CHAPTER NINE
TATE WISHED HE could put on a magic cloak or ring or something and make himself invisible. That way, he could go from class to class and not have anyone see that he was there. Because everyone was seeing him.
That was the problem with going to a small school. Everybody knew everybody. And they all knew he was new. They probably had heard about him, too. Probably knew he’d taken those stupid girl pills. Something he hadn’t thought about when he’d first talked his dad into staying in Wrangler’s Creek.
This had been a shitty idea.
And it’d been his.
He considered calling his dad but then looked up at the clock on the wall of his English class. Only ten-thirty. He’d been here two and a half hours and was ready to quit. His dad wouldn’t like that. Heck, he didn’t like it much, either, but when he got home, he could tell his dad that he wanted to do homeschooling. Anything to stop everyone from seeing him.
The teacher hushed talking about sentence structure and stood to write something on the chalkboard. He was old, tall and skinny, and if his hair would have been long, he would have looked like Gandalf from Lord of the Rings. That was one of Tate’s favorite books, but it wasn’t what Teacher-Gandalf wrote on the board for their reading assignment.
Al Capone Does My Shirts.
Tate doubted there’d be any wizards in a book with that title.
Shit. He hated this school. Hated his life.
The bell rang, and everyone started out of the room, heading to the next class. Tate took out his schedule again even though he had it memorized, and this was his free period. He needed to make his way back to homeroom so he could sit there while everyone looked at him and whispered about those girl pills.
He waited so he’d be the last one out, and he went into the hall. It was packed, of course, and looked like the cows Uncle Garrett sometimes herded into a corral when they needed medicine and junk. Most of the kids here had the same blank looks as those cows. They probably didn’t have the kind of stuff going on in their lives like he did.
They probably had mothers who gave a shit.
“You’re Tate Granger,” someone said from behind him.
Tate glanced over his shoulder and saw two girls. They’d both been in his English class but had sat at the front. One was blonde and about his height. The other was taller and had red hair with purple streaks in it. He figured the blonde had been the one to say that because she was smiling. The other one was giving him a “get out of my face” look.
He nodded.
“Well, I’m Chrissy Beaumont.” Yep, it was the blonde, all right. “My dad owns the grocery store. The pharmacy, too. He knows your dad real well.”
Since that might not be a good thing, Tate just shrugged. He’d heard that his dad used to get in trouble a lot when he was his age.
“I’ve been riding at your family’s ranch a couple of times,” Chrissy went on. “The Grangers own a big house and lots of horses,” she added to her friend. She paused, maybe just so she could take a breath, and then fluttered her fingers toward the other girl. “Oh, this is my half sister, Arrie. Well, it’s really Arwen like that fairy or whatever in that movie.”
“Lord of the Rings,” Tate said.
“Yes, that one. Anyway, Arrie is hanging out with me today.”
Arrie didn’t look very happy about that. She didn’t look happy about anything, but he did like the name and thought her nose ring was pretty. So were the three rings in each of her earlobes. One of the earrings was a tiny cowbell.
“My mom said I wasn’t to let Arrie out of my sight,” Chrissy added. “She’s grounded for skipping theater arts. Weird, right? I mean, if you’re gonna skip, skip math or something.” She didn’t even try to whisper that or anything.
Arrie just huffed.
“I gotta get to class.” Tate turned to leave, but Chrissy stepped in front of him. “I’m having a little pool party at my house on Friday. Would you like to come?”
Tate had seen the way that some women looked at his dad. Actually, a lot of women looked at his dad that way. But it was the first time Tate had seen that look aimed at him. Chrissy was thinking that because his family had money and a big house that he’d make a good boyfriend.
He wouldn’t.
Especially since being a boyfriend would mean going to her party. Here at school, at least, people probably wouldn’t bring up that he’d tried to off himself, but it could come up at a party. And even if it didn’t people would still look at him like some kind of freak.
Tate shook his head. “I can’t go to your party, sorry. I’ve got to do something else that night.”
It wasn’t a lie. He had books he planned to read and would maybe go riding with his uncle.
“Oh, well,” Chrissy said. Her voice wasn’t as happy as it had been a few seconds ago. “Maybe some other time. Come on, Arrie.”
Chrissy walked away. Arrie stayed put. “Did you really try to kill yourself?” she asked.
It was the first time anyone had come out and asked that. Even Dr. Woodliff had tiptoed around it by asking Tate if there was anything he wanted to talk about. His dad hadn’t brought it up at all. His dad and the rest of his family were treating him as if he were bad-off sick.
And that scared him.
Because he just might be.
“Arrie?” Chrissy called out, waggling her fingers at her half sister. “Come on. You’re gonna make me late again.”
Arrie ignored her, but it was pretty clear that she was waiting for Tate to answer her question. He’d taken those pills because the bottle said it would make him sleepy. He’d just wanted to sleep so he could turn off the bad feelings in his head.
“No. I didn’t really try to off myself,” he answered. “It was just something stupid that I did. It was an accident.”
She looked at him. A long time. Long enough for Chrissy to yell for her two more times. “If you ever think about doing anything else stupid, just call me.” Arrie took his hand, scribbled her phone number on his palm, and that’s when Tate saw it.
The white scar on her wrist.
Not something like you’d get from a scrape. It was straight across, and he could even see the little scars from the stitch marks.
She followed his gaze, and even though her look didn’t get any friendlier, it did soften a bit. “Yeah,” Arrie said. “For me, it wasn’t an accident.”
* * *
MILA STOOD IN Sophie’s office in the Granger guesthouse and waited for her friend to finish reading the letter from Vita. Mila had gone over every word so many times that she knew it by heart. Knew, too, the reaction Sophie would have.
“Holy crap on a cracker,” Sophie said. Since she wasn’t much for profanity, that was pretty harsh for her. Sophie looked at the back of the letter as if to find some explanation there, but it was blank. They had all they were going to get in the explanation department for now. At least until Vita got back from her trip.
“It came a week ago,” Mila added. Actually, nine days. She could probably come up with the exact hours if need be.
“And you’re just now showing it to me?” Sophie asked.
Mila had known she’d say that, as well. “I wanted some time to come to terms with it.”
Sophie stared at her. Then winced. But the wincing wasn’t because of Mila. It was because one of the babies had kicked her. It was hard enough that Mila saw Sophie’s belly move from beneath her maternity top.
“You should have called me the minute you got this,” Sophie went on. “I would have come right away.”
“That’s why I didn’t call. I know you’re trying to wrap up some things at work before you take time off for the babies, and I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Turkey squat,” Sophie snarled, giving Mila yet another example of Sophie’s G-rated notion of cursing. “We’re best friends, and you shouldn’t have had to go through this alone.”
“I wasn’t alone. Roman read the letter, too. He came by the shop shortly after I got it. And he’s been texting me every day to make sure I’m okay.”
Sophie made a quick sound of surprise. “That was sweet of him. Not so sweet, though, since he didn’t tell me about it.”
“I asked him not to.” However, Mila was surprised he’d carried through on her wishes.
“Wait,” Sophie said. “Was Roman there that day because of your coffee date with Dylan?”
Mila nodded. “First, he came by to get some books for Tate. I think he wanted to talk to me then about Dylan, but your mom was there.”
“Fantasy date stuff.” Sophie sighed. “We’ll get into that later, but for now, tell me about Roman’s visits that day.”
“Well, he came by a second time, only a few minutes after Dylan left the shop.” She had told Sophie about the coffee date. Such that it was. Mila had also told her that she wouldn’t be going out with Dylan again. “I had just finished reading the letter and was crying when Roman came in.”
Sophie mumbled some profanity again. “You cried? Of course you did. And I wasn’t there. I should have been there.” Sophie’s pregnancy emotions were about to get the best of her. She looked to be on the verge of tears.
Mila hugged her. “Roman was a good substitute so don’t worry about it. He stayed with me for a little while and even had a drink with me.” She paused. “I gave him an erection.”
Sophie’s head whipped up, fast. “W-what?” Clearly, she was surprised, and Mila didn’t think it was leftover shock from the letter that caused Sophie’s mouth to drop open like that.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Mila explained. “We were just drinking and talking, and we were standing very close to each other. I’m not sure what happened, but the air changed between us or something. I got all tingly, looked at him, and I could see that he was getting tingly, too.”
“Roman, tingly?” There was skepticism in Sophie’s voice.
Good point. He probably didn’t tingle. He just got hard. Mila had seen the outline of it behind the zipper of his jeans.
“Do you think it means anything?” Mila asked. “Other than the obvious. I mean, men get erections all the time so it might not have had anything to do with me.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Of course it had something to do with you. Roman isn’t fifteen. He doesn’t get an erection because he’s standing next to a woman. He got it because you were a woman he wanted to sleep with.” She smiled. “Isn’t this what you’ve been wanting for years?”
Yes. Mila had always wanted Roman to get uncomfortably aroused in her presence. She just hadn’t realized it was going to cause her to feel like this.
Confused.
Maybe it’s because all of this was coming on the tail of that letter. Also on the tail of Tate’s suicide attempt. Or maybe she just hadn’t thought this through.
“Roman won’t like taking my virginity,” Mila pointed out.
Another eye roll from Sophie. “Oh, he’ll like it, all right. Maybe he’ll have doubts afterward, though.”
There was no maybe about it. He would have doubts. Because Roman expected her to expect something from him.
“You should have just gone for it,” Sophie said. “Not just once but three times, and then you could have tested that stupid rule of his.”
Mila had to shake her head. “What rule?”
She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Some dumb thing he has about only having sex with a woman a maximum of three times. I heard him talking to Garrett about it, and I could tell it didn’t make any more sense to Garrett than it did to me.”
Well, it wasn’t making sense to Mila. “Why three? Why the rule?” she added.
“Because more than three is the C-word. And no, I don’t mean that C-word,” Sophie said, motioning toward her lady parts. “I mean commitment. Roman’s scared spitless about it so he figures if he doesn’t spend much time boinking a woman, then he also won’t feel any obligation to commit.”
Mila could see that side of an argument, but three times with Roman might be enough to fulfill every fantasy she’d ever had. And some she hadn’t even thought up.
“All of this explains why Roman’s been so antsy lately. Antsier than usual,” Sophie corrected. “He wants to have sex with you.” She stopped, looked up at Mila. “You think your mom knew that and that’s why she gave him the condom when he was still in the hospital?”
Mila had to go with another question. “What condom?”
“It was in the gift bag that you brought him from Vita.”
Oh, mercy. If she’d known that, Mila wouldn’t have given it to him. “I thought it was chicken poop or something.” And then she remembered what else her mother had done. “She gave me a condom, too. It was the same day Roman, Tate and your mom ended up in the hospital. Vita told me I was going to lose my virginity within thirty days.”
Sophie must have had the same idea she did because she moved some papers off her calendar desk map and looked at the dates. All of that had happened thirteen days ago. In some ways it seemed a lifetime. In other ways, it wasn’t much time.
“Only two and a half weeks left,” Sophie said. “And that’s if you use the entire thirty days. Vita could have just been giving you a general reference. It could happen before then.”
Mila was about to agree with her, but she stopped and came to her senses. “My mother’s predictions and visions don’t always come true.” She certainly hadn’t kept track of the success to failure rate, but Mila was positive there’d been failures.
Except she couldn’t think of a single one at the moment.
And her mother had said all that stuff about an ill wind. That had come true. Again, though, she stopped.
“We’re talking about Vita here,” she reminded Sophie. “She could have given the condoms to Roman and me as a way of nudging us to become lovers. Not because she truly wants that but because she thought it might make me forget that she’d never told me the truth about my real father.”
Sophie didn’t, and couldn’t, argue with that. “But Vita did give you clues as to who your father is.”
“Yes, and I’ve already started a list. I went to the library and found a copy of the town’s old phone book from the year I was conceived. Thankfully, nearly everybody had landlines. I was able to rule out some because they were too young or too old. Like Ned, the pharmacist, because I figured, since he won’t touch anyone unless he’s wearing latex gloves, then he probably wouldn’t have had unprotected sex with Vita.”
Sophie’s face bunched up, and Mila knew why. “Hey, that’s not a fun image in my head, either,” Mila assured her. “In fact, none of these are fun images. I prefer to think of my mom as asexual.”
Which she probably was these days. Mila had certainly never seen her in the company of a man since she’d become a widow.
“I also ruled out anyone who’s dead,” Mila went on, “because Vita said in the letter that he was still alive.”
That part had actually been a relief once Mila gave it some thought. Because Roman’s father had slept around. Not once in a million years had Mila thought that Roman and she might be related, but it was good to have it confirmed that they weren’t.
“So, how many candidates do you have on your list?” Sophie asked.
“Nineteen.”
Sophie frowned right along with her. “You’ve got to start whittling that down. Let me see it. Maybe I can help.”
“I didn’t bring it,” she lied. It was on her phone. “Besides, you’ve got enough to do. You’re only four weeks from your due date, and the doctor said the twins would come early. I know you’ve still got plenty of things to do to get ready for that.”
Again, Sophie couldn’t argue.
Mila patted Sophie’s belly. “Just think, soon we’ll get to hold these little guys, and you won’t have to carry them around with you all the time.”
“Soon I’ll be able to see my feet again. And bend over. And go more than twenty minutes without having to pee. Soon, Clay and I can have sex. I miss sex, and the doctor said to hold off because I’ve dilated some.”
Mila’s shoulders snapped back. “What does that mean?”
“It’s normal. It just means my body is getting ready to have these guys. Then I’ll know if Clay and I will have two sons, two daughters or one of each.” Unlike many couples, Clay and she hadn’t wanted to know the gender of their babies before they were born. “And after four weeks, sex. I really miss sex,” she added.
Mila missed it, too. More so now than she ever had. That perhaps had something to do with her seeing Roman at that exact moment. He was coming out of the barn and heading to a corral where some horses had just been delivered.
He had obviously recovered from his surgery. Considering how he was dressed, he had also decided to help around the ranch. He always wore jeans, cowboy hat, boots and his rodeo buckle but usually still managed to look as if he ran a business. Not today, though. His shirt was unbuttoned, the sides shifting when he walked to give her a peep show of that toned chest and pecs.
Seriously, the man had a six-pack.
He even managed to look good sweaty, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him when he grabbed the hose and ran some water over his head. It snaked down that perfect body, sliding right into the waist of his jeans.
Exactly where Mila wanted her hand to be.
“If women could get an erection, you’d have one right now,” Sophie said. The sound of her voice jarred Mila back to reality. But she came back with little “side effects.” She was breathing too fast and was warm and damp in the wrong place.
Mila hadn’t even been sure when Sophie had moved to the window to see what she was gawking at. That probably had something to do with her heartbeat drumming in her ears. She was a mess.
And very aroused.
“You should go out and...talk to him,” Sophie suggested. “And you can do that after you tell me about my mom and this fantasy dating stuff. Do I need to worry about her?”
“No.” Of course, Mila would have said that even if there had been something to worry about and then she would have gone to Garrett or Clay to fix the situation. But Mila thought she had it under control. “Belle set up the first date. It’s the ‘frankly, I don’t give a damn’ scene from Gone with the Wind. Clay vetted the guy, and he’s a retired software developer, widowed, no red flags to indicate he’s a pervert.”
In some people’s minds, though, he was a pervert simply because he did fantasy dating.
“They’ll be doing it at the bookstore after hours,” Mila went on. “Belle has the props and her costume. But as a precaution, Clay’s going to put in a security camera that he can access from the police station.”
Sophie shook her head. “You two set all of this up and didn’t let me know?”
“You’ve had other things on your mind.” Mila gave her stomach another pat and got a kick on her palm from one of the babies. Even though she’d felt them move before, it always still seemed like a little miracle.
“Okay,” Sophie agreed. “But I wish you could talk Mom into ditching this whole fantasy idea.”
“Trust me, it’s not doable right now.” But Mila did think of something else that Clay and she hadn’t vetted. “What about your mother’s heart condition? Will something like this aggravate it?”
“No. I already asked the doctor. Of course, he wouldn’t discuss specifics with me about Mom’s medical records. Privacy laws. But he said there’s no reason she can’t resume a normal life. Personally, I don’t think this is normal, not for her, anyway, but he refused to try to rein her in on this.”
Well, at least this wasn’t going to kill Belle, but Mila still needed to keep an eye on the woman, anyway.
“Mom should just go on a real date,” Sophie added, “and she wouldn’t have to look far for someone to take her out. Billy Lee has always had a thing for her, and he’s on his way over here right now to bring me some papers to sign.”
Billy Lee Seaver. He wasn’t just the CFO of Granger Western, but he was also on Mila’s possible dad list. She wouldn’t mention that to Sophie, though, because he was her godfather. Besides, he didn’t look like the sort who’d go for Vita. Belle and he seemed like a better fit.
“Now you can go out there and get Roman,” Sophie said. “He should be healed up enough for a romp in the hay if you’re so inclined.”
Mila smiled. But the truth was—she was inclined. Now, she just had to get Roman on the same inclination with her.
She kissed Sophie’s cheek, put the letter in her pocket and headed toward the back door. She didn’t want to go out the front because she spotted two of the hands out there. No need for her to advertise that she was moving in Roman’s direction. She could just go out the back and make her way to him. Of course, someone would probably still see her, and Sophie would likely peek from the window, but the fewer people she encountered, the better.
Mila had barely made it to the back porch before her phone rang, and Mila saw the “unknown” caller on the screen. Since she figured it was a telemarketer, she let it go to voice mail, and a few seconds later, her phone dinged to indicate she had a message. She listened to it while she started walking again. She made it to the bottom step of the porch.
And then she had to stop when she heard the caller’s voice.
“Mila,” she greeted her. “Call me when you can, coz.”
Valerie.
Mila hit the callback button immediately, but it took several rings for Valerie to answer. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you—”
“Yeah,” Valerie said. “Just about everybody I know has been calling to say Roman and you’ve been bugging them to find me. Well, here I am. What’s so urgent that you just had to talk to me?”
Mila wished she had rehearsed this, but even if she had, she probably couldn’t have made this sound better. “Tate maybe tried to kill himself. He was in the hospital, but he’s all right,” she quickly added when she figured Valerie would interrupt her. She didn’t. “Are you there? Did you hear me?”
“Of course I heard you. You said he was all right. How’d he try to kill himself?”
“Pills.” Mila hoped Valerie didn’t ask what kind because it would maybe make this seem like a foolish attempt. But in Mila’s mind, any attempt was serious and a cry for help.
“What kind of pills?”
Mila bit back a groan. “Does it matter? The point is he took them.”
“Sure it matters. A friend of mine took an entire bottle of Oxy, then some benzos, and he chased it down with some rum. He really wanted his ticket punched. But if Tate just took a couple of benzos on their own, then maybe he was just trying to get some sleep.”
Mila wasn’t even sure what a benzo was, and while Tate did indeed go to sleep on the pills, that wasn’t why he had taken them.
“So, what did he take?” Valerie pressed.
“I’m not sure,” Mila lied. “And you’re missing the point. Tate needs help. He’s seeing a therapist, and Roman and he decided it would be best to stay here at the ranch in Wrangler’s Creek for that.”
“Roman’s at the ranch?” Valerie laughed. “I thought I felt a chill on the bottom of my feet. That’s because hell must have frozen over.” Another laugh. “I’ll bet Belle’s bugging the shit out of him.”
Mila would have liked to think that Valerie was in shock over hearing about her son, but unfortunately, this was typical behavior. Valerie was the ultimate party girl, out to have fun, and if it wasn’t fun, she didn’t want to deal with it. Which was why she’d left Tate when he was just a baby.
“Roman would do anything to help Tate,” Mila continued, not even addressing Valerie’s comment about Belle. “But Tate needs you here, too, so you can go through a family counseling session with them.”
“Counseling? You mean with some head doctor with a bunch of degrees? That’s not the way to heal the mind. Art and meditation are the way to fix that. You need to get Tate to a yoga class.”
Mila had to relax her jaw so she could speak. “Then maybe you can suggest that to the therapist when you come for the session. Please come,” she added. For Tate’s sake, she would resort to begging.
“Please?” Valerie repeated. “You must think this is serious.”
“I do,” Mila assured her.
Valerie laughed again. “Oh, I see what’s happening here. Helping Tate is a way for you to get cozy with Roman. Don’t lie. It’s something you’ve always wanted. You, the little bookworm mouse. Roman, the renegade cowboy with a great dick. You must be in seventh heaven, having Roman practically right on your doorstep.”
Mila had no idea how to answer that. If she agreed and tried to placate Valerie, she might refuse to come. Heck, the woman might refuse, anyway, so Mila just went for broke.
“Come to Wrangler’s Creek ASAP to help your son,” Mila warned her, “or I will find you and drag you back here myself.”
Another laugh. “You think you can kick my ass, little coz?”
“I know I can.”
Valerie didn’t laugh that time, but she did end the call, making Mila wonder just how long it was going to take her to find that coldhearted witch’s ass and kick it all the way back here to the ranch.