7
CLAYTON
“Hometown Girl” by Josh Turner
- -
“A little higher on the left,” my sister says for the umpteenth time. I do what she wants and lift the banner up—again—to the left. “No, my left.”
I turn on the ladder and look down at Quinn. “Your left is the same as my left, Quinnie.”
“Oh, then the right.”
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I adjust my hold and move the banner again. From my perch, the thing is right as rain, but no damn way am I arguing with my hormonal sister. Tried that once and I swear to all things holy, the devil came out of her body and tried to pull me down to the pits below.
“Quinn, you’ve got that thing so high, no one’s gonna be able to see it!” Leigh calls from just outside the barn, coming into the large open area with one hand on her hip. “Why do you have Clay up there anyway, we decided the other night to put it above the door—outside.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I mumble under my breath. I close my eyes, count to ten, then do it all over again because I’m still seconds away from blowing the top of my head off.
“Need some help?”
I look down, hoping that Maverick can tell without words just how close I am to wringing our little sister’s neck, but keep my mouth shut out of fear that I’ll lose my temper if I open it.
Control.
I don’t just like it—I need it. Without it, I feel like I’ve lost the reins on everything around me.
Quinn and Leigh continue to bicker about the best place for the stupid-as-fuck banner while I continue to level Maverick with my seething gaze. His eyes dance, that lighthearted happiness that he developed in the past few years now pissing me off while I’m stuck up here.
“Come on down. I’ll take care of it and you can go do whatever the fuck Tate’s been doin’ for twenty minutes with the fuckin’ drinks.”
I look over at my brother in-law and laugh when he steps away from the cart we pulled in here early this morning and looks at the drink table in confusion. Why so much shit is needed for a joint baby shower, I’ll never know. Especially since this is something I never thought I’d experience personally, much less as an uncle.
“Why does he look so damn confused?” I ask Maverick, climbing down carefully and handing him both ends of the banner.
“Quinn said she wanted everything set out in the shape of fuckin’ rattles. Can you believe that shit? Since when does she give a damn about all this stuff?”
“Since she and your wife have been planning what our baby showers would look like from age ten, Maverick Austin Davis-James.”
I burst out in a loud bark of laughter at the sound of my baby brother’s legal name. I understood his reasons for not wanting to keep our family name when he married Leighton, instead choosing to take hers, but hearing Quinn sass him with that mouthful never fails to crack me up. “You heard her, Mr. James,” I laugh, slapping him on the shoulder before walking away to help Tate figure out how the hell a bunch of cans are supposed to look like baby rattles.
An hour later, I make myself a promise that the next time either one of them winds up pregnant, I’m moving to Alaska until the birth so I miss all this party shit. Or fuck, I’ll just buy them all the stuff they need if it means I don’t have to hang streamers, arrange food and drinks into shapes, and, worst of all, put a bunch of melted chocolate into diapers so they can play some fucked-up game of Sniff the Shit.
Thank God I’ll never find myself in this position.
Shaking my head, I walk away from the last table I sprinkled a bunch of pink and blue confetti on, dusting my hands off on my jeans. The party isn’t set to start for another hour, and I’m about to use every second to find a secluded, not fucking pastel corner in which to enjoy some silence. Maybe then I won’t jump on the back of Dell, my palmetto, and hightail it back to the ranch.
Stepping out of the barn, I adjust my hat so the sun isn’t so harsh on my eyes after being inside for so long. Sometimes I still can’t believe the changes Maverick made to the old James property since he came back to Pine Oak. He’s built himself one fine rodeo school: even from this distance, I can see some of his students out in the training arenas, working with their teachers despite the fact that it’s Saturday. I come over here from time to time to watch Maverick in his element, beyond happy that he’s been able to retain such a big part of his life after being forced to give up riding professionally.
“Somethin’ else, isn’t it?”
I nod, watching the boys in the distance instead of turning to look at the very man that was on my mind.
“Thank you for all the help today, big brother. How close were you to losin’ your shit in there?”
“You don’t want to know,” I answer honestly.
Maverick grunts out a laugh.
“You doin’ all right?” I ask, knowing fine and well he’ll understand what I’m asking.
He kicks a rock off the cement drive we’re standing on, and I give him the time he needs to mull over his words.
“Still weighs on me, Clay. I’d be lyin’ if I said otherwise, but every time I feel our baby movin’ in her belly, a little of that fear gets beat back. Never thought this was somethin’ I would have. Not after all the shit I did to fuck it up back in the day. I love my wife bigger than life, but I love our baby somethin’ even bigger. That pushes me through the dark thoughts.”
I hum, looking away from the boys working damn hard to be the next best thing the rodeo ever saw, to look at Maverick.
“Somethin’ else on your mind, brother?” I ask, frowning at his words.
“Shit, Clay,” he says with a long exhale. “I keep thinkin’, what if I’m just like the old man was?”
My jaw goes slack as I look at him in shock. “You fuckin’ with me?”
He lifts his hat off his head, the wild, thick, black-as-night hair that all us Davis kids have not tamed in the least, even with the sweat wetting it from being under his black Stetson for hours. He runs his free hand through his hair, frowning at me the whole time.
“That man fucked with my head for so long, Clayton,” he says solemnly. “What if I don’t know how to be a good father to my child because of him?”
Grasping his shoulder, I turn him so we’re face-to-face. “You hear me now, Maverick. Buford Davis was a shit father up until he was faced with his own mortality, but he is not us. You’re gonna be the best father a kid could have. The fact that you’re worried at all should tell you what you need to know. A man doesn’t feel the fear of bein’ a bad parent if he could even have an ounce of what it takes to not give a shit about them inside of him. You carin’ about it at all means it could never happen. You get me?”
He swallows thickly but nods after a beat of silence.
“That kid’s gonna be smothered with so much love it’ll never know what life is like without it.”
Maverick’s eyes close and he drops his chin so I lose his gaze, but not before I saw what I said take root. My brother, while he might have been broken when he left, has become one hell of a man with the love of a good woman.
“What do you say we go find the whiskey Tate stashed behind the back of your big fancy-ass barn and toast the fact that I’m about the be the favorite uncle in this family?”
“Fat chance.” He laughs after clearing his throat. “You aren’t takin’ top seat as uncle if I have a say in things.”
We both laugh, but inside I feel my heart get big as fuck when Maverick gives me an unguarded, carefree smile. Those shadows normally pulling his scowls deep are nowhere to be found. Then we grab Tate and warm our bellies with some of the best liquor Texas ever did see.
- -
I’ll remember this day for the rest of my life.
If I survive it, that is.
I look over at the other men who were forced by their wives or girlfriends to attend, thanking the good Lord that I’m not the only one about to puke. Logically, I know it’s just chocolate, but that doesn’t mean shit when all your eyes see is a pile of brown goo inside a diaper.
“Come on, Clay!” Jana, Leighton’s longtime bakery manager, hoots from the far corner. “Get that sniffer in there and hurry up before you lose this whole thing!”
Did I mention I’m on her team? She’s been bellowing from the sidelines since the horn sounded and our time started. I’m down to my last two piles of shit to identify before I can get the fuck away from this insanity.
“If you don’t get that snout into that diaper, you’re gonna owe me an hour-long massage.”
The prize.
Shoulda known she was frothing at the mouth for the gift card to some fancy spa in Austin. Seemed like every woman in town—because there’s no doubt they’re all here—is after that damn thing.
“I’ll buy you your own dadgum massage if you’ll pipe the hell down, Jana!” I yell over the laughter around us.
I look down at diaper again and close my eyes before bringing it to my nose and sniffing.
Snickers.
Scribbling the word down, I move on and quickly repeat the process. I wisely keep my eyes shut so I don’t fight my stomach to keep the whiskey I’ve consumed down.
“Done!” I bark, standing from my seat so swiftly, the old wooden chair topples over. I don’t even look at the people cracking up at my discomfort. Stomping over to the two women who thought up this torture, I slap my paper on the table in front of them. “I’m not babysittin’ until those rugrats are potty trained.”
Quinn laughs her ass off. Leigh just smiles sweetly up at me.
I’m opening my mouth to tell them just how serious I am when Leigh looks over my shoulder, her smile growing. Then I hear a voice that’s been haunting my dreams for almost two months now.
“Hey . . . uh, I’m sorry I’m late,” the sweet-as-pie voice says from behind me.
Takes everything in me to not react when there’s one hell of a war raging inside of me from just hearing that breathy apology. I clench my teeth so hard, my jaw hurts, but I don’t turn.
“That’s all right, honey. I know you’ve been going through a lot lately so I’m just happy you came out.”
“She wouldn’t have missed it,” a new voice I don’t recognize says.
“Lucy loves babies.” My heart thunders in my chest when I hear her speak again.
Leighton stands and walks past me, I assume to greet the late guests. Quinn slaps my thigh and I look down at my sister.
“Get out of my way, you big giant.”
Realizing I’m blocking her ability to heave out of her seat, I reach down and help her stand. She shoves me aside the second she’s up with more strength than a tiny woman should have, and follows in Leigh’s wake. I steady my breathing and turn. I should have known nothing I could do would matter. When I saw her across the smoke-filled bar the other night, I felt that like a punch in the gut. Now, seeing her this close is enough to have my cock going from zero to sixty. She doesn’t notice me, or if she does, she isn’t making it obvious. Her eyes flicker around the crowded barn, looking at what seems like everything and anything at once. If I thought it was hard to ignore this pull without being face-to-face, it’s going to be next to impossible now. And I’m not even sure if I want to ignore it.
Fuck, I need to get out of here and figure out what the hell is going through my mind.
“You remember my big brother, Clay, right Caroline?”
I look away from the dark-haired beauty who has me licking my lips and praying for an apple pie to look at my sister. I know Luke called her Carrie that night, I heard it clear as day, and the name has stuck with me since. Just as the thought comes, I remember the name she was screaming in my ear that same night. Looks like we were both playing a damn game.
She looks up at me, her cheeks turning pink despite her olive skin. Her dark brown eyes searching mine, but I don’t see recognition. One dainty hand comes out, timidly, and she gives me a weak smile. What happened to the feisty woman who came on my cock so many times I felt the vise grip days after I snuck out of that hotel room?
“N-nice to meet you,” she says softly.
Reaching out, I drag the tips of my fingers down hers and across her palm before engulfing her hand inside of mine. I know the exact moment she figures it out. Her plump lips part on a gasp and her hand spasms in mine.
“Pleasure,” I rumble, my voice just as thick as my cock.
“Davis,” she breathes.
“Yeah,” Quinn chuckles, drawing the word out and looking at her like she’s lost her mind. “My oldest brother, Clayton Davis, the family name and all.”
My eyes stay on hers as the silence turns awkward for those watching. Putting her out of her misery, I regretfully release her hand and take a step back, tipping my chin down in a quick nod. “I’ll leave you ladies to catch up.”
Still looking at Carrie—no, Caroline—I raise a brow and hope to God she sees the promise in my gaze. This isn’t over. Just touching her again was enough to make that thought clear as day to myself. No more denying this connection.
I might’ve been prepared to never give into that again, but there isn’t a force strong enough to keep us from colliding. And that’s just what we’re doing. I’ve felt that tug twice now in her presence as the connection between us pulled and pulled. We aren’t going to ignore Fate if she wants us to cross paths. I would have probably gone on my way without looking for this woman who’s haunted my memories for two months, but I’m not a stupid man and I damn sure won’t look a gift horse in the mouth now that this is proving to be inevitable.
We’ll finish this later.
Caroline and me.
In private.