from the couch, swaying but determined, and reached for his arm before he could walk away. “He has blond hair and blue eyes just like mine, doesn’t he?”
“So what if he does? His mother had blond hair and blue eyes.”
“Does your son have a star-shaped strawberry birthmark on his right hip?”
About to take a step, the man stopped in midstride, his back to her, his body rigid. “That proves nothing.”
Her hand tightened on his arm, her nails digging in. Then she let go, her fingers going to her waistband. She loosened the button of her jeans and unzipped the fly. Then with a deep breath, she shoved the jeans down low enough to expose her right hip. “Does it look like this?”
The man Tate had called C.W. stopped in the doorway and let out a long, low wolf whistle.
Tate’s chest expanded and contracted before he finally stared down at the mark on her hip. “How do I know that’s real?”
“Touch it,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. The thought of the big cowboy touching her made her tingle all over, but she held steady. She had to do this to get her son back.
His hand came out and he rubbed a work-roughened thumb across the birthmark. “It could be a tattoo.”
Sylvia’s breath caught in her chest and she held it for a moment before replying, electric current tingling throughout her body from where his fingers touched her. “You know it’s not. It’s as real as the one on my son’s hip.” She pulled her jeans up and zipped. “Can I see him now?”
His mouth drew into a tight, forbidding line. Then he caught her by her arms and shook her. “Get it through your head, he’s not your son! Now, get out of my house.” He practically flung her away from him.
Steadying herself against the back of the couch, Sylvia struggled to remain calm. Even with Tate breathing fire down on her, she refused to give up. “Not without my son.”
“You won’t see him without a court order. I’ll be contacting my lawyer. I suggest you contact yours.”
Sylvia’s heart dropped to her stomach. She didn’t have a nickel left in her account and she’d been living on credit cards for the past month until they had maxed out. A long court battle would be way out of her league. She flung her long hair back and stood with her shoulders squared, her feet wide, hands propped on her hips. All she had left was false bravado and her conviction that she’d really found her son. “If you want me to leave, you’ll have to call the sheriff. I’m not going anywhere until I see my son.”
“Let me remind you who is trespassing and who is within legal rights to shoot you.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been shot at trying to find my son. Go ahead.” Inside she shook, but she refused to show him an ounce of fear. “I want to see the son stolen from me in Mexico six months ago.”
“What’s it going to take to convince you that he’s not your son?”
“Show me his right hip. If the birthmark isn’t there, I’ll leave, no argument.” Sylvia held her chin high and when her mouth threatened to tremble, she bit down hard on her lower lip.
Tate sucked in a deep breath and let it out. It did nothing to calm the racing beat of his heart. He sucked in another breath and tried again. But as long as the woman who claimed to be his son’s mother stood in his living room, he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs.
After all the years he’d begged Laura for children…then she’d left and his father had died. Tate refused to give up the only family he had left. Ever since he’d adopted Jake, he’d had that niggling worry in the back of his mind that someone would someday come and claim him. Hadn’t he seen court cases where the mother came back and claimed she’d been wrong to let her child go? Never afraid of anything in his life, Tate feared losing Jake. He stiffened.
No way in hell.
“C.W., help me load this woman into the truck so we can kick her off the ranch.”
C.W.’s lips curled upward. “Gladly.” As he walked toward Sylvia, his grin widened. “If you don’t mind me saying, I wish it had been me touching that birthmark, ma’am.”
Sylvia raised her fists to a fighting position and squared off with C.W. “Touch me, and I’ll break every one of your fingers. I won’t leave until I see my son.”
Tate shook his head. “Lady, I don’t know what happened to your son, but since you’re not going to see my son, you might as well shove off.”
The front door to the house slammed open. “Tate?” Kacee LeBlanc’s heels clicked across the hardwood floors in double time. “What’s with the fire down by the creek?” She jerked to a halt when she spied Sylvia with her fists up. “Who the hell’s she?”
Tate nodded toward Sylvia. “This woman claims to be Jake’s mother.”
“That’s just bull. I was there when the real birth mother signed over the child. She didn’t look anything like this woman. Other than the blond hair.” Kacee whipped out her cell phone. “Have you called the sheriff?”
“We were just about to do that.” Tate stared pointedly at Sylvia. “Care to leave before he gets here?”
“You call him Jake?” Sylvia smiled. “My son’s name is Jacob.”
“I don’t care what your son’s name is. He’s my son.”
“I’m not budging until I see the baby.”
“Oh, you’ll be budging all right.” Tate nodded to Kacee. “Make that call.”
She punched a button on her cell phone. While she waited for an answer, she frowned. “There’s a fire down by the creek. You might want to get some of the ranch hands on it before it spreads.”
“Fire?” C.W.’s brows rose. “Damn, as dry as it is, it’ll spread fast.” He nodded at Tate. “You can handle her on your own?”
“Go. We can’t afford a range fire. Take Dalton, Cody and anyone else who’s back from the south range.”
“Will do.” C.W. ran out of the room.
“Yes, we have an emergency. This is Kacee LeBlanc out at the Vincent Ranch. We have a fire by the highway near Rocky Creek. We also have a trespasser at the ranch house.” Kacee’s steel-gray gaze scraped Sylvia from head to toe. “Send the sheriff. The woman claims to be Jake’s mother and refuses to leave. Thirty? That’s the best he can do? Okay. Thank you.” She flipped her cell phone shut and tilted her head to the side. “The sheriff will be here soon.” She crossed the room to Tate and touched his arm. “Want me to get a gun, Tate? You know you can shoot trespassers, especially if they’re threatening you or a loved one.” Her voice was hard, her words menacing. She meant to scare the woman across the room, dressed in a dirty shirt and jeans, looking like she’d been run through the wringer of his grandmother’s old-timey washing machine.
Despite her threat to his son, Tate didn’t like where Kacee was going. “No. I reckon she’s harmless.”
Kacee leaned
