop at the receptionist's on your way out and she'll set up your next appointment.” Taking Abby's chart with her, she departed with brisk efficiency. Abby slid off the table and reached for her clothes. “I guess I should get out of here and let you get dressed." “It's okay. Just turn around." Tate turned his back to her and gazed down at the pictures in his hand, wonder filling him all over again. His baby. The child they had made together. There was no way he could regret that, not ever. “I'm done." He looked up from the pictures. Abby's hair was mussed on one side and he reached out to smooth it down, his hand lingering as he gazed down at her. “It's really real, Abby. A real baby." “I know." She smiled softly and Tate suddenly realized she was glowing. Before he even knew he was going to do it, he leaned down and kissed her gently. “Our baby.” He straightened and stepped away from her, embarrassed by the emotions that were running through him. “Did you see the way it was bouncing around? That doesn't hurt does it?" Abby laughed. “I can't even feel it yet. I think it's still too small." He took her hand again. “Let's get out of here. We still have a lot to do. We need to get these

prescriptions filled, run by the bank, then to the feed store. And we'll stop and get a hamburger before we head back to the ranch." “What do you have to do at the bank?" “Get you put on the checking account." He heard her gasp but didn't even slow down. “There may be times I can't come with you and you'll need to be able to write checks yourself. Only makes sense. I can't wait to show Buddy these pictures." They stopped at the front desk and Tate paid the bill while Abby made her next appointment. As soon as they were back on the street he headed for the drug store. “You know the room across the hall from yours? It's still full of Mom's sewing things, but with a little fixing up, it would make a great nursery." Abby came to a screeching halt. “But I thought..." Tate paused. “What? You don't like the room?" “No, it's not that. I just thought that after the baby was born you'd..." Tate took a deep breath as realization swept over him. “You thought that after the baby was born we'd get a divorce and it would all be over with." Abby hesitated. “Yes. I know you're only doing this because you feel like you have to. I thought you'd want to get back to your old life and, by the time the baby's born, I'll have my diploma. I'll be able to get a better job. You won't need to take care of us anymore." Tate took her hand. “Listen to me, Abby. When we got married the vow was until death parted us, not until the baby was born. I meant it. I admit, the baby was kind of an abstract idea to me until today, but now it's real and it's my baby too. I want the chance to help raise it, to see it grow up. You can't take that away from me. Please, promise me you won't do anything until we at least talk about it." Abby was chewing on her bottom lip, her gaze searching his expression and Tate held his breath while she hesitated. “Okay. I promise we'll talk about it again after the baby's born." Relief shot through Tate and he smiled at her. “Good. I know we can work this out. And in the meantime, we can go ahead and get the nursery fixed up.” He glanced down at her as they reached the drug store. “Have you thought about a name yet?" “A name?" “For the baby. Never mind. Maybe they'll have one of those baby name books in here." “But we don't even know if it's a boy or girl yet!" “Well, we'll just pick out one of each that we like. Then we'll be covered." Abby laughed and shook her head. “I think you may be jumping the gun a little. We still have lots of time before we need to settle on a name."

“You never know,” he said wisely as he handed the druggist the prescriptions. “What if we can't agree on anything? For instance, I'm afraid I'd have to protest if you wanted to name a boy Howard.” He shuddered in mock horror and Abby laughed harder. “You can rest assured, I'll never name our son Howard if you promise not to name our daughter Louise." A son and a daughter. Not one child, but two. Would it ever happen? With her? Tate stood there gazing down into Abby's smiling face and knowledge slammed into him, staggering in its intensity. He wanted her. Wanted her more than he'd ever wanted another woman in his life. His body had been trying to tell him that for weeks now, but he hadn't listened. Couldn't afford to listen. Guilt hit him hard. How could he want Abby this much when it was Diane he loved? And what did that make him? A selfish, cheating bastard? But which woman was he cheating on? His wife or his fiancée?

Chapter Nine Abby sat curled up on one end of the couch, twisting a strand of hair around one finger as she read the pamphlets the nurse had given her. She'd been at it ever since she'd cleaned the kitchen after supper, and had only made it through half of them so far. Some of them, like the ones on nutrition, were boring, but the ones on fetal development had taken on a whole new meaning for her. Like Tate, the baby had just been an abstract idea for her until she'd actually seen it today, a problem that had to be overcome somehow. Now it was real, a little person that was hers to love and care for. Someone who would love her back, need her, depend on her. She was determined to make sure this baby was happier and healthier than she'd ever had the chance to be. Her baby was going to be proud of its mother. She put the pamphlet she'd just finished on the end table and glanced up at Tate. He was sitting across from her with not one, but two books on baby names he'd bought today. And he was watching her again. He'd been doing it all afternoon. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but she was always aware of it. It had gotten to the point where she didn't even have to look at him to know. Every time he started watching her, the hair would stand up on her arms, and a strange sense of anticipation would hit her. She glanced back down at the next pamphlet on the stack and smiled. There was a picture of a chubby-cheeked newborn on the front, and the inscription, “Lamaze: The Natural Way to Healthy Babies." One of the pictures they'd gotten today was now stuck to the refrigerator door with magnets. She wanted it where she could see it often. The other one Tate had kept, tucking it carefully into his wallet. After he'd shown it to Buddy, of course. Abby smiled again. Buddy had given him a lot of grief over that picture, pretending at first that he couldn't see anything on it. Tate had been ready to strangle him by the time his brother finally admitted he could see the baby. After that, they had spent fifteen minutes trying to decide who it looked like, which Abby found hysterical, considering the vagueness of the image. Buddy had

finally declared it had to be a girl because it was too pretty for a boy. “What about Darren?" Abby looked up and made a face. “There was a Darren in my third-grade class. He was a hateful little monster." “Okay, scratch Darren." When he went back to the book, Abby started reading the next brochure. She'd barely gotten through the first page when she started laughing. “What?” Tate looked up. “You know that Lamaze thing you signed me up for today? Well, you didn't just sign me up, you signed yourself up, too. It's classes on natural childbirth. And you have to be my coach." “Let me see that thing.” He got up and sat down beside her on the couch, taking the pamphlet from her hands. Abby leaned closer until their shoulders were touching and read over his arm, trying to ignore the tingle his nearness was causing. An uncontrollable shiver ran over her. “This doesn't sound too bad.” He glanced down at her. “Although I'm not sure how you can teach someone to breathe. Seems like it would be a case of either you can or you can't." “Look at this part.” She pointed to the last paragraph on the page, her arm brushing his. Tate seemed to tense before he started reading. “You mean I get to be in there with you when it's born? I thought I'd have to stay in the waiting room." Abby glanced up at him. “Do you want to be there?" “Of course I do. I help our mares foal all the time. How different could it be?" “I don't know. I've never seen anything being born before." “You will. It's spring. There's always something being born this time of year on a ranch." Tate stretched his arm out along the back of the couch and turned toward her a little, his gaze running disconcertingly over her face before coming to rest on her lips. “What else have you got over there?" Was it her imagination or had his voice gotten softer? Abby shuffled through the papers on the end table with shaking hands until she found the one on fetal development. “This one shows what the baby will look like each month." “Really?" His voice definitely sounded husky now and she got the impression he'd stopped paying attention

to her words. Before she could look up his fingers slid through her hair and Abby went still. “It's bound to have black hair,” he murmured. Slowly she looked up at him, her heart quivering. The expression on his face was the same one she'd seen several times today, but now it was more intense. His rough features had taken on a sensual look that sent a streak of unexplainable heat shooting through her, along with a yearning emptiness that gapped deep in her middle. “I hope it has your eyes,” she whispered, staring into their blue depths. Even as she watched, the pupils expanded, darkened, and his hand moved to her cheek, thumb tracing the outline of her jaw. “Why? You have beautiful eyes." Abby couldn't have spoken a word if her life had depended on it. All she could do was wait and she wasn't even sure what for. It didn't take long to find out. Tate's hand curved around her nape, pulling her gently but inexorably closer. And then his mouth covered hers. Abby stopped thinking, almost stopped breathing. There was nothing she could do but feel. The papers still on her lap slid to the floor unnoticed as she leaned into him. His lips were warm and firm on hers and, instinctively her own parted. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat as he plunged inside and, without quite realizing how, Abby found her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him even closer. The heat that had run through her before burst into incandescence, making her body hypersensitive. Her breasts, already tender, seemed near to bursting now and she could feel the solid strength of Tate's body with every inch of hers. It had never been like this before. Not the night he'd first come to her, and not when he'd kissed her after the wedding. His mouth ravaged hers, again and again, and she didn't care, didn't want him to ever stop. She was inflamed with feelings in places where long dormant nerve endings were exploding to life and she wanted more, wanted to know what those feelings could become. Suddenly, the dual beams of headlights stabbed through the window and Tate jerked away from her as though he'd only just realized he was holding live fire with his bare hands. “Shit." The word was low, almost under his breath, but she heard it. He was looking down at her, his face rife with confusion. Well, he couldn't be any more confused than she was right now, Abby thought, watching as he ran a hand through his hair. The headlights came to a stop in front of the house and she could hear the sound of a motor. “Looks like we've got company,” Tate said. “I'll go see who it is." “I'll go make coffee." “Fine.” The word was curt as he started across the living room.

Abby waited until he reached the door then jumped up and ran into the kitchen, frustration and embarrassment battling inside her. **** Tate stepped out into the darkness of the front porch and watched as Joe Blackburn climbed out of the cab of the pickup. He was in no mood for company right now, wasn't even sure he could carry on a normal conversation. But at least the interruption had put a halt to what was surely about to happen in the house. Something he couldn't let happen again no matter how badly his body ached. “Joe.” He nodded as his best friend stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Damn you, Tate. You know what I found on my answering machine when I got home tonight? Well, I'll tell you.” He kept talking without giving Tate a chance to answer. “I found a message from Hank telling me there was going to be a party here Saturday to celebrate you getting married. It's pretty dang sorry when you have to find out news like that about your best friend from an answering machine. Why didn't you call me?" “It was kind of spur of the moment. Didn't have time to call anybody." “Shit. And I thought Diane was going to be out of town for two weeks. How'd you talk her into it?" Tate's stomach clenched painfully. Apparently Hank hadn't gone into details. “She is gone for two weeks. I didn't marry Diane." Joe took a step back, almost falling down the remaining steps in his shock. “Then who the hell did you marry?" “Abby Grayson." “Abby?” Joe's mouth gapped. “That little waitress from Delly's?” He closed his mouth with a snap. “Hell, Hoss. When I suggested using her for revenge, marriage wasn't what I had in mind." “Keep your voice down,” Tate hissed. “She's in the kitchen.” He paused. “And I didn't do it for revenge. She's pregnant." “Well, I'll be damned." “Before you ask, yes, it's mine." Joe grinned at him. “I wasn't going to ask. I figure you're smart enough to know something like that on your own. No wonder you got so mad at Delly's Friday night. You already knew then, didn't you?" “I suspected. I found out for sure later that night." “I'll be damned,” Joe repeated, shaking his head. “You're gonna be a daddy. Just don't seem possible. So, are you gonna introduce me?" Tate sighed. “I guess I might as well. Come on in."

Abby looked up from the coffee pot as they entered the room and smiled hesitantly. “Abby, this is Joe Blackburn. You probably remember seeing him at Delly's. Joe this is Abby." “Sure she remembers. Hard to forget a handsome face like mine.” Joe was grinning at her in obvious delight. “Do I get to kiss the bride?" Abby backed up a quick step, but it was too late. Joe grabbed her and put a loud smack on her cheek while Tate watched with amusement. “You sure picked yourself a sorry excuse for a husband, girl. Take it from me. Why, me and Tate used to chase each other around the yard until our diapers fell off.” Joe pushed his hair back on one side. “See this scar? He did that. Hit me over the head with a shovel when we were four. Took six stitches to sew it up." He pulled out a chair across the table from Tate and sat down. “Hey, you still got that scar on your butt where I snagged you with the fish hook that time?" Abby was staring at Joe with a slightly dazed expression and Tate grinned wryly. “You know I do. It took Daddy an hour to pull it out with the pliers. I couldn't sit down for a week." “And it was a whole year before he'd let me go fishing with him again. Can't imagine why.” Joe was doing his best to look hurt and Abby started laughing. “Neither can I. Would you like a cup of coffee?" “Don't mind if do.” He was the one staring now. At Abby. Tate shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Joe arched an eyebrow at him. “I think I just saw the light,” his friend murmured under the cover of rattling cups. Tate glared at him and Joe chuckled. Abby came back to the table carrying two cups and the coffee pot. “Do you take sugar or cream?" “Nope, black is fine." She got her own glass of juice and joined them at the table. “So when's the baby due?" Abby promptly choked on her first swallow and Joe thumped her politely between the shoulder blades. “You know?” she gasped. “'Course I do. Tate told me. Does this mean I get to be an honorary uncle? Just think, Tate. I can help you teach him to ride and break horses." “As long as you don't try to teach it to fish,” Tate commented. “Besides, what if he's a she?"

“A she?” Joe looked stunned at the idea that it might be a girl. “Damn, Tate. What if she wants to date boys? We'll have to figure out some way to stop her." “I figure if we put our heads together we can come up with something in the next sixteen years,” Tate couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice and Abby grinned at him. “Buddy took one look at the pictures and decided it was a girl,” Abby told Joe, “but the doctor said it was too soon to tell yet." “You got pictures? How the hell do they take pictures before it's born?" Tate pulled his wallet out and carefully extracted the image, handing it to Joe. “It's called an ultrasound." Joe held it at arms’ length, then pulled it in closer. “What am I looking at here?" Abby leaned closer to him and pointed. “That's its head. See, there's its eyes and cheeks and that right there is a nose." “Well, I'll be damned if it ain't. And cute as a button. Ain't science wonderful?” He studied the picture. “Nope, Buddy's wrong. It's a boy. Any fool could tell that. Don't look a bit like a girl.” He handed the picture back to Tate. “Speaking of Buddy, where is the squirt tonight?" “Over at Tommy Johnson's. They're supposed to be studying, but I figure they're probably watching TV. I told him to be home by ten.” Tate glanced at his watch. Joe drained the last of his coffee. “Well, tell him I said hello. I'd best be on my way. Have to get up early tomorrow.” He pushed his seat back and stood. “Ma'am, thanks for the coffee. It's been a pleasure meeting you proper. I'll see you at the party Saturday." “I'll walk you out.” Tate stood and followed him. Joe was silent until he pulled the truck door closed behind him, then he leaned on the opened window frame and looked at Tate closely. “I like her. And damned if that smile of hers don't knock a man's socks plum off.” He hesitated. “I know you might not think so right now, but you are one lucky son-of-a-bitch, Hoss. Maybe one of these days you'll figure that out for yourself.” He turned the key over. “See you Saturday." Tate watched the truck vanish down the driveway in a billow of dust, then turned back to the house. Through the kitchen window he could see Abby clearing off the table and washing cups. For a while he just stood there watching her. Lucky? He sure didn't feel lucky. He felt like he was being torn in half. And he suspected it was going to get a lot worse before it got better. Assuming it would ever get better. Diane's image flashed through his mind and he turned from the window. A little over a week and she'd be home. Could he stay away from her? He'd have to for both their sakes, no matter how much it hurt. He had to remember the baby. That was really the only thing that mattered now. It didn't seem possible, he reflected, to love something that much when you'd never held it, never even seen it, really. But he did. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his child. Even give up the woman he

loved to live the rest of his life with one he didn't. He glanced back through the window, but Abby was gone, and he could hear the sound of movement from the living room. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he thought. He did like her and lots of marriages had been based on less than that. Another set of headlights caught him in a beam of light and he watched as Buddy pulled the truck up next to the house and stopped. “You're late.” Tate looked pointedly at his watch. “Only by ten minutes. I passed Joe down the road. Is he coming to the party Saturday?" “Do you think I could stop him?” He followed Buddy inside. “Mr. and Mrs. Johnson said they'd be here, too. Mrs. Johnson is going to bring some of her homemade peach pies." Abby was squatted in front of the couch, picking pamphlets up off the floor and stacking them neatly on the coffee table. “What are you doing?” Buddy eyed her curiously. “Just straightening up. I dropped these earlier.” She stood and glanced at Tate before looking quickly away. “Did you get your homework finished?" “Geesh. You're starting to sound like Tate. What is this, a conspiracy? Yes, I finished my homework. Did you?" She smiled at him. “All done and mailed this morning." “You're gonna make me look bad, you know." “I doubt it. And I never would have figured that math out without your help." Buddy gave Tate a smug smile. “See? I do know what I'm doing." “I suppose there's a first time for everything. But don't let it go to your head." “Like there's any chance of that with you around." Abby had finally finished stacking the papers. “Well, I think I'm off to bed. Goodnight.” She sent them both a smile then went up the stairs. “I think I'll do the same thing.” Buddy shifted his books from one arm to the other. “Hey." Tate waited until his brother looked at him. “Be sure and put your clothes in the hamper. Abby does enough around here without having to pick up after you." “Sure. You going to bed?"

He nodded. “Just as soon as I turn the lights off." “Okay. See you in the morning." “Night." Tate waited until Buddy got up the stairs, then moved though the quiet house, flipping off lights as he went. His gaze fell on the couch as he went back through the living room and he paused. Why couldn't he seem to keep his hands off Abby? It wasn't like he was desperate. And why couldn't he stop remembering the way she felt in his arms, the way she tasted? God, and the way she'd seemed to melt into him when he kissed her. He'd never felt anything like it before in his life. Another few minutes and he'd never have been able to stop. Hadn't wanted to stop when he had. He forced his feet back into action and slipped upstairs to his bedroom. Stripping his clothes off, he climbed into bed and lay staring into the darkness. Just a few steps down the hall Abby was curled up in bed, no doubt wearing that damn seethrough nightshirt. He could picture every inch of her with no trouble at all. Her hair was probably tangled over her face, hiding those dark eyes behind that silken veil. One fist would be tucked in by her cheek, and one knee pulled up tightly against her, exposing the sweet curve of her hip. Tate groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. He was torturing himself and he couldn't seem to stop. If he couldn't find a way to control this, and damn soon, he was going to die. The thought of a cold shower entered his mind, but he discarded it immediately. All he needed right now was to have everyone in the house up, wondering why he was taking a shower in the middle of the night. With a curse, he flopped onto his stomach and rammed his fist into the pillow. It was, he suspected, going to be a long time until daylight.

Chapter Ten Tate could smell supper cooking all the way from the barn and a small surge of expectation rippled over him. The sensation was totally foreign to him and he paused to savor it before heading for the house. It was kind of nice to know that he wasn't coming home to cold food and being alone, he decided. For once, Dog wasn't lying positioned by the back door as he had been for the last few days. While he couldn't actually prove it, Tate suspected that Abby had been stuffing the animal with leftovers. Whether it was the hope of more handouts or a case of undying devotion, Dog was never far from Abby lately. Tate's smile faded a little as he went through the back door and discovered the kitchen was empty. The oven was on, but there was no sign of Abby. “Abby?” His voice seemed to ring hollowly in the house. There was no answer. Worry started to build as he checked each room on the ground floor. The truck was still parked next to the house. She had to be there.

What if she were hurt? He ran up the stairs, fear escalating as different scenarios raced across his mind. She'd slipped and was lying unconscious and bleeding. Something was wrong with the baby. She'd had a miscarriage. Heart pounding, he looked in every room, even Buddy's, but Abby was nowhere to be found. Think, he told himself. She wasn't in the house, so that meant she had to be outside somewhere. He went back though the kitchen, forcing himself to slow down, and stopped on the back porch. “Abby?" “I'm out here!" Relief made his knees go weak at the faint sound of her voice. It had come from the direction of the chicken coop. He got there just in time to hear a loud sneeze. A billow of dust erupted from the opened door as Tate watched in amazement. “What in the hell are you doing?" Abby's head suddenly appeared from the cloud of debris that was settling to the ground. Her hair was full of cobwebs and her face was so dirty she looked like a raccoon. Her eyes were constantly blinking from the grit that had gotten into them. “Hank...” she paused to give a lady-like spit. “Hank called and said she was bringing the chickens over tomorrow. I wanted to make sure we were ready for them. Good thing I checked. This place is filthy. There's so much dirt on the floor that I can't even find the bottom." “You're cleaning...” Tate's words sputtered to a halt and he started laughing. The more indignant Abby looked, the harder he laughed until he was hanging onto the fence for support. “What's so funny?” She glared at him, hands on hips. “The floor,” he choked, “is dirt! It doesn't have a bottom.” He wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to get a grip. “Abby, all chicken houses are like this one. The chickens don't care. All that needs doing is putting some fresh straw in the laying boxes." “Well, someone should have told me that to start with.” She reached back inside for the broom and then marched toward the house, her back stiff. The only thing that ruined the effect was the dust that spilled from her with each step. Apparently she was aware of her condition, because she stopped at the back steps and jumped up and down a few times, then tried to shake her whole body. Tate was holding his breath to the point of asphyxiation, trying not to laugh again when she looked at him over her shoulder. “I can't go in the house like this!" Smothering his grin, Tate thought about it. “Wait here." He went through the house, returning in a few seconds with a sheet. Unfolding it, he motioned Abby onto the porch and held it up between them. “Okay, strip, then you can wrap this around you until you get to the shower." “You want me to undress out here in the open?"

“Abby, there's not another soul but me for miles around. No one is going to see you." She eyed the sheet. “Hold it higher." He complied, raising it above eye level. “Better?" “I guess.” She still sounded doubtful, but he heard the thump when her shoes hit the floor, then a rustling noise as she removed the rest of her clothes. “Okay, I'm ready." Tate suddenly found himself in a quandary. If he lowered the sheet enough to get it around her, he was going to see a lot more than she obviously wanted him to. On the other hand, they couldn't stand out here like this forever. Taking a deep breath, he lowered the sheet slightly then rapidly reached around her with the edges. Abby grabbed them and pulled them tightly closed, but not before he got a good look at her body. Desire hit him hard, knocking his held breath right back out of him. He had to fight to get his arms back at his sides. Thank God, Abby didn't seem to notice. She was already going in the back door, looking like a ten-year-old dressed up in her mama's clothes. But he'd seen and felt those curves of hers, and knew they didn't belong on a child. By the time she'd showered, changed and made it back to the kitchen, he finally had his body under control again, but just barely. Buddy came in right behind her. “Man, it smells good in here. What's for supper?" “Roast.” Abby smiled at him. “Why don't you get washed up? It's almost ready." “I'll set the table while you finish up the food.” Tate dodged Buddy, then turned to the cabinet and got the plates out. He carried them to the table and arranged them carefully in the right spots. He was going back to get the silverware when the phone rang. Snagging it off the stand as he passed, he eyed the silverware drawer, wondering if the cord was long enough to reach. “Hello." “Hi, sugar.” The voice was low and sultry, one he knew better than his own. Diane. Tate froze, the blood draining from his face. He could feel both Buddy's and Abby's eyes on him. “Where are you?” He turned to face the wall, one arm braced above him for the support he so desperately needed right now. “I'm at the airport. The plane just arrived, but I couldn't wait to call you." “A little early, aren't you?” He tried to keep his voice low, but it sounded unnaturally loud in the sudden silence of the kitchen. “I missed you. Being on an island isn't much fun when you're alone. It's been almost a week, Tate. Why don't I get a cab and come by your place? Maybe we can get your brother to leave for a few

hours." “No.” He squeezed his eyes shut to try and still the panic. “Just wait. I'll be there in a few minutes." “Is something wrong? You sound funny." “Just wait there, okay?" “Okay.” She paused. “Tate? Bring my ring with you. I feel naked without it. And hurry. I love you." “I know." He hung the phone up without turning around. He couldn't look at Abby right now, didn't want to see the knowledge on her face. “I have to leave." “Should I save your supper?” Her voice was almost as low as his had been. “No, I'll get something later.” He only stopped long enough to grab the keys off the hook by the door before leaving. **** Tate found a parking place right in front of the airport doors. Now, he had to dredge up enough energy to get out of the truck and go through them. It felt like he'd aged twenty years in the last few minutes. He'd believed he had another week, had counted on it. He should have known Diane never did anything the way she was supposed to. His feet weighed a ton, but he managed to get inside, his gaze sweeping the building. And then she was there, in his arms, her lips on his. For a second he allowed himself to kiss her back, knowing it would probably be for the last time, then he gently pulled away from her. She kept one arm around his waist as she smiled up at him. “Did you miss me?" “You know I did.” He started to push a lock of hair away from her face then let his hand drop. “Good. Maybe next time you'll come with me. It would be a perfect place for our honeymoon." Tate felt as though he were smothering. “Where are your bags?" “Right here.” She gestured to a cart that sat to one side. “Tate, do you feel all right? You look pale." “I'm fine.” He picked up the leather bags. “Come on. Let's get out of here." “Great. I can't wait to get you alone." Every word out of her mouth was like rubbing salt in an open wound. By the time he tossed her bags into the back of the truck he was shaking like a newborn foal.

As soon as he slid under the wheel, Diane moved across the seat until she was almost in his lap, her hand curling around the back of his neck. An image of Abby, cowering against the other door as if she were afraid to touch him, flashed through his mind, but he pushed it away. “Did you bring my ring?” Diane's fingers were playing with the hair at his nape as he started the truck and pulled out. “No, I didn't." She was watching him closely, her green eyes narrowed. “Okay, what's wrong?" “We have to talk, Diane, but not here." “Talk about what? You're not still mad at me for leaving, are you?" “No." “I'll bet Daddy's been after you again about giving you the money for a new house, hasn't he? You have to understand, Tate. He only wants the best for me." Tate clenched his jaw. “I haven't seen your father since before you left." “Then I give up. What is it?" “We'll talk about it when I get you home." “Fine.” She threw her hands up in the air and moved away from him, leaning forward to study her reflection in the rear view mirror. “You know, maybe we should find a place with a milder climate for our honeymoon. My tan looks great, but the saltwater was horrible for my complexion. What do you think?" He flicked his gaze to the mirror. “You look fantastic. Like always." “I do, don't I?” She stretched like a contented cat. “The heat was wonderful. Just lying on the beach baking all day. And we found some of the cutest shops. I even got you one of those flowered shirts. It's in my suitcase." Tate glanced at her. “We?" She smiled at him. “Some people I met at the hotel." Weariness settled over him like a pall. She was lying, of course. He knew her too well not to recognize the signs. She hadn't been alone. He flipped on the turn signal and pulled into her driveway. It wasn't his problem anymore, he tried to tell himself. Right now, he had to concentrate on telling her about Abby and the baby. That was going to be bad enough without the added complications of her infidelity. Tate carried the suitcases in and left them in the hall while Diane looked around. “I guess Daddy is out."

Nothing new about that, Tate thought. He usually was out. Diane liked to pretend she was daddy's little princess, but the truth was, the man had left her raising to the servants. He seemed to think throwing money at her made up for his lack in the parenthood department. It hadn't and Tate was probably the only one who knew the truth. She'd always confided in him, from the time they'd been little more than kids. And now he was going to hurt her more than her father ever had. He went into the study and stopped at the wide expanse of windows, gazing out at neatly manicured lawns that seemed to go on forever. Diane came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against his back. “What did you want to talk about?" Tate swallowed but kept his eyes on the view. There was no way to make this any easier. “While you were gone, I got married." For an instant there was total silence, then she laughed. “I knew you were still mad at me, but it's really not necessary to make cruel jokes, Tate. I said I was sorry. If it will make you feel any better, from now on, I promise not to go away unless you can come with me." He pulled her hands away and turned. “It's not a joke,” he said quietly. “I married Abby Grayson Monday morning." “Oh, my God.” She lifted a hand to her mouth and took a step back, her eyes searching his face. “You're serious, aren't you? Why? Why would you do that to us?" Agony shimmered in the air around him. Agony and guilt. “I had no choice, Diane. She's pregnant with my baby.” He could barely force the words out. “Oh, God.” Laughter bubbled out of her again, but this time it had an edge of hysteria. “That little whore came running to you to with a sob story the first time my back was turned and you believed her! Even if she is pregnant, what makes you think it's yours?” She held a hand out pleadingly. “It's not too late. You can still get a divorce. You aren't responsible for someone else's bastard, Tate." He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, then made himself look at her. “No matter what you've heard, Abby isn't a whore. She is pregnant and I'm the only one who could be the father." Diane's face paled under her tan. “You bastard,” she whispered. “You slept with her. How could you sleep with her while you were engaged to me?” Her voice was rising with each word. “What happened to all that damn honor and responsibility you're always preaching to me?" “You don't understand. I was drunk. It was the night we argued about Clayton Caldwell. I didn't even know what I was doing until it was too late. It only happened one time.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I swear. Just one time. We even have separate rooms at the house." “Do you think that matters? So what's the plan here, ‘Mr. High and Mighty’ Tate McCullom? Do you think you can wait until after the baby is born and then come running back to me, expecting me to raise it for you? If you do, you can think again. I'm not going to raise your bastard." Anger greater than the pain he felt, hit Tate. “Don't worry. You won't get the chance. I may not be perfect but at least I'm doing my best to rectify my mistake. How many men have you slept with?

Ten? A dozen? It's okay for you, but not for me? What's the difference between us, Diane?" “Goddamn you, the difference is that I'm not stupid enough to get pregnant! No man is ever going to catch me in that trap.” Suddenly she smiled and the icy glitter in her eyes sent chills down Tate's back. “You want to know how many men I've slept with, Tate? Hundreds. And they all had one thing in common. Every single one of them was twice the man you are. You want to know why I cut my trip short? Because Clayton was called back on business. Compared to him, you're boring, Tate. In bed and out. The little whore is welcome to you. Now get out of my house." **** Abby opened her eyes to darkness and lay still, listening intently. Something had awoken her, but what? She turned her head to one side and glanced at the alarm clock she kept next to the bed. It was almost one. She hadn't gone to sleep until after eleven even though she'd been tired. It had been obvious who Tate was talking to from the instant he'd answered the phone earlier this evening and, in spite of the fact that she'd tried not to care, she had found herself listening for the sound of his truck returning. She'd still been listening when she'd drifted off to sleep. Even Buddy had fallen silent for a change, seemingly both worried and embarrassed. He'd escaped to his room at the first opportunity. She was about to turn over and go back to sleep when the noise came again. This time it was closer, a loud thud that sounded like something heavy hitting the floor just down the hall. Quietly, she threw the blankets back and slipped out of bed. Opening her door a tiny crack, she peered into the dim circle of light that filtered in from the window at one end of the hall. “Tate!" He was sitting on the floor, back braced against the wall outside his bedroom, head buried on his knees. He wasn't moving. Abby rushed down the hall and dropped beside him. “Tate, what is it? Are you sick?" He didn't answer, but he didn't have to. The smell of whiskey was strong enough to make her wonder if he'd bathed in it. Her lips compressed into a thin line and she shook him. At least that got a groan out of him. “Come on, Tate. You can't stay out here and I can't carry you to bed. Can you walk?" “Sick,” he mumbled. “Yeah, I don't doubt it. Smells like you wiped out Delly's stock tonight.” She stood and pulled at his arm. “I'll help you, but you're going to have to try." Moving with great care, he put his arm around her shoulders and levered himself up the wall. When he pushed away from the support, Abby almost staggered from the burden of his weight, but she managed to get the door of his room open.

They wove a path to the bed and it was only with Abby's help that he actually hit it when he collapsed. “I think I may throw up." “It could only help,” Abby mumbled under her breath, shoving the waste can from next to the bed into his hands. “There, try to at least hit it." She had one of his boots off and was working on the other one when he twisted violently and stuck his head in the can. With a sigh, she dropped the boot and went to the bathroom, returning with several wet cloths. He'd already put the can on the floor and was lying back limply. Abby wiped his sweat-coated face with one cloth and left the other across his forehead. She thought he'd passed out, but when she started to leave, he grabbed her hand. “I'm sorry, Abby." “Just go to sleep, Tate. That's the only thing that's going to help." “You don't understand." “Oh, but I do,” she said wearily. “Only too well.” She pulled her hand away from him. “There's nothing left to say."

Chapter Eleven “Hey there, Squirt. Whatcha drinkin'? Beer?" “Come on, Joe. You know Tate would kill me if he caught me drinking.” Buddy leaned against the fence next to his brother's best friend. “Its just lemonade." “Is that why you're looking so glum? Can't say as I blame you. If I had to drink that stuff I'd probably shoot myself." “It's not that bad.” He shifted a little, his gaze sweeping the crowd of people milling under the trees in the backyard. “So what's the problem? You look like someone killed your favorite hunting dog." Buddy hesitated, then sighed. “Tate and Abby.” He shook his head. “It's kind of hard to explain. You know, when he first brought her home, I was kind of hoping that maybe things would be different for him. I mean, yeah, they barely talked to each other, but that was starting to change. Especially after Abby went to the doctor. Seemed like all they could do was talk about the baby. It was starting to get disgusting." Joe grinned at him. “Sounds to me like they're getting along fine." “They were. Until Thursday evening."

Joe tilted his hat back and propped his foot on the lower fence rail. “What happened Thursday?" “Diane called." “Well, hell. I thought she was gone for two weeks?" “I guess she came back early." “Damn. I was hoping they'd have more time together before the bi--” He cut the word off and glanced at Buddy. “What did Tate do?" “He just walked out. Didn't get home until almost one the next morning and he was falling-down drunk.” Buddy hooked his elbows over the rail. “You know how Tate is about drinking. The only other time I've ever seen him in that shape before was because of her." “Yeah, I know. But I guess sometimes it feels like the only way to ease the pain is to drown it. She must have really tore into him. Does Abby know?" “She knows. I got up to see what was going on and she was helping him into bed. I don't think they've said a word to each other since then. Abby must have stayed in her room all day yesterday. She didn't even cook supper. This is the first time I've seen her since then.” He tilted his head at Abby. She was standing with a group of women at one end of the long table, wearing the same dress she'd gotten married in. Buddy suspected it was the only one she had. Tate was all the way across the yard, talking to a group of men, but his gaze kept drifting to Abby. “Well, I guess that explains why Tate looks like death warmed over.” Suddenly Joe gave Buddy a piercing stare. “Did you say Abby stayed in her own room? They aren't sleeping together?" “No. Tate's still in his old room. Abby is in Mom and Dad's." “Well, hell. That's not good. Not good at all. I sure was hoping that Tate had finally got rid of Diane, but it looks like she may still have her claws in him.” He straightened and pulled the brim of his hat back down. “Squirt, we may just have to save him from himself, and from Diane too." Buddy's expression changed to one of alarm. “You don't think Diane would show up here, do you?" “It wouldn't surprise me. She's had Tate jumping like frog legs in hot grease for years. I can't see her letting go easy now. Maybe I'll just send a couple of the boys down to the main road to make sure she don't get in." “I don't know about this, Joe. If Tate really loves Diane maybe we shouldn't interfere. It's his life, after all." “Love her?” Joe scoffed. “Hell, boy, he don't love her. He's just so damn used to taking care of her that he can't tell the difference. You know how Tate is. He's so hung up on responsibility that he never stops to think he might be doing more harm than good.” He turned his head to gaze at Tate. “Just take a look at that. He can't keep his eyes off Abby. And she sure as hell didn't get pregnant all by herself. Whether Tate realizes it or not, there's something going on there. He just needs time to figure that out for himself and we're going to give it to him." Buddy gazed at his brother raptly. Maybe Joe was right. And he sure didn't relish the idea of

having Diane as a member of the family. “What can we do, though?" “Well, for starters, we can get them alone together for a while. That way they'll have to talk to each other. Tate's been trying real hard to talk everybody out of this chivaree tonight. I was sort of leaning in his direction, but now I think it's a damn fine idea. And we're going to have to do our best to keep Diane away from him." He took a step away from the fence, then stopped. “I'm gonna get some of the boys headed down to the road. You start spreading the word that the chivaree is still on no matter what Tate says." “You know if he finds out about this, he's gonna kill us?" “Let him.” Joe grinned. “He'll thank us later. That God-nephew of mine is gonna need his momma and daddy both. I aim to see he gets them." “Niece!” Buddy yelled at his retreating back. “Nephew,” Joe retorted without slowing and Buddy laughed. **** Tate picked desultorily at the food on his plate, his gaze fixed on Abby. She'd been smiling and talking all evening long as if she didn't have a care in the world. Talking to everyone but him, anyway. She was avoiding him like the plague. Not that he blamed her. If he were in her place, he probably wouldn't be talking to him either. Buddy dropped into the chair beside him and lifted a chicken leg off his plate. “Help yourself.” He arched an eyebrow at his little brother. “It's not like you were gonna eat it,” Buddy mumbled around a mouthful. He did have a point. Tate shoved the plate in front of him. “You may as well finish it off." Buddy dug in. “You and Abby in a race to see who can starve to death first?" “She's not eating?” Tate swung to look at her again, his gaze worried. “Nope. Not a bite all evening." “She needs to eat." “Don't worry about it. Hank's been trying to cram food into her for hours. Sooner or later she'll wear Abby down." Even as he watched, Hank stopped in front of Abby with a plate piled high and led her to a chair. Abby was shaking her head, but Hank wasn't taking no for an answer. She stood there like a calico-covered mountain until Abby took a bite. Tate nodded in satisfaction. “Good.” He glanced back at Buddy. “What were you and Joe talking about earlier?"

Buddy coughed. “Babies." “Babies.” Tate eyed him suspiciously. “Yeah. He thinks it's going to be a boy, I think it's a girl. Wonder if I could get him to put his money where his mouth is?" Joe was standing near the amateur band that had started playing several minutes ago, clapping his hands in time to the music. Puzzled, Tate looked around at the rest of the crowd. “Why isn't anyone dancing?" Buddy looked disgusted. “Because they're waiting on you, dolt. No one is going to dance until the bride and groom lead them off." “Shit. Do me a favor, will you? Tell everyone to go ahead. They don't have to wait." “Nope.” Buddy shook his head. “Besides, it's too late. I heard some of the guys talking a few minutes ago. If you don't dance soon, they're going to kidnap Abby and bring her to you. People are beginning to talk, Tate. This party is for the two of you and you haven't been within spitting distance of her all evening long." “Well, hell.” Unconsciously, he uttered Joe's favorite phrase. Abby was still sitting where Hank had left her, but she'd stopped eating as soon as the older woman's back was turned. “I guess I might as well get it over with." He stood and walked toward Abby, feeling as though a thousand eyes were boring into his back. She looked up when he stopped next to her. “Dance with me?" She hesitated then shook her head. “Thanks, but I'd rather not." “You have to, Abby.” He kept his voice low enough that the people around them wouldn't be able to hear. “No one else will dance until we do. It's a tradition. If we don't do it voluntarily, they'll try to force us into it.” He held out his hand. “Please?" She glanced around at the people watching them, then sighed and took his hand. “Okay. But just this once." As soon as they reached the area set aside for dancing, the band started playing a slow song and there were whistles and cheers from the bystanders. Tate put his arms around her and they began to move in time to the music. They'd only taken a few steps when Abby stumbled. He caught her, pulling her even closer against him. “Sorry.” Her face was pink. “I've never really danced with anyone before." “You're doing fine.” He gazed down at her, but Abby seemed determined to look at anything except him. “You look nice tonight." “Thank you. So do you."

Her answer had the feel of a much-repeated phrase and Tate sighed. It was apparent that conversation wasn't on her agenda. He decided to give it one more try. “I think I might have talked the boys out of the chivaree." She finally looked up at him, her dark eyes meeting his. “Really? That's good.” Her gaze went back to the crowd. Tate was beginning to wonder if maybe he hadn't made a mistake in talking folks out of the chivaree. Abby obviously wasn't going to give him a chance to talk to her unless she was forced into it. The torturous dance finally came to an end and Tate led her away from the people surging to take their place. As soon as they were clear, Abby pulled her hand from his and moved off through the crowd. “Well, Hoss, that was about the sorriest excuse for a dance I've ever seen. Had about as much enthusiasm as a cow at a meat grinding factory." Tate glared at Joe. “What were you expecting? A clog?" His friend chuckled. “At least that would have been more entertaining. Been a while since I've seen you fall on your face." “Yeah, well, stick around. Seems to be happening a lot lately." “That bad, huh?” He slapped Tate on the back. “Tell you what. Reilly's got a couple of bottles stashed behind the house where the womenfolk can't see them. What say we sneak off and have a nip?" Tate's stomach roiled violently at the very thought and he grimaced. “No, thanks. I'm never gonna touch another drop of liquor as long as I live." “Well, suit yourself.” He started toward the back of the house when Tate stopped him. “Hey, Joe?" “Yeah?” His friend turned around but continued walking backwards. “I've been thinking. Maybe we shouldn't call the chivaree off after all. Tradition and all that, you know." Joe grinned at him. “Don't worry, Hoss. It never was called off to start with.” His laughter followed him into the darkness. “Well, hell,” Tate commented to no one in particular. **** Abby looked up sharply at the first clang of metal on metal. “What was that?” she asked the woman beside her. Suddenly she was surrounded by a laughing throng of women.

“Now, don't you worry, sugar. Just the chivaree startin’ is all,” Hank told her as someone began beating on a pot with a wooden spoon. “You come along with us now and we'll get you all fixed up." “No, wait.” Abby tried desperately to stop their forward motion. “There's been a mistake. It was called off." Hank's huge belly shook when she laughed. “Why sugar, every gal deserves a proper send-off. You didn't really think we'd slight you, now did you?" Abby's frantic gaze swept the yard as she was half-carried, half-pushed onto the front porch. She caught the barest glimpse of Tate before he was surrounded by a similar mass of men. Pandemonium was breaking out everywhere and the noise was deafening. The women didn't stop until they were in the bedroom, jostling each other for space. Before Abby was even aware of what they were doing, she was stripped naked. “Please!” She tried her best to cover all the pertinent parts with her arms. “What are you doing?" “You know,” Hank said thoughtfully, “if this were the old country we'd just leave you like that.” She patted Abby on the shoulder. “Thank God we're a little more civilized these days. Mae, hand me that bag." Mae shoved the bag into Hank's hand, her head tilted to one side as she listened to the song that floated up from the window. It was the first time Abby realized the men were singing. Her face turned blood red at the bawdy lyrics, but the other women were laughing. “You know, Hank,” Mae commented. “That middle boy of yours has a real fine voice." “He does, don't he? Takes after his Pa, God rest his soul." Abby saw a flash of emerald green silk in Hank's hands just before it dropped over her head and she breathed a sigh of relief. Anything to get covered up was fine with her. “Raise your arms, sugar. There ya go. We all chipped in together to get this gown for you.” She brushed the silk down Abby's body. “Every bride should have something fancy to wear to bed with her man. Puts a little iron in the old flagpole. Not that you're gonna need any help. Look right pretty, you do." Hank turned to search the mass of women. “Jean? Where are you?” She spied the woman she was looking for and tugged her to the front. “You do her hair. You're better at that than I am. And Lilla, you start lighting the candles." “Candles?” Abby blurted as Jean began tugging on her hair. “Yep, makes it nice and romantic. That's it, Jean, but just one clip.” Hank directed. “Want to make it easy for Tate to get it down. Nothing a man likes better than turning a woman's hair loose. Well, except maybe for one thing.” She laughed loudly at her own joke. There was a loud banging on the door and the sound of men's voices from the hall. “Okay,” Hank waved her arms. “Everybody stand back and let me get a good look at her."

Obligingly, the women moved back, leaving Abby alone in the middle of the room. Hank propped her hands on the wide expanse of her hips and looked Abby up and down. “Um, um. Sugar, he is gonna eat you alive." The other women laughed again when Abby turned blood red. “Okay, gals. Open the door and let's get out of here." The last one out of the room flicked the light off, leaving only the glow from what seemed to be a hundred candles filling the room. Before Abby could even draw a breath, Tate was shoved into the room wearing only his jeans and those were unfastened. He took one look at Abby and spun, slamming the door in the faces of the men still lining the hall, and shot the lock into place. When he turned back, he leaned weakly against the door and stared at her. “I thought you said this was called off,” she hissed. “I guess they changed their minds.” His voice sounded faint. “That's just great.” She moved toward the candles, intending to blow them out. “Well, at least I prepared. There are blankets and a pillow in the closet. You can sleep on the floor." As she passed in front of the mirror, Abby came to an abrupt halt. “Oh, my God.” The gown that she had felt so covered in, covered nothing. The thin silk clung to her, exposing every curve, every hollow. And the candlelight shone right through it. “You look wonderful." “I look naked,” she grated. “Yeah, that too,” Tate said, sounding as through he were choking. He was still leaning against the door. Abby gathered the shreds of her dignity around her and walked to the bed. “You can blow the candles out." “I'm not sure I can move right now." “Fine. Then let the house burn down.” She crawled to the center of the bed and pulled the sheet up, then reached for the clip in her hair. Just as her hair came free, Tate moved and she watched him walk to the bed. He sat gingerly on the side, turned slightly to face her. “I'm kind of glad they did this, Abby. We need to talk." “Do we?” She ran her hands through her hair, shaking it to settle it in place, then leaned back on the headboard. “Maybe you're right. We do need to talk." “I wanted to say I'm sorry. I know you're upset about the other night."

“You've already said you were sorry." “Abby, you knew I planned on telling Diane what happened. I owed her that much." “I know you did. I don't blame you for doing it. It was only right." He was looking more confused by the second. “Then why have you stayed locked up in here since then?" “Because I had some thinking to do." “About what?" If anything, the noise from downstairs had gotten louder. Abby tried to ignore it. “About this whole situation." “And?" She took a deep breath. “As soon as the baby's born, I'm leaving, Tate. I'd go now, but you pretty well put a stop to any chance I had of making it on my own. I don't have a house or a job. So I'll stay here. I figure by the time the baby gets here I'll have my diploma and I can get a job in Austin. We'll be fine and you'll be able to get on with your life. I'm sure Diane will take you back." “Abby, why are you doing this? Do you expect me to never see my child? I told you, it's over with Diane. You are mad, aren't you? Because I saw her Thursday night." “No, Tate. It's not the fact that you saw her that bothers me. It's what you did afterwards. Telling her made you so miserable that the only way you could handle it was to get drunk. Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life with you, knowing that if it weren't for me, you'd be happy?” She lifted her chin. “I can't do that. If you want to see the baby, I won't stop you, but you'll have to come to Austin to do it." “Abby, you don't understand." “You've already said that, too, Tate.” She scooted down in the bed and turned her back to him. “It's been a long day and I'm tired. Please put the candles out before you go to sleep." “This isn't over yet, Abby. No matter what you say, I'm going to change your mind. I won't let you leave." She refused to answer and for a long time there was no sound, then she felt his weight lift from the bed. One by one the candles went out, leaving the room in darkness. Silently, she turned her face into the pillow.

Chapter Twelve Tate sat perched on the windowsill, his back against the frame as he watched the last car head down the driveway. He didn't have to look at the clock to know it was almost midnight. Every minute since the chivaree started had passed with agonizing slowness. He hadn't even bothered to get the blankets out of the closet. There wasn't much chance of him getting any sleep anyway.

The change in Abby's breathing let him know she'd finally drifted off to sleep about thirty minutes earlier. He supposed he could go back to his own room now, if he wanted to, but he couldn't seem to move. He felt numb inside. How had he managed to screw everything up so badly? Not only had he lost Diane, now it looked like he was going to lose Abby and the baby, too. He couldn't stand the thought of only seeing his child occasionally. Somehow, some way, he had to convince Abby to stay. He shifted slightly so he could see the bed. There was enough light that Abby was clearly visible. The blankets had slipped down, exposing her from the waist up. Where had that gown come from? He'd been damn near to losing every shred of his control when he'd seen her standing in the middle of the room, the candlelight showing him every inch of her. The only thing he'd been able to think about was dragging her to the bed and making love to her all night long. He still didn't know what there was about her that made him want her so much. But he did know that in the week she'd been here, he'd gotten so used to having her around that it was going to leave a big hole in his life if she left, even without the baby being involved. He liked knowing that she was here, liked looking up from work and seeing her waiting on him. And he loved to hear her laugh. It was something he suspected she hadn't done a lot of during her life. A sound from the bed drew his attention upward. Her head was tossing back and forth in agitation. “No,” she mumbled. “No." Tate slipped from the window and moved to the side of the bed. “Abby?” He touched her gently, then sat on the bed next to her, his hands on her shoulders. “Abby, wake up. It's just a dream." Her eyes flew open, confusion clouding them for a moment before they cleared. “Tate." “You were having a nightmare." She sat up, looking around the room as though she wasn't sure where she was. “I was dreaming?" “Do you remember what it was about?" He felt her trembling under his hands and, taking the biggest risk of his life, stretched out next to her, pulling her gently down into the circle of his arms. “No. Whatever it was is gone now." He could barely hear her voice, but his arms tightened and a slim thread of hope quivered to life inside him when she didn't protest his nearness. She needed him. Even if she wasn't willing to admit it yet, she needed him, and she'd need him even more the farther along she got in her pregnancy. He was going to make damn sure he was always there when she did. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “Everything's going to be fine." **** The movement of Abby's hand on his back woke Tate instantly but he lay still, opening his eyes the merest slit. He was still on top of the blankets, Abby curled up against him, soft and warm. Early morning light streamed through the windows, but the air still held the chill of night.

As badly as he wanted to pretend he was still asleep, Abby was watching his face intently and he suspected she knew he was awake. He let his eyes open all the way. “It's Sunday,” Abby commented softly. “I know." “Aren't you going fishing?" “No.” Tate kept his voice as quiet as hers. “It was a long night. I think I'd rather sleep in this time." She digested that for a second or two. Suddenly, she tugged on the blanket. “You're cold. You might as well get under here, too." He sure as hell didn't need another invitation, Tate thought as he slid under the blankets. Turning on his side, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Thank God for his jeans. And even with those on, he wasn't too sure she couldn't feel the effect she was having on him. Maybe she just didn't realize what it was. Hesitantly, almost fearfully, Tate let his hand drop to her abdomen, his fingers splayed on the skinwarmed silk of the gown. Abby went very still. “That's our baby in there,” he whispered. “Can you imagine what it would feel like if someone were trying to take it away from you?" “I don't know.” Her voice was low, husky. “It would hurt, wouldn't it?" “Yes.” Her voice dropped another notch. “Abby, that's how it makes me feel when you tell me you're going to leave after the baby is born. You may not believe it, but I love our baby as much as you do. The thought of losing it is killing me." She made a choked noise and turned toward him, her face against his neck. “I'm sorry. I didn't think about it like that. I just don't want to see you hurting because of me." He stroked her hair. “It would hurt me a lot worse if you left.” Tate hesitated again. “Would you like me to tell you what happened with Diane the other night?" Abby shook her head. “No, it's none of my business." “It is your business. You're my wife now. But I will tell you this. It wasn't the idea of losing Diane that made me get drunk. I knew from the start it was over.” He took a deep breath. “Telling her was the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm not used to hurting people. The guilt was killing me. And I guess you could even say it was because she stomped all over my ego. Men don't take things like that very well and she fights dirty." “Are you sure that's what it was?” Her voice was still muffled in his neck. “Positive. And I can promise you right now, I'm never going to get drunk again for as long as I live.

I thought I was going to die." He felt her lips curve up in a smile against his skin. “You were pretty sick.” She pulled back slightly and looked at him. “Tate, I can't promise anything, but I'll give it a chance. If it looks like it might work, I'll stay." Relief left him weak. “Thank you.” He kissed her lightly. Maybe this would be a good time to push his advantage? He said a little prayer, took a deep breath and forced the words out. “Abby, do you think it would be okay if I moved my things in here with you?" “In here?” She looked startled. He brushed a lock of hair back from her face. “You said you were staying,” he reminded her. “Well, yes, if everything goes well." “It will. You're going to be my wife for a long time." “I guess so.” She still didn't sound too sure. “What if something happened during the night and you needed me? I might not be able to hear you.” Tate almost groaned. Even to him that had sounded pretty lame. “Okay, I'll admit it's been kind of nice being here with you, holding you. I wouldn't mind doing it more. A lot more. Like every night. If it's the sex you're worried about, you don't have to. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." He couldn't believe those words were coming out of him. He wanted her so badly he wasn't sure he could survive one more night without making love to her. He should have stuck a sock in his mouth before he inserted his foot into it. “Well,” Abby started and Tate held his breath. “I guess it would be all right." A ridiculous surge of happiness hit him. Without stopping to analyze the feeling, he tried to suppress the urge to scream “Yes!” at the top of his lungs. Instead he smiled at her. “I'll move in this afternoon." Abby shifted slightly. “Maybe I should get up and fix breakfast?" “I'm not hungry yet and Buddy can take care of himself. We might as well take advantage of the chance to stay in bed for a while. It doesn't happen that often around here.” He pulled her head back down on his arm. “There. Try to go back to sleep." She snuggled down and closed her eyes with a tiny sigh. **** Buddy was sitting at the kitchen table, feet propped up on an empty chair when Tate entered the room later that afternoon. “Save me some of that pie,” he directed his brother, eyeing the aluminum pan. “Don't worry, there are two more just like it in the fridge. Along with all the rest of the food left from last night. Looks like we're expecting a siege."

Tate took a cup from the cabinet and poured coffee. “Where's Abby?" “Outside watering the plants you got at the feed store Wednesday." “I guess we need to get those in the ground today.” He turned toward the table only to find Buddy staring at him, his fork still. “What's wrong with you?" “I was wondering the same thing about you. You haven't stopped smiling since you came in." “You want me to yell?" “No, no,” Buddy hastily assured him. “You just keep right on smiling.” He picked delicately at the remaining pie. “You sure did sleep late today." Tate grinned at him. “Yep." “Didn't go fishing, either." “Nope." “Sure was a lot of tromping around going on upstairs a few minutes ago. What were you doing?" “Just moving a few things.” Tate took a drink of coffee. “What things?" He was beginning to wish he'd strangled Buddy at birth. “My things." “Were you moving them somewhere in particular, or just dragging them up and down the hall for the exercise?" Tate ground his teeth together. “I was moving them to Abby's room." “Oh.” Buddy gave a half grin. “Can I have some money?" “No.” Tate glared at him. “Well, it was worth a shot. I should have asked while you were still smiling." Grabbing the pie, Tate finished it off while Buddy protested. “Remember, it's Sunday. Homework." “It's done." “Excuse me. Did I just hear you say it's done?" Buddy shrugged. “It was so quiet around here this morning that I got bored. Figured I might as well get it out of the way." “You did take care of the stock, didn't you?"

“Of course. Don't I always on the weekends?” He sounded insulted that Tate would even ask. “Just checking." “When are you going to bring the brood mares in? Some of them are getting close." “First part of this next week, probably. I'll check them tomorrow.” He pushed his chair back. “Think I'll go see if Abby's ready to start on the garden." “Need some help?" “The more the merrier." They had just started out the door when the phone rang. Buddy stopped. “You go ahead. I'll get it." He waited until Tate was through the door then dove at the phone. “Hello?" “Hey, Squirt, what's up?" “Joe. Thank heavens it's you." “Who were you expecting?" “Diane.” Buddy grimaced. “I think she might have called earlier. Abby answered the phone and whoever it was hung up on her." “Well, hell. She tried to get in on the party last night, too. Fred Thompson was at the gate. He told me later that she showed up in that fancy convertible of hers, all gussied up fit to kill and ready to raise hell. She wasn't too happy when Fred kept her out. He said she slung gravel for a mile taking off." “I'm glad he didn't let her in,” Buddy said fiercely. “You wouldn't believe how different things are around here today." “Yeah?” Joe suddenly sounded a lot more interested. “Tell me about it." Buddy grinned. “Well, to start with, Tate's bed hadn't been slept in when I got up this morning. The door to Abby's room was still closed. And they didn't get up until almost noon." Joe cackled. “Hot damn! I knew all it would take was a little time alone!" “That's not all. A few minutes ago Tate moved all his things into the room with Abby. And he was grinning like an idiot when he came downstairs." “Yee-haw!” Joe yelled, almost bursting Buddy's ear drum. “But we aren't out of the woods yet. I know we can't keep an eye on them all the time, but when you're there, try to be the one who answers the phone." “I could turn the answering machine on during the day while I'm at school."

There was a second of silence while Joe thought about it. “No, don't do that. If Diane gets the machine she might be tempted to leave Tate a message. I don't think she'll do much during the weekdays anyway. She knows Tate will be out working and she needs him for an audience." “What if she shows up here in the evening?" “Well, much as I'd like to, we can't keep a guard posted at the gate. Tate might get suspicious. But if she does show up, whatever you do, don't leave her and Tate alone together. You stick to him like you're joined at the hip no matter what either of them says. If you have time, call me. I can be there in five minutes." “You got it." “I'll let you go. Keep me posted, okay?" “Okay. Bye, Joe." **** “Is that sanitary?” Abby wrinkled her nose as she watched Buddy dump yet another wheelbarrow full of horse manure on the garden site. Tate grinned at her. “Take my word for it. It's one of the best natural fertilizers around.” He had used the tractor to break the ground up, but later switched to the hand tiller. “That should be enough, Buddy.” As soon as he worked the last load of manure into the dirt, he shut the tiller off and picked up a tape measure. “Here, you two stretch this out and I'll drive in the stakes." “What are we doing this for?” Abby held one end of the tape while Buddy walked to the other end of the garden. “The rows have to be far enough apart to get the tiller between them. When we get both ends staked, we'll tie a string from the ones at this end to the ones at the other end. That will keep the rows straight." “I didn't realize it was going to be this complicated.” She watched the muscles ripple in Tate's back as he swung the hammer. He'd discarded his shirt within thirty minutes of starting to work and now sweat gleamed on his bronzed skin. She was still having trouble believing she'd actually agreed to let him move into her room. And even more trouble believing he really wanted to. Last night it had seemed natural to have him there, comfortable even. For once she hadn't felt quite so alone. But the thought of deliberately, intentionally, going to bed together was making her stomach quiver with nerves. Would they have to get ready for bed together? In the same room? What would they talk about? Another thought hit her and she almost groaned. What did he sleep in? She was pretty sure he didn't sleep in his jeans every night and she hadn't seen any pajamas in the wash. That meant ... Oh, God. He slept nude. Why hadn't she thought about that before she'd agreed to this? For that matter, what was she going to sleep in? She only had two worn-out nightshirts. And that gown. She didn't think she could bring herself to wear that particular item again. Until she could

come up with something else, it was going to have to be the nightshirts. She'd wandered into the room across from hers earlier just to take a look at it. To her surprise, there had been dozens of bolts of material stacked up on a table. And the sewing machine was an old treadle type. She'd examined it closely and it hadn't looked as if it would be that difficult to operate. Maybe she could-“Abby?" She tore her gaze away from Tate's chest, suddenly realizing she'd been staring at him intently. “What were you thinking about so hard?" “Oh.” She fought the blush that threatened. “I looked in your mother's sewing room earlier. There's lots of material in there. Do you think it would be okay if I used some of it?" “Sure. Use all you want. No one else is going to.” He gestured at the row of stakes. “We're ready to move to the other side." “Okay.” Abby lifted her end of the tape measure and walked to the other edge of the garden, watching as Tate lifted the hammer again. Much to her embarrassment, she appeared to be developing a fixation on his body. She couldn't keep her eyes off him. But then, she hadn't been able to for a long time now. The difference was, when she'd watched him at Delly's she'd been under no illusions. She'd been able to control her feelings because she'd known there was no hope for her where he was concerned. Just being able to see him occasionally had been enough for her. Never in a million years would she have dreamed they might end up married. Part of her was desperately afraid she wouldn't be able to keep her feelings for him hidden. Especially when she had to share the same bed with him, and when even Tate himself seemed determined to bridge the gap between them. She couldn't let it happen, didn't dare risk it. He might honestly think things were over with Diane, but Abby knew he still loved her. In spite of what Tate had said last night, her time here was limited. And when she had to leave, it would only make it harder for her if she really let herself love him. But, oh, it wasn't going to be easy. She let her gaze run over him, from his coal black hair right down to those muscular legs that seemed to go on for miles. That odd little coil of expectancy twisted inside her again and mentally she grimaced. Why did it feel like she'd been waiting all her life for something wonderful and mysterious and now it was almost within her grasp? Her gaze moved back to Tate's face and she suddenly realized he was watching her, had been watching her for some time now. A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips. Instantly, Abby's cheeks burst into flames. Tate's grin widened. Damn it all, the man knew exactly what she'd been thinking. And she had to go to bed with him tonight, every night. God help her.

Chapter Thirteen Abby chewed on her bottom lip as she surveyed the material spread out on the kitchen table. There was no way she could finish a gown by tonight, but at least she could get started and

maybe have one ready by tomorrow night. She'd chosen a white cotton from the stack upstairs and, if she worked it right, she could get several gowns out of it with enough left over for something else. She picked up the scissors and began cutting, trying to concentrate on what she was doing instead of on Tate. It wasn't easy. He was sitting in the living room pretending to read the newspaper, but she could feel his gaze on her every time she moved. She was beginning to feel like a bug under a microscope. Buddy strolled though the kitchen, stopping at the fridge to take out a can of soda. “Nice party last night,” he commented. “Everyone really liked you." “They did?” She looked up. “Yep. Don't be surprised if you have a steady stream of visitors from now on." Abby smiled. “That would be nice. I've never really had any friends before. We moved too much at first, then later I was too busy." “Just don't forget you promised to go to the library with me. I thought maybe we could go Tuesday evening." “What are you going to the library for?” Tate asked from the living room. Buddy turned slightly. “Abby is going to help me find some books for my term paper in history. It's due at the end of next week." Tate shook the newspaper out then turned the page. “I might go with you. There are some errands I need to run. I can do those while you two are busy." Abby smothered a grin when Buddy rolled his eyes. “Big brother strikes--” His words were cut off when the phone rang. Buddy almost knocked her down getting to it and she wondered if he were expecting a call from Amy Fletcher. “Hello?” There was a slight pause as he listened. “Nope. Gone and won't be back for two weeks at least.” He slammed the phone down. Abby stared at him in puzzlement and she could see Tate doing the same thing. Tate spoke first. “Who was that?" “Prank call.” Buddy took a long drink from his soda. “What did they say?" “Wanted to know if this was the town mortuary. Said they had to speak to the mortician right away." Tate started to get up. “Maybe I should try that star sixty-nine and see who it was." “Don't bother,” Buddy said hastily. “Sounded like it was coming from a pay phone in town. I could

hear kids laughing in the background." Tate settled back into the chair but he was watching Buddy intently. “Are you sure?" “Yes, I'm sure.” His brother stretched. “Well, I think I'll go upstairs and watch TV for a while before bed. ‘Night." Abby watched him go, then carefully folded the material. “I think I'll go take a bath. I feel like I've still got dirt all over me." “I know what you mean. But the garden does look good.” He smiled at her. “I'll be up in a bit." She nodded and picked up the material, taking it upstairs with her. It looked like he was at least going to give her a chance to get ready for bed without him watching every move. For that she was grateful. Hurrying through the bath, she pulled her nightshirt on then opened the door a crack and peeked into the hall. When she discovered it was empty, she dashed to her room and jumped into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. And then she waited. **** As soon as Abby left the room, Tate gave up all pretense of reading the paper. Quietly, he listened to the noise from upstairs. When the sound of running water shut off, he glanced at the phone. Buddy wasn't any better at lying than Abby was. Whoever that had been on the phone, it was no prank call. He would put money on it. And he suspected he knew who it was. All he had to do to prove it was punch in three numbers. Tate stood and walked to the phone, his hand reaching for the receiver. Suddenly he paused. Did he really want to know? What good would it do even if it were her? He rubbed his face tiredly. It had been a good day today, better than any he'd spent in recent memory. He, Abby and Buddy were finally starting to become a real family. Soon there would be a fourth member, if Abby stayed. If things worked out, she had said, and he was pretty sure continuing to have anything to do with Diane wasn't on her list of things working out. Leaning his forehead against the door frame, Tate closed his eyes. But what if Diane really needed him? Pain like jagged shards of glass splintered inside him until he was shaking. No. He couldn't play those games again. He'd been so damn confident when he'd told Abby this would work for them. And he had to stay that way if he wanted a chance to raise his child. Maybe it was better to just accept Buddy's word for the phone call. And, he realized suddenly, deep down he didn't want to know if it had been Diane. From now on she was just going to have to find someone else to rely on. He had his own family to worry about and they were all that mattered. Not even for Diane would he jeopardize his chances with his child. From upstairs, he heard the sound of footsteps crossing the hall and he turned away from the phone, heading up to the bathroom. He needed a shower before bed. **** Abby lay still, listening to the sound of booted feet coming up the stairs. They went straight to the

bathroom and in a few minutes she heard the shower come on. From down the hall, Buddy's TV went off. A breeze blew in through the windows, stirring the curtains, and from the direction of the creek she heard Dog's excited bark, faint with distance, as he chased a rabbit in the moonlight. From nearer at hand came the high-pitched squeal of horses bickering over some imagined slight. The first night she'd spent in this house, she'd been too exhausted, too emotionally drained to let the strangeness of the night keep her awake. But every night since then, it had taken her forever to go to sleep. The sound of traffic had been replaced by the quite chirp of crickets. The laughter and voices from people walking by had been usurped by the croaking of tree frogs. What she had at first considered utter silence now seemed thunderous with the sounds of life. And she was finally getting used to it, even starting to enjoy it. Nature's lullaby, she thought. You just had to be willing to listen hard enough to hear the melody. The water went off and she heard the metal rings of the shower curtain slide down the rod. Instantly, her mind presented her with an image of Tate, moisture streaming down his tanned body, as he reached for a towel. She shut her eyes to force it away, but it seemed to be glued to the back of her eyelids. Way sooner than she was expecting, the bedroom door opened and she didn't need her imagination anymore. The real thing was right there in the room with her. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and was using another one to dry his hair as he walked toward the bed. “You haven't been getting sick the last few days. I guess the medicine Doctor Spanos gave you is helping?" “Yes." “That's good.” He hung the towel he'd been drying his hair with over the back of a chair then, before she could even blink, he dropped the second towel and threw it to join the first. She got only the merest glimpse of all that bare skin before he slid under the blankets next to her, but it was enough to make her mouth go dry. He glanced down at her and the corners of his lips turned up in the same smile he'd had at the garden. “Goodnight, Abby.” He leaned over and put a tiny peck on her lips before turning out the lamp next to the bed. The bed rocked as he settled into it, adjusting his position until he was comfortable. Abby lay still, afraid to even breathe. Until she realized he had his back to her. A small tinge of disappointment wiggled its way through her. In spite of the fact that he'd told her not to worry about the sex, she'd thought ... what? That he'd swoop her up and make passionate love to her? The kind of lovemaking she'd only read about? You're stupid, she chastised herself silently. Things like that don't happen in real life. And even if they did, it's not you he wants. But even knowing that didn't quell the urge she had to run her hands over that body, to explore each wonderful inch until she knew him by heart. It was going to be a long night, she decided, staring wide-eyed into the darkness. **** The sound of buzzing woke her to the pearly light of morning's first rays, and to the sensation of

smothering. Instinctively, she tried to reach the alarm clock, but she couldn't move. Something was pinning her to the bed. No, she thought. Not something, someone. Tate. He was lying half on top of her, his leg and arm holding her securely in place. Even as she became fully, startlingly alert, his hand moved across the bare skin at her waist, drifting lower with each moment. But what alarmed her even more than the movement was the reaction her body seemed to be having to his touch. Her nipples were hardened into erect points, so tender that just the brush of her nightshirt against them sent jolts of feeling skittering to the pit of her stomach. Tate's chin was buried on her shoulder, but she managed to turn her head enough to see his face. His eyes were closed. Was it possible he was still asleep and didn't know what he was doing to her? By the time the thought was completely formed, his hand had slipped under the elastic of her panties. Panic hit her. With her one free hand on his shoulder, she tried to push him away. He wasn't budging. “Tate. Please. I have to get up." He mumbled something that she couldn't understand, but his hand stopped and he shifted slightly. It still wasn't enough to let her move. “Tate.” She shoved against him again. This time he rolled all the way off her and, when his eyes opened, she could see sleepy confusion in them. “What?” His voice sounded raspy and there was dark stubble on his chin and jaw. “What's wrong?" Abby tried to keep her own voice calm even though her heart was slamming into her ribs. “I have to go start breakfast. You were holding me down and I couldn't move." “I was?” He rubbed his face, his eyes blearily fixing on hers. “Sorry. What time is it?" “Almost six. I guess the clock's been going off for a while.” She reached over and hit the stop button. She'd already slid from the bed when it occurred to her that she was going to have to get dressed before she went downstairs. And Tate was showing no signs of getting up. She was thinking about taking her clothes across the hall to the bathroom when the sound of the toilet flushing changed her mind. Apparently Buddy was already up. Stopping in front of the dresser, she pulled a drawer open then took a quick look over her shoulder. Tate was leaned against the headboard, his knees raised under the blankets, but his eyes had drifted shut again. Without pausing, Abby yanked the nightshirt over her head and was reaching into the drawer when the hair stood up on her arms. She didn't even have to look to know he was watching her. “You have a wonderful body, Abby. There's nothing for you to be embarrassed about.” The raspy tone was still in his voice, but it had a deeper, huskier quality now.

“No,” Abby whispered. She was frozen, trembling so hard that the drawer under her hands was vibrating. Why was he doing this to her? She knew what she looked like. Was he cruel enough to make fun of her? She lifted her eyes, her gaze meeting his in the mirror and her knees went weak at the smoldering intensity in their blue depths. She could literally feel his gaze moving over her and the sensation galvanized her into action. Grabbing the first T-shirt she came to, she pulled it over her head. “I mean it, Abby. I've always liked the way you look. I used to watch you work at Delly's, even before ... that night." He'd watched her? Impossible. And yet, she could remember a few times when she'd looked up to meet those crystal blue eyes across the crowed room. She had thought it was accidental. A coincidence. Could it be true? Abby pulled her jeans on then reached for her sneakers, tiny bubbles of euphoria bursting inside her. He had noticed her! But the doubt demon still had her in its grasp. “I'm too skinny." “No, you're not. A little underweight, maybe, but not skinny. And you've already gained a few pounds." After fumbling twice, Abby finally got her shoes tied. She couldn't look at him as she stood. “Breakfast will be ready in a little while." **** Abby was in a daze as she rushed to slap sausages into a skillet. He liked the way she looked. She'd heard it with her own ears. And seen it with her own eyes. You couldn't look at someone the way he had looked at her if you didn't like what you saw. A smile tilted up the corners of her lips as she put the coffee on. It was nothing short of a miracle that she didn't spill the grounds all over the kitchen. She felt like dancing. She had the wildest urge to sing. A giggle escaped her at that idea. With her voice, she'd probably scare the feathers right off the chickens. Soon, she had a stack of pancakes piled high on a platter and the smell of food filled the house. She was just about to set the table when Tate came in. Wearing a plain white T-shirt that hugged his body and jeans that clung to his long legs, he looked even better than he had yesterday. “Where's Buddy?" “I guess he's still getting ready for school.” Abby turned back to the cabinet to get the plates and felt Tate move up behind her. His left hand curled around her waist as he reached for a coffee cup with his right. He was so big, so strong and so very male. She wanted to lean back against him and just stay there forever. Almost as though he knew what she was thinking, his hand slowly slid under her T-shirt, this time curving around the bare skin. “Just right,” he whispered, his breath warm on her ear. Abby's insides turned into a quivering mass of liquid heat that scorched every nerve ending in her body. When his lips brushed the skin on her neck she knew that if he didn't stop she was going to

melt into a puddle on the floor. She had no choice. Her bones were dissolving. “The p-pancakes are ready,” she managed to choke out. “I'd rather have you,” he murmured. As she braced herself on the countertop to keep from falling, her head whipped around to stare at him. She found herself lost in his eyes, couldn't have looked away if the house had burst into flames. It seemed to take an eternity for his lips to descend and even then it wasn't what she was expecting. His mouth barely touched hers, his tongue flicking out to gently tease her parted lips. She could no more stop the shudder that ran through her than she could stop the tiny whimper at the back of her throat. He was killing her, slowly but surely. “Wow! Pancakes!" Abby jumped ten feet at Buddy's voice, her heart leaping into her throat and lodging there. Almost casually, Tate stepped away from her, reaching again for the cup he'd abandoned. But his gaze stayed locked with hers. “Looks that way,” he replied to Buddy's exclamation. She tore her gaze away from Tate's and picked up the plates, her hands shaking. “Buddy, why don't you take them to the table? I'll get the syrup.” Her voice, she realized, was shaking almost as badly as her hands, but Buddy didn't seem to notice. Making a wide detour around Tate, she got the syrup out of the pantry. By the time she started toward the table, he had sat down, a foot crossed over his knee as he drank his coffee. “Can I drive the truck to school today?” Buddy was looking at Tate hopefully as he took the syrup from Abby. “You know better." “Dang, Tate. When are we gonna get another truck?" Abby saw him glance at her thoughtfully. “I think you're right, Buddy. We do need another truck. Tell you what. I'll call Joe later today. He's got that old Ford he's been trying to sell. It's not real pretty, but it still runs and we can get it cheap." “All right!” Buddy's delighted yell rattled the glass in the windows. “Before you get too excited, you pay for the maintenance and the gas. And the first ticket you get, it's going up on blocks." “When can we get it?" “Later this week. But it'll have to have insurance and tags before you start driving it." “No problem. I've been saving up." Abby watched Tate finish off his breakfast while they talked. When he was done, he pushed his chair back and stood. With a quick glance at Buddy, he stopped next to her. “I'll be working

around the barn today if you need me." She nodded, wondering why she heard a lot more in that statement than the words he'd actually spoken. And worse, he wasn't even out of sight before she was fighting the urge to follow him.

Chapter Fourteen She was killing him. Slowly but surely. Tate dumped a bucket of feed into the grain box of one stall and went back for more, shaking his head in frustration. A constant ache, low in his abdomen, had been with him since Saturday night. Even before then, now that he thought about it. That dream he'd had this morning sure hadn't helped the situation. It had been the first of its kind he'd experienced since he was Buddy's age. If Abby hadn't woke him when she had, he'd probably have embarrassed both of them. But damn, it had been nice while it lasted. He'd been making love to Abby and things had just started to get interesting. He sighed as he dumped feed into another trough. She had been so obviously embarrassed when he'd seen her getting dressed. He'd tried then to let her know he wanted her. And just in case she hadn't gotten the message, he'd practically given her a written invitation later in the kitchen. You couldn't get much blunter than that. God, when she'd made that sound low in her throat, it had been all he could do not to drag her down to the floor and make love to her right there in the kitchen. At least he knew now that she wanted him as much as he did her. He could work with that. And he'd let her know that he was going to be here all day. The next move was hers. He could only pray she wasn't too shy to do something about it. He opened the doors leading to the pasture, gave a piercing whistle, then stood out of the way as the horses charged the barn. After the usual bickering and mayhem, they all settled into stalls, munching contentedly. Tate had just gathered up the grooming tools and was heading for the first stall when he heard the back door of the house shut. Leaning a little, he looked out the barn window. Abby was walking toward the chicken coop, a bucket of feed in her hand. Dog was still on the porch, chowing down on the contents of a pan. So he'd been right. Abby was feeding the dog leftovers. At this rate, he'd be so fat that he wouldn't be able to chase a rabbit. He kept watching as she fed the chickens, her glance constantly turning toward the barn. “Come on, Abby,” he muttered under his breath. “You know you want to. It's not that far. Just put one foot in front of the other." Almost as though she heard him, she paused on her way out of the pen, one hand still on the gate, her gaze locked on the barn. Tate held his breath. She took one step, then a second. When she stopped, he felt like screaming. Abruptly, she turned back toward the house. Well, hell. Maybe he was asking too much of her. Maybe he should just go back to the house right now and ... No. He shook his head. Abby knew he wanted her. But he wasn't going to coerce her into it. She had to at least meet him halfway. Of course, at the rate they were going, he might well be dead before she got around to it.

Giving up for the time being, he went back to work, a snort of disgust escaping him when he saw the mud covering Diamond's back. Sometimes he wondered if she did it just because she knew they'd have to spend twice as much time cleaning her off as they did the rest of the horses. By midmorning, he had six of the brood mares ensconced in the box stalls, and the rest moved to the pasture nearest the barn where he could keep an eye on them. He'd also brought the yearlings in closer. Now that the crops were in the ground, it was time to continue their training. There were at least four in the bunch that he hoped would bring top dollar. Making sure they were well trained would only increase their value. He was so deep in plans that he almost didn't hear the noise from the front of the barn. When he did glance up, he went still. Abby was standing framed in the opened door, looking like she was ready to bolt at the least excuse. Pulse racing, Tate forced himself to act casual. “You don't have to stand out there. Come on in." At the sound of his voice, she jumped slightly and he realized she probably couldn't see him from where she was standing. He stepped out into the center aisle and saw her head turn in his direction. Hesitantly, she moved forward. “I thought I'd come out and see what you wanted for lunch." Tate barely stopped the smile that threatened. So what if she needed an excuse? She was here and that was all that mattered. It couldn't have been easy for her to gather the courage to do this. “Sandwiches will be fine." “Okay.” She hesitated again, then started to turn. He couldn't let her leave. She might never take this step again if he did. “I put some of the brood mares in the box stalls earlier. Looks like Sugar Baby could go any time now." Abby paused. “Sugar Baby?" “Yes.” He took a step closer. “Her mother died not long after she was born. We tried to bottle-feed her, but she wouldn't take it. It was looking pretty hopeless for her until we discovered that, if we put sugar on the nipple, she'd take it every time. That's how she got her name." “Which one is she?" Tate held out his hand. “Come on and I'll show you.” His heart rate went up another notch when she slipped her hand into his. She smelled so damn good. Like soap and shampoo, but with an underlying scent that was uniquely hers. It was, he decided, sexier than any exotic perfume he'd ever smelled before. He led her to the stall and stopped in front of a bay mare who watched them with curiosity, her delicate ears cocked forward. “This is Sugar Baby.” He propped one arm across the top of the stall door, gently pulling Abby closer while her attention was centered on the horse. “She certainly is huge, isn't she?" “That's the foal.” He shifted slightly, bringing her almost entirely into the circle of his arms. “You've been sewing this morning,” he commented.

She glanced up quickly. “Yes. How did you know?" He released her hand and plucked a white thread from her hair, showing it to her. “Oh.” She ran her fingers through her hair as though searching for more. Tate knew the exact instant she realized how close together they were standing. Her hand ceased all motion and her gaze dropped to his mouth. Hardly daring to breathe, he leaned toward her the tiniest bit. “Do you want me to kiss you, Abby?” He kept his tone soft and low. She made a funny little noise that defied his powers of description, then nodded. Keeping a tight rein on his emotions, he brushed her lips with his, then pulled away enough to see her face. “Like that?" Scarlet flooded her cheeks and she lowered her eyes. “No." He curved his hand around the back of her neck under her hair, his thumb caressing the skin just below her ear. “Then how?" “Like you did this morning,” she whispered. The mixture of elation and desire that slammed into him left his knees weak and shaking. Holding her in place, he tilted her chin up. As soon as their lips met, hers parted. He let his tongue skim the opening, teasing her as he had in the kitchen, tasting her sweetness until he was dizzy with it. When he finally let his tongue slip farther inside, she made the same sound she had this morning, the one that had been driving him crazy all day, and he couldn't stand it another minute. His mouth took possession of hers and he plunged all the way in. Her tongue met his tentatively and he almost came unglued. A groan tore its way from deep inside him. “Abby, let me love you." “You really want me?” Even now she sounded surprised. He took her hand and guided it to the front of his jeans. “Woman, I want you so badly it's killing me." Her eyes widened and her mouth made an “O” of wonder as her fingers explored the hard length of the bulge. Tate had to close his eyes against the images that mouth conjured up. Just her touch had brought him closer to the edge than he'd ever been before with all his clothes on. He didn't know how much more he could stand. When her hand closed around him and squeezed, he knew he'd reached his limit. “Abby.” His voice was strangled, desperate. “Yes." His eyes flew open. There was a look on her face he'd never seen before, a sudden gleam of confidence. And more, so much more. When his mouth claimed hers this time, he knew there would be no stopping for either of them.

Her arms slid around his neck and Tate realized she was standing on tiptoe, straining to reach him. He straightened, bringing her feet completely off the floor while he supported her. “Put your legs around me,” he murmured against her lips. As she complied with no hesitation at all, he slid his hands under her bottom, pulling her tightly into him, and turned toward the stall he had prepared first thing this morning. Prepared while he'd prayed he wasn't wasting his time. Prayers were answered, he thought dazedly as he lowered her to the horse blanket spread over the deep, clean-smelling hay. Sitting on his heels, he gazed down at her. He knew for a fact that she hadn't put on a bra this morning and he couldn't wait another minute to touch her. His hand skimmed over her T-shirt, grazing a nipple that instantly hardened, and he watched her eyes glaze over. When he let his fingers trace it, outlining the erect shape, her head went back and she arched against his hand. Suddenly touching wasn't enough. He wanted to feast his eyes on her breasts, taste them until she was moaning with pleasure. He wanted to make up for what he'd done to her before and he was going to do it even if he was writhing in agony before it was over. Still moving as though afraid she'd run, he pulled the T-shirt over her head. She didn't run. The look she turned on him was so trusting that a lump formed in his throat. “Abby,” he whispered. While his hands found her breasts, his mouth covered hers again just in time to catch her whimper. Somehow he got her jeans off and, as his mouth traveled down her neck, he slid his hand down the warm silky skin of her abdomen, the place where his child nested, snug and safe. That thought brought on an ache almost unbearable in its tenderness and for a moment he let his hand rest there before moving on. When his fingers parted the curly mat of hair and touched the delicate folds of skin, Abby cried out, her body almost coming off the makeshift bed. She was so hot, so wet and so ready for him. He had never known anyone so responsive before. His jeans suddenly became much too painful. He paused long enough to undo his belt and pull the zipper down, breathing a sigh of relief when he sprang free. But apparently Abby thought he was about to make love to her right that minute. And why wouldn't she? Wasn't that exactly how it had happened on her first and only other time? She touched his arm, her face pink again. “I-I want to see you, too." “I know you do,” he whispered, then leaned over and kissed her again. As soon as he could tear himself away from her lips, he sat up and pulled off his boots, then yanked his T-shirt off. He even managed to get his jeans off in record time. When he was as nude as she was, he stretched out beside her. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but as Abby's gaze moved over him, his erection swelled even more. She had been right, Abby thought. He was glorious. Not even her imagination had done him justice. Had there ever been another man like this one? She was dying to touch him, but her courage only went so far. Right now it was enough to know that he really wanted her. When he leaned over to kiss her again, this time deeply, slowly, thoroughly, she turned to meet him. If she couldn't bring herself to run her hands over him, at least she could feel his body

pressed tightly to hers. It seemed to take forever for his mouth to trail down to her breasts, but when he took a tender nipple between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue, it took all her willpower to keep from screaming with pleasure. It took another eternity for his hand to find its way back to the throbbing ache between her legs, but when it did, when he caressed her with light circular motions, she knew ecstasy was moments away. When he moved away from her, she whimpered. She didn't want these feelings to stop, ever. His murmured reassurance was lost in the pounding rush of her own heartbeat. Then he was kneeling between her thighs, his hands on her hips pulling her in to him. She expected to feel his weight cover her, as it had the time before, but it didn't. Instead, with her bottom supported on his hard thighs, he used one hand to guide himself to her opening. Tate was shocked at how tiny she was. He wanted to plunge inside her, bury himself as deeply as possible, but he didn't dare. With his teeth clamped together in effort, he entered her slowly, just a little at a time, pausing with each movement to give her time to adjust. What seemed hours later, he was finally fully encased in her velvet-covered steel trap, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe. The sensation was so exquisite that even the smallest twitch could send him hurtling into the abyss. His hand went back to her center, grasping it as his thumb slid over it, wanting to make sure she got as much pleasure from this as she was giving him. But he was totally unprepared for her reaction. With a startled cry, she bucked against him, forcing his fingers to tighten even more. With her frenzied movement, she partially unseated him. Tate lost control. Holding her hips in place with his free hand, he drove into her, withdrew and then drove again, her name a groan on his lips. And then the impossible happened. Her already tight sheath clamped down on him in rippling waves that ran over his entire length again and again. Abby's scream of joyous release yanked his gaze to her face and what he saw there was the last straw. “Oh, God, sweetheart,” he gasped. “Abby!" She was in the throes of yet another wave of spasms when he exploded, endlessly, intensely, his mind shattering into a million pieces. With no choice left, he followed her into oblivion. Tate had no idea how much time had passed when he finally began to surface back to the here and now. At some point he had collapsed on top of her, and now found, to his surprise that he was still sheathed inside her, and still fully erect. Unwilling and unable to withdraw, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She still hadn't moved, hadn't spoken, and he brushed away the raven hair that hid her face. “Abby?" “I was wrong,” she whispered. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands sliding over her back as he began to move gently inside her again. “Wrong about what?” He could barely get the question out. She moaned deep in her throat as her body began to match his rhythm. “I thought the books lied, that it could never be as wonderful as they made it sound. But it's better.” Her breath caught as he pushed her into a sitting position, lifted her, and then buried his whole length inside her. “Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, Tate. It's happening again. Don't stop. Oh, please, never stop."

She had nothing to worry about. Tate couldn't have stopped if his life depended on it. He lost count of the times they made love as the afternoon wore on and each time only seemed to increase his hunger. Even now, as he watched her dress, he was still as hard, still as erect as he had been the first time. Abby didn't seem to find anything unusual in his condition, but then, she probably thought it was the normal state of affairs. He grinned at the thought. At the rate he was going, she might be right. The only reason he'd let her up now was because Buddy would be home soon. But what had really stunned him was the fact that she'd not only kept up with him, she'd been eager to do it. Neither one of them had been able to get enough. Even now she was gazing back down at him longingly. “If you don't stop looking at me like that, Buddy can go to hell. We'll just lock the barn doors and stay here forever." She smiled as she fastened her jeans then dropped down beside him again, legs crossed. Her gaze was locked on his erection and she reached out tentatively and ran one finger down it. Tate's eyes closed in bliss at her touch, his hips moving involuntarily as her hand closed around him. And because he had his eyes closed, he didn't know what she was going to do until it was too late. With no warning at all, he felt her lips touch him in a soft kiss. He almost climaxed on the spot. “Abby!” His eyes flew open as he reached for her, but she was gone, her feet pounding on the wooden floor of the barn as she ran. A groan of agony escaped him as he reached for his clothes. Oh, yeah. She was gonna kill him. But what a way to go. **** Abby stood in the middle of the kitchen trying desperately to remember what she'd planned to fix for supper, but she couldn't seem to concentrate on anything but what had happened today. Had that really been her out there in the barn with Tate? Had those screams come from her lips? Had she actually kissed his... Oh, God. She lifted her hands to her blazing cheeks, trying to cool them to no avail. She'd acted wanton, wild beyond anything she could have ever imagined herself doing before. And she wanted to do it again. Longed to feel him inside her even now. Was that what her mother had felt? Could that be the reason her mother had slept with all those men? What if the people in this town were right about her? Maybe they had seen something in her that she'd denied until today. Abby's lips trembled. Dear Lord, she'd fought that stigma all her life, but what if she really was like her mother? She wasn't sure she could bear it if she were. “Abby?" She spun to face Tate. She hadn't heard him come in, but there he was, looking at her with a concerned expression. He took a step closer and put his hands on her shoulders. “What's wrong? Please don't tell me you're regretting what happened." Regretting it? Never in a million years. It had been wonderful. Her body still tingled with echoes of the pleasure he'd given her. “No,” her voice was quiet. “I don't regret it."

“Then what is it? You look like you've seen a ghost." Her chin quivered. “Maybe I have. Oh, Tate, what if I'm like my mother after all? What if I liked ... what we did ... too much? What if I don't want to stop?" He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. “Abby, you could never be like your mother. She didn't do what she did because she enjoyed it. She did it to survive. It's not pretty, but sometimes it's the only choice.” He leaned back a little and smiled down at her. “Are you feeling any urges to start dragging men in off the streets?" She could feel her cheeks heating again. “No, of course not.” Abby lowered her gaze. “But what we did was so wonderful, you made me feel so wonderful, that...” She paused. He tilted her chin up so she'd have to look at him. “That what? You're afraid it has to be wrong to feel that way?" “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, Abby,” he groaned, pulling her tighter still. “There's nothing wrong with what you were feeling. It's perfectly natural, what our bodies were designed for. Enjoying each other is just another way of showing how much--” His words came to an abrupt halt for a second before starting again. “Of caring for each other. Nothing we do to give each other pleasure is wrong or bad and feeling that pleasure doesn't make you bad either. It makes you normal.” He brushed her hair back and suddenly his voice turned husky. “I'll tell you something else, Abby. You gave me more pleasure today than I'd ever dreamed was possible. You are absolutely amazing." “But there's so much I don't know. I don't know what you like, or even how to touch you." Tate laughed. “God help me if you ever do learn it all. I'd never be able to let you out of bed again.” His expression sobered a little. “Just do whatever you feel like doing, Abby, whatever you want to do. Don't be afraid and don't hold back. That's what will make me happy." The front door slammed and Buddy's voice rang through the house. “I'm home! What's for supper?" Abby groaned. Tate put a quick kiss on her lips. “Don't panic.” He grinned at her. “You throw some potatoes in to bake and I'll go fire up the grill. We'll have steaks tonight. I kind of feel like celebrating anyway."

Chapter Fifteen Tate leaned back against the rail that ran around the front porch of Joe's house, his arms hooked backwards over the top. Buddy's Apache yell drifted back to them as the old Ford pickup careened down the drive. “Think he'll make it home in one piece?" Joe was on the porch, leaning over with his forearms braced on the wood next to Tate. “He'll slow down when he gets to the highway. He's just excited. Don't you remember how it felt to get your first vehicle?" Tate shook his head. “I don't remember ever getting that excited about anything.” He grinned. At least not until this last week. Now it was starting to feel like he stayed that way. The ranch was

going to go to hell in a handbasket if he and Abby didn't slow down a little. Not that he was complaining. He'd never been so relaxed in his life, so totally replete. They had made love at least twice a day since Monday and, each time, Abby lost a little more of her shyness, became a little bolder. And each time, he wanted her more than he had the time before. It was strange, in a way. Sex was something he'd never really paid much attention to before. Oh, yeah, he'd always enjoyed it when it was forthcoming, but when it wasn't, he hadn't spent a lot time worrying about it. There had always been more than enough to keep him busy, keep his mind off the subject. Now, no matter what he was doing or how hard he was working, he couldn't seem to think of anything else. He'd even started making up excuses to go back to the house during the day and, when he did, they usually wound up in bed yet again. For the first time in his life he dreaded school letting out for the summer. It was going to be hell having Buddy underfoot all the time. Tate unhooked one arm and tilted the brim of his Resistol up. He supposed he'd just have to start getting more creative with his timing. “Damn, Hoss. You look like the cat that fell in the cream bucket. Can I assume you aren't going to be spending our usual Friday night at Delly's tonight?" “Yep.” Tate's grin widened. Why would he go to Delly's when he'd only gone there in the first place to see--His smile faded suddenly as confusion swept over him. That couldn't be right. Could it? He'd been engaged to Diane, in love with her. He'd had no business, no right, to even notice another woman. Sure, he'd told Abby that he'd watched her, but that had just been to build up her confidence. It was impossible. His memory was just playing tricks on him because of the last week. He shoved the thought to the back of his mind. “Is Abby still in one piece?” Joe nudged him slightly, grinning. His own smile returned. “Abby is great. You'll have to come over for dinner soon. You won't believe her cooking." “Just name the day. You know I never turn down a meal." “How about Sunday?" “I'll be there with bells on." “Well,” Tate straightened. “Guess I better head on back and make sure Buddy actually got there." Joe seemed to hesitate, then took a deep breath. “Before you leave, there's something you need to know." Tate turned to look at him curiously. Joe's hat was pulled down low over his blond hair, shading his eyes from Tate's view. “I don't know if this is the right time to tell you or not, but you're gonna find out sooner or later anyway and I figure it'll be better coming from me. Damn, Hoss. I'd rather be tied naked to a wild bronc than have to do this." “What the hell are you talking about?" Joe studied the ground at Tate's feet. “Diane married Clayton Caldwell."

It felt as though someone had taken a sledge hammer to his guts. All the air went out of him and he stood frozen in place, trying to pull his shattered thoughts back together. “When?" “Tuesday." Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. “Why is this the first time I've heard about it?" “Because everyone knew how you were gonna take the news. Do you think your friends and neighbors want to do that to you?" “Does Buddy know?" “Yeah, he knows." “Shit.” Tate leaned against the rail again, using it to support his suddenly shaking body. “Why, Joe? Why would she do something like this? She doesn't love that slimy little weasel." “Hell, Hoss. Who knows why she ever does any of the things she does? Revenge? Greed? Attention? Take your pick. It could be any of a thousand things. And not one of them has to make sense." He dropped his forehead to his arms. “What am I going to do, Joe? This all my fault. She never would have married him if it hadn't been for me." Anger tinged Joe's voice and every line of his body when he pushed away from the rail. “Unless you're even stupider than I gave you credit for being, you aren't going to do a damn thing. You've got a wife that most men would kill for. One better than ten like Diane could ever be. You've got a baby on the way. You aren't responsible for what Diane does. You never have been. Why the hell can't you open your eyes and take a good look around you, Tate?” Joe yanked his hat off and banged it against his leg in agitation. “And I'm going to tell you something else while I'm at it. You're like a brother to me. I've never been jealous of you a day in my life before. But I am now. You've got something I've only dreamed about and you're too goddamned blind to see it. You better wake up, Tate, and do it fast before you lose it all.” He spun on his heel and went into the house, slamming the door behind him. Stunned into immobility, Tate could only stare at the house in shock, wondering what had just happened. Joe was jealous of him? For being forced to marry a woman he didn't love? He turned and walked to his truck, climbing under the wheel in a daze of confusion. It made no sense. None at all, unless... Could Joe be in love with Abby? As he started the truck and headed down the driveway, Tate's mind replayed every single time he'd seen them together. Now that he thought about it, Joe had danced with her more than he had at the party. At least twice. And it had looked as though he was teasing her. Abby had been laughing, anyway. Not only that, but every time Joe had been to the ranch during the last two weeks he'd stopped in to chat with Abby. Tate's teeth suddenly ground together. Why was it just now occurring to him that Joe was a damn good-looking man? Any woman would be attracted to his charm and that “good ol’ boy” act of his. Hell, Joe was better educated than any other ten people put together. Yet he'd seen it work before, and with women a lot more world-wise than Abby. But Joe had never seemed to want anything permanent before. He'd just been in it for the fun, a

“love ‘em and leave ‘em” kind of guy. What if he'd been wrong about Joe all these years? What if Joe had only been looking for something special? Something he'd now found in Abby. A tiny spark of anger lit in Tate's middle. How could Joe do this to him? Especially now. Joe had known the news about Diane would tear him in half. All he needed added on to that was worry about his wife and his best friend. Tate cursed softly. What the hell was wrong with him? Joe would never encroach on his territory, even if he were in love with Abby. He knew that. Didn't he? **** Abby stood on the front porch, anxiously watching for Tate's truck. What was taking him so long? Buddy had been back for twenty minutes. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw the familiar blue truck coming toward her. By the time he pulled up next to the house she was at the truck door almost hopping up and down. In her hurry to have him exit, she barely noted his grim expression. “I'm so glad you're back! I thought I was going to have to call Joe. It's Sugar Baby. There's something wrong with her. I went to the barn right after you left, looking for Dog, and she's acting funny. Buddy's with her now." He gave a curt nod and headed for the barn. Abby followed him, half-running to keep up. “Do you think she may be in labor?" “That would be my guess." “Will she be okay?” She couldn't keep the worry out of her voice. For some reason she found herself identifying with the beautiful bay mare more than she did the others. “Should be. She's had a couple of colts before with no problem." Buddy looked up as they entered the barn. He was leaning on the stall door calmly, as though he didn't have a care in the world. “She's in labor.” He tilted his head at Sugar Baby. “How far along?" He arched an eyebrow at Tate. “Like I'm supposed to know? You're the expert around here. No way am I sticking my hand in there.” He shuddered. Abby couldn't decide if he was serious or not until Tate started rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Her stomach flopped. Surely he wasn't going to ... Apparently, he was. She watched as he washed all the way up his arms, then applied a rusty brown liquid to his right one. He stepped into the stall and moved around behind the mare. “Hold her head, Buddy. She's not going to be real happy about this." Buddy grabbed hold of the mare's halter. “Okay, I got her."

Tate vanished from Abby's view briefly, then his head reappeared. Suddenly, Sugar Baby's head jerked up, her eyes rolling back until the whites showed. Buddy was almost yanked off his feet as the mare squealed. 'Not happy’ was an understatement as far as Abby was concerned. And she didn't blame the mare a bit. She wasn't feeling too great herself right now and all she'd had to do was watch. Tate stepped back into view and moved to the mare's head, talking to her in a low soothing voice. She continued to shift restlessly, but Abby could see her visibly calm. “Well?" “She's getting there.” Tate glanced at Buddy before washing his hands again. “Probably been in labor most of the day, but it could still be a few hours yet." Abby couldn't stand it another minute. “Shouldn't I go call a vet?" Buddy and Tate both turned around to look at her. “What for?” Tate looked surprised that she'd even thought of it. “He'd only have to stand around and wait with the rest of us. And chances are, we won't even need him. Sugar knows what to do." “Well, isn't there something I can do?" He studied her for a second. “We could use some coffee. It may be a long night." “I'll go make some right now.” Abby turned and sped from the barn. Taking the back steps in one leap, she slammed through the door into the kitchen and skidded to a stop in front of the coffeemaker. It might be easier if she took the coffeemaker back to the barn with her. Then she wouldn't have to run back and forth all night to make more. Unplugging the appliance, she tucked it under her arm, gathered up some mugs and grabbed the coffee, a grin turning up the corners of her mouth. She was actually going to get to see Sugar have her baby. Excitement coursed through her as she ran back toward the barn. Just as she reached the door, Tate's voice, tight and low with anger hit her. “You're my brother, Buddy. How the hell could you not tell me?" Buddy's face was set in stubborn lines. “Because it shouldn't matter to you anymore if Diane gets married.” He threw his hands up in the air as Abby stood frozen. “What could you have done if I had told you? By the time I found out it was already over with." The coffee can slid from Abby's numb fingers and clattered to the floor. Both of them spun to stare at her and she heard a low curse escape from Tate's lips. Buddy glared at him. “I hope you're happy,” he hissed at his brother. “I'm going to the house. Right now I don't want to even look at you." Abby took a deep breath and picked up the coffee just as Buddy paused on his way out. “I'm sorry you had to hear that, Abby."

His voice was pitched for her ears alone and she gave him a wan smile. “It's okay. Really.” She continued into the barn, put the coffeemaker on a barrel and plugged it in, refusing to look at Tate while she set the mugs out. “It'll be ready in a few minutes." Silence reigned in the barn while she got the water and prepared the coffee. When it started brewing, she sat down on a bale of hay, her gaze fixed on the mare. “How is she?" Tate finally moved. “The same.” He took off his hat and hung it on a nail at the end of the stall before sitting down next to her. With his elbows propped on his knees, he ran a hand through his hair. “Abby, I'm sorry." “Why? I would have heard about it sooner or later." “I know that. It's just that I didn't want you to--" “You didn't want me to know it upset you?” she interrupted. Abby shrugged one shoulder. “It's okay, Tate. You have every reason to be upset.” And she had no reason at all for the crushing pain in her chest. Even after the last wonderful week, how had she dared let herself forget for even one minute that he'd married her because he thought he had to? Tate was rubbing his face tiredly. “I just wish I knew what the hell I was upset about,” he muttered in answer to her last statement. He dropped his hands. “I admit, finding out about Diane was a shock. But Buddy was right. What she does is none of my business anymore. Even if I'd known what she was planning, I wouldn't have tried to stop her." Abby forced herself not to flinch when he reached for her hand. “Abby,” he shook his head and started again. “I think we've managed to get a good start on making this marriage work during the last week. Don't let this ruin it for us." Abby opened her hand and turned it to grip his. “I won't, Tate. Will you?” For a moment the silence deepened again and her heart almost stopped beating. “No.” His answer was so quiet she had to strain to hear it. “I won't." Blessed relief flowed through her. She still had time and, maybe with Diane safely married she wouldn't have to leave at all. Her life had changed so drastically in the last few weeks that most of the time she was sure it was all a dream. She kept expecting to wake up and find herself back in that tiny shack, alone and broke and scared half to death. And it would be so much worse now than it had before. Now, she would know exactly what she was missing. She glanced sideways at Tate. He was staring at their joined hands intently, almost as if it were the first time he'd ever seen them. His hair, rumpled from the hat he'd removed, tumbled down onto his forehead, obscuring his eyebrows. His chin and jaw were covered with dark stubble, his mouth set in a tight line. He looked worried, Abby decided. About Diane? She couldn't stop the tiny sigh that escaped her lips. It had been foolish to let her guard down, but she couldn't seem to help it. The closer they got, the more she seemed to lose control of her feelings. It was getting harder every day to hide her love for him. But somehow, she had to. Abby suddenly realized that he'd looked up, was studying her face almost as intently as he had

their hands. “I invited Joe to dinner Sunday." She nodded, still involved with her own thoughts. “You don't mind, do you?" Her gaze met his, puzzled. “Why would I mind? I'll be cooking anyway. One more doesn't matter.” She pulled her hand away from his and went to the coffeemaker. Pouring a cup, she brought it back and handed it to him. He took it, then sat it on the bale next to him. To Abby's surprise, he tugged her down onto his lap, his arms around her waist. For a split second she fought the urge to lean into him, then gave up and rested her head on his chest. “Do you like Joe?" “Of course. He's very nice.” Was Tate afraid she wouldn't like his friends? “Everyone I've met since I've been here has been nice.” She put her hand on Tate's arm, loving the feel of the hard muscles under her fingers. A smile curved her lips when those muscles flexed in reaction. He lowered his chin to the top of her head. “You know, I've always wondered what women see in Joe. Seems like there's about a dozen chasing him all the time." Abby shrugged lightly, concentrating on letting her fingers slid up and down his arm. “He's goodlooking, funny, charming. I guess Joe has a lot to offer a woman." Tate stood up so fast he almost dumped her in the floor and she would have sworn she heard his teeth grinding together. “I need to check on Sugar again,” he mumbled. Her attention was immediately diverted to the mare and she leaned on the stall door as Tate ran his hands down the restless horse's side. Sugar tried to shift away from him, but he held her bridle, murmuring in that low voice. “How is she?" Tate kept his hand on the mare's side. “Looks like it's going faster than I thought it would. Contractions are coming one right after the other." “She's having it now?" He glanced at Abby over his shoulder. “Soon, anyway. Probably in the next thirty minutes." “How do you know so much about this? Just from experience?" “Partially.” He left the mare and moved closer to Abby. “My undergraduate degree was in preveterinarian medicine. I managed to get in a year of veterinary school before I quit." Abby gaped at him. “You were going to be a vet?"

Tate kept his gaze on the mare. “That was the plan." “Why did you quit?" “Lots of reasons.” He suddenly seemed almost as uncomfortable as the mare. “Mom died about that time and Dad needed me back here. So did Buddy." She could almost hear what he wasn't saying. Diane hadn't wanted him that far away. After all, how could she manipulate him if he weren't around to let her? A spark of anger lit inside Abby. How could he love that woman so much when she treated him the way she did? She stared at Tate's profile. The man might be exceptionally smart about most things, but she was beginning to wonder if he didn't have a purely stupid side to him, too. Either that, or he had deliberately blinded himself to what Diane was really like. Suddenly, the mare turned in a circle and clumsily folded her front legs, lowering her body to the floor. Her neck stiffened and her whole body tensed as she pushed. Tate moved away from the stall door, then knelt behind her. “Is there anything I can do?" “Yeah.” He sounded preoccupied. “Talk to her. Keep her calm." Abby hesitated only an instant before slipping into the stall and dropping by Sugar's head. She stroked the satiny, sweat-covered neck softly, murmuring quiet encouragement to the mare. “Here come its feet. The front ones, thank God." She twisted around to get a better view then sucked in a breath of air, awe sending chills over her. Two tiny little feet protruded from Sugar's backside. Even as she watched, Sugar pushed again and a delicate nose appeared, followed rapidly by the rest of the head. Then, in a rush of fluid, the foal plopped wetly onto the straw, Tate supporting him. Abby didn't realize tears were pouring down her cheeks, was so involved watching the birth that Sugar knocked her over when the horse lurched to her feet. As the mare turned and lowered her head to the new baby, nudging it with her nose, Tate glanced at Abby. “Are you okay?" “Yes,” she sniffed, wiping her cheeks. He smiled at her. “No matter how many times you see it, it never gets old." “She's so beautiful." “He. It's a colt.” Tate stood and assisted the wobbly-legged baby to its feet, helping Sugar guide him to his first meal. As soon as the colt latched on, Tate moved to Abby's side, his gaze on the tiny tail that was twitching enthusiastically. “He looks more like Cody than he does his mama, except for that white blaze down his nose."

“Cody's black?” Abby had yet to see the stud since Tate kept him away from the mares most of the year. “Solid black.” He extended his hand and helped Abby rise. “I think we'll keep this one. By the time our baby's old enough to ride, I'll have him trained and ready." Abby felt tears welling up again but forced them back. “What are you going to name him?" He looked down at her, his blue eyes filled with a smile. “Why don't you name him?" “Me?” Her mind went blank. Tate wrapped his arms around her, tugging her tightly to his body. “There's no rush. Think about it for a while.” His lips brushed her hair. “What do you say we go to the house and let these two have some time to get acquainted?" “Sounds like a good idea to me.” She smiled up at him.

Chapter Sixteen Abby paused, a heaping platter of fried chicken in her hands, and surveyed the table. This was the first time they'd had company over to eat since she and Tate had married and she wanted everything to be perfect. She'd found a white linen tablecloth in the cedar chest in their room and it was now spread over the table. Sparkling dishes were arranged with military precision in front of each seat. She only wished there had been fresh flowers to use as a centerpiece. She'd planted some in the garden, but they were just starting to come up. Placing the chicken next to the other bowls, she did a rapid inventory of the food. Mashed potatoes, homemade biscuits, gravy, corn on the cob, baked beans and cole slaw. Would it be enough? She nibbled her bottom lip fretfully. She knew how much Tate and Buddy could put away and today there would be a third male at the table. A low whistle sounded from behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. Tate had just come through the back door, his smile slow and sexy as his gaze ran over her. Abby blushed furiously even as her heart flipped over at the sight of him. Did he really get handsomer every day, or was it just the way she was looking at him now? Handsomer, she decided. And sexier. “How's the colt?" He crossed the room and scooped her into his arms. “Not even half as pretty as you are.” He inhaled deeply. “You smell so damn good." She grinned up at him, sliding her arms around his neck. “That's fried chicken you smell." “No, that's you.” He nuzzled her ear. “New dress? I don't remember seeing that one before." “Um.” Her eyes drifted closed. “I made it." His lips trailed down and around to her nape. “New hairdo, too."

Abby's eyes opened. He sounded altogether too casual for some reason. “You don't like it?" “I love it. As a matter of fact, you look fantastic." She relaxed, her lips curving up in a smile. “So do you." “Me?” He pulled back and gazed down at her. “I'm not the one that's all dressed up. This is the way I look every day." “I know.” Abby leaned into his body. “You look fantastic every day." “Is that right?” He was smiling now, too, as his lips brushed hers. “Even when I'm not wearing clothes?" His low voice sent shivers down her back. “Especially when you aren't wearing clothes,” she murmured. “Guess I'm going to have to start going naked more." Abby laughed at the image of Tate working around the ranch buck-naked. “That could be dangerous." “That's me. I'll do whatever it takes to keep my woman happy. Walk through fire. Fight tigers. Face heavy machinery bare-assed naked." Abby went still, all traces of laughter fading from her face. His woman? He couldn't have meant that the way it sounded. He was just teasing her. “Hey,” he lifted her chin and ran his thumb over her lips. “That was supposed to be funny." “I know.” She gave him a wan smile then slipped out of his arms. “Do you think that will be enough food or should I fix something else?" His gaze lingered on her for a second then turned to the table. “I think it depends. Did you invite ten other people and forget to tell me about it? ‘Cause if you did, we may have a problem." “It's just Joe.” She went to the oven and took the apple pies out, setting them on a trivet to cool. “Then I think there's probably enough.” His hand touched her arm. “Abby, did I say something wrong?" “No, of course not.” She went to the table and straightened the silverware. Tate hesitated. “Do you need help with anything?" “No, it's all ready." “Well, I guess I'll go get washed up." “Okay." She didn't even look up, Tate noted as he went into the bathroom. Something had upset her. One

minute everything had been fine and dandy, and the next she wouldn't even look at him. His mind ran back over every word he'd said. She'd been laughing right up until he made that comment about heavy machinery. He replayed his own words and suddenly groaned. His woman. Abby must have thought he was making fun of her, although he wasn't sure how she'd reached that conclusion. Tate stared at his own reflection in the mirror. Why had he said it? True, she was a woman and, technically speaking, she was his. But he'd never been the possessive type. It had sort of just slipped out all by itself. He certainly hadn't meant anything by it. Or maybe he had. Maybe somewhere down inside he was starting to think of Abby as his property. Hell, no wonder she'd gotten upset. He'd be mad too if someone started acting like they owned him. He'd do better, he vowed. No chest pounding, no dragging her off to bed at the drop of a hat. Tate grinned. Well, at least not more than twice a day. He heard Abby's laughter as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom. Good. She was back to normal again. He glanced at the clock, wondering if Joe was going to make it on time. The wondering lasted just long enough for him to reach the kitchen door. His best friend was standing hip-shot, one hand braced on the countertop while he grinned at Abby. She had her whole face buried in a gigantic bouquet of flowers and her delighted laughter still rang through the kitchen. “Thank you. They're beautiful, Joe." “Nowhere near as pretty as you are, Abby. You're looking mighty fine today." Tate's jaw clenched when she blushed. Obviously flustered, Abby turned to the cabinet. “I'll just put these in a vase--Tate!” She smiled at him. “Look what Joe brought. Aren't they lovely?" “I suppose.” He stepped farther into the kitchen. “Joe.” He gave him a curt nod then glanced at Abby. “I didn't know you liked roses. You should have said something. We could have picked some up in town the other day." She filled a vase with water and added the flowers, adjusting them carefully. “I don't think I knew. At least it never occurred to me.” She touched one of the petals with a gentle finger. “No need to go buy any. Mama's flower bed hasn't been cleaned out since she moved in with my sister. I'll bring you some starts tomorrow. She planted every kind of rose bush she could get her hands on." “Are you sure?” Abby was looking at Joe doubtfully. “I'd hate for you to ruin her flowers." “Won't hurt them at all. In fact, it'll do them good to thin the bed out some." “In that case, I'd love to have them." Tate watched as she carried the flowers to the table and put them in the middle. When the hell

had her walk gotten so damn sexy? The extra pounds she'd put on in the past few weeks had filled out her curves, softened the lines of her body. And the outfit she had on emphasized every one of them. He took a fast peek at Joe to see if he'd noticed. He'd noticed all right. His gaze appeared to be glued to Abby's bottom. Reflexively, Tate's hands clenched at his sides and he moved to block Joe's line of sight. Abby straightened, looking surprised when she almost ran into Tate's chest. She gave him a slightly puzzled smile, her gaze running over his face. “Everything is ready. Why don't you two sit down and I'll get Buddy." Silence fell as the men took their places at the table. Joe cleared his throat. “Sorry I came down on you so hard Friday, Hoss. Guess I need to learn when to keep my mouth shut." “No problem.” Tate suddenly became interested in the silverware. “Hell, I can tell you're still mad at me." “I'm not mad." “Okay.” Joe was staring at him speculatively, a half-smile playing on his lips. “Hear you got a new colt." Tate's head came up. “Where did you hear about that?" “Abby told me when I called yesterday." And just why hadn't she mentioned to him that Joe had called? He was still worrying about that when Abby and Buddy came in. He'd barely registered their presence when Joe was out of his chair like he'd been sitting on springs. As Buddy claimed the chair on one side of the table, Joe pulled the other one out and held it for Abby. She hesitated, like she wasn't quite sure what to do, then sat down, smiling her thanks as Joe scooted her up to the table. Tate glared at him. “Since when did you develop manners?" “When the lady deserves them,” Joe shot back. Buddy was looking back and forth between the two men. Apparently he decided not to comment for once, and started helping himself to the food, passing each item on as he got done with it. “How's that truck running, Squirt?" “Fantastic!” Buddy beamed at Joe. “I got the insurance on it yesterday and I'm driving it to school Monday so I can get the tags after classes.” He dived into the food on his plate. “I'm thinking about getting it painted at the end of the summer. I should have enough money saved up by then. But I can't decide what color to put on it."

“Abby, what's your favorite color?” Joe smiled at her. “Blue,” she said promptly. Now why the hell hadn't he known that, Tate thought? She was his wife, damn it. He should know things like that. His irritation was increasing in leaps and bounds. “There ya go, Buddy,” Joe continued. “Paint it blue." “Well, I was kind of leaning toward red, but blue might be okay.” Buddy tilted his head thoughtfully. “Yeah. That metallic blue, the one with the glittery specks in it." “Don't forget that the biggest part of what you make is going in your college fund." Buddy frowned at the tone of Tate's voice. “Geesh, who put a burr under your saddle? I know where the money's going. I can sand the truck down myself, and get the paint at a discount down at Jepson's Body Shop. I don't think that's gonna ruin my future educational plans." Abby was looking at him strangely, too, and Tate decided it might be better to just shut up for the rest of the meal. Even though he seemed to have lost his appetite, he forced himself to eat while the others chatted. It was the longest meal of his life. Joe scooted his chair back and rubbed his stomach. “Abby, that was the best meal I've had in years. If you ever need a job, you can come cook for me any time." “She doesn't need a job,” Tate muttered. Abby shot him a quelling look before smiling at Joe again. “Thanks, Joe. You know you're welcome to come by anytime. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get this cleaned up." Joe stood. “I'll help you. Least I can do to pay for my meal." Tate leaped to his feet so fast his chair almost turned over. “If she needs help, I'll give it to her." “Oh, for heaven's sake.” Abby threw her hands up in the air. “Tate, can I talk to you in private for a minute?" Like he had much choice, he thought darkly as Abby practically dragged him down the hall to his office. And it wasn't helping a bit that he could hear the sounds of hysterical laughter coming from the kitchen. As soon as they were inside, Abby closed the door and turned on him. “What in the name of God has gotten into you? Joe is your best friend and you've been downright rude to him this evening. Is there something I don't know about? Did you two have a fight?" “Not exactly.” Even to himself he sounded sullen. “Then what's going on?" “Nothing." “Tate, look at me,” she ordered. “You barely spoke a word during the whole meal and when you

did you almost bit Buddy's head off. Don't stand there and tell me nothing is wrong." “Okay.” Tate tried to collect his thoughts. He wasn't sure he could tell her what was wrong. Hell, he wasn't even sure he knew, but she didn't act like she was going to leave him alone unless he came up with something. “I don't like the way he looks at you." “Joe? You don't like the w-way...” She sputtered to a halt, staring at him in amazement. She propped her hands on her hips. “Just out of curiosity, how is he looking at me?" This was going from bad to worse in a hurry. “I don't know. I just don't like it. You're my wife, not his. Can't I offer to help with the dishes without causing a major catastrophe? It's not like it's the first time I've helped you." She was still staring at him suspiciously. “No, but it's the first time I've ever seen you so eager to do it that you knocked a chair over trying to get to the sink." “I didn't knock the chair over." “You came awfully close.” She stepped nearer. “Are you feeling okay? Do you have a temperature?” She put her hand on his forehead. Tate almost groaned. “Abby, I'm not sick.” But maybe he'd just thought of a way out of this. “I think I'm just tired. Neither one of us have been getting a lot of sleep lately.” And they both knew why. When she flushed, Tate couldn't stop his smile. “Maybe you should go to bed early tonight." He pulled her into his arms, his lips brushing hers. “I think that's the best idea I've heard all day. Especially if you go with me." “I'd love to." Tate sighed happily when she kissed him back, long and hard. How could he go from feeling so miserable one minute, to on top of the world in two seconds flat? Maybe Abby was right. He just might be coming down with something. **** Abby put the last of the dishes away then glanced around the kitchen to make sure everything was in order. She'd settled the dispute over who got to help her by running everyone out of the kitchen. Even now she could hear the murmur of voices from the front porch. Mostly Joe's and Buddy's, true. But at least Tate was adding an occasional comment. She shook her head in bewilderment. Now that she thought about it, he'd been acting kind of strange since he'd gotten home Friday evening. Maybe it had something to do with Diane getting married. Whatever the problem was, Joe and Buddy both seemed to think it was pretty funny. As soon as Tate and Abby had walked back into the kitchen they'd dropped their conversation like it was a

ticking bomb. But that hadn't stopped them from practically bursting out laughing every time they looked at each other. When Tate had demanded to know what was so funny, it had set them off again. Even as they wiped tears of laughter off their faces, they had denied everything. Abby hung the dishcloth over the draining pan to dry, thinking about the conversation with Tate in his office. If she didn't know better, she'd think the man was jealous. But of course, that was a silly idea. Why would he be jealous of a woman he hadn't wanted to marry in the first place? As soon as she appeared on the porch, Tate shifted to make room for her next to him on the swing. When she sat down, he draped his arm casually across her shoulders and shot Joe what she would have sworn was a defiant look. Joe grinned at her. “Heard Hank brought you some chickens, Abby. How's it going?" She smiled ruefully. “Remind me to give you some eggs before you leave. I had no idea a dozen eggs a day would mount up that fast." “Didn't have any trouble getting them? Most city slickers don't know a thing about gathering eggs." Holding her hand up, she studied it. “Well, I did get a few bites the first couple of days, but I think they're getting used to me. At least, now they just ignore me unless I've got food." Joe laughed. “Chickens can't bite. No teeth. They peck." “They sure do,” Abby responded fervently. She suddenly became aware that Tate was surreptitiously tugging on the hem of her skirt. And if he didn't stop he was going to pull it right off of her. The elastic she'd used in the waist was already slipping down. She slapped at his hand and he stopped, giving her a hurt look. Still smiling, Joe stood. “Well, guess it's time for me to head home. If Tate yawns one more time he's going to suck down a bumblebee and I'd really hate to see him choke." Buddy leaped to his feet. “I'll walk you to the truck." “Thanks, Squirt. Abby, thanks for dinner. One of these days I'll return the favor if you aren't afraid I'll poison you.” He touched the brim of hat. “Goodnight, and I'll run those roses by tomorrow. Tate.” He gave him a curt nod. Buddy glanced back at the porch to ensure they were out of earshot before he spoke. “I only want to know one thing. What the heck did you do to get him that jealous?" Joe laughed. “Squirt, I don't have a clue, but it's the funniest thing I've ever seen. I would have bet good money that Tate didn't have a jealous bone in his body." Buddy cackled, holding his sides for support. “Did you see him trying to pull Abby's skirt down?" “He caught me looking at her legs,” Joe howled gleefully. “You were doing it on purpose.” The teenager wiped tears from his eyes.

“Dang right, I was. You don't expect me to miss an opportunity like this do you? It's the most fun I've had in years. And you know what's even funnier? He doesn't even know what's wrong with him. That brother of yours is about as dumb as a sheep when it comes to some things." Buddy finally got himself under control. “Just don't push him too far, Joe. Not much telling what he'll do." “Don't you worry none, Squirt. I'll ease up on him in a few days. Maybe by then he'll figure out what's going on.” He opened the truck door and climbed in. “'Night." “'Night, Joe." Buddy waited until the truck pulled into the driveway then walked back to the porch. Tate and Abby were still sitting on the swing. “You gonna tell me what you two were howling like hyenas over?" “Me and Joe?” Buddy gave him an innocent look. “Not a thing." Tate glowered at him and Buddy decided discretion was the better part of valor. “I've still got a little homework to do. I'll be in my room if you need me." When he was safely inside the house, Abby started shifting on the swing. “What are you doing?" She frowned at Tate. “Trying to get my skirt back up. You pulled it half off." Suddenly she was on his lap and the skirt was sliding in the wrong direction. “Tate!" He gave her a wicked grin. “I'd much rather you took it off than put it back on." “But I'm not wearing a slip and we're right out in the open!" “Yeah, I noticed that. But it's almost dark. Why waste time going upstairs?” His fingers ran around the edge of her panty leg. “Buddy--" “Will be upstairs the rest of the night.” He reached the goal he'd been searching for. “Oh...” Abby breathed the word out on a sigh of pleasure. Tate gave a sigh of his own when she arched into him, her head buried in his neck. His lips brushed her temple even as his fingers continued their task. “That's it, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Just let go. I love the way you feel, Abby. I could do this forever. And you like it too, don't you? Especially when I do this." “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, Tate." When she climaxed in his hand he was ready for her. He held her thrashing body tightly to him

and captured her scream with his lips. Abby always screamed when she climaxed and nothing in the world had ever tasted sweeter to him. He cuddled her limp form until she began to stir, his hands running over her soft skin. “I can't believe you did that,” she spoke into his neck. “And you didn't even ... well, you know." “Wife,” he said with a smile, “I'm just getting started. This is one night you're gonna remember for a long, long time."

Chapter Seventeen Abby stretched languidly and smiled as the sheet slid over her bare body. She shouldn't have wasted the effort in making new nightgowns. She hadn't gotten to wear them a single time yet. Her eyes drifted open to bright sunlight, then widened. Had she slept all day? She glanced at the clock and almost gasped. It was eleven! Throwing the sheet back, Abby slid out of the bed, looking down as a piece of paper drifted to the floor. She recognized Tate's handwriting even before she picked it up. Stay in bed all day if you want to, Princess. You deserve it. She clutched the note to her chest, little bubbles of happiness bursting throughout her body. Princess. He'd called her Princess. Walking on a cloud of air, she moved to the mirror and surveyed her nude form. How could she still look the same after a night like last night? Tate had been like a man possessed. Time after time he'd used his hands and mouth to bring her screaming to ecstasy, until she was too weak to even plead for mercy. All she'd been able to do was cling to him helplessly as he forced her up each peak. She'd lost all track of time and even of location, had only a vague memory of grass beneath her and moonlight above. It was almost as though he were trying to prove something, to both of them. She wasn't sure what, but she knew one thing. By the time he finally plunged inside her, took her with an almost ferocious tenderness, she knew that she belonged to Tate McCullom heart and soul. If she lived to be a hundred, never would she love another man the way she did him. Slowly, her happiness faded. “Oh, Tate,” she whispered. “What have you done to me? How can I stay here, loving you like this, knowing you don't love me? It's going to kill me being this close to you for another six months.” But where would she go if she left? She folded the note carefully and slipped it in the drawer under her clothes before heading to the shower. When she was done, she pulled on a pair of denim cutoffs, noting that the shorts were getting harder to button. Well, she was coming up on three months now and she'd definitely noticed a new roundness to her abdomen. Another month and she'd have to do something about maternity clothes. Which would create yet another problem if she decided to leave. She tugged a tank top down over her head then ran a brush through her hair. Barefoot, she padded downstairs and poured herself a glass of juice, wondering if Tate would be back for lunch. Before Abby finished half the glass a truck pulled up outside. Joe! She'd totally

forgotten he was bringing the rose bushes today. By the time she reached the porch he was unloading dozens of bushes from the back of his truck. “Did you bring the entire flower bed?" “Didn't even make a dent in it.” He smiled at her. “Why don't you show me where you want them? I've got the shovel in the back here, too." “You don't have to do that, Joe. I can plant them." “And make me miss out on spending some time with a pretty lady? Not a chance.” He glanced around. “Where's Tate today?" Abby waved her hand vaguely toward the barn. “Probably working with the yearlings.” She showed him how she wanted the bushes spaced around the porch, then leaned back against the rail to watch. He had the first two in the ground before he spoke again. “Why so glum today?" She shook her head, forcing a tiny smile. “Do I look glum?" “Well, let's just say I've seen a happier expression on a coyote caught in a bear trap." “That bad, huh?” She sat down on the porch steps and rubbed her temples. Joe propped his shovel against the house and sat down next to her. “Want to talk about it?" Abby shook her head. “Talking won't do much good." “Never know until you try. It might make you feel better." She took a deep breath. “I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to stay here.” As soon as the words were out, tears welled in her eyes. “And you don't want to leave." “No.” She brushed the moisture away from her eyes. “I've never had a real family until now. This place, everything, is the best thing that's ever happened to me." “Then why would you go?" Abby gazed out across the rolling acres. “Because he doesn't love me,” she whispered. “I thought I could do it, Joe, but now I'm not so sure." “You're in love with Tate." “Promise me you won't tell him.” She took another swipe at her eyes. “I don't want him feeling any guiltier than he already does. I've already ruined his life. He loves Diane. She's the one he should be with, not me." The low curse word he issued startled her. For a moment, he was silent, then he seemed to come

to a decision. “Abby, I've known Tate longer than anyone else alive, so I'm gonna tell you a few things you might not know. Tate's daddy was a wonderful man. He practically raised me after my own daddy died. But he had this big deal about responsibility. There wasn't a day went by when he didn't pound it into Tate's head. With most kids it would have gone in one ear and out the other, but not with Tate. He thought every word his daddy spoke was gospel, so he took every bit of it to heart." He shifted around to face her. “Do you see what I'm saying, Abby? When every other boy in the county was out raising hell and sowing wild oats, Tate was right here on the ranch working like a full grown man. He started college when he was supposed to and, when everyone else on campus was killing themselves at keg parties, Tate was in his room studying. He finished in three years and was on the dean's list every semester. He wanted to be a vet, something he'd dreamed about all his life, but when his mama died he quit school and came home to take over the ranch. Somebody had to do it. When Jenny died, Sean just about died with her. He didn't do much of anything except sit around after that. So not only did Tate take on the ranch, he took on raising Buddy, too. Not one time in his whole life has Tate ever done anything that wasn't expected of him. Until you." Abby's smile was sad. “Are you saying I was his wild oats?" “Hell, no. I'm saying that what happened between you and Tate just may be the only thing he's ever done strictly for himself." “You're wrong, Joe. He was so drunk that night he didn't know what he was doing. I was just handy, and stupid enough to let him in. Even then, I loved him." “Think about it. Had you ever seen him drunk before that night?" Slowly she shook her head. “Well, listen up. I'm gonna tell you why he was. But first I'm gonna tell you about him and Diane." “I'm not sure you should tell me anything about them. That's between her and Tate." “If you're ever going to understand Tate, you have to hear it.” He leaned forward. “The first time Tate ever saw Diane we were in grade school. She was sitting on the front steps of the school, crying her eyes out because her daddy forgot to pick her up. Well, good old responsible Tate walked her home. From then on, she followed him around like a puppy dog and he didn't have the heart to run her off. By the time we graduated from high school it was like they were joined at the hip. Tate never even looked at another woman and Diane ate up the attention, couldn't get enough of it." “You're not making me feel any better, Joe,” Abby mumbled. “I'm not done yet. Have you ever watched two people who are really in love? They can't keep their hands off each other. They spend every possible second together and they sure as hell don't go out with anyone else. And if a woman did, any normal man who was in love would be ready to make a few heads roll." “So what's your point?" “My point, Abby, is that Tate was just as happy when Diane wasn't around as he was when he

was with her. He knew damn well she was going out with other men, but to look at him, you'd have thought he couldn't care less. He didn't break it off, he didn't do anything. Every time she threw his ring back at him, he'd just stick it in his pocket and wait until she came running back. At least, that's what usually happened. But that night he was with you, they had the biggest knock down, drag out argument you've ever seen in your life. And Tate started it. Good old responsible Tate. Not only did he start the fight, he was the one who broke their engagement that time. Now, why do you think he did that after all those years of putting up with her?" This time, Abby's smile was genuine. “I suspect you're about to tell me." “Damn right, I am. He did it because some part of him, a part that he'd buried so deep he couldn't see it any more, got scared. Diane was showing signs that she might actually marry him. Suddenly, that hidden part of Tate saw everything he really wanted slipping away from him. But he thought he had a responsibility to her and, being Tate, he couldn't consciously let go of it. So he did the only thing he could do. He got drunk enough to let that other Tate out. And that one made a beeline straight to you." She stared at him. “Are you saying that Tate wanted to get me pregnant?" “Not really. At least not consciously. But I am saying that hidden part of him was looking for a way out. Did he ever hesitate when he found out you were pregnant?” Joe shook his head. “I can tell you, he didn't. He married you so fast that he didn't even bother to tell his best friend about it. Why? In this day and age there are lots of other options besides marriage. And yet I'd be willing to bet Tate never even brought them up. You see, the only way he could honorably get rid of his responsibility to Diane was to have an even bigger one to you." “He used me?” Abby couldn't keep the outrage from her voice. “As if I didn't have enough problems of my own, he had to get me pregnant just so he'd have an excuse to break up with Diane?" Joe grinned. “Calm down. Tate doesn't have a clue as to why he did it and there wasn't any way he could know for sure you'd get pregnant. As for using you, Abby, that bar was full of women, any one of whom would have loved to take Tate home. If he'd just wanted an excuse to be rid of Diane, any of them would have done the trick. But he didn't go with any of those women. He waited until you got off work and then followed you. You were the one he wanted. The only one." Abby dropped her face onto her knees, rocking back and forth. “You're crazy. Both of you are crazy. I'm surrounded by crazy people." Joe laughed. “You may be right about that, but I have to tell you, that show Tate put on yesterday was about the finest example of insane jealousy I've ever seen.” He tilted her head up and forced her to look at him. “Abby, he was never jealous of Diane, even when she was sleeping with half the men in town. I admit the boy is a little on the slow side about things like this, but right now he's pretty confused. Give him a chance to work it out for himself before you think about leaving. You won't be sorry, I promise." “How come you know all this stuff?" Joe grinned and tweaked her nose. “I wouldn't want this to get around, but I majored in psychology in college. I've had lots of time to analyze Tate. Don't tell him, but I even used him as a case model for my thesis. Got an ‘A’ on it, too." They were still laughing when the fist connected with Joe's jaw. His head snapped to the side and he flew through the air from the force of the impact, landing flat on his back in the yard.

Tate's voice, tight with rage, came from right beside Abby. “Don't you ever touch my wife again." “Ohmygod.” Abby leaped to her feet and spun. Tate towered over her, his hands still fisted, every muscle in his body tight with tension. All she could do was gape at him in surprise. He hadn't come from around the house, so he must have come in the back door and moved through the house to the front porch. Had he heard everything Joe had told her? From the corner of her eye she saw Joe shake his head, one hand gingerly rubbing his jaw. “Howdy to you too, Hoss. Mind telling me what this is all about?" “You know damn well what it's about, you son of a bitch.” Tate started down the steps, clearly intent on finishing what he'd started. Abby threw herself in front of him, one hand on his chest. “Stop right there! He may know what it's about, but I sure don't. I want an explanation and I want it now!" Tate stopped but his angry gaze never left Joe. “He's in love with you, that's what's wrong." This time both Abby and Joe gaped at him. She turned to look at Joe, careful to stay in front of Tate. “Do you have any idea what he's talking about?" “Not a one.” Joe finally sat up. “Are you denying you told me Friday night you were in love with Abby?” Tate started forward again, but Abby leaned back on him. “Don't you dare move another inch.” She glared at him over her shoulder. “You're damn right I'm denying it.” Joe stared at him. “I said no such thing." “You said you were jealous of me." Joe's face went blank for all of two seconds. “And you thought that meant...” He sputtered to a halt, a choking noise coming from his mouth. Suddenly he fell over on the ground again. “Joe?” Abby took a concerned step forward then stopped in disgust. He was laughing! “Quick, Abby,” he howled. “Get me a pen and paper. I should be able to get my Ph.D. with this one." She threw her hands up in the air. “That's it! I've had it with both of you. Don't either one of you talk to me again until you're ready to act like adults!” She marched up the steps and into the house, slamming the door behind her. **** After ten minutes of pacing furiously up and down the bedroom, Abby was ready to scream with frustration. She plopped back onto the bed, laying spread-eagle, her mind going a hundred miles an hour. In a weird kind of way, everything Joe had told her made sense. Especially since she'd gotten to

know Tate a little better in the last few weeks. After that asinine display outside, she could no longer doubt that he was jealous. The question was why? There were so many “whys” that she got dizzy just thinking about them. Why had Tate chosen her that night? And she knew now that he had, was only surprised that she hadn't realized it before. He'd been waiting for her when she got off work that night, had insisted on taking her home. And because she'd already been in love with him, she'd said yes in spite of her reservations. She hadn't expected him to walk her to the door, but he had. And when she had thanked him for the ride and was about to leave him on the porch, she hadn't expected his words. Abby closed her eyes, remembering. His hand had curved around her nape so gently, his voice soft with yearning. “Let me come in, please. I'm tired of being alone." She hadn't understood then what he'd meant. As far as she knew, he was never alone. But something about the way he'd said it sent shivers of sympathy over her. She knew what it was like to be alone, to need someone to care, even if only for a moment. And she loved him. That's why she'd let him in. Maybe he knew that on some level. Maybe that's why he'd chosen her. Because she cared. But that still didn't explain his jealousy. She might think it was just sexual possessiveness if Joe hadn't told her about Tate's reaction to Diane's infidelity. She scooted up in the bed and leaned against the headboard, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. If he hadn't been jealous of the woman he loved, why on earth would he be jealous of one he didn't? Unless maybe he really hadn't loved Diane. Could that possibly mean he cared about her? If he did, he was doing a fantastic job of hiding it, from her and himself. Was there a chance she could get him to realize it? Assuming it was true, of course. She was so deep in thought she didn't hear the footsteps coming up the stairs, didn't know he was anywhere around until he knocked softly on the door. “Abby? Can I come in?" She eyed the door warily, but stayed silent, watching as the knob started to turn. Finally, he pushed the door all the way open, hesitating on the threshold like he was afraid to come in. Her gaze ran over him, checking for blood or bruises. There weren't any. Just a small smear of dirt on the front of his T-shirt. “Hi. I guess you're still mad at me, aren't you?” His hat was in his hands and he was turning it restlessly. When she still didn't speak he took a step farther into the room. “I planted the rest of the rose bushes for you." Abby tilted her head. “And did you bury Joe under them?” The strangest little tingle of excitement was unfurling inside her. The expression on Tate's face became sheepish. “No. He went home." “Can't say as I blame him. Are you going to explain to me exactly what's going on here?"

He came the rest of the way into the room, closing the door behind him before moving to the side of the bed. “I told you. I thought he was in love with you." “And that's why you slugged him? The only reason?" “Yes." What she was about to say was going to be a risk, but it was one she had to take. She studied him intently. “Does this mean I can expect Clayton Caldwell to show up in the near future to make mincemeat of you?" He stopped pacing and stared at her. “What are you talking about?" She shrugged. “If all it takes to provoke an attack on someone is knowing that person is in love with your wife, then Clayton should be here any time now." “That's different and it has nothing to do with this." “Why is it different, Tate? Could it be because you're jealous? That's what Joe thinks, anyway." “Joe is wrong.” He started pacing again. “I've never been the jealous type." “You hit Joe,” she pointed out. “Damn it, Abby! He was touching you! You're my wife.” His movements were becoming more agitated by the second. “Mine!” He poked himself in the chest. “You're my woman and, if that makes you mad, I'm sorry. But it's the truth and you're just gonna have to learn to live with it. I'm not going to have every man in the county putting his hands on you. Do you understand me?" Abby couldn't stop the smile that curved up the corners of her lips. Could barely contain her laughter. “Yes, Tate. I understand perfectly." He came to a sudden halt at the meek tone of her voice, staring at her suspiciously. “Why are you smiling?" Her smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Because you're jealous." “I am not jealous! I told you, I never get...” His words trailed off and suddenly he sank down on the side of the bed, his face buried in his hands. “Oh, God,” he groaned. “You're right. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Every time Joe so much as looked at you I wanted to kill him. Then when I saw him actually touch you, I just lost control." For now, it was enough, Abby decided. More than enough. Certainly more than she'd ever dared dream about. It was time to stop pushing him. She had his shirt off before he noticed what she was doing. “Abby?” The look he gave her was full of uncertainty. Abby smiled as she ran her hands over the hard muscles of his chest. “Lie down, Tate.” She pushed him backwards gently. This time, she decided, he was going to be the one begging for mercy.

An hour and a half later Tate reached weakly for his jeans. “Where do you think you're going?” Abby held on to him. “To find Joe." “And apologize?" “No. I figure if all this is because of one punch, I can't wait to see happens when I beat the shit out of him." Abby pounced on him, pinning him to the bed while she laughed. “Drop those pants, cowboy. I've got plans for the rest of the day."

Chapter Eighteen Tate leaned back in the leather chair, hands laced behind his head, as he stared at the birth certificate on his desk. One month. Abby's birthday was in one month and she hadn't said a word. He never would have known if he hadn't decided to clean off his desk. Now the only problem was what to do about it. From down the hall he could hear the low sound of Abby humming and he grinned. She'd been doing that a lot for the last three weeks. Ever since the day he'd punched Joe. So what if she was a little off-key? He still loved to listen to her. Whatever he did for her birthday, it would have to be a surprise, he decided. Preferably something that would give them some time alone together. And he needed a present for her. Something really special. Buddy would help him and he could even rope Hank into getting involved. As a matter of fact, he could get started right now and he had the perfect excuse for going to town. He pushed the chair back and went into the kitchen. Abby was at the sink, her hands buried in soapy water. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, exposing the delicate line of her neck. Tate slipped quietly up behind her and put his arms around her waist, noting the new fullness of her body even as his lips trailed over the soft skin. It seemed to be getting harder every day to keep his hands off her. Not that he wanted to and she certainly didn't seem to mind. “Um, you taste good." Abby bent her head to allow him greater access, a smile bringing out the dimples in her cheeks. “I thought you had some paperwork to do." “All finished.” He turned her around to face him. “Now I've got other plans." “Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. Tate grinned at her. “Not those kind of plans, although I might be persuaded later. Right now we're going to town." “Town?” She looked startled. “Why? We got groceries two days ago. We don't need anything else yet."

“Yes we do.” His hand moved to her abdomen. “It suddenly occurred to me that there are some things you need, things like a new wardrobe. You can't go around for the next five months with your pants undone." Her eyes widened. “Oh, but I can make any clothes I need. Really. There's no reason to buy anything." “Abby.” He put a finger under her chin and lifted. “I know you could make them. But this is my first baby, too. I want to be a part of all of it. So, make me happy and let me do this for you." “Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?” Her smile lit up the whole room. “Just let me finish the dishes and I'll be ready." “Forget the dishes. We're going now." “But Tate--" “No buts. Come on." **** “Well, I was wondering when you two were going to make it in. I'd just about given up hope." Tate grinned at the elderly lady behind the counter. “How are you, Mrs. Simpson?" “Can't complain, Tate. My health is fine and business is good. ‘Course, being the only maternity shop in town doesn't hurt.” She laughed. “Now, are you gonna introduce me to your wife?" “Mrs. Simpson, this is Abby. I want you to fix her up with everything she could possibly need and don't take no for an answer." Abby shot him a stricken gaze and he grinned at her as Mrs. Simpson answered. “Don't you worry a bit, Abby. Just leave everything to me and we'll have you all set in no time at all. When's the baby due?" “December sixteenth." “Hmm. That means you'll need summer and winter outfits both.” She waved a hand at Tate. “You might as well get on out of here, Tate. This could take a spell." “Yes, ma'am." Before he could leave, Abby grabbed his hand desperately. “Tate, I don't know what to do! I've never done anything like this before." “Just relax and enjoy it, sweetheart. It's going to be fine. Mrs. Simpson's been doing this forever. You can trust her." “Where are you going?"

Tate ran a finger down her cheek. “I've got some errands I need to run. I'll meet you at the cafe when you're all finished. Okay?” He smiled at her and she gave him a tentative smile back. “Okay." He waited until Mrs. Simpson started dragging clothes off the rack, then slipped out of the store. By the time he'd finished all his chores, an hour and a half had passed. Abby must be getting close to being done if she wasn't already. Pushing open the door of the cafe, he let his gaze sweep the room, then let out a sigh. Good. He'd been afraid she would panic if he weren't waiting on her. He took a booth on the outside wall, putting the bag he carried on the table. “Hi, Tate. What can I get you?” A glass of water was plunked down in front of him. “Just coffee for now, Deb. I'm waiting on someone." “One coffee coming up.” The waitress stuck her order pad back in her pocket and headed toward the counter, murmuring a vague “excuse me” to someone who had just come in. He'd barely taken a sip of water when he suddenly knew. The scent of her perfume filled the air, floating ahead of her, exotic and mysterious. His whole body tensed, his stomach clenching into a hard knot that sat in his middle like a lump of lead. He'd know that fragrance anywhere. Diane. She slid into the booth across from him, her blonde hair swinging as she studied him. “Aren't you going to say anything?" Tate set the glass carefully back on the table. “What is there to say?" “How about hello? Or maybe that you've missed me as much as I have you." “Or congratulations? I heard you got married.” Tate fought to keep his voice even. “Yes, I did. Does that upset you?" He was saved from answering by the return of the waitress with his coffee. As soon as she was gone, he looked at the woman across the table. “What do you want, Diane?" “Don't you know that by now? I want you, Tate. I always have." She reached across the table for his hand, but he moved it out of the way. “You've got a husband. You don't need me." “You're wrong, Tate. I do need you. Clayton isn't half the man you are. He never will be." “That's not the way I remember it from our last conversation.” The memory of that meeting still had the capacity to fill him with guilty pain. Tears welled up in her green eyes. “You know I didn't mean that. Not any of it. I love you, Tate, and you hurt me so badly. That's why I said those things. I almost went out of my mind after you

left." “Looks to me like you went right straight to Clayton's bed." Diane looked down at the table, one long, red nail making tiny circles on the scarred surface. “I didn't want to marry him, you know. But you didn't leave me any choice.” She looked up at him through her lashes, a move he'd seen thousands of times before, one she probably practiced in front of a mirror. “I tried to call you. I needed to talk to you so much. But your brother wouldn't let me speak to you.” She paused for effect. “Neither would your wife." Tate went still. “You talked to Abby?" Diane shrugged. “She hung up on me." “I don't believe you." “Believe what you want to, Tate. But maybe if I'd talked to you, I wouldn't have gotten married. Clayton's changed.” She hesitated. “He scares me now. Really scares me. He spends most evenings drinking and he stays mad all the time. I don't know what to do. I'm afraid he's going to hurt me. Look.” She pushed the sleeve of her blouse up just enough to give him a glimpse of the purpling bruise on her arm. “He did this." Anxiety stabbed through him, but he didn't dare show it, couldn't let her know she'd found the chink in his defenses. “Leave him. Just get out." She leaned over the table, this time capturing his hand in spite of his efforts to avoid her touch. “Oh, Tate, please leave with me. We can both get a divorce and then we'll be together. We'll go somewhere far away and start all over. You know you want to.” She leaned back slightly. “You still have my ring, don't you? And we both know why. All you have to do is admit it." “I won't do that and you know it, Diane. What I want doesn't matter. My responsibility is to my child. My child and my wife. I can't help you anymore." Her attention was diverted by the bag on the table, the edge of a small knit blanket sticking out. When she reached for it, Tate pulled his hand from hers and picked up the bag, dropping it onto the seat beside him. Diane's eyes met his. “That could be for our baby, Tate,” she said softly. “Yours and mine.” Suddenly her gaze shifted over his shoulder and a tiny smile played across her full lips. **** Abby was practically in shock. For almost two hours, Mrs. Simpson had her trying on clothes, stacking outfit after outfit by the cash register. This was the last one, she promised. No matter what Mrs. Simpson said. She stepped out of the dressing room for what she'd started to think of as “the inspection,” and found the elderly lady waiting in the same spot she had been in each time before. Slowly she walked around Abby, her gaze taking in every detail of the dress. Finally she smiled. “I think that should just about do it. That shade of blue is certainly your color, dear. It sets that black hair off to a tee. And the style is perfect for your figure. Why don't you wear that one out and surprise your good-looking husband. I'll just have my grandson take the rest of it to Tate's truck

for you." “Thank you.” Abby breathed a sigh of relief. She's been afraid it was going to take her three trips to carry it all. “How much do I owe you?" “Don't you worry about it,” Mrs. Simpson waved her away. “I'll just send the bill out to the ranch." She hesitated. “Are you sure?" “Of course I'm sure. Why, Tate's mama bought her maternity clothes from me with both those boys. I'd trust a McCullom for a lot more than what you've got here." Abby smiled at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Simpson. I appreciate your help." “If you need anything else, dear, you just give me a call. I've got your size on file now." As soon as she pushed the door open, the early June heat slammed into her. Thank heavens the dress was light-weight cotton. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a store window and stopped. Mrs. Simpson had been right. The dress seemed to have been made just for her. And the way it was designed, it didn't even look like a maternity dress. It just looked ... sexy, Abby decided with a smile. The irony was, it was made on almost the same line as her green dress. But this one was new and it was all hers. She couldn't wait to show Tate. Starting toward the cafe three blocks away, Abby was amazed at how different the town seemed to her now. People she barely recognized spoke to her as they went by, most of them with a smile. Had she changed, or had they? Maybe a little of both, she mused. Now that she'd married Tate they probably considered her “respectable.” But she couldn't put the blame for the way they'd treated her before entirely on these people. After all, she'd done very little to encourage any friendships. She'd been so embarrassed and ashamed of the way she lived, what her mother was, that she wouldn't even look up when she'd had to go out in public. Well, those days were over. She was Abby McCullom now and, no matter what happened, she could never go back to being the old Abby. No more scared little mouse. The new Abby had a backbone. She had a family. She had... Abby sucked in a deep breath of air as she pushed open the cafe door, and came to a sudden halt. Tate was already there, sitting with his back to her, and he wasn't alone. Someone jostled her as they went by and she saw Diane's gaze focus on her. A smug smile played at the edges of the woman's lips. Anger hit Abby like a runaway freight train. Tate was her husband now. Her back straightened and her chin went up, every movement a declaration of war. Forcing a smile, she walked to the table and slid onto the seat next to Tate. Putting a hand on his arm, she leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. “Hi. Sorry I'm late. Have you been waiting long?" He was looking at her like he'd never seen her before. Slowly he shook his head. “Only a few minutes." Abby glanced across the table. Diane was watching her like a hawk ready to pounce. “I don't

believe we've ever been introduced. I'm Abby. Abby McCullom." Diane's smile was sickeningly sweet. “Yes, I know who you are. Tate and I were right in the middle of a private conversation. I'm sure you wouldn't mind excusing us for a few minutes would you?" “Actually, I would,” Abby said, careful to keep her tone conversational. “It's been a long day. I plan on spending the rest of it with my husband. I'm sure you understand how that is now that you're married. How is Mr. Caldwell, by the way?" Diane's smile faded, her eyes glinting with ice. Ignoring Abby, she grabbed her purse and slid off the seat. At the end of the table she paused, her gaze fixed on Tate. “Call me. Please? We need to finish this conversation. In private,” she added, shooting Abby a glare. “The conversation is over." “Tate, you have to listen to me." His eyes met Abby's before he answered. “No,” he said softly. “I don't have to listen to you. Go tell Clayton, Diane." Abby was barely aware that Diane had gone. She couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from Tate's. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I wanted this to be a special day for you. If I'd known she was going to come in, I never would have suggested meeting here. I didn't ask her to sit down, Abby. I swear. I'll never leave you and the baby." Abby studied him intently. She didn't even have to ask what he and Diane had talked about. He'd just told her. “I know you won't.” She smiled ruefully. “You are too responsible to do something like that, aren't you?” She cupped his cheek with her hand. “Are you upset because I barged in on your conversation?" He turned his head just enough to kiss the palm of her hand. “You had every right to do what you did. You're my wife." It was so hard not to tell him she loved him. The words trembled on her lips with every breath she took. But she couldn't. Not yet. Not until Tate was ready to admit to himself that he didn't love Diane. Why was it so hard for him to see when it became clearer to her every day? But until he was finally ready to let go of Diane completely, Abby's feelings had to take a backseat. “You know something?” Tate put an arm across the back of the seat, his hand caressing her shoulder. “What?” She smiled at him. “You get more beautiful each time I look at you." “You say that now,” she teased, “but wait until you get the bill for these new clothes."

“Whatever they cost isn't enough. But that reminds me.” He reached down onto the seat next to him and retrieved a bag. “I saw this in the window of the department store. See what you think." Abby reached into the bag and pulled out a baby blanket. The yarn was downy soft, the colors in shades of pale green and yellow, mixed with white. Tears filled her eyes as she brushed it against her cheek. “It's wonderful, Tate. Do you know, this is the first thing our baby's gotten?" “Then you like it? I was afraid you might want to pick everything out yourself, but at least with these colors it won't matter if it's a boy or a girl." “I love it. And I'm glad the baby's first gift came from you." The waitress stopped at their table again. “You folks ready to order now?" “Yes,” Tate said, his gaze still holding Abby's. “I want at least four kids. Doesn't matter what flavor." His voice sounded normal, but Abby didn't miss the trace of desperation in his eyes. Was that other Tate, the one who'd sought her out and gotten her pregnant, now afraid he might be losing the battle? Was his comment a last-ditch effort to hang on to her? Debby propped her hands on her hips. “Sorry, shug, but we're fresh out. Will hamburgers and fries work?" “For now, Deb." “On their way.” She left again. Abby felt like her heart was breaking. “Did you really mean that?" Tate picked up her hand and kissed it. “Would you mind?" “No,” she whispered, fighting the words she really wanted to say. “I don't mind at all. Four sounds like a nice round number." Where was Joe when she needed him? She certainly could have used a few words of wisdom right now. How did you wage a battle for a man's spirit when the man himself wasn't sure he wanted you to win? She watched Tate from the corner of her eye. His face still looked strained and worried. Oh, Tate, she thought. Will you be able to see what you're doing to yourself, to us, before it's too late? At that moment she could have hated Tate's father, in spite of Joe's avowal that he was a good man. If not for his teachings, Tate wouldn't be suffering such agonies now. And he was suffering. His perceived responsibilities to both her and Diane were tearing him in half. Abby stared at the food the waitress slid in front of her and gave a tiny sigh. She'd always been a pretty good seamstress. Maybe with a little luck and a lot of hard work she could mend each rip to Tate's soul before the damage became permanent.

Chapter Nineteen

Tate wiped a forearm across his sweat-covered brow and leaned on the window sill, careful not to let the paint roller touch the frame. He and Buddy had spent most of the morning moving things from the sewing room into the attic and he'd been painting ever since. The walls were done now, the soft eggshell white gleaming in the late afternoon sun that poured into the room. It was going to make a wonderful nursery for the baby. A burst of laughter caught his attention and he looked down into the backyard. The laughter was what had drawn him to the window in the first place. Abby's laughter. For some reason she had decided to give Dog a bath. Dog, apparently, had other ideas on the subject. At the moment, he sat in the tin tub she'd filled with water, a disgusted look on his shaggy face. A pile of bubbles adorned the end of his nose. Abby had managed to get him soaped down by holding him with one hand. Now she made the mistake of letting go while she reached for the hose. Dog was out of the tub like a bullet, slinging water all over the yard. Abby let out a little cry, then threw both arms over her face as Dog paused long enough to shake. The tremor started at his nose and traveled all the way to the tip of his tail, covering Abby with soapy water in the process. Then he was off again, running across the yard like a race horse. When he reached the far side, he made a U-turn and headed back, his tongue hanging out as he circled Abby at a safe distance, still at top speed. Stupid dog thought she was playing with him. Maybe she was, Tate mused, watching as she leaned over and tried to coax the animal closer. Her voice drifted through the window. “Come on, Dog. That's a good boy. Just a little bit more. You're gonna look so pretty,” she crooned. “And smell good, too." Dog stopped just out of reach, his front half stretched out on the ground, his rear up in the air. His tail was going ninety miles an hour as he issued an excited bark. “Now, you just stay right there.” Abby edged a step closer, her hand extended. “You're such a good dog.” She lunged, but Dog saw her coming and dodged out of the way. Abby wound up face-down in a puddle of water. A tickle of anxiety ran through Tate, then eased as he realized she was laughing again. Dog decided this was a new aspect to the game and pounced on her, doing his best to lick her face. Giggling uncontrollably, she turned her head to one side, both fists buried in the dog's coat as she held him off. “I've got you now, you rascal. And this time, I'm not letting go." Tate sucked in a deep breath as she reached for the hose again. The thin, white cotton blouse she had on was soaked. It clung to her like a second skin, exposing her breasts to the point where he could see the darkened nipples pushing against the fabric. He shifted uncomfortably, his sudden erection pushing painfully against his zipper. His mouth literally watered at his need to taste those dark mounds. They had only made love once since the day Diane had shown up at the cafe and that had been a week ago. Abby had been the one who instigated that one time, he now realized. What was wrong with him? For almost three weeks after he found out Diane had gotten married,

she'd never once crossed his mind. Now she appeared to have taken up permanent residence. He constantly saw her face as she told him she was afraid of Clayton. The man wasn't stupid. He wouldn't really hurt her, would he? Clayton might be slick, but he'd never struck Tate as the violent type. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He had to stop this, had to get Diane out of his mind. Maybe he should call her. Just to make sure she was okay. Then he could stop thinking about it all the time. Another burst of laughter from the back yard distracted him. Abby was trying to rinse the soap from Dog, and every other second the animal was doing his shimmy routine to shake the moisture off. A faint smile curved Tate's lips at their antics. It did look like they were having fun. He glanced at the paint roller in his hand. Maybe he should wash it out before the paint dried. He could always call Diane later if he decided to do it. Abby looked up as he stepped out onto the back porch, her dimples prominent as she grinned at him. “All finished?" “For now. Still have to put up the border after the paint dries." “Looks like you got more paint on yourself than you did the walls. That should probably be washed off before it sets." Her words should have warned him, but the spray of icy water that hit his chest had him gasping in surprise. Damn, it was cold! Abby was bent double laughing when he started toward her, but she straightened in a hurry at the intent look on his face. “Now, Tate. It was just a joke." “One I plan on getting even for." “Oh yeah?” She put her hands on her hips, her tone belligerent. “How do you plan on doing that when I've got the hose?" “Like this.” He lunged at her just as she turned the water on him again. He ignored the spray, grabbing her around the waist and hanging on for dear life. She squealed and tried to twist away from him, but his grip was too tight. With one quick movement, he ran the paint roller down her face. Abby's mouth dropped open, paint and water dripping from her eyelashes when she blinked. “I don't believe you did that." It was Tate's turn to collapse in laughter at the expression on her face. “I'm gonna get you for that, McCullom." He barely had time to catch her as she tackled him. They went over backwards, landing with a

squishy splat in the mud created from Dog's bath. Tate's laughter ebbed as Abby's weight pressed into him, then died completely as her mouth touched his. His reaction was instantaneous. With his hands fisted in her hair, he lifted his head off the ground, kissing her ravenously, savagely hungry for the taste of her. A desperate groan escaped his throat. “Abby, I need you. I need you now. I can't wait." Frantic for the feel of her bare skin, he stripped her clothes off, barely getting his own pants undone before he lifted her, held her, then plunged into her welcoming depths. That was all it took. Tate's head went back, his eyes squeezed shut, teeth tightly clenched as his body arched and flew into a million pieces. Trembling in reaction, his tightened muscles went limp, his hands still moving over Abby's bare back. Suddenly she started shaking, and Tate opened his eyes in concern. She was laughing! A smile turned up the corners of his lips. “What's so funny?" “Tate,” she sputtered. “We're in a mud hole!" His grin widened. “You know, it's always been one of my fantasies to make love in the mud.” He looked at her speculatively. “There's only one thing wrong." “What's that?" “In my fantasies, I was always on top.” He twisted rapidly, pinning her arms above her head, and began to move slowly inside her. “Much better,” he whispered against her lips. “Do you know how much I love to hear you scream when you climax? To know I'm the one who makes you feel that way? It's the sweetest sound I've ever heard.” His movements increased as her eyes closed and a soft whimper sounded deep in her throat. “Tate,” she moaned. “That feels so good." “No,” he murmured. “It's better than good. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.” His tongue flicked a nipple as he drove into her. “Scream for me, Abby. I need to hear you scream." She complied. With her body convulsing around him and the music of her climax in his ears, Tate let his own control slip a second time. With her name on his lips, he followed her into oblivion. **** Abby leaned back against Tate as his arms circled her, his hands sliding up under her blouse to her breasts. “If you don't stop that, I'm never going to get supper ready." “Some things are just more important than food.” He continued to caress her. “You know, I think they're getting bigger." Abby grinned. “I sure hope so. I get tired of people thinking I'm a boy." His lips trailed down her neck. “Oh, believe me. There's nothing about you that even faintly resembles a boy.” He lifted his head. “Wonder if Buddy would think it was strange if I kept a mud hole handy in the back yard?"

She looked at him wryly. “I don't know about Buddy, but even after a shower, I'm still picking dirt out of places I don't want to think about." Tate laughed and let go of her. “I'll help you find it all later." Buddy clattered down the stairs and stopped in the kitchen door. “Don't fix any supper for me, Abby." Tate arched an eyebrow. “You going out again?" “You don't have to sound so hopeful, Tate. I've only been home thirty minutes.” The teenager grinned at him. “Where are you going?” Tate turned a chair around and straddled it, propping his arms across the back. Abby's gaze ran up his long legs to his narrow hips, then on up to his broad shoulders. The position he was in had his clothes pulled tight enough to expose every muscle. Lord, but the man was built. All she had to do was look at him and heat washed through her, no matter how often they made love. “I've got a date.” Buddy cleared his throat. “I don't suppose I could talk you into extending curfew a little, could I?" “So you can go to the Point and park?" “Aw, geesh, Tate. Come on.” His face was tinted bright red. “One hour. Not a minute longer." “Thanks, Tate!" As soon as the teenager left, Abby grinned at Tate. “You did that on purpose." He leered at her. “Damn right I did. One more hour alone. You know what I can accomplish in an hour?" “I can't wait to find out." **** He could accomplish a lot, Abby discovered. Repeatedly and in quite a few rooms. His imagination knew no bounds. She was still turning red thinking about what he'd done to her in the kitchen. And on the counter, no less. She'd never look at that countertop the same again. At the moment, they were stretched out side by side on the couch, bodies comfortingly pressed together. She felt so safe with his arms around her. Unwilling to break the quiet, Abby curled a strand of his hair around her finger, admiring the shiny black luster as much as the sensual feel of it. “Buddy will be home soon."

“I know,” she murmured. “We should probably get up." “Uh-huh." “I hate to move." Abby sighed. “So do I, but I guess we'd better.” She rolled away from him and stood, pausing a moment to survey his nude body. Suddenly she smiled and leaned down to poke one finger into his thigh. “I was right." Tate was looking at her in puzzlement. “About what?" “You know the first day I was here and we went to get my things? During the whole trip I kept wondering if your thighs were as hard as they looked." He laughed. “I can top that one. Do you remember my reaction when I saw your sheets?" Abby felt heat creep up her cheeks. “Yes. It upset you." “Upset me, hell. I had to run to keep from dragging you into that bed.” He drew a finger slowly down her stomach. “I wanted you so much it was about to kill me." “You were certainly doing a good job of hiding it." His grin turned wicked. “Why do you think I grabbed that box of clothes so fast? I needed it to conceal the evidence." “So why did you wait as long as you did?” Abby's curiosity rose to the surface. Tate shrugged. “We were practically strangers then. I had no idea how you'd react. Did you want me to try?" She thought about it for a minute. “I don't think it even occurred to me you might want to. And if it had, I never would have believed it." She leaned down and picked her clothes up just as the phone rang. Frowning, she glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. “I'll get it." Tate's gaze followed her, moving over every inch of her as she walked, stirring up feelings she would have sworn he'd exhausted this evening. “Hello?" Dead silence answered her from the end of the line. “Hello?” There was a loud click, then the buzz of a dial tone. She put the phone back in its cradle, still frowning.

“Who was it?" “I don't know. Just another hang-up.” She reached for the rest of the clothes. “Another? Have there been a lot of them?” A deaf man could have heard the sudden tension in his voice. “One or two a week." “Maybe you should let me answer the phone for a while." Anger blind-sided her. She spun, grabbed the phone and slammed it down on his chest, cord trailing across the room. “I can do better than that, Tate. Why don't you just call her back? That's what you want to do, isn't it?" “Abby--" Whatever he had to say, she didn't want to hear it. She flew up the stairs into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her with every ounce of strength in her body. **** Tate rubbed his eyes with one hand. Was he so transparent that Abby knew what he was thinking even before he did? He lowered his hand and stared at the phone. There was no doubt in his mind that Diane was the one who'd been calling. The problem was, what was he going to do about it? He returned the phone to its stand, then pulled on his jeans, his feet instinctively steering him outside as soon as he was dressed. The heavy scent of the honeysuckle his mother had planted years ago drenched the warm summer air with perfume as he pushed open the gate to the cemetery. When it squeaked, he frowned. He never had gotten around to oiling it and that wasn't like him. He'd do it first thing in the morning, he decided. The moon was out, big and full, without a cloud in the sky to obscure its beams. Lightening bugs drifted among the headstones, blinking gracefully out of his way as he moved by them. For a while, he stood silent beside his father's grave, one hand caressing the granite marker. “I wish you were here tonight, Daddy.” His voice was as quiet as the night around him. “I don't know what's happening to me anymore. I'm trying to be the man you taught me to be, I really am. It used to be so easy. All I had to do was live up to my responsibilities and everything was fine." Tate ran one hand through his hair wearily. “Why didn't you ever tell me how hard it could be, Daddy? I'm worried about Diane. She never would have married Clayton if it weren't for me. If anything happens to her it will be my fault.” He turned in agitation and stared across the moonlit land. “If I saw a man beating a horse, I'd have to stop him, wouldn't I? How can I stand by and let the same thing happen to Diane? But things have changed with Abby since the last time I was here. She's not a stranger anymore, Daddy, she's my wife. She's carrying my baby." A low, desperate laugh bubbled in the back of his throat. “God help me, I can't keep my hands off of her. I've never known anyone like Abby before. She's like an addiction that I can't shake and I

don't even want to try." He looked back down at the grave. “If I try to help Diane it's going to hurt Abby and, God knows, she's been hurt enough in her life. She deserves better than that from me, and has a right to expect it. But I can't take the chance that Clayton might hurt Diane either." The anger that had been building inside him suddenly exploded. “So tell me what to do, Daddy. You were the one with all the answers. What the hell do I do now?” A pair of whippoorwills erupted into the air at the harsh tone of his raised voice, the whir of their wings fading into the distance as silence settled over the cemetery again. **** Tate slipped through the dark house and up the stairs, pausing for an instant outside the bedroom door. He'd never really seen Abby mad before, and wasn't sure if he'd be welcome or not. Steeling his nerves, he stepped inside. As usual, Abby had the windows open, but there was little breeze to stir them. He could just make out the small, sheet-covered lump in the bed. She didn't move, didn't acknowledge his presence, and yet he knew somehow that she wasn't asleep. Gingerly, he sat on the side of the bed, turned so he could see her. “Abby?” His voice was soft and sounded as uncertain as he was feeling. It took him completely by surprise when she moved, throwing herself into his arms. “Oh, Tate, I'm sorry,” she whispered into his neck. “I shouldn't have gotten mad. It's not your fault if she calls here, and you have every right to talk to her if she does. It just scares me because I know how much you gave up to marry me when you didn't have to." He ran his hands over the smooth bare skin of her back, marveling at the feel of her body pressed so tightly to his. “Abby, sweetheart,” he crooned, rocking her. “You don't have to be scared. Look how much I gained when we got married. I got you and our baby. Not to mention the best cook and housekeeper in the state of Texas.” His laugh was husky, his body already reacting to her touch, her scent. God, how he wanted her. Never, in the whole time he'd known her, had Diane ever had this effect on him. He had to force himself to concentrate just to tell Abby what he needed her to know. He slid his hands down, letting them rest on the gentle curve of her hips. “Maybe you were right to get mad, Abby. I knew when we got married that it was over with Diane. I still do. But what matters is that you know it, too. You have to trust me, sweetheart. I won't ever leave you and our baby." She leaned back and cupped her hands around his face, her thumbs tracing his cheekbones, his lips and his chin. “I do trust you, Tate. I know you won't leave us. You couldn't, even if you wanted to." “What do you mean?” He frowned at her words. There was something in them that bothered him, but he couldn't quite pin it down. “Nothing.” She'd moved her hands down, through the unbuttoned shirt to his chest. When her head lifted, he saw the glint of moonlight in her moisture-filled eyes. “Love me, Tate,” she whispered. “I need you to hold me and never let go."

Chapter Twenty “Dandy?” Tate arched an eyebrow at her. “Yes.” Abby was still watching the colt as he danced around Sugar Baby, playing peek-a-boo with her and Tate, his curiosity at war with his shyness. The mare continued to graze but kept a watchful eye on her offspring. “The first time Joe saw him he said, ‘now that one is going to be a real dandy.'” She smiled. “I think it's a perfect name for him." He was studying the colt again. “It does seem to suit him. Okay, Dandy it is. First one born, last one named." The pasture was full of mares with their new colts and Abby had been given the honor of naming them all. She'd taken the job seriously, taking days to choose just the right name for each foal. Dog raced ahead of them as they turned toward the creek. “Are you sure you don't want to take your fishing gear?” Abby glanced at Tate. He had one hand at her waist in a protective gesture as they walked. After their fight last night, if it could even be called a fight, she didn't want to compound the problem by keeping him from his usual Sunday activity. Once again it occurred to her that she'd never seen Tate mad. He never raised his voice, even when he was arguing with Buddy over homework. The closest he'd come in her presence was the day he hit Joe. He must have been mad that day, but his voice had never wavered from its normal volume. If anything, it had gotten lower. “I'm sure.” He pointed a little to the left of the usual path. “Let's go this way. There's a spot I want to show you." “Your fishing spot?" “No. I don't come here much anymore. Not to this particular place." His voice was pensive, almost sad. But then, they'd both been in a strange mood since last night. Tate was quieter than normal and there was no teasing, no laughter. Every time he came close to her, he touched her, couldn't seem to stop. Nothing major, just the brush of his fingers on her arm or his hand running over her hair. If she weren't so hypersensitive to his attitude, she might not have noticed it. “This is it.” He pushed through the trees, holding the branches out of the way for her. Abby stopped and gazed around her in awe. To their right, the fast moving creek narrowed into a series of small waterfalls that spilled into a wide, deep pool. Past the point where the falls emptied, the water was still, its surface unruffled, and so clear the rays of sunlight reached all the way to the bottom. The banks were grassy with large boulders scattered here and there like granite seats offered up for an unknown audience. The branches of ancient willow trees skimmed the water, creating a shelter from the hot sun beneath their leafy cover. At the edge of what must have been the deepest part of the pool were the rotting remains of a small dock, its boards half torn away. “Tate, it's beautiful."

He nodded. “I learned how to swim here before I was five. My great-grandfather planted those willows.” Shunning the boulders, he lowered himself to the grass then tugged her hand until she was sitting with him. He put his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest, his chin resting on top of her head. “My grandfather used to bring me here. At the time, I thought there couldn't be a more wonderful place anywhere than this one. Or a man any more wonderful than my grandfather. He's the one who taught me to swim and he built that dock just for me, so I could jump off of it, into the water." He was silent for so long that Abby thought he wasn't going to continue. When he did, his voice had softened and she had the impression he had forgotten she was there. “He loved to fish. Almost as much as he loved me. He'd bring me with him and let me swim and play in the pool while he fished. He never caught anything those times but it didn't matter to him. Grandpa was the type of person who loved to laugh. Life was just one big box of candy to him, one he dove into it with both hands. Nothing was serious enough to make him worry." “He sounds like the perfect grandfather. You must have loved him a lot." “I did. My father used to tell me I was just like him." “Are you?” A stray breeze off the water ruffled her hair and she pushed it back away from her face. “No.” His tone was clipped and she felt the sudden tightening of his muscles. “I'm not like him. I'm nothing like him." She tilted her head up to better see his face. His crystal eyes had gone hard and cold, focused on something only he could see. His jaw clenched and released erratically. “Tate?” She ran her hand down his arm in a soothing motion. “What happened?" He took a deep shaky breath. “One day I was out in the barn, hiding in the hayloft so Mom wouldn't make me go visiting with her. Grandpa and my dad came in and they were fighting. They didn't know I was there. My father blamed my grandfather for not having enough backbone to take care of his family. He said that because of my grandfather, they'd almost lost the ranch. He even blamed him because my grandmother died so young. Dad said the work and worry killed her. It was a bitter argument and, to this day, I remember every word." “You shouldn't have had to hear that, Tate.” She kept her tone quiet. “What did your grandfather do?" “Nothing. He stood there and listened, then he got his fishing gear and left. It was the last time I saw him. That night he had a stroke. He died two days later in the hospital." Tate looked down at her, his gaze softening. “I've never told anyone about that before. Not even Buddy. I haven't even thought about it in years. I don't know why I did now." “I'm glad you told me.” It explained so much, about Tate and his father both. Why his father was obsessed with responsibility and why Tate was determined to live up to his father's ideals. “But maybe there were circumstances you didn't know about. There are two sides to every story, Tate. You never got a chance to hear your grandfather's."

He shook his head. “It wouldn't have mattered, Abby. Everyone has choices. Sometimes we may not like them, but we still have them. My grandfather chose to ignore his responsibilities and have fun. He didn't care what it did to his family. I'm not like him. I couldn't be like him.” His voice was fierce, determined. “No, you couldn't.” She smiled at him and put her hand on the back of his head, her fingers sliding into his hair as she held his gaze. “You take care of this ranch and Buddy and both of them are thriving. And now you're taking care of me and the baby. You do everything you're supposed to do, Tate." He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. “It scares me sometimes, Abby. I'm afraid my father was right, that I am like my grandfather. Sometimes I want to forget about all the responsibility and do things just for me. Do it because I want it, not because it's what I need to do." Sadness washed over her, along with a feeling of resignation. He was thinking about Diane, of course. If he hadn't felt like he had a responsibility to her and the baby, he could have been with the woman he really wanted right now. “There's nothing wrong with that,” she murmured. “It's a normal human reaction.” She paused thoughtfully. “Like you said, we all have choices. Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do because it's the right choice. But occasionally we have to put ourselves first." And how long would it be before he did just that? Sooner or later he was going to realize that he couldn't be happy without Diane. When he did, she had to be ready to face it and get on with her life. The corners of his lips tilted up slightly. “I don't think I know how." “Sure you do.” She forced a smile and repeated the words he'd once said to her. “For instance, if you could do anything you wanted to right now, what would it be? Other than clean the bathroom, of course." He threw back his head and laughed, the sound startling several birds into the air. By the time he looked back down, his expression had lightened. “If I could do anything I wanted to, I'd strip you very slowly, one piece of clothing at a time. Then I'd carry you into the water and we'd swim and make love all day long." Abby held out her arms. “What are you waiting for?" **** The whine came from the back door again and Abby smiled. “Okay, okay. I'm coming.” She pushed the screen open and Dog slipped inside, his tail fanning her legs. She'd been letting him in for longer periods of time since the day she'd given him a bath. Neither Tate nor Buddy appeared to mind and the animal kept her company during the day when the two were out working. “Who are you talking to?" She glanced around as Tate walked into the kitchen. His mood had improved a hundred percent since last Sunday. Hers was still pretty much up in the air. She couldn't stop thinking about what

he'd said about choices, how there always was one, even if you didn't like the options. “Dog. He wanted in." “He wanted in because he knows you're cleaning up the supper dishes. He thinks he's going to get a handout.” He smiled at her. “I suspect he's right." Abby paused in the act of reaching for the leftovers. “You caught me. I admit it. I've been feeding him. But he just looks so hungry all the time." “I've never seen a dog that didn't. I bet he's gained ten pounds since you've been here." She shrugged and dumped the food into Dog's bowl. “He was too skinny anyway." “Only because he ran it all off chasing rabbits and armadillos.” He opened the fridge and took out a can of soda. “What were you doing upstairs a few minutes ago? It sounded like you were moving furniture." Popping the top on the can, he delayed answering long enough to take a drink, then nodded. “You could say that. When Buddy outgrew the baby bed, Dad stuck it up in the attic. I brought it back down to see what kind of shape it was in." “And?” She dried the last dish and put it in the cabinet. “I haven't got it completely put together yet, but it looks pretty good. May need a new mattress. You can see what you think." “Think about what?” Buddy let the back door slam behind him. “Your baby bed.” Abby smiled at him. “Tate got it down from the attic." “Yeah? I didn't even know we still had it." “Complete with your teeth prints on one side,” Tate commented. He grinned at Abby. “Even back then he tried to eat everything in sight." Buddy rolled his eyes. “Man, make one mistake around here and they never let you forget it. To hear him talk, I'm the only one who ever did anything stupid. Did he tell you about the scar on his butt?" Abby's glance met Tate's and they both smiled. She had become well acquainted with that scar, could probably even draw it to scale. “Joe told me about it." “Dang. How about the time--" “How's Domino?” Tate intervened hurriedly. Of all the foals born on the ranch this spring, Domino, a tiny appaloosa filly, was Abby's favorite. But the feisty little horse had a deep fascination for the barbed wired fence. Twice now they'd had to treat cuts received in her explorations.

“She's fine, but we should probably move her and her mother to one of the board-fenced pastures before she really hurts herself. Anyway, like I was saying,” Buddy continued. “One of Dad's favorite stories was about the time Tate thought he'd found a new kitten. Lugged it all the way home from the creek. He was starting into the house with it when Mom saw him and screamed. Turned out that black and white kitten was a skunk. When Mom screamed, she scared it. Dad said by the time he got there all three of them were running in different directions." “Oh, yeah. Laugh.” Tate glared as Abby convulsed. “Do you have any idea how long it takes for that smell to wear off? Mom wouldn't even let me in the house for two days and she scrubbed me down in every concoction her and the neighbors had ever heard about. It was a miracle I had any skin left." “I bet you never brought any more kittens home.” Abby wiped the laugh tears from her eyes. The smile he gave her was wry. “I wouldn't say that. I've always had this thing for kittens.” He finished the soda and tossed the empty can in the trash. “Ready to go look at the bed?" “Sure." “Hey,” Buddy halted them. “Fourth of July celebration is next week. We going?" “We usually do.” Tate looked at her. “It's up to you. Everyone from around here generally puts their food together and we have one big picnic." “It sounds like fun. Before, I always just watched the fireworks from my porch." He gave her a quick kiss. “This time, we can watch them together." “Yep, you and about two thousand other people. Should be nice and cozy." Tate glanced at his brother. “Can I assume you and Amy Fletcher are going to be cozied up on your own blanket about that time?" “Yeah.” Buddy's tone was disgusted. “Me, her and her parents. Real romantic. If I even try to hold her hand, Mr. Fletcher glares at me for an hour." “Probably with good reason.” Tate grinned at him, then steered Abby through the door. “Remember, he was sixteen once upon a time, too. He knows exactly what you're thinking." Abby laughed as Buddy's low-voiced “damn” followed them. “That was mean. Now he's going to be a nervous wreck every time he's around the man." “Good. He deserves it for telling that skunk story.” He pushed the nursery door open and stood back to let her go in first. Tate had been right. The room was turning into a wonderful nursery. The large windows let in lots of light and the new paint glowed with the colors of the sunset. The border he'd put around the top of the walls depicted the alphabet, each letter a different pastel shade. Among the letters, tiny animals played with blocks, balls and other toys. An old wooden rocking chair already sat in one corner. Tate had painted it the same shade as the walls and Abby had made tie-on cushions for it that matched the border. The only other item of furniture in the room was the crib Tate had just brought down. The headboard and footboard were

both solid wood, the top of each making a gentle curve. Only the sides were railed. “What do you think?" “I think it's perfect.” Abby ran a hand over the wood. “And dusty." “Well, it's going to need a couple coats of paint anyway. And maybe we could stencil some kind of design on the headboard." “That's a good idea.” She smiled in spite of the wave of sadness that rolled her. “This is going to be the most beautiful room a baby could ever have." He was studying her intently. “Abby, is something wrong?" “Of course not. What could be wrong?" “I don't know.” He shook his head. “It's just that for the last few days you seem to be drifting off a lot, like you're thinking about something real hard. You know, if there's a problem you can talk about it with me?" “I know.” She crossed to him and put her arms around his waist. “I guess I've been thinking about the baby. Sometimes I can almost see it, Tate. A little boy with black hair and blue eyes who looks just like you.” But even in her daydreams, she never saw the baby in this nursery. Even as her waistline expanded, the image of the three of them together as a family was fading. Abby fought desperately to keep the tears from her eyes as his hand spread over her stomach. “You know what I see? A tiny little girl with huge brown eyes and dimples that can light up the world." But what did his vision of the future include? Was it the three of them or did a fourth presence stand between them? One that never quite went away. When Tate had brought her here and married her, he'd implied they had no choice, but he was wrong. There had been a choice. By taking the course of action they had, that choice had only been delayed. And sooner or later he was going to be forced to make it. Her or Diane. His responsibility or what he really wanted. And he wasn't the only one who had a choice to make. She did too. When the time came, would she make him live up to his responsibility? She knew she could do it. She could stay here with him and the baby forever. Loving him, knowing he didn't love her. Or she could let him go. There was a sudden flutter where his hand rested on her stomach, then a more pronounced surge of movement. Abby lifted her startled gaze to Tate's. Awe shone from his eyes. “I felt it,” he whispered. “The baby moved." This time the tears spilled from her eyes and she didn't even try to slow them. No matter what happened, she had his child. And she had this moment in time to savor forever. His arms folded around her and he buried his face in her hair. “Our baby. A real live little person. And we made it together.” He lifted her chin and kissed the tears from her cheeks. His eyes were misted over. “Thank you, Abby. No one has ever given me a gift as great as this one before."

A new spate of tears fell from her eyes at his words. Dear God, how would she ever find the strength to let him go when she loved him so much?

Chapter Twenty-One “Think it's going to rain? I'd hate for the picnic to be ruined.” Abby uncovered the bowls Tate had deposited on the long table before he'd gone to join a group of men hovering nearby. Hank stood with her hands on her broad hips, lips pursed as she surveyed the fluffy white clouds piling up on the horizon. “Yep, I'd bet on it. Before this day is over it's gonna become a real toad choker." Mae skirted the woman's mountainous bulk, shaking her head as she helped Abby with the food. “You say the same thing every Fourth, Hank. Don't pay her any mind, Abby. If it rains at all, it won't be until tonight." “I guess rain would be good for the drought, wouldn't it?" “Sugar, it'd have to rain steady for a couple of months to make a dent in this drought. Might give us a little relief from the heat, though." In a fit of patriotic pride, Hank had fashioned herself an outfit of red, white and blue. It looked like at least four large flags had given their lives for that dress. When she walked in front of the flagdraped bandstand, she was so well camouflaged that she virtually disappeared. Abby grinned as she watched the woman dab at her sweaty forehead with a hanky. “Here comes Ida and that girl of hers.” Mae gestured toward the parking lot. “I heard that middle boy of yours was courting Claire, Hank." “'Bout time one of ‘em was courting somebody,” Hank growled. “At the rate they're going I'll be dead two years before I have any grandkids." “Well, look at the bright side.” Mae turned back to the table. “You can always spoil Abby's and Tate's. It's gonna need a grandma." Hank's round face brightened. “I think you've got something there, Mae.” She pulled Abby closer. “Let me have another look at you.” Nodding her head wisely she surveyed Abby's stomach. “Just what I thought. You're carrying high. That means it's a girl." “Really?” Abby peered down at her front. “No, it don't,” Mae argued. “That means it's a boy." “Bull puckey. I ought to know. I had three boys. Spread out behind with all of them." “And still going,” Mae mumbled. Hastily, Abby intervened. “Doctor Spanos is going to do another ultrasound during my next appointment. We'll know for sure then."

“I'm not sure I trust those things.” Ida had arrived just in time to hear the last comment. “You remember that Davis girl from over near Two Forks, Mae? They told her she was gonna have a boy. Her and her man painted everything blue, bought a bunch of boy stuff, and then danged if she didn't have the prettiest little girl you ever saw. Had to bring her home from the hospital in coveralls and a ball cap." Abby moved a little way down the table, letting the chatter of the women flow over her. Hank was right. The heat seemed even more stifling today than usual. The humidity was so high that it was like trying to breathe underwater. Even the shade of the trees provided only minimal relief. She took the clip from her hair, ran her fingers through it, then twisted it back up and re-fastened the clip. It didn't help a lot, but at least it got the loose strands off her neck. Her gaze wandered around the park. It was filling up rapidly as the lunch hour approached. A country western band had drawn most of the teenagers to the bandstand, and she saw Buddy and Amy Fletcher standing together listening. Apparently Mr. Fletcher wasn't near because he was holding the girl's hand. Abby smiled then glanced toward the group of men, searching for Tate. It only took a second to find him. He stood with his back against the trunk of a tree, knee bent as he propped one booted foot up beside him. He was nodding at something one of the men was saying, but he was looking at her. When their gazes met, he winked and Abby's heart did a rapid back flip. It still felt like this whole thing had been a dream. How could a man like him want someone like her? But he did. Even now she could see it in his eyes, in spite of the fact that they'd made love that morning. If he only loved her half as much as he wanted her, life would be perfect. “Well, I think that about does it,” Hank said from beside her. “Dinner!" The loud bellow aimed in the general direction of the men almost made Abby jump out of her skin. Carefully, she stepped out of the way of the small stampede Hank's yell had precipitated. “You look like you're about to pass out from this heat." She looked up as Tate took her arm. “I'll be fine." He shook his head. “Why don't you go spread the blanket out under a tree and sit down? I'll bring you something to eat.” He brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair away from her face. “Go on. I'll only be a minute." “Okay.” She smiled at him and picked up the blanket they had brought. As soon as it was spread, she sank down on it with a sigh of relief and kicked off her sandals. She had to admit, it did feel good to sit down. “Here we go.” Tate sat down beside her and handed her one of the plates heaped with food. “Thanks.” She dug in and they ate in silence for a few minutes. “Hank thinks it's going to rain today." Tate paused long enough to glance at the sky. “Storm is more like it, but it won't be until later tonight."

Abby looked at him curiously. “How do you all know this?" He grinned at her. “Well, Hank would probably tell you she knows because her knee hurts when it's going to rain. Tom Jenkins would say it's because the frogs are croaking louder or the flies are biting. But the truth is, it's just common sense and a lifetime of watching the weather. When you have heat like this combined with a lot of humidity, something has to give.” He pointed to the clouds with his fork. “Those are cumulonimbus clouds. They're anvil shaped and stretch for miles into the air. Those are the ones you get lightning, thunder, hail and sometimes even tornadoes from." “Tornadoes?” She looked anxiously at the clouds. “Don't worry. Those don't look that bad. Probably just get some wind and rain." “If you say so." He leaned over and kissed her. “I say so. Feel up to taking a walk through the midway later? Maybe I can win you a bear at one of the games." “I'd love to, but I suspect it would be easier to just buy a bear.” She grinned at him. “Have a little faith in your husband, woman,” he growled at her. “Why should she?” Joe plopped down on the blanket with them. “She probably knows you can't hit the broad side of a barn. Don't worry, Abby. I'll be happy to win that bear for you." Tate arched an eyebrow at him. “Want to put your money where your mouth is?" Abby groaned. “Will you two cut it out? I don't care if you win a bear or not.” Both men ignored her words. “Ten bucks says I win and you don't." “You're on.” Tate slapped Joe's outstretched hand. “Later,” Abby said firmly. “After it cools off a little." **** Tate sat perfectly still, only his hands moving as he rubbed Abby's feet. Whether from the heat, the pregnancy or a combination of both, they were a little swollen. Abby had fallen asleep five minutes into the massage, but he didn't stop. It was as good an excuse to touch her as any. He studied her face while she slept, ignoring the mobs of people that ebbed and flowed around them. She had become so much a part of him in the last few months that only now did he realize how much she'd filled out. He doubted she'd ever carry an extra pound, but the gauntness of her body had become rounder, softer. No longer did dark circles lie beneath the long lashes that brushed her cheeks. He had seen women that might be considered more beautiful than she was but Abby had a quiet elegance that was rare and special. She must have been tired to fall asleep amid all the noise. A tickle of unease furrowed his brow. Something was bothering her and whatever it was, she didn't want to talk about it. He'd lost count

of the times he'd looked up to find her watching him, a pensive expression on her face. When he asked her point-blank if something was wrong, she just smiled and told him no. It was beginning to scare him. Surely she wouldn't do anything stupid. She had to know how much she needed him to take care of her and the baby. That was why she'd agreed to marry him in the first place. No. He shook his head silently. They had gotten so close, things had been so perfect the last few months, that he had to believe he was just imagining a problem where there wasn't one. “Is she okay?" He glanced up as Joe stopped next to him. “Yeah. I think she was just tired.” Both men kept their voices low. “The nap should help.” He looked back at Abby. Her lips were turned up at the corners. “You two can stop whispering. I'm awake.” She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around. “Is that a breeze I feel?" “Yes.” Tate rubbed her leg. “The storm is getting closer. May not wait until tonight after all." “How long did I sleep?" “About an hour. Feel better now?" “I'm feeling the distinct need for a stuffed bear.” She grinned at them. “Shall we?" Tate held his hand out and helped her to her feet, waiting while she slipped her sandals back on. “One stuffed bear coming up.” He dropped an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the midway, Joe taking up a position on her other side. **** Abby tossed the remains of her caramel apple in the trash can, shutting her eyes briefly as a gust of wind blew dirt and grit into the air. A poster flew by only to catch on the edge of the stand before it tore lose and spun high above the crowds. Squeals echoed from several women as they tried to hold down the skirts of their dresses. The muted rumble of thunder could be heard even above the noise of the celebration. Chill bumps raced over her skin at the sudden difference in temperature and she glanced at the booth where Tate and Joe were concentrating on knocking down a row of ducks with guns that looked tiny in their hands. She waited until Tate put the rifle down and reached for another dollar, then touched his arm. “Tate, maybe we should head back and start packing up." He tilted his head back to look up at the rapidly darkening sky. “Okay, just one more round and we'll go. I think I've got it figured out now." Picking up the gun, he took careful aim. There was a sharp ping and one of the ducks went down. With only a slight hesitation, he pulled the trigger again. The second duck went down. He threw Abby a grin of triumph and aimed again. Abby laughed with delight when the third metal duck lost its fight for life. “You did it!"

“Damn.” Joe glared at Tate. “You just got lucky." “Luck had nothing to do with it. Pure skill. Now pay up." Joe grumbled as he pulled out his wallet and handed over the money. Tate stuck it in his pocket. “Okay, sweetheart, pick your bear." “That one.” She pointed to a deep purple bear and the attendant handed it over. It was huge, its fake fur velvety soft, and she hugged it tightly before standing on tiptoe to kiss Tate. “Thank you." “Hey, I tried, you know." She grinned at Joe, then kissed his cheek. “Thank you for trying." “Watch it, Blackburn. That's my wife you're flirting with." Joe rubbed his jaw gingerly. “Don't worry, Hoss. I still remember how hard your fist is." Another gust of wind hit and lightning split the sky. This time all three of them looked up as thunder cracked. Tate's hand closed around her arm. “Come on. If we don't hurry it's going to be raining before we get to the truck." Apparently everyone else in the park had the same thought. Hordes of people blocked the midway, all heading in the same direction. In spite of the two men protecting her from the crush, she felt smothered. Tension began to build inside her and she clung to her bear with a death grip as they moved slowly through the crowd. “This way.” Tate pulled her through an opening, weaving his way clear with Joe following. “We can get through between these booths." She took a deep breath of the cooler air, then shivered. A huge drop of rain hit the dirt in front of her and splattered in all directions. Another landed on her arm, stinging with the force of its fall. In front of them a fork of lightning arched to the ground and thunder shook the area. “Damn, we aren't going to make it to the truck!” Tate was yelling to be heard above the wind. “Are you okay?" “Yes,” she nodded in case he couldn't hear her. “Just keep going." “Tate!” Buddy appeared out the gathering darkness. “I've already loaded everything. I'm getting out of here." “Amy?" “She left with her folks,” the teenager yelled back, one hand battling the wind to hold his hat in place. “Okay, be careful. We're right behind you."

Rain was hitting all around them now and she felt Joe's hand on her back to steady her as Tate rushed them forward at a half-run. “The truck's over this way. We're almost there.” The words were barely out of his mouth when the sky opened. With a crashing roar, the downpour swept over them, drenching them to the skin in seconds. A gasp tore its way from Abby's throat as the icy water hit her. Her foot hit a spot of mud and she slid a step before Joe caught her. “Tate!” The voice was high-pitched, frantic. “Please!" Nearly blinded by the deluge, Abby didn't see the blonde until she staggered right into Tate's arms. “Diane!” Abruptly, he released Abby's wrist, trying to support the blonde as she collapsed against him and slid to the ground. “Help me, please." “Diane, what's wrong? What happened?" Other people were stopping in spite of the rain, a small group gathering around. Diane was oblivious to all of them, her hands clutching Tate's shoulders as he knelt next to her in the mud. “He hit me.” Her voice scaled up on the end. “He wouldn't stop. You have to make him stop, Tate." Abby tried to still her pounding heart as Joe knelt beside them, his hands running over Diane's arms and legs. One of her eyes was swollen shut and a thin trickle of blood mixed with the rain at one corner of her lips. Diane ignored him, her gaze fixed on Tate. “Don't let him take me back. Promise me you won't. He'll kill me." “Let's put her in my truck. I'll take her to the hospital. Doesn't look like anything's broken, but we need to be sure." “No,” Tate's voice lifted above the pounding rain. “I'll take her.” He lifted Diane into his arms and started toward the truck. Abby stood rooted to the ground, her eyes never leaving his retreating back. Inside, she was as cold as the rain that beat over her. “Abby?" She was only vaguely aware of the crowd dispersing, barely aware that Joe was talking to her. When he pulled on her arm, she allowed herself to be led, unresisting, to his truck. Not until he pushed her inside and slammed the door did she realize that she was still clutching the bear. It was a sodden lump of cotton now, its fur leaving streaks of purple where it dripped onto her leg. Very carefully, she let it drop to the floorboard and used her foot to push it aside.

“Here.” Joe had pulled a blanket from behind the seat. “Put this around you until I can get the heat going." Numbly, she did as he told her, knowing that it wouldn't help. She was never going to be warm again. “Abby, are you okay? You're white as a sheet. Don't worry. We'll be at the hospital before you know it." “No.” His words galvanized her into speech. “Don't take me there. Take me hom...” She swallowed hard against the pain paralyzing her throat. “Take me to the ranch." “Are you sure?" “Yes,” she whispered. “I'm positive." He started the truck. “Maybe you're right. You need to get out of those wet clothes. We can call the hospital from there." She didn't bother to answer, just huddled deeper into the blanket as he drove through the rain. She knew what she had to do. Had known all along this day would come. But that didn't make it any easier, didn't stop the agony that filled her or the tears that wet her face. “Abby.” Joe glanced at her. “You know Tate had to take her to the hospital don't you?" “Do I?” She reached up and wiped the tears away. “You saw what kind of shape she was in." “Yes, I saw." “Then what's wrong?” He touched her cheek. Abby took a long breath, eyes shut while she gathered her courage. “He made his choice, Joe. And he chose Diane." “What are you talking about?” He sounded alarmed. Pulling the blanket tighter around her, she glanced at him. “You could have taken her to the hospital. There were ten other people there who could have done it. He wouldn't let you. He had to do it himself. He didn't even look around, didn't say a word to me. He forgot I was there. The only thing he was thinking about was Diane. He still loves her." She looked out the window, watching as the truck turned into the long drive leading to the ranch. The rain had already slowed into a steady drizzle. “You said it yourself. Tate is torn between his responsibilities. I've always wondered what would happen if he thought she needed him more than I did. Now I know. I guess I've always known. I just didn't want to admit it." “Well, hell.” He braked to a stop in front of the house. “Why are you the only person in the state

who ever listens to me?” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “Abby, it's you he loves. I'd stake my life on it." She gave him a wan smile. “No, he doesn't, Joe. He wants me. There's a big difference. And it's a difference I can't live with anymore." “What are you going to do?" “I'm going to be making a few choices of my own.” She reached for the door latch. “Starting right now. I guess you could say it really is Independence Day."

Chapter Twenty-Two Abby darted through the rain onto the porch, pausing only long enough to slip out of her muddy sandals. Buddy was standing in the middle of the living room, his gaze swinging between her and Joe. “Where's Tate?” He took a step closer. “Abby, what's wrong? You've been crying." The lump in her throat expanded again and she shook her head, unable to go through another explanation. “I'll tell him.” Joe put a hand on her arm. “You go get out of those wet clothes." “Thank you.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. She fled up the stairs, her bare feet making no sound on the smooth wood. Once in the bedroom, she stripped rapidly, changing into jeans, a Tshirt and her sneakers. Afraid that if she paused even for a second she'd lose her courage, she began pulling clothes out of the closet and drawers. There was no suitcase. She spun to the cedar chest and took out a pillowcase, a hysterical laugh bubbling up from inside. She'd arrived carrying a paper bag. A pillowcase had to be a step up. Working frantically, she crammed the clothes into it, not bothering to be neat. When there was nothing left to pack, she finally stopped, her sweeping gaze pausing on the bed. The bed where they had made love this morning. Anguish choked her again, but she forced it away and turned back to the closet. Tate's windbreaker was hanging inside and she pulled it off the hanger and put it on. Grief lanced through her as his scent enfolded her. The jacket swallowed her whole, hanging almost to her knees, but she didn't care. Wishing desperately that it were his arms, she wrapped it tighter around her body. Picking up the pillowcase, she walked to the door then turned to take one last look. “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered. Both Buddy and Joe stood as she entered the living room, Buddy's glance going to the pillowcase. His face was deathly white. “You're leaving, aren't you?"

Abby put the pillowcase on the couch and went to him, her hands cupping his face, her entire body tense with the effort not to cry again. “Yes, I am.” Her hand brushed the unruly dark hair back from his forehead. “Try to understand, Buddy. I can't stay here anymore knowing how Tate feels about Diane. It was a mistake to come in the first place, although I can't regret it.” She forced herself to smile. “I did get to know you. I'm going to miss you." “No, you aren't.” His face set in stubborn lines. “I'm coming with you. You don't have any place to go, no one to take care of you." “Buddy, you know you can't do that. Besides, I need you to do me a favor." “What kind of favor?" “I need you to take care of the garden and the chickens.” She hesitated. “And take care of Tate for me, Buddy." “But where are you going?” His voice broke on the last word. “For now, it's better that you don't know. I don't want to put you in the position of having to lie to Tate. After I'm settled I'll get in touch with you.” She gave him a slight shake. “I expect you to come visit me, you know. This baby will need its uncle." She glanced at Joe, standing silently to one side. “I need a ride, but if you'd rather not get involved, I can call a cab. You're Tate's best friend and I don't want to put you in the middle." “I'm your friend too, Abby. I'll take you anywhere you want to go." “Wait!” Buddy turned and raced down the hall, returning almost immediately with an envelope. He shoved it into Abby's hands. “That's all the money we've got in the house. Take it." “Buddy, I can't." “Yes, you can. Take it, Abby." She hesitated then slipped it into her pocket. “Okay, but I'm going to pay every penny of it back." “Ready?” Joe picked up the pillowcase. Abby nodded then hugged Buddy tightly. “Goodbye,” she whispered. “Don't forget, I love you and I'll be in touch as soon as I can." She couldn't look at him again as she turned toward the door. She'd felt his tears on her skin and knew she'd break down if she did. Dog was on the porch when she followed Joe out and she knelt, taking his shaggy face between her hands. His wet tongue laved her face. “Goodbye, Dog. Chase a rabbit for me, okay?" She bolted to her feet and ran for the truck, the tears she'd been fighting streaming down her cheeks. ****

Tate paced restlessly in front of the emergency room door, trying to see inside each time he passed the window. He should have listened to her. His hands clenched at his sides as he remembered the bruise on her arm that day in the cafe. This was all his fault. There should have been a way to stop it before it went this far. He was supposed to protect her, not stand by and let her be hurt. At the far end of his walk, he peered into the waiting room. He'd thought Joe and Abby would follow him, but there was no sign of them. They'd had plenty of time to get here by now. Maybe he should call home and make sure Abby was okay. The door of the emergency cubicle swung open and a white-coated doctor stepped outside, reading a chart attached to a clipboard. “Is she going to be okay?" The doctor looked up, his gaze taking in Tate's wet clothes. “Are you the one who brought her in?" “Yes." The man took Tate's arm and moved him away from the door. “Her injuries aren't that severe, just some bruising and a cut on her lip. Nothing is broken and there are no internal problems.” He hesitated. “Actually, I'm more worried about her mental state. For now, we've given her a strong sedative to calm her down, but I suggest you think about getting your wife some therapy. She seems to be confused about exactly who did this to her." Tate rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I'm not her husband. I'm just a friend." “Oh?” The doctor arched an eyebrow. “We'll need her husband's signature to admit her. Did she tell you who did this?" “She just kept saying ‘he'. I thought she was talking about her husband. She told me once before she was afraid of him." “Until she's able to tell us for sure, there's not much we can do about it. I'm going to notify the police, but in the meantime we need to get her husband in here to fill out the papers." “I'll find him,” Tate said grimly. “Can I see her before I leave?" “I'm afraid she won't know you're there. The sedative makes her sleep." “I just need to see for myself that she's okay." “For a minute, then.” He held the door open. The privacy curtain was pulled around the bed, but Tate pushed it quietly to one side. Diane was asleep, the hospital gown looking worn and faded above the sheet. Someone had made an attempt to dry her hair, but it still hung in limp, damp strands, its paleness emphasizing the dark bruise that covered her eye. Bruises that he hadn't seen before were now apparent below the short sleeves of the gown. Some were old, already fading to yellow. Others were obviously new and guilt warred with anger inside him. He clenched his teeth until his temples throbbed. “I'm sorry, Diane,” he whispered, brushing her hair back. “I won't let it happen again. Clayton is going to pay for this."

He turned, every muscle in his body tense, and left the hospital. **** Whether from the rain or the holiday, Delly's Tavern was almost empty of its usual crowd. Tate stopped in the entrance and let his gaze move through the semi-gloom. It only took a second to spot his target. Clayton was sitting at the far end of the bar, a drink in front of him. His khaki pants were wrinkled, as if he'd slept in them. His white dress shirt wasn't in much better shape. His sandy hair was mussed and, even as Tate watched, he ran a hand through it. Rage slammed into Tate. The man's wife was in the hospital, beaten senseless, and he was sitting here getting drunk. Paying no attention to the other men in the room, he stopped next to Clayton. His hand shot out. Grabbing Caldwell's white collar, he yanked the man off the stool and spun him around. “You bastard." Clayton blinked at him in surprise. “Well, if it isn't my wife's true love. What do you want, McCollum? Here to rub it in?" “What do I want?” His fist slammed into Clayton's jaw. Arms wind-milling, the man went down, crashing into the table behind him. “I want to show you exactly how it feels. Not any fun when you're on the receiving end is it, Clayton? You're so damn brave when it comes to beating on women, let's see how you do against someone who can fight back. Now get up." Lifting a hand to his bleeding mouth, Clayton staggered to his feet. “What the hell are you talking about? I've never hit a woman in my life." “Your wife is in the hospital because those were love taps, right?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice. The blood drained from Clayton's face and he swayed. “Diane is in the hospital? When? What happened?” He grabbed the front of Tate's shirt and shook. “Damn it! Tell me. Is she okay?" Tate closed his hands tightly around Clayton's. “Are you trying to tell me that you don't know anything about this?" “I haven't seen her in three days. She was supposed to be in Austin shopping.” He released Tate and visibly gathered himself. “I'm going to the hospital." “I'll take you. I'm not letting you out of my sight until the police have a chance to talk to you.” He caught the reek of whiskey fumes wafting from the man. “I doubt if you're sober enough to drive anyway.” He turned toward the door, making sure Clayton was following him. They were silent while Tate started the truck, then Clayton glanced at him. “How is she?" “She'll live. When I left, she was asleep. They gave her a sedative." Clayton buried his face in his hands, shoulders slumped in resignation. “I tried to tell her. She

wouldn't listen to me." Tate turned onto the highway and looked at him sharply. “You know who did that to her?" “Not his name or what he looks like. But she's been coming home bruised up for weeks now. If I'd known who he was, don't you think I'd have stopped it myself?” Anger tinged his voice. “When are you going to let her go, Tate? She doesn't love you anymore than you do her." “What are you talking about? I let her go when I married Abby." “Did you? Then why are you the one she ran to? I'm her husband, damn it! I'm the one she's supposed to come to. God.” He shook his head. “Do you know how long I've been in love with her? Do you even have a clue what it did to me all those years when she'd leave me and go right back to you?” His breath hitched. “It ate me alive. I'd sit in Delly's and watch the two of you together and it almost killed me, knowing you didn't love her." Tate's grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles bled white. “What makes you think I didn't love her?" “You knew she was seeing me. How did that make you feel? You don't even have to answer, because I know. You ignored it like it was a minor inconvenience. But I wanted to strangle you every time I saw that damned ring back on her finger.” His laugh held an edge of pain that jangled a cord of sympathy in Tate. “I was so happy when she said she'd marry me, even knowing it was because she wanted to get even with you. I actually believed we might have a chance together. I thought it was finally over, that you realized you didn't love her. But Diane knew better, didn't she, Tate? That's why she couldn't leave you alone." The windshield wipers slapped away the rain that was hitting the window. “You're right.” Tate's voice was low. “I didn't love her. Not like I should have. And for that I'm sorry.” He glanced at the man next to him. Clayton looked almost as bad as Diane had. Lines of defeat etched his face, aging him ten years. “I didn't know how you felt, Clayton. I was just trying to take care of her like I'd been doing most of her life." “Let her go, Tate. She doesn't need you to take care of her anymore. She's got me now. She deserves better than just being a habit." Tate stopped the truck in the hospital parking lot and put one hand on Clayton's arm. “You're wrong about one thing, Clayton. I have let her go. I let go the day I found out she married you. But I guess I'm guilty of not making it clearer and that's another thing I'm sorry for. I owe both of you an apology.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “And maybe someone else, too." Clayton gave a curt nod and reached for the door handle. He hesitated when Tate didn't move. “You aren't coming in?" “No. I think you can handle it from now on and there's something I need to do at home." **** It felt like a two ton weight that he hadn't even known was there had been lifted from his

shoulders. Tate's mouth curved into a smile as he drove home. He was an idiot, no doubt about it. He'd put himself through hell over Diane, his guilt affecting everything he'd done. And all for nothing. Clayton was right. She didn't need him, she had a husband who loved her. His laughter rang inside the truck. God, he felt good. He couldn't wait to get home to Abby. There was so much he needed to tell her, so much to make up for. And starting now, he was going to spend the rest of his life doing just that. If he could have ordered a wife specially made to suit his wants and needs, he couldn't have found anyone better than Abby. She'd taken to life on the ranch like a squirrel to a pecan tree. She cooked better than anyone he knew and kept the house spotless. She didn't have a conceited bone in her body. What it all came down to was that Abby cared. About him, about Buddy, about her friends. And the way they made love. A tingle raced over him. Their bodies were a perfect fit, like they'd been designed for each other. One look from those big brown eyes was all it took for him to be ready. When he touched her, it almost drove him out of his mind. His foot came down harder on the accelerator. He needed to hold her, feel her warm body curled up against his. He glanced at the clock on the dash, shocked that it was so late. She'd probably be in bed asleep by now, but that was okay. He'd just slip in beside her and hold her the rest of the night. In the morning, after they made love, they could talk. The truck went up on two wheels, he took the turn onto the driveway so fast. Stifling the urge to yell with happiness, he stopped in front of the house. Slowly, his smile faded. Every light in the house was on. If Buddy had gone to bed and left them on, he was going to catch it in the morning. Or maybe Abby had decided to wait up for him after all. His smile returned. That had to be it. He climbed out of the truck and went up the steps, his smile widening at the sight of Abby's sandals sitting to one side of the door. He'd clean the mud off them in the morning and surprise her. As soon as he pushed the door open, he came to an abrupt stop. Buddy was sitting on the couch, his face buried in his hands. Every line of his body was a picture of misery. Tate's mouth went dry, his heart slamming into his ribs. “Buddy?" His brother raised his head, but for a moment, Tate had the impression he wasn't seeing him. His eyes were rimmed in red, his face pasty white. “Buddy, what's wrong?" Suddenly, the teenager focused on him. “Wrong?" Tate took a step backwards at the anger radiating from his brother's voice. “I'll tell you what's wrong! She's gone.” Tears were streaming down Buddy's face. “Did you hear me, you bastard? She's gone and it's all your fault!" Ice ran through his veins and he shook uncontrollably. “Abby?” The word came out a whispered

moan of anguish. “No!” He bolted for the stairs, desperate to reach the bedroom. “It won't do you any good to look.” Buddy's voice followed him. “She's gone and she's not coming back." He didn't believe it, couldn't believe it. Not until he stood in the bedroom, staring into the closet that seemed so empty with only his clothes in it. The only sign that she'd ever been there were the wet clothes piled on the floor. “Oh, God, Abby. What have I done?" Agony ripped though him, blinding in its intensity. He lost track of time as he stood frozen in place. Thoughts spun through his mind like a child's top, but only one continued to surface time after time. He'd lost her. There had to be a way through this disaster. There had to be. If he could only think straight, if his head didn't hurt so badly, maybe he could figure out what it was. Find her. He clutched at the idea. If he could find her, he could convince her to come back. She needed him. She needed someone to take care of her. Spinning, he ran back down the stairs and confronted his brother. “Where is she?" Buddy's anger had given way to defeat, his body slumped back on the couch. “I don't know. She wouldn't tell me where she was going." Tate clenched his teeth to keep from screaming. “How long has she been gone?" “Hours. She only came back long enough to get her things, then she left.” The teenager leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees. “You know why she left? She said you'd made your choice and you chose Diane. And then she told me to take care of you.” His voice broke on the last sentence and his head lowered. Fighting back the pain that threatened to rip him in half was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. Eyes closed, he sucked in deep breaths of air until he knew he could speak again. “Buddy, I have to know how she left. Did she call a cab?" “No. She left with Joe." A tiny thread of hope lit inside. Joe would know where she was. He would make sure she was okay. Abby wasn't alone. Someone was taking care of her. And if she were at Joe's he could talk to her, convince her to come back. The door slammed against the wall as he went through it, then bounced back as he leaped down the steps. His foot hit something just as he reached the truck. He glanced down at the sodden remains of purple fur and his heart broke into a million pieces. Gently, he picked it up and tried to wipe away the mud that coated its fur. “I'm sorry, Abby,” he whispered. “God, I'm so sorry."

Chapter Twenty-Three Buddy yanked the door open and dragged Joe inside. “God, I'm glad you're here. You have to do something. I can't stand this much longer." “Where is he?" “Same place he's spent every spare minute since Abby left. Either the bedroom, the nursery or down at the creek." “Fishing? That's a good sign." Buddy shook his head. “He doesn't fish. Hasn't touched the gear in a month. And he's barely eating enough to stay alive." “What about the ranch?" “He's doing what has to be done, but not much more. It's like he just doesn't care about anything. We've got to snap him out of it. I don't ever want to go through anything like that first week again. He was practically breaking down doors all over town trying to find her." Joe sighed. “I know. He wouldn't believe me when I told him she'd left Cooper Creek. But maybe what I've got to tell him today will do the trick." Buddy perked up. “You talked to Abby?" “Better than that. I saw her yesterday." “She's okay?" “She's fine. I'll tell you about it later. Right now, I need to talk to Tate." “He's up there today.” Buddy pointed toward the stairs. Joe took them two at a time, but paused halfway down the hall. The sound of squeaking came from the direction of the nursery and he pushed the door open without knocking. Tate was sitting in the rocking chair. He didn't even look up when Joe came in. His gaze was fixed on the scraggly bear in his lap. In spite of obvious efforts to clean it up, it was still a pretty sorry sight. The mud was gone, but its purple fur was matted and clumped together. Joe leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, studying his best friend. He'd lost weight, his face all sharp angles and planes now. At least what he could see of it. It looked like he hadn't shaved in weeks. A heavy beard covered the bottom half of his face. His hair was longer than Joe had ever seen it, curling down over his collar and falling into his eyes in the front. “Hoss, you are about the sorriest sight I ever did see. You in the running for the world's ugliest hermit?" Tate's gaze shifted to him then back down to the bear. “What are you doing here? If Buddy called you, you can just turn around and leave."

Joe pushed away from the door. “Sure. I thought you might be interested to hear some news about Abby, but I guess I was wrong. See you later." “Wait!” Tate lurched to feet. “You talked to her? Where is she? Is she okay?" Joe held up one hand. “Slow down. Why don't we go downstairs and get a cup of coffee and I'll tell you everything." “You'll tell me now, damn it." “Fine.” He walked to the window and perched one hip on the sill. “I didn't just talk to her. I went to visit her." Tate's hands clenched and released the bear spasmodically. “How does she look? Is she eating? Is the baby okay?" “She looked great. Gained quite a bit of weight in the last month, so I guess the baby is fine, too.” He looked down at the toe of his boot then back at Tate. “She got her diploma about a week after she left. Made the highest scores of the whole class. Didn't take her long to find a job after that. She's working in a little dress shop, practically running the place for the owner." “Where is she living?" “She's got a small apartment not far from where she works. It's not real fancy, but it's kind of cozy." Tate took a step toward him, his eyes pleading. “Joe, you have to tell me where she is. I can't take this anymore." “You know I can't do that. I gave her my word.” He hesitated. “I told her you were looking for her." “What did she say?" Joe shrugged. “Not much. But she misses you. She made me tell her everything that was going on at the ranch. She seems sad, even when she smiles. And she wasn't real happy to hear about the way you've been acting lately." “I have to see her." “Not right now, you don't. Have you taken a good look in the mirror lately, Tate? You'd probably give her a heart attack. And knowing Abby, she'll blame herself. She's been through enough. Don't add that to it. Take a little time, get yourself back in some kind of decent shape." “What good will that do, when I can't find her?" Joe pursed his lips and looked thoughtfully out the window. “Maybe you just haven't tried hard enough. I suspect if you really started thinking straight, you might just come up with a way to find her.” He stood up and stared at Tate intently. “Not that many small towns around here." He headed out the door then paused. “It might interest you to know, Abby mentioned she had a doctor's appointment tomorrow. Well, I think I'm gonna get that cup of coffee. I'll be downstairs."

**** The doctor. Tate stared at the bear then tossed it onto the rocking chair. Why hadn't he thought of that before? Joe was right. It was time to get a grip, time to take control of his life. And now he had a place to start. He might even see her tomorrow if he was lucky. But he was going to find Abby if it took another month. Hope blossomed in his chest as he strode from the room, a plan of action forming in his mind. First a shave and shower, then something to eat. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food and he realized he was starved. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. He slammed the bathroom door behind him then stared in shock at his reflection in the mirror. If anything, Joe had understated the way he looked. No wonder Buddy had been running him nuts. He looked half dead. His eyes were deep pits in his face, the beard only making them worse. Pulling open a drawer, he took out his shaving equipment and set to work. He couldn't do much about the weight loss right now, but he could get rid of the beard. Hair fell rapidly into the sink as he started to work with the scissors. Abby. Excitement surged through him until his hands shook. Mouth dry, heart slamming into his throat, he leaned his forehead against the mirror. He was going to find her, see her again. Touch her, after he'd come so close to giving up hope. Straightening, he lathered his face and dragged the razor over the stubble. The face that emerged was no longer his. His cheeks were sunken enough to make his chin seem squarer than normal and the cheek bones were more prominent without the extra padding of flesh. The face looking back at him was his grandfather's. Younger, maybe, but still the face he remembered. A shiver ran over him. He couldn't think about it now. He had to concentrate on Abby and the baby. Stripping, he stepped into the shower and let the water run over him. He scrubbed twice, hard enough that his skin reddened, then stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. In a matter of minutes he was dressed and heading for the kitchen. Buddy was sitting at the kitchen table. As soon as Tate walked in, he ripped a sheet of paper from the pad in front of him and stuck it in his pocket. Picking up the phone book, he joined Buddy at the table, trying to ignore the way his brother was staring at him. “Where's Joe?" “Out back. He's putting steaks on the grill. Damn, Tate. You look just like Dad." Tate studied him. Strange. When he'd looked in the mirror he'd only seen his grandfather. But Buddy saw his father. Maybe the two men were more alike than he'd given them credit for being. A niggle of an idea was trying to work its way though but he shook it off. Right now, he didn't have time for anything but Abby. “I'm starved. Go tell Joe to throw on a couple more steaks." “Sure.” Buddy grinned. As soon as the teenager was through the door, Tate pulled the pad of paper across the table.

Using the lead of the pencil he'd picked up along with the phone book, he lightly skimmed it across the top sheet. Instantly, the faint outline of an address began to appear. 312 Oak Ridge Court, Apartment 2a. Quickly he tore it off and stuck it in the back of the phone book. Now all he needed was the town. **** Tate glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten in the morning and he was getting more frustrated by the minute. As he'd discovered the evening before, by the time he'd tried to call any of the doctor's offices listed in the book, they had all closed. He'd started again at eight-thirty this morning and he was rapidly running out of options. He hung the phone up and crossed off another listing. Only two left to go. The phone rang three times before someone answered it, but he was ready. “Hi. My name is Tate McCullom. My wife, Abby, had an appointment with you today. I have a surprise for her, but I forgot what time her appointment is. Can you check that for me?" “One moment." There was a rustle of paper then the voice came back. “I'm sorry. We don't have an Abby McCullom scheduled today." “Thanks. I must have gotten the day mixed up.” He set the phone back in the cradle and stared at it. There was something wrong with this picture. Think. He had to think. His gaze scanned the list of numbers he'd already called. Abruptly, he sat up straighter. How was Abby able to afford a doctor? Yes, she might have a job now, but not one that paid enough for medical bills like the ones she was looking at. He hesitated. Would Abby go to a free clinic feeling like she did about taking charity? It was worth a shot. Flipping the yellow pages to the section on clinics, his finger marked the first number while he dialed. When a brisk feminine voice answered he repeated his speech then waited, stomach tied into a knot of nerves. “Mr. McCullom?" “Yes?” His sweat-slick hand tightened on the receiver. “I'm sorry, but you just missed her. Her appointment was at eight this morning. She's been gone about fifteen minutes." “Thank you.” Weakness washed over him as he dropped the phone in the cradle. Layton. All this time she'd been in Layton, only an hour and a half away. So now he knew. The only problem was what to do about it. Did he dare just go over there and confront her? Insist she come back home where she belonged? What if she said no, refused to even speak to him? Fear wiggled its way up his spine, leaving him trembling in reaction. After what he'd put her through, he wouldn't blame her if she called the police and had him thrown out. It wasn't a chance

he was sure he could take. One thing had become glaringly clear to him. He couldn't live without her. Didn't even want to try. Slowly, a plan of action began to form in his mind. One that he could implement today. He stood up so fast the chair shot across the room. There was a lot to do if he was going be ready by the time Abby got off work. He scrawled a quick note to Buddy, then grabbed his hat and headed for the truck. **** Abby adjusted the strap of her purse over her shoulder, then flicked the lights out in the store. The August heat hit her full force as she turned to lock up. She could practically feel her clothes and hair wilting as a thin film of sweat covered her. Thank heavens there were plenty of trees lining the way home. Even a short walk in this heat could incapacitate someone. She paused to study the new display in the store window, then nodded. It looked good. And she'd done it all herself. She tilted her head to one side, her gaze running over the mannequin. On second thought, maybe the red and gold scarf would look better with the outfit. The keys were already back in her hand when she realized what she was doing. She was putting off going back to the apartment. Again. It was an hour past her normal quitting time and still she was dawdling. She knew what the problem was. Had known all along. The small apartment was empty. As empty as her life had been before Tate. Even the thought of him stirred the ever-present ache into a stab of agony. Resolutely, she pushed the pain back down, her lips firming with determination. Nothing was like it had been before Tate, especially not her. Her apartment was like a mansion compared to the shack she'd lived in before and her refrigerator was full of food. She had a good job, one that allowed her to take care of herself. Her back straightened and her chin lifted. She wasn't the town whore anymore. She was Abby McCullom, high school graduate and soon-to-be mother. She had a right to be proud. “Abby!" She glanced around at the sound of her name and smiled at the tiny old man waving from across the street. “Hello, Mr. Harmon. How are you this evening?" “Burning up,” he called back. “My air conditioning went out again today. Looks like I'm going to have to spring for a new unit after all." “Maybe you can patch it together enough to last until it cools off some." “Could be. I wanted to let you know that special caffeine-free tea you wanted came in today." “Great!” She crossed the street and followed him into the store. He reached under the counter and brought out a box. “Green tea, huh? Don't believe I've ever had anyone ask for it until you did." “It's supposed to be good for you.” She smiled at him.

“I'll take your word for it. Got a few more boxes of it here when you're ready for them." “Thank you.” She pulled out a few bills and handed them to him, waiting while he made change. “Could you give me a few dollars’ worth of quarters, Mr. Harmon?" “I think I can spare them.” He counted the money out into her hand. “Have a good evening, Abby." “You, too.” She pocketed the money on her way out the door. Tomorrow she was going to call Tate. It wasn't going to be easy hearing his voice, but she had to do it. The baby was as much his as it was hers and, in spite of everything, she knew he loved it. He had a right to know what was going on. She shot a glance at the pay phone outside Mr. Harmon's store, one hand resting on the prominent mound of her stomach. Maybe she should do it now and get it over with. Her steps hesitated then picked up again. No, tomorrow was soon enough. Mrs. Cooper ran the store on Saturday's so she'd have more time, wouldn't have to rush through the call. She suspected that Tate was going to have a lot of questions. Questions she wasn't sure she had the answers to yet. Joe had told her that Tate wasn't doing so great since she'd left, but she wasn't sure she believed him. Tate wasn't the type to fall apart. Especially not over a woman he'd been forced to marry in the first place. But the baby was a different story. It must have really hurt him, not knowing if he'd ever see his child. Guilt clenched her stomach into a knot. She hadn't meant to put him through that. He must know she'd never try to keep him away from their child. Her reverie was broken when a large yellow dog bounded from between two houses, barking furiously in his pursuit of a gray cat. “Digger!" At her voice, the dog came to a sliding stop, an expression of canine chagrin on his furry face. Tail waving, he whined and slunk to her side. “You know better than to chase Vincent, now don't you?” She ruffled his furry ears. “Remember what happened to your nose the last time you caught up with him?” She gave the dog a final pat. “Go find Zeke, Digger.” He spun and ran back in the direction he'd come from, apparently going to find his young master. She watched him go, a sigh on her lips. There was so much she missed. Buddy and Dog. Her garden. The horses. Even the chickens. But most of all, she missed Tate. Missed seeing him, talking to him, being held in his strong arms. There wasn't a night that went by when she didn't dream he was there with her. It made waking up alone a miserable experience and, more than once, her face had been wet with the tears she wouldn't allow herself to shed during the day. Stooping carefully to move a toy some child had left on her sidewalk, she fished in her purse for her keys. As soon as she pushed the door open a blast of cold air hit her and she frowned. She was positive she'd turned the air conditioner up this morning, just as she always did. It cost too much to run it when no one was there. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her then came to an abrupt halt. A huge purple bear sat on her coffee table, a vase of yellow roses in his arms, their sweet aroma permeating the

whole apartment. The box of tea slipped from her numb fingers and landed on the floor with a soft thunk. “I hope you like them.” The voice, low and male, came from her right and she spun to face him, shivers of excitement shaking her right down to her toes. “Tate."

Chapter Twenty-Four His name was the only word she was able to choke out. This had to be another dream, one she'd wake up from any second now. But he looked real. He was standing in the opening of her small kitchen, hands in his front pockets. His shoulders almost touched the door frame on either side. “When I told the landlady I was your husband, she let me in.” He didn't move any closer, just stood there, his gaze devouring her. He was thinner, Abby noticed. And he'd changed in other ways as well. His hair was longer for one thing, showing signs of a curl where it met his collar. And his face. The last time she'd seen him it had still held traces of boyishness. It was gone. What confronted her now was the face of a man. A man who had gone through hell and back. It was a face that could stop her heart from beating, freeze the air in her lungs. God, how she loved him. And how hard it was going to be to keep from showing it when all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and forget the rest of the world existed. “You look good, Abby." “Thank you.” She forced herself to put her purse on the end table, then stooped to pick up the tea she'd dropped. “I guess Joe finally told you where I was." “No, he wouldn't tell me a thing. I found you by calling every doctor's office in the area.” He took a step farther into the living room. “I see.” She moved by him into the kitchen, the scent of his aftershave making her dizzy with longing. “I'm afraid I don't have any coffee. I don't drink it because of the baby. Would you like some tea?" “Tea will be fine.” He'd turned to follow her movement. “Joe told me you got your diploma. Congratulations." “Thanks.” She forced a smile, but it felt stiff, unnatural. As soon as the water was on to heat, she looked at him again. “You didn't have to drive all the way over here. I was going to call you tomorrow." “Why?" She couldn't miss the surge of hope that lit his crystal-blue eyes and pain had her gripping the edge of the countertop. “I thought you had the right to know about the baby." The flare of hope died as quickly as it had come, replaced with anxiety. “Is something wrong?"

“No.” This time her smile was real. “Everything is fine. The doctors at the clinic are wonderful. They did an ultrasound this morning. That's why I was going to call you. The baby is healthy. They said he's a little big, but I guess that's to be expected. You aren't exactly small yourself. Looks like he's going to take after you." “He?” Tate removed his hands from his pockets. “It's a boy?" She nodded. “There's no doubt about it. Looks like Buddy is going to owe Joe some money.” She scooped the tea leaves into the pot and poured the boiling water over them. “Abby, we have to talk. I mean really talk this time.” He stepped toward her. The kitchen was small enough that it put him much too close. She backed up, not trusting herself so near him. “I suppose you're right.” She hesitated. “I was going to heat up some stew for supper. There's plenty if you want to stay." He nodded. “I'd like that." Taking a pan out, she set it on the stove, then opened the fridge and removed a large container, dumping the contents into the pan. “It will only take a few minutes to heat." She got out the silverware then stretched to reach the bowls in the top cabinet. When she turned around, he was right behind her. Their gazes met as his hand closed over hers on the dishes. Time stopped. Her heart missed a beat then made up for the error by pounding at double its normal speed. “I'll set the table.” His tone was husky, his gaze never wavering from hers. She averted her eyes, carefully sliding her hand from beneath his before nodding assent. “I've missed you, Abby." It took her two tries to pick up the spoon. Hand shaking, she turned away from him and gave the stew a stir. “Did you miss me at all?" Her eyes closed in pain. Miss him? It felt like part of her body had been torn away. It took a major effort to keep her voice normal. “Of course. I missed everyone. Even Dog." She didn't have to look at him to hear the wry smile in his voice. “I guess I deserved that, but I was hoping I ranked a little higher than Dog." “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it the way it sounded.” There was a second of silence behind her before she heard the clink of glass as he put the dishes on the table. When the food was done, she carried it into the dining room. Tate was already sitting, his gaze fixed on the bowl in front of him as if he'd never seen one before. He looked up as she took the seat across from him.

“What can I do to convince you to come home, Abby? Anything it takes, I'll do it. You need me. You and the baby both. Let me take care of you." “No, Tate.” He still didn't understand and she wasn't sure she could make him. But she had to try. Her voice gentled. “The truth is, I don't need you. I never really have. It just took me a while to see it. Look around you. I'm not living in that shack anymore. I've got a job that I like, one I'm good at. My medical needs are being taken care of and I've even found a good daycare center for after the baby comes." He stood and walked to the window, gazing out at something she couldn't see. “Okay, you're right. You don't need me.” His entire body was stiff and pain sounded in his voice. “You've proved it.” He turned his head to look at her. “But what if I need you?" Her appetite vanished and she pushed the bowl of stew back. “We only got married because neither of us had a chance to really think things through. You thought you had to live up to your responsibilities and I was too afraid to argue. But I'm not afraid anymore and you aren't responsible for me. You don't have to feel guilty anymore, Tate. And you don't need me to prove you're living up to your responsibilities." “To hell with my responsibilities!” He spun from the window facing her fully. “I need you for myself, damn it, and I'm not giving up until you see that." He took the seat next to her and leaned forward earnestly. “Do you remember a day, about a year and a half ago? I was coming out of the grocery store just as you were going in. I held the door open for you." She nodded slowly. The day he was talking about, she was already in love with him, even if she hadn't admitted it to herself. “I remember." “Well, after you went into the store, I went back to my truck. But I didn't leave, Abby. I sat there the whole time you were in the store, watching you through the window. Oh, I made up all kinds of excuses about why I did it, but the real reason was because I wanted you. Even then I wanted you." He dropped his head onto his hands. “I started dreaming about you. Every damn night until it was driving me crazy. Do you think I went to Delly's because I like to drink? I don't. I started going when I found out you were working there. It was the only way I could see you. And every time some man tried to put his hands on you, made a pass at you, I wanted to strangle him." He was so close to saying the words she had to hear. She was afraid to move, afraid even a breath of air would stop him. Her hand closed over a spoon, her grip so tight that it bent under the pressure. His eyes were red-rimmed when he looked up at her again, but his voice was lower, softer. “I didn't marry you because I had to, Abby, or even because it was my responsibility. I married you because it was what I wanted to do, what I'd wanted to do for a long time. The baby just gave me an excuse to talk you into it. When I told you I couldn't afford to support two households, I lied. I'm not rich, but the ranch is doing well. I could have taken care of you without marrying you. But I had to find a way to convince you.” He gave a sardonic laugh. “As far as I could tell, until that one night you didn't even know I was alive." “I knew.” She was perilously close to tears.

“I'll admit, most of the time I didn't realize why I was doing things the way I did. But I've had a lot of time to think lately. The truth was staring me in the face the whole time. I was just too blind to see it. I'm not blind anymore, Abby." Tentatively, he picked up her hand. “You told me you let me in that night because I needed you. I still do. More than ever. I know you only married me because you were trapped into it. And I know that I didn't treat you like I should have. But I promise you, if you come back that will change." Abby stared at their joined hands, his warm and strong around hers. His thumb was caressing the skin on her wrist, sending shivers up her arm that echoed through her body. He'd said everything but the two things that might make her go back with him. One of those had to be dealt with now, before they went any farther. She forced herself to ask the question she dreaded hearing the answer to. “Diane?" His thumb briefly stopped its movement then started again. “Diane.” He cleared his throat. “We had a long talk after they released her from the hospital. All four of us." Abby met his gaze. “All four of you?" “Me, Diane, Clayton and her new therapist. You see, Diane didn't love me any more than I did her. We just got caught up in a circle neither of us could break. Taking care of her was a habit for me, just like I take care of Buddy. She understands now that she can't run to me every time she's unhappy and expect me to make it right. I can't do it. I never could. You know what the funny thing is? She and Clayton really love each other. It may take them a while to work out all their problems, but I think they'll do it. Either way, I'm finally out of it. Diane is Clayton's concern now." “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I'm not. Do you know what I did that day, after I talked to them? I went straight home, got Diane's rings out of my dresser and flushed them down the toilet. It was the only time I've felt happy since you left." Confusion mixed with hope had her reeling dizzily. “But you told me..." “What?" “That day at the pond, you told me that sometimes you wanted to forget about all the responsibility and do things just for yourself. Do it because you wanted it, not because it was what you needed to do." “God, Abby. I wasn't talking about Diane. I was talking about you. I thought Clayton was abusing Diane and I felt like it was up to me to do something about it. But all I really wanted was to forget about Diane and her problems and just concentrate on us." “Why?” Hope overpowered the confusion, filled her until she could barely get the question out. Please let him say it, she prayed silently. Her whole future hung on three little words. “Why?” He stood up and ran his hand through his hair. “Why? Haven't you been listening to me?” He closed his fingers around her upper arms and pulled her to her feet. “Damn it, Abby, I love you. I've loved you from the beginning. You're the only thing I've ever done in my life that was just for myself, because it was what I wanted.” His voice broke. “I've been through hell the last month thinking I'd lost you. I can't go on like that anymore. I know you don't love me, but please, give us

a chance. Maybe you'll learn to love me. Just don't say no right now. Think about it for a few days if you need to. I can wait if there's any hope at all." She put her fingers against his lips to stem the flow of words, her heart singing. “Yes.” She wanted to shout the word from the rooftops. He loved her. Oh, God. He really loved her. “Yes?” A stunned expression filled his eyes. “I don't need a few days. I already know. I'll come home with you. Everything you said is true except for one thing." “What?” He looked like he was prepared to renew his argument and Abby smiled. “You said I didn't love you. You were wrong. I do love you. With all my heart. All I've ever needed was to hear the words from you." “Oh, Abby. I've been so damned stupid.” His arms went around her, his lips trailing down her hair. “I love you,” he whispered. “You'll have the words every day for the rest of our lives." She drank in his taste as his lips touched hers, hesitantly at first, then with more assurance as she responded. Pressed so tightly together, it was impossible to miss the strong kick that suddenly came from the direction of her stomach. Tate lifted his lips from hers, laughing. “Maybe he's jealous. Doesn't like anyone messing with his mom." “No.” She cupped his face in both hands. “I think he's just glad to have his dad back." **** Tate's feet followed the familiar path as he pulled his jacket tighter around him. The December wind was bitterly cold, the dirt under his boots frozen solid in spite of the weak afternoon sunlight. The white picket gate swung open soundlessly as he pushed on it and he slipped into the cemetery, pausing here and there at different headstones on his way across until he reached his father's granite marker. The tree that shaded the graves in summer was bare of leaves now, its limbs rattling in the chilled air. Hat in hand, he squatted next to his father's grave. “I've got a lot to tell you, Daddy, and I need to get it all said, because I think this will be the last time we talk like this.” He looked down at the hat he was turning idly. “I brought Abby and our son home from the hospital this morning. You'd be proud of him, Dad. He's a big, strapping boy. Weighed ten pounds and two ounces when he was born. Abby says he looks just like me. When I hold him, it's like..." He cleared his throat. “I guess you know what it's like, don't you? There's nothing else in the world that can make you feel that way. Wonderful and scared to death at the same time. You want to keep him safe, protect him from all the hurts you know are going to come his way. And you pray that you won't screw up, that you'll raise him to be the kind of man you know he can be." He stopped, his gaze drifting over the brown pastures of the ranch. “You know, Daddy, I spent my whole life being afraid I'd disappoint you, that I'd turn out just like grandpa. I guess that's why I took all your talk about responsibility so seriously. But I've had time to do a lot of thinking lately and I finally realized something. You weren't just talking to me, were you? You were talking to

yourself. Deep down, you were just as scared as I was that you were like grandpa." He looked back at the grave, his voice softening. “And you know something else, Daddy? You were right. Both of us have part of grandpa inside. It's the part of us that makes us love with all our hearts, the way you did Mom and the way I do Abby. It's the part that let's us laugh and enjoy life. That's a good thing, Daddy, not something to worry about or be ashamed of." Slowly, he put the Resistol back in place and stood. “We named the baby Jonathan Patrick. I wanted him named after strong men and I couldn't think of any stronger than you and Grandpa. I've got a lot to teach him, Daddy. Things like responsibility and honesty, all the things you taught me. But there's one thing I'm going to teach him that you forgot to tell me. His first responsibility is to himself. That may be the most important lesson of all, Daddy. It took me so long to learn it that I almost lost the only woman I could ever love and my child along with her. But you don't have to hit me over the head with a hammer more than twice.” He smiled. “From now on, I'm hanging onto them, come hell or high water. I've never been so happy in my life, Daddy. So now I'm going back to the house to be with my family." He turned and then paused, looking back at the grave. “One more thing. If you happen to see Mom and Grandpa, give them a big kiss for me and tell them I love them both." Abby was curled up on the couch when he got back, a blanket over her legs. She looked up and smiled as he stripped off the coat, hat and gloves. From the kitchen came the sound of voices. “Don't tell me you actually managed to get a few minutes alone?" “I ordered them out. His Lordship was hungry and making sure everyone in three counties knew about it.” She looked down at the baby tugging furiously on her breast. “Between Hank, Joe and Buddy I doubt I'll get to keep him for long." “You mean Dog isn't getting in on the act?” A loud thumping noise came from beneath the Christmas tree as Dog heard his name and they both laughed. Tate sat down beside her, putting one arm around her shoulders as he watched the baby nurse. Abby leaned her head against him. “Tired? It's been a long day." “No.” She kissed his jaw. “Just incredibly happy." He reached out with one finger and gently touched his son's cheek. The sucking stopped and a frown furrowed the tiny brow before he started again with renewed vigor. “I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart. Exactly."

About the author In real life, I'm Kathy to those who know me, since Katherine has always sounded snooty to my ears. Physically, I'm 5'5” with brown eyes. The rest of me is subject to change at the whim of my caloric intake, exercise regimen (or lack thereof), and Miss Clairol. I've worked at everything from killing bugs to telephone operator. I have a degree in journalism that is stuffed in a drawer somewhere. I've been writing for seven years now and have sold seven novels, five most recently to Cerridwen Press. The Sweet Gum Tree won the PASIC Book of Your Heart contest in 2002 in the single title category. I've been a member of Romance Writers of America since the day I started writing, and serve as judge for numerous chapter contests. I've been married to the same man for thirty-eight years now. We got married when I was two. That's my story, I'm sticking to it.

Katherine welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora's Cave Publishing at 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

Also by Katherine Allred The Sweet Gum Tree

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