it occurred to Deke in another bolt of realization, was the real legacy he’d left to her. And the one he had most desired to spare her of.
The enormity of his failure sliced into him, razor-edged as the blade of a newly whetted knife. Somehow, though, wasn’t a sharp, clean cut better than being on the jagged side of such pain? Sure, a rough cut wasn’t as deep, but it caused a lot more damage, a more painful wound and an uglier scar as each shark’s tooth made its notch in tender flesh.
But God, how to explain that to Addie?
Grasping the post, Deke swung himself up on a level with her so he could look her square in the eye. “That’s what I’d been thinking about you when I left. That you deserved a hell of a lot more, a hell of a lot better, than what I’d be able to give you.”
She took a step back even as she retorted, “Oh, what a crock of bull! You obviously wanted to leave!”
“It’s the truth,” he persisted. “It wouldn’t have been good for either of us for me to stay, not after what happened…”
Say it, damn it! I didn’t want to leave at all! I had to, though, because I knew if I didn’t I’d end up like my father, maybe not in the same way, but just as completely, totally lost.
He tried again. “There’re things you don’t know about what happened that night. That’s why I’m here. You’ve got to believe me. This wasn’t the situation I meant to leave you in—”
“Oh? And what would have been a suitable situation to leave me in?” She gazed at him, the pain he knew now that she’d only been hiding from him stark in her eyes. “You gave me your promise, and when you did, I gave you my trust in return. My innocence. And you took it and left without a word. So now you’re wonderin’ why I kept to myself the one thing you did leave me?”
Eyelashes batting, she made a half turn away from him, a bid, he could see, for control. Even so, her voice shook as she went on. “Well, you can just go to hell, Deke Larrabie. You gave up any say about anything having to do with my life when you left me and the Bar G seven years ago without a backward glance. I had to protect my son, and I’ve got no regrets for doing so.”
“He’s my son, too.” Deke fixed her with a resolute look. “Neither of us has said it straight out like that, have we? But yes, Addie—he’s my son, too. Now that I know about him, you’ve gotta see there’s no way I’ll shirk my responsibility to him.”
“And there’s no way I’ll let you just blow into his life, announce you’re his father, then leave again!”
She graced him with as cynical a look as he’d ever seen in his own mirror. “I don’t know why you’ve come, anyway. Surely no one’s got a gun to your head, makin’ you stay. Besides, why do anything different? That’s the Larrabie way, isn’t it? Always lookin’ for the exit sign.”
Oh, but that cut him! Like the jagged rasp of a hacksaw. The hell of it was, her barbed words almost had him turning on his heel and hitting the highway.
And that’s exactly what she wants, he realized. Addie didn’t want him to know his son, didn’t want Jace to know who he was. And he couldn’t help concluding that it was for the same reason she had told Jace his father was never coming back. Because she saw Deke as being made in the image of his own father—an irresponsible cowboy rambler and rover.
Or, in Deke’s case, a card-carrying cowboy leaver.
Which caused that timer inside him to speed up again in that dangerous tick-tick-tick, of the second hand edging ever closer to…to what?
To nothing! Deke told himself. He was Jace’s father, damn it! No matter what had happened between the two of them, he deserved to know his son, deserved a chance to be a father to him!
Maybe that had been Jud’s plan: to bring Deke on to do some troubleshooting and give him the opportunity to know Jace while he was here. But if so, there was still a puzzle piece missing, because Addie had just said she didn’t know why he’d come to the Bar G, and it had obviously been a surprise when he showed up.
“Jud didn’t tell you, did he,” Deke said abruptly.
She went as wary as a cat. “Tell me what?”
And God help him, he couldn’t help taking some satisfaction in informing her. “He hired me as a ranching consultant to put the Bar G back on solid ground. Which means I’m here to stay, Addie.”
Chapter Two
A ddie felt as if she would be sick right there in the ranch yard, her thoughts were whirling around her head so fast, while hurt and betrayal flip-flopped in her stomach.
“Daddy hired you?” she asked through numbed lips. “That’s why you came back, to be a ranch consultant?”
“That’s right—me, Deke Larrabie.” His gaze had gone back to that stoniness that was frightening, so different was he from the emotionally charged twenty-two-year-old she’d last known. Just a split second before, though, she’d seen the spark, hot and fiery, leap to his eyes.
Yet make no mistake: The endearing rough edges of the half-boy, half-man she’d fallen in love with had been whittled away and sanded down, so that little showed that wasn’t meant to be seen.
Yes, that boy was gone. But she’d come to terms with that fact seven years ago. Hadn’t she?
“I don’t know what Daddy was thinkin’, telling you there was a job for you to do here,” Addie said desperately, trying to come up with some valid arguments while not knowing the terms Deke and her father had discussed. It was difficult to concentrate for just that reason. What had her father been thinking? Why would he take such a step behind her back? Sure, they’d discussed whether a ranching consultant would be able to do anything for the Bar G that she couldn’t do herself, given the time and the money. Which of course they’d have once she’d married…
Connor.
Sheer panic hit her like a tornado. She had to get Deke out of here before—
But it was too late. In the distance, a fire-engine red dual-wheeled pickup sped along the blacktop toward the Bar G.
Addie stepped closer to Deke, hoping to keep him from turning to see what had caught her eye.
“First of all,” she said quickly, “the Bar G’s already got someone capable of revamping its operations—me. I’ve been practically runnin’ the ranch since I was eighteen.”
“Then, why would Jud think it necessary to bring me in?” Deke asked with all reasonableness.
“I don’t know!” Oh, but she intended to find out the next time she saw her father! “Second, we’re just breaking even right now, which means there’s no room in the budget to put anyone else on the payroll.”
It near to killed her to admit such a thing, but she was desperate. The dually was turning under the lintel sign at the end of the lane.
Deke had an argument for that one, too. “Jud and I agreed I’d be workin’ without pay for the time being,” he said, adding quietly, “I thought it the least I could do to make up for the damage my daddy caused seven years ago.”
