Cowboy Brave by Carolyn Brown (42)

After working on the vineyard for the better part of the day, Ava thought she’d relax while Luke and Walker gave Owen a riding lesson. She thought wrong. Instead she watched, heart in her throat, because her son, who she thought was getting so big, was dwarfed atop a giant horse. Walker rode a horse named Bella, one who was only five years old, next to Owen on Cleo, who had belonged to Jack when he was a young teen. Not that he’d ever mentioned her when they’d dated in high school or that she was big enough to eat her son.

Horses didn’t eat people, though, right?

Luke kept a steady pace on the ground next to Owen, but he was no longer holding the reins or guiding the mare. Her boy was on his own, and damn if he didn’t look good on a horse, like she assumed his father did.

Owen grabbed his Dodger cap by the bill and twirled it in the air like a lasso. “Woohoo! I’m ready to drive some cattle!”

But as soon as the words left his mouth, he lost his balance.

It felt like everything happened in slow motion, but it was over in a blink. Ava burst through the gate, not even thinking about spooking the horses. Her only thought was getting to her son. By the time she did, she couldn’t remember how she got from point A to point B—and then there was Owen, upright on the horse again, Luke steadying him back into the saddle.

“Mom!” he cried, a grin spreading from ear to ear. “Did you see that? I almost totally wiped out, and then Luke caught me! And Cleo even stopped, like she knew something was up, and it…was…awesome!”

Ava started laughing hysterically as tears sprang from her eyes at the same time. Maybe she wasn’t laughing at all, but then again, what did it really matter? Owen was okay. That was the only thing that mattered. Ever.

Walker spun around on Bella and trotted back in their direction while Luke rested a hand on Ava’s shoulder.

“I live and breathe this shit, Red,” he said. “As long as I’m around when he’s on the horse, your boy is in good hands.”

Ava had to catch her breath and collect herself before she could respond. By the time she was ready to speak, she knew Luke was right. This was Owen’s family, and in the short time they’d known him, they already had his back. And something made her trust that for as long as Owen was in their lives, they would.

“Thank you,” she said. “I just—I don’t want you to think—it was a knee-jerk reaction, you know?”

Walker and Luke both nodded. “You were protecting your young,” Luke said. “No worries. As long as you know now that he’s safe on the horse. Safer than any other Shortstop I know.”

Owen groaned and rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. He enjoyed the constant ribbing from his uncle, and Ava enjoyed watching it. It was like they really were a family or something. As quickly as the thought made her smile, though, it filled her with guilt.

They had to tell him. She kept rationalizing that she had to know exactly what role Jack would play in Owen’s life before telling her son who his father really was. But each second they kept the truth from him was a betrayal of the person she loved most. The ball wasn’t only in Jack’s court. It had to be in hers, too.

“Jack back yet?” Walker asked, as if he could read her thoughts.

She glanced back to the driveway that was missing his beat-up truck. “Nope.”

“He’s a man of mystery, huh?” Luke asked.

“More like a closed-off asshole,” Walker added, but Ava caught the hint of a smile on his usually sullen face.

“You say ‘asshole’ a lot,” Owen said.

Ava opened her mouth to protest, but then she thought better of it. If adding a few new words to Owen’s vocabulary was the price for getting to know the Everetts, so be it.

“He’s right, you know,” she said with a grin.

Luke tipped his head back and laughed. “Can’t argue with the truth.”

For a second Walker’s jaw tightened, but then his shoulders relaxed. “Well, asshole,” he said to Luke, “when you’re right, you’re right.”

All four of them laughed now, and Ava forgot the man of mystery for a few minutes.

The day’s work had gone as planned, right down to learning, thankfully, that the cover crop was doing its job. They wouldn’t have to replant, only till—which was still a big job—but it could have been worse.

But Jack had been gone for over an hour now at a meeting in the neighboring city of Pismo Beach. Jenna had already left, and neither Luke nor Walker knew anything about the meeting, either. Jack hadn’t bothered to fill anyone in. All they knew was that Jack Senior’s lawyer had called and asked to see Jack in person, and he had dropped everything to do it.

The unmistakable sound of tires on gravel broke the laughter and Ava’s train of thought.

“Mom!” Owen called as she watched Jack’s truck roll up the driveway. “Can I ride for a little longer? I promise I’ll be careful.”

She turned to him, brows raised. “And what about walking your dog?”

Scully, wiped from the day’s work, which had included racing Owen up and down the rows of vines, had been passed out on the living room floor when they’d left the house. Ava didn’t actually mind walking the dog. She also didn’t want to be the mom who said no because, despite knowing Luke and Walker were there, she still worried. It was a prerequisite of mothering, one that seemed to last far beyond the preschool and toddler years.

He looked at her with pleading eyes, so in love with being on that horse. “Ten more minutes? Pleeeaase? Then I’ll walk Scully, and I’ll even shower without complaining.”

She laughed at this, and Luke stared toward the house.

“Go on. I said he was safe, and I don’t go around saying shit I don’t mean.”

Her frantic heartbeat finally slowed. “Twenty minutes,” she countered, and Owen’s face lit up.

“Thank you!” he cried. “Thank you! Thank you!” He wobbled a bit in his excitement but immediately righted himself. Ava still gasped—and then laughed.

He would be fine. And she? Well, she’d still worry, but then she always would.

Jack was in the kitchen when she made it back to the house. He sat at the table staring at a business-sized envelope as if he was waiting for it to speak.

“I bet Carnac the Magnificent could tell you what’s in there,” she said.

His head jerked up, and for a second she thought he might not recognize her.

“What?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Johnny Carson?” she said. “Carnac the Magnificent? It was a bit on his show. My dad has all thirty years on DVD. When Johnny retired, he started over again from the beginning, and when I was old enough to watch with him, I did. It was kind of our thing.”

Jack let out a bitter laugh. “Apparently my dad’s thing is to still keep some sort of twisted hold on me even after he’s gone.”

Ava worried her upper lip. “You mean the vineyard?”

The line of his jaw flexed and released. “I mean this.” He slid the envelope across the table, and Ava moved closer so she could read the words scrawled across it in a jagged script.

“Even when his words were slurred or barely legible, he still managed to get the last one.”

She pulled out the chair across from him and sat, resting her palm on top of his.

“So that’s why his lawyer called you? To give you the letter?”

Jack nodded. “He had a few other things to go over, but he wanted to apologize and give me the letter in person. It got lost in a pile of paperwork. He said my father gave it to him days before he passed, like he knew he was at the end. I always thought he was too sauced to even know he was sick.”

Ava rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. “You’re gonna read it, right?” she asked and felt the veins in his hand tense as he curled it into a fist.

“No,” he said flatly. He stood, folded it in half and shoved it in his back pocket. “How’s Owen doing with the two knuckleheads?”

He smiled, but she could tell it was forced. She could also tell that the discussion about the letter was over.

For now, she thought.

She slid out of her chair and rose to meet his gaze. “Well, I had a heart attack when he almost fell off of Cleo, but Luke caught him, and Walker was right next to him on Bella.”

“Christ,” he hissed. “You can tell Luke and Walker to lay off the riding. I didn’t invite you here to put your son in danger.”

Her breath hitched.

Your son.

He must have realized what he’d said because his eyes widened.

“Jesus, Ava. No. That’s not what I meant.” He rounded the table so he was in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. “Calling him mine?” he said. “That’s a privilege I haven’t earned yet.”

She got that. Hell, she knew ten years ago he hadn’t wanted such a privilege. Yet here they were, staying in his home with him. He wanted—something. Didn’t he?

“Your terms still,” he said, a tentative grin taking over his features. “As far as what happens between you and me while you’re here.”

If she kissed him now, the subject would be effectively changed. No letter. No talk of them as an “us” instead of a her, a him, and an Owen. But Owen deserved better.

“We’re lying to him, Jack. He’s out there having the time of his life with his uncles, and I feel like we’re playing some huge joke on him. He’s a good kid.”

“I know,” he said softly.

She shook her head. “No. He’s a great kid. The best, and he deserves the truth. I told myself I wasn’t going to give you an ultimatum, but for Owen’s sake I have to.” He kept talking so much about doing right by her and Owen that she hadn’t realized, until today, that they’d missed the mark.

“You’re right,” he said, his gaze fixed on hers.

Only in his eyes, that storm of blue, could she see his warring emotions—what she guessed was hesitation and fear mixed with his insistence on always doing what was best for everyone else.

“I thought I could wait,” she said. “I thought I could let you deal with your dad’s death and figure out this vineyard thing, but you’re leaving. I can’t let the month go by only for us to tell him right before you hop on a plane.” Owen deserved time with his father knowing who his father was.

“Everything this week is your call,” he said.

“Okay, then. It should be just the three of us, right?” Not that she had a clue. There was no protocol for something like this, but she figured it should happen without the whole Everett/Ellis entourage. “He has a baseball game Saturday morning. His first of the season. Come to the game, and we’ll take him out for lunch after. We’ll tell him and take it from there, and whatever happens, the two of you will have at least another week before—”

She didn’t want to say what came next, but Jack was good at filling in the blanks.

“Before I move to New York.”

She forced a smile, but it felt like her chest was caving in.

They stood there in that heavy silence for several long seconds, the lack of words passing between them saying more than if they’d stated the obvious. Whatever this was with him and her could only ever be temporary unless he gave up his job.

But it was more than a job. It was his career. And it wasn’t like he was asking her and Owen to drop everything and come with him to New York. She couldn’t, even if he did. She wouldn’t. Her life—her future—was here. So was Owen’s.

He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “I got you something today,” he said. “After my meeting.”

Her eyes widened, and the change of subject made breathing a little easier.

“It’s still in the bed of my truck.”

He pulled her toward the door without another word.

When they reached the truck, he lowered the back door and pulled back a small tarp to reveal an easel, a blank canvas, and several tubes of paint.

Ava’s hand flew to her mouth.

“I know Owen said the painting wasn’t going so great lately, but I thought—I know how much you loved it, and that if things with us had worked out differently, you would have gone to art school ten years ago instead of just applying now. Aaand…I can’t tell if you’re smiling or crying right now, so if I’ve messed up again, please tell me. I can take it. I’m apparently on a roll.”

Her eyes shone bright. She was sure of it, but not because he’d messed up again. Far from it. So she dropped her hand to reveal a smile. Because despite her and Jack being virtual strangers, he still knew her enough to do something like this.

She threw her arms around him and hugged him close, whispering in his ear, “Thank you.” Then she kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips to her neck, and she shuddered. This was exactly what she needed. She’d let her body take over so she could give her brain—and heart—a rest.

“I did good, huh?” he said against her, and it was all she could do not to moan right there.

“You did really good,” she said, and he peppered her collarbone with more kisses.

This was the language they could speak, one of mutual understanding. And pleasure. They were really good when it came to pleasure.

“Owen and your brothers can probably see us,” she said.

He laughed, his warm breath making her warm in places he couldn’t see. “Nope. They’re on the far end of the stable loop. We’ve got at least three more minutes of being undetected…unless…”

He backed her around the side of the truck and up against the driver’s side door, which meant they were completely out of sight.

She gasped as he continued where they’d left off, lips trailing to where her cleavage peeked out from her T-shirt. He dipped his tongue between her breasts, and she hummed a soft moan.

“I gotta say,” she started, her voice accompanied by small, sharp gasps, “these stolen moments with you are about the sexiest thing ever.”

His palms were on her hips, and he slipped his thumbs beneath her T-shirt. Then his hands slowly lifted the cotton up and over her breasts.

“God, I’m glad you don’t have neighbors,” she admitted, then cried out as he popped the cup of her demi bra down and took her hard peak into his mouth.

“I hate neighbors,” he said, his voice rough with what she hoped was a need that matched her own.

She knew they’d have to stop in seconds. Minutes at the most. She wouldn’t let Owen and his uncles catch them like this. But hell if she wouldn’t take what she could get.

She ran her hands through his golden waves. “Did you have neighbors in San Diego?” she asked.

He nodded, his five o’clock shadow scratching deliciously against her chest.

“Hated ’em,” he said before attending to what she hoped wouldn’t be a neglected left breast.

She laughed and then cut herself off with a gasp as he flicked his tongue against her nipple.

“You’re not capable of hate,” she said when she found her voice again.

He lifted his head at this, his gaze studying her for several long seconds. God, she wished she could read what went on behind the storm in those blue eyes.

“They’re walking the horses back into the stable,” he said. “We should probably—”

She kissed him then, taking her fill in hopes that what he gave her now would tide her over until their next stolen moment. But every kiss made her want another. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever truly get enough.

“God, Ava,” he said. And he kissed her harder, longer, like he was trying to quench a thirst as deep as a well. “You make me—”

But he didn’t finish the thought. He kept kissing her as if this was the last time they’d get to do this.

The hell it was. And hell if she wasn’t going to pull some sort of revelation from him, no matter how small.

“What? I make you what?”

He rested his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. “You make me want,” he finally said.

She sighed and gave him one last soft kiss.

How long had she put herself on the bottom of the list? Owen came first. And that would never change. But maybe it was time to bump herself up a couple of notches. Maybe it was time to let herself want, too.

And hope.

“Well,” she whispered softly against his cheek. “I guess that makes two of us.”