The Maverick's Ready-Made Family. Brenda Harlen
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didn’t have any trouble picking up on the undercurrents in that response. “It must have been difficult—to be on your own with a newborn.”
“That’s the understatement of the century,” he admitted. “I hadn’t planned on becoming a father at this point in my life and I knew absolutely nothing about babies. In fact, I’m not sure either Bennett or I would have made it through the first few weeks without my mom.”
In many ways, Clay’s story was similar to her own. She hadn’t planned on becoming a mother at this point in her life, either, and while she wouldn’t say she knew “absolutely nothing” about babies, her experience was limited. But unlike Bennett, her baby wouldn’t have a grandmother to help them through the rough patches.
She shifted her gaze away, so Clay wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “You’re lucky to have her,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot that your mother passed away.”
She nodded. “Two years ago.”
“I bet you miss her.”
“Now more than ever,” Antonia admitted.
Lucinda Wright had been more than a parent. In a lot of ways, she’d been her best friend, and Antonia missed her gentle guidance and sage advice. Mostly she missed the way her mother always knew when she was worried about something, she missed the comforting weight of the arm she would put across her daughter’s shoulders and the confidence in her voice when she promised that everything would work out for the best.
As her baby shifted in her belly, Antonia wanted desperately to believe her mother’s promise, but right now she didn’t have a clue what would be best for her baby.
Clay didn’t see his brother again until later that night. Aside from the twice weekly group therapy sessions at the hospital, he wasn’t sure what Forrest did to occupy all the hours in his day. Then again, some people probably wondered what Clay did to fill his days, but anyone who had ever been responsible for the full-time care of a baby wouldn’t need to wonder. Bennett kept his daddy hopping 24/7.
He was in the common room on the main floor of the boarding house, watching a National League playoff game, when Forrest came in with a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of beer. Sometimes the room was so crowded it was impossible to find a chair, but most of the boarders started work early in the morning and, consequently, retired to their rooms early at night—particularly at the beginning of the week. So tonight, Clay had been alone with the ball game until his brother joined him.
He accepted the bottle Forrest handed to him and took a long swallow before setting it on the coffee table beside the baby monitor.
“Ben’s asleep already?”
“It’s almost ten o’clock,” Clay pointed out.
Forrest looked disappointed.
Clay hadn’t been thrilled when his brother enlisted, but he understood that Forrest wanted to serve his country and that it was his decision to make. But when he came home, it was apparent to everyone that the injury to his leg wasn’t the deepest of his wounds.
And yet there had been rare moments when Clay caught glimpses of the easygoing brother he remembered. There had been a few more of those moments since they’d come to Thunder Canyon, illustrated by good-natured teasing and dry humor. But the clearest evidence was in his brother’s interactions with Bennett. The little boy was the only one—at least so far—who had proven capable of breaching all of Forrest’s defenses.
“There was a time when he didn’t settle down until midnight,” Forrest recalled.
“Then I wised up and stopped letting him nap after dinner.”
“If you kept him up later at night, he wouldn’t be awake so early in the morning.”
Clay shrugged. “I’m used to starting the day early.”
“Do you miss it?”
Forrest was asking about the work he’d done on the family ranch back in Rust Creek Falls, and Clay nodded. “I miss the physical labor, the satisfaction that comes from getting a job done, and I feel guilty as hell for leaving Dad, Dallas, Braden, Sutter and Collin with all the work.”
“You didn’t have to come to Thunder Canyon to babysit me,” Forrest told him.
“I didn’t come to babysit you,” Clay told him. “I came because I couldn’t stand being the center of attention every time I took Bennett into town. It was as if no one had ever known anyone who was a single father before.”
“Try being the wounded war hero,” Forrest told him. “People tiptoed around me as if my gimp leg was contagious—or maybe it’s the rumors of my PTSD that freaked them out.”
“Not everyone was freaked out,” Clay reminded him. “In fact, Marla James only wanted to show her appreciation for the sacrifice you made for our country.”
Forrest tipped his bottle to his lips, but Clay saw the color rise in his brother’s cheeks.
“I still haven’t decided whether I should thank you or kick your ass for deflecting her attention,” he finally said.
Clay just grinned.
Marla James’s crush on Forrest had been something of a legend in Rust Creek Falls. Her family had moved into town the summer before she started fifth grade, and on the first day of school, she’d set her sights on Forrest Traub and had never looked back. It didn’t matter how many times he brushed her off or how many other girls he dated, she remained adamant that they would one day be together. When Forrest returned from Iraq, she decided that day had finally come.
She stopped by the Traub Ranch at least once a day to check on her injured hero. Forrest—wounded more deeply than the scars on his leg—wasn’t even kind in his dismissal of her efforts, but Marla refused to be dissuaded. Not until Clay, with feigned embarrassment and reluctance, implied that his brother’s injury had affected more than his leg and that he wasn’t able to appreciate what she was offering.
Marla had cried genuine tears over that, but her lifelong love for Forrest clearly was not as strong as her sexual desires.
“You could always call Marla up and tell her you’re all better now,” Clay teased.
“If only that were true,” Forrest said.
And Clay knew his brother’s comment had nothing to do with the fabricated injury. Which was why Ellie was so worried about her son, and why Clay had to do everything he could to keep his promise to his mother.
“Bennett and I are going to take a drive to Billings for a farm auction in the morning to check out a tractor that’s on the block. Did you want to come with us?”
Forrest just shook his head and munched on a handful of popcorn.
“Okay,” Clay said easily. “How about dinner at D.J.’s Friday night?”
His brother looked up at that, his gaze narrowing. “Friday is three days from now,” he noted. “Since when do you plan that far ahead?”
So much for thinking that he could slip anything past Forrest. But instead of answering the question directly, he only shrugged, as if his brother’s response was of no concern to him. “If you’ve got a hot date and don’t want to go, just say so.”
Forrest lifted a brow. “Well, I’ve had so many hot dates recently I’d have to check my calendar to know for sure.”
“You do that,” Clay advised.
His brother mimed thumbing through a little black book. “I have Skinny Ginny penciled in, but I can reschedule. At least at D.J.’s, I’ll get some meat on my ribs.”
“I’m glad to see your sense of humor is still intact,” Clay noted. “Even if it’s deeply buried most days.”
Forrest