A Rancher's Pride Read online

  But if he didn’t watch his step around Kayla, if he didn’t hold back on that overwhelming urge he’d been fighting to touch her, to do even more, he could find himself in trouble so deep, nothing anyone could say would get him out of it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kayla sat beside the rolltop desk in Sam’s office.

  After their conversation, she had been relieved that he’d left the room. The attraction she felt for him only complicated an already intolerable situation.

  Through the kitchen window a while later, she’d seen him go out to the barn. She had made a quick check on Becky, still out on the front porch with Sharleen, then had fled into the office for a much-needed break from the stress.

  Now she held her fingers over the computer keyboard and began to type an instant message to Lianne, her fingers moving faster and faster as she went.

  It’s awful, Lianne. Just awful.

  He’s still insisting on hanging around you? Lianne typed back.

  You bet he is.

  Today had been the longest time they’d spent apart in weeks.

  Beginning the day of her terrible accusation of him onward, he had spent every spare minute with her and Becky, even escorting them into town several times to introduce them to more of his friends. She hadn’t had the first opportunity to talk to any of these people without Sam close by. Even when she’d taken Becky to an art class earlier this week, he’d gone along.

  Kayla hadn’t taken an easy breath in days.

  Constantly having him by her side only made her feel more mixed-up than ever.

  Everyone seems to like me and accept me without question. She felt oddly grateful for that. Even Sharleen had come around, and they had slowly developed a polite but friendly relationship. What really gets to me is that they’ve all fallen in love with Becky.

  And why not? Lianne shot back. She’s adorable, smart and friendly. And not a bit shy.

  LOL, Kayla replied, laughing.

  Though Kayla was always on hand to interpret for her, Becky often got her point across without words when she needed to. Kayla couldn’t help smiling at the child’s resourcefulness.

  If only the adults around her could manage even half as well. Or one adult, anyway.

  When Kayla signed to Becky, she had begun to notice Sharleen watching. She’d even asked Kayla how to sign a few words.

  Only Sam resisted.

  Kayla knew she was partly to blame.

  She still struggled to find answers to his challenge about deciding what she could believe. And to find a way to make up for her accusation. Even now, she didn’t know what to think—or what to do.

  And Sam… Sam didn’t seem to want anything, except to prove his point with the judge.

  The thought worried Kayla, filling her with panic and fear.

  He’s throwing his barbecue here, she typed, adding in all capital letters, THIS WEEKEND! And the judge is his guest of honor. What am I going to do?

  You’ll be fine. You’ll figure something out. Have you heard anything from Matt yet?

  No. To her dismay, Sam had turned up clean on the background check Matt had done. She had called him again just the day before, urging him to find something—anything—that would help her case for custody.

  He’ll come through for you. You know he will. Hang in there.

  Kayla looked at the clock at the bottom of her screen. Her reprieve had ended. Time for dinner—and time to face Sam again.

  Sighing, she said goodbye and closed the email program. Talking with Lianne about the day-to-day issues might help, but right now she didn’t have the mental focus even to begin to explain her feelings about Sam. And what could she say, anyhow, when she couldn’t understand them herself?

  The recent weeks with Sam had only made things worse. And those moments of tension in the kitchen with him earlier had just about done her in.

  They had also finally made her realize the truth.

  She’d had an instant reaction to Sam. Oh, not five years ago. The stress and anger had been ratcheted too high for her to even think about him back then. And, of course, then he’d been married. But now that she’d come back to the ranch, there was no getting around her current interest in the man.

  One look at him standing in the barn doorway the day she’d rushed here to get Becky had made her freeze in the front seat of her rental car. One look.

  Broad shoulders and strong, sturdy hands, jet-black hair and glacier-gray eyes—any one of those things could do it for her every time. She’d never had the pleasure of seeing all those elements wrapped up in one neat package, though. The total effect was staggering.

  She shouldn’t let herself notice these things. Not about Becky’s daddy. Not about Ronnie’s ex. But she’d noticed now, and the feelings wouldn’t go away. Worse, they turned traitor, twisting the situation around, filling her mind and heart with questions she couldn’t begin to list in a message to Lianne.

  Didn’t want to think, even to herself.

  What if she’d never come to Flagman’s Folly that very first time? What if Sam hadn’t had that bad memory of her to cling to? What if he didn’t see her as the enemy, then and now?

  But she had come, and he had seen her, and he would hold that against her forever. No sense in dreaming of what-ifs, of a past she couldn’t change, a future she couldn’t hope for.

  Sighing, she swiveled her chair sideways, ready to get up from her seat. The front panel of the rolltop desk hadn’t been closed completely. She saw something now she hadn’t taken in before. On the surface of the desk, Sam had left a book. In the space between the desktop and the front panel, she could read enough of the title to know it was a dictionary. Not just any run-of-the mill dictionary. Not one that you’d find on the bookshelves of most homes.

  A dictionary of American Sign Language.

  Her heart squeezed painfully, for Becky or Sam or herself, she didn’t know.

  The sight of that book raised more questions she couldn’t answer. Sharleen had gone in to Flagman’s Folly only on the day of the parade, and she hadn’t entered a store. Sam must have bought the dictionary. Why hadn’t he mentioned it?

  He wouldn’t explain, of course. He already considered her nothing but a roadblock in his life. Well, she was about to get in his way a bit more.

  That book proved Sam cared about finding a solution to the current situation so awkward for all of them. So heartbreaking for little Becky. The fact that he hadn’t talked about the dictionary also proved he wasn’t sure how to go about things.

  Kayla did. If Sam couldn’t reach out to her, she’d just have to reach out to him.

  She would teach him to sign.

  It would help them all in the short run, while they were still forced together by the judge. And in the long run…well, it would help then, too.

  No matter how she tried not to, she had to acknowledge the truth. Becky needed her father in her life.

  Even more reluctantly, she admitted Sam needed a place in Becky’s life, too. When Kayla won custody—and she would—she couldn’t be cruel enough to deny him visitation rights.

  Beneath all these virtuous thoughts, she almost cringed at the ulterior motives racing through her mind.

  Teaching Sam to sign might help make up for what she had done to him.

  Teaching Sam to communicate with his daughter would show the judge how rational she was being about everything. How willing she would be to work with Sam to make sure he continued to have a place in Becky’s life.

  Just as long as that life was far away from this ranch. In Chicago. With Kayla.

  WHAT WAS IT PEOPLE SAID about the best-laid plans?

  A short while later, filled with confidence, Kayla sailed across the kitchen with the platter of pork roast and vegetables and anchored herself in her chair at the table. It took willpower for her to eat her dinner. To chat with Becky and Sharleen throughout the meal. To keep from blurting out her idea to Sam.

  As she served the peach cobbler she had ba
ked that morning, she made sure to set a generous slice in front of him.

  Soon after, Sharleen went upstairs to her room. Becky, finished with the cookies she’d chosen over the cobbler, received permission to leave the table.

  Alone with Sam at last, Kayla gripped her fork, cleared her throat and jumped into speech. “I’d like to teach you some sign, so you can talk to Becky. We’re all going to be here together for a while longer, aren’t we? We might as well put the time to good use.”

  He took the wind out of her sails with just one sentence. “That won’t work.”

  “Of course it will.” She forced a light laugh. “After all, I’m a certified sign language teacher.” I’ll make it so easy for you, you’ll see how uncomplicated it really is to talk with your daughter.

  “That’s not what I meant. I don’t have time to learn all that.”

  “Of course you do,” she shot back. She’d started to sound like a talking doll whose recording had gotten stuck in the same groove. Taking a deep breath, she added slowly, “You have plenty of time. You’ve certainly proven that in the past few weeks.”

  He pushed his half-eaten dessert aside. “Judge’s orders.”

  So, she had been right. He’d only spent his days with them so he could prove his own case in court. The knowledge made her even more determined to go through with her plan to upstage him.

  Meanwhile, they still had the communication issue to deal with. For Becky’s sake, she would give him one more chance to be reasonable. “I’ll teach you in the evenings after Becky’s gone to bed,” she insisted. “You can certainly learn some of the most basic signs. We can make it a game for her.” And for you.

  “We’ve got enough games going on around here, don’t you think?”

  She blinked. “What does that mean? It seems like you’re the one who’s not playing straight with everything. I saw the sign language dictionary on your desk. Obviously, you’ve got some interest in learning to sign. Why don’t you let me help you?”

  “Thanks, but no thanks.” Grabbing his dessert plate, he stood and walked over to the sink. “I’ve got it covered.”

  Not from anything she could see.

  The man was impossible. He refused to do anything that would make it easier to communicate with his daughter. Why in the world did he even want custody of her? Just to prove another point—with his ex-wife?

  She intended to find out, once and for all. Now. She slapped her palms on the table. Then she rose, turning to face him.

  The sight of Becky standing in the doorway, a stuffed horse tucked under one arm and a wooly white lamb under the other, froze Kayla in place.

  She smiled at her niece and could only hope the expression looked natural.

  Sam had bought those animals the day of the parade in town, and Becky had kept them close ever since. Though it helped a little to know he cared, the toys didn’t prove much. He could have bought the gifts to impress the people in town, just as he was planning that barbecue to influence the judge. Giving gifts wasn’t the same as giving himself, something she’d never seen Sam do—and probably never would. Hadn’t he admitted the time he grudgingly spent with Becky came directly by order of the judge? And he only suffered Kayla’s presence because she refused to give up any chance to be with her niece.

  What would happen in the awful event the judge awarded custody to Sam?

  What kind of life would he provide for his daughter?

  Through suddenly misty eyes, she looked at Becky again.

  All the strategies Kayla had come up with to convince Sam to learn to sign seemed a waste of energy. The anger and contempt he felt for her didn’t matter. The spark of attraction she felt for him and couldn’t seem to put out permanently—though she’d smothered it often enough in frustration!—seemed trivial by comparison. Even the certainty that he’d felt a few sparks, too, did nothing for her now.

  Everything seemed so unimportant compared to the child standing in front of them.

  Her niece’s well-being counted. It was all that mattered.

  Even Sam Robertson, cold and inflexible as he was, would have to accept that.

  As Becky ran back into the living room, Kayla took a half step toward Sam.

  She found him staring through the kitchen doorway after his daughter. His frozen expression, the pain in his eyes, the shadow of something she couldn’t name, all made her catch her breath. Fighting an overwhelming urge to reach out to him, she clenched her fingers and forced herself to keep her hands at her sides. Forced her feet to stay in place.

  As if trying to hide his exposed emotions, he turned away. “Gotta go check on that mama cow in the barn,” he muttered. A second later, the screen door slammed behind him as he left the house.

  But he’d moved too late. She had already seen his reaction. The sight made her question her beliefs about him more than ever before.

  She’d already fallen for one story Ronnie had told her, a story the judge and Ellamae had proved to be untrue. Maybe, instead of jumping to angry thoughts, she should give Sam the benefit of the doubt here.

  The man was infuriating, though.

  Was it only stubbornness on his part that made him refuse to learn to communicate with Becky? Only the limited time he had available, as he claimed? Or was there more behind his unwillingness to go along with Kayla’s idea of teaching him sign language?

  She thought again of his frozen expression as he’d looked at his own child, of the shadow in his eyes, and her anger eased the slightest bit.

  Could she already have seen the truth in his face?

  Could Sam be afraid that he wouldn’t learn to sign well enough to talk with Becky?

  Chapter Thirteen

  A little while after Kayla had tucked her niece into bed, Becky had appeared again in the living room. She’d argued against being brought back to her room but now, worn-out from playing with her dolls and stuffed animals, she had already fallen asleep.

  Kayla resettled the toy horse and lamb beside her.

  She left the room, her steps slow on the stairway down to the first floor as she planned her next move.

  It was time to get serious with Sam.

  She had made up her mind. She would make teaching him to sign into a game, and he’d learn the basics of the language whether he wanted to or not.

  The challenge gave her no qualms at all.

  Only the fact that this would put her even closer to him gave her second thoughts.

  Downstairs, she found him half-sprawled on one of the couches. He watched her approach, his eyes heavy-lidded, looking on the verge of sleep himself.

  Kayla couldn’t take the couch opposite his, where Becky had so carefully arranged her family of dolls and the rest of her stuffed animals. Heart in her throat, she sat gingerly on the end of Sam’s couch, as far from him as she could get.

  Even as she took a breath, she admitted the lie to herself. Of course, she could have moved the toys, could have sat facing him with the coffee table between them. But the thrill of knowing that one move of hers, one tiny slide across the cushions, would put her within touching distance of him had been a greater temptation than she could fight. With that one slide, Sam could pull her against him, could snuggle her close with his arm around her shoulders.

  What would he feel when he held her? What would he think? More important, who would he see when he looked her way? Would he see her, Kayla, with her brown hair and blue eyes? Would he notice the tiny scar on her chin? Or would he focus only on her relationship to the ex-wife he so bitterly resented?

  His eyes opened wider, and he shifted position on the couch. “Becky asleep?”

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I made sure to stay with her until she drifted off.”

  “What brought her downstairs again?”

  She shrugged. “A nightmare, probably.” No surprise that she had picked up on the tension between the two adults during dinner. “I didn’t question her. I was happy enough to have her fall back to sleep.”


  “No bedtime story tonight?”

  “We read one after her bath.”

  “You’ve done that a lot.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes, I have,” she said, encouraged that he had mentioned it. “Ronnie leaves Becky at my mom and dad’s often. I usually spend the night at my parents’ house, too, whenever Becky’s there. Although,” she added, “they can communicate with her. They couldn’t in the beginning. But my older sister and I taught them to sign.” She looked at him. “You could learn, too, Sam.”

  He gave a gravelly laugh. “Nah. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

  So much for his assurance that he had things “covered.”

  “My parents were older than you are now. And Sharleen seems to be picking up signs without any trouble.”

  “All right, then you can’t force a young dog to learn new tricks.”

  Force. Was that what it would take for him to get the skills necessary to communicate with his daughter?

  Then she recalled the expression she’d seen on his face when he’d looked at Becky. The fear.

  She had to come up with something to get him around that. But what? She thought for a moment then asked, “Have you ever donated blood?”

  His brows rose. “Are you saying learning sign language is like giving blood?”

  He gave a lopsided grin that had her heart rate soaring. But even that couldn’t stop her. “I’m not kidding, Sam. Have you ever donated? Or even gone for blood-work, maybe for an annual physical?”

  “Well, yeah. Of course.”

  “What do they ask you to do to before they put the cuff on?”

  He shrugged.

  “Come on, I’m serious.” She leaned across him to reach for his hand and lay it upright on the arm of the couch. She hadn’t stopped to think things through, hadn’t realized the move would bring their faces close. So close, their lips nearly touched. His breath tickled her cheek. His hand warmed her fingers. She’d been innocent in her sincerity, in her need to convince him to listen to her. But the gesture had backfired, stirring up additional emotions she didn’t want to think about. She retreated to the safety of her corner of the couch.