help yourselves.”
Tate, who’d been trying to ground himself again ever since Bex had left for town, drew a breath, sat back in his chair and looked around at the spacious kitchen.
It was a well-appointed room, designed to be both functional and welcoming. The space was rustic, and he appreciated the simplicity of it. An island with a flat stove and a ceramic top had been added, an ideal fit with the hand-hewn cabinets Jim had built himself, years before. Even when Tripp had remodeled the place after he’d sold the charter jet service and moved back to Mustang Creek, he’d left the best parts unchanged, so the other appliances, however sleek and modern, actually enhanced the relax-and-stay-awhile effect. A natural rock fireplace filled one wall, and a quilted runner—Hadleigh’s own handiwork—brightened the long plank table, with its sturdy pine chairs. The overall effect was warm and inviting.
Tate wanted that sense of hominess for his own place, for his boys. Tricky, in an all-male household.
Just the same, he maintained certain standards. Although he let a lot of house rules slide, one thing he insisted on was the supper ritual. Both Ben and Adam would happily eat in front of a TV or a laptop, but he insisted they all sit down together—every single night.
That particular dictate meant he wasn’t always popular.
Just then, someone’s phone rang, interrupting Tate’s thoughts.
Bex was the lucky winner.
Or maybe not so lucky, judging by the worried frown that appeared on her face.
She answered her cell with a murmured, “Tara?” and got up, moving away from the table, phone pressed to her ear. Hadleigh and Melody, meanwhile, exchanged glances, looking concerned.
“This isn’t good,” Hadleigh said in an undertone.
Melody nodded in irritated agreement.
“SLOW DOWN. I can’t understand you.” Bex was several years younger, but decades calmer, than her volatile sibling, Tara. “What’s going on?”
“I left him.”
“Greg?”
“Who else would I leave?”
Bex could have done without the petulance in her tone.
Her sister had a point—it was a dumb question—but Bex was trying to process the situation, and the hysteria on the other end wasn’t exactly conducive to rational thought. “Okay, where are you?”
“Your house.”
Good choice. So much for an enjoyable, relaxing lunch. She wasn’t going to rush home, because Tara and Greg had split before, but it sure ruined her day to have to worry about it. There was the usual blowup, and then they both changed their minds...
“I’ll be home soon so we can talk,” Bex told her after a few minutes.
There was an empty chair at the kitchen table and she took it. Melody looked at her inquiringly and Bex said, “The usual nothing.”
Hadleigh rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, she left Greg again.”
It was more than a little embarrassing to admit it in front of Tate. “They had a dustup, it seems. I got no details. So I have no idea what’s really going on. She and Joshua are at my house.” Bex sighed; she couldn’t help it. “I’ll deal with this later. Every single time I rush to the rescue, Tara and Greg immediately make up. What I want to do now is eat something decadent.”
Hadleigh pushed the box toward her. “The carbs will help.”
It wasn’t until the men took the boys back outside that Bex revealed the latest. “He’s been cheating on her.”
No one said anything.
She reiterated. “Greg’s been cheating on Tara.”
Still no comment.
She glanced from one expression to the other. “You both knew?”
Melody took another cookie and nodded. “Bex, here’s a heads-up. This is Mustang Creek, remember? Where you live? Come on. Besides, he’s cheated on her before and she always goes back. Like you said, you rush to the rescue, and it does no good. I’d love to help but Tara constantly makes bad choices.”
It was so true.
If she could step up and defend her sister she would. Greg was bad choice number...what? She wasn’t sure where he fell in the lineup. Tara’s friends in high school hadn’t exactly been on the high-achieving end; she’d dated some real losers before she’d settled on Greg, who definitely was not a prince. She’d also eschewed college in favor of the basic secretarial job she was offered at the local hardware store, keeping their books and answering the phone. But she’d done one thing very, very right, and Bex pointed it out. “Josh is great.”
“Josh,” Hadleigh said stoutly, “is adorable.”
No question there. Despite his parents’ acrimony, Josh was such a nice kid. Bex folded her hands on the table, her attitude one of surrender. “I am uninterested in this mess. I didn’t want my sister to marry Greg, but she did it, anyway. I didn’t want her to have a baby with him because they had problems before they ever walked into that church, but she did that, too. I’d love to know what I’m supposed to do now.”
“It isn’t your rodeo.” Melody said it with quiet resolve, and Hadleigh nodded. “I wish this was your choice, but it’s not. Tara needs to figure it out on her own.”
“Josh has to be so afraid and freaked out.”
“Well, let’s go get him.” Both Hadleigh and Melody were on their feet. “We have dogs, horses, food, acres of land and other boys his age. You brought these fabulous cookies. If that doesn’t make him feel better, I’m not sure what would.”
“My sister—”
“Tara isn’t six years old, Bex. Josh is. He’s six. We’ll rescue him, not her.” Hadleigh said it pleasantly enough, but her tone was unrelenting. “Let’s go. Tara can do what she wants—stay at your place or come with us. Up to her. The important thing is Josh. We need to bring him here, give him a chance to relax, play with Tate’s boys, hang out with the dogs. You’re just going to sit and worry about him, anyway.”
They had a point, and it was true. Her house didn’t offer much entertainment for a young boy, while the ranch was a virtual playground of endless child fun. As they walked to the car, both of Tate’s sons ran past, the dogs in hot pursuit, and there was definitely a cowboy theme going on with whatever game they were playing. Tripp and Tate followed at a more sedate pace, talking companionably, and when Tripp saw them getting in the car, he said, “I can guess where you’re headed.”
“I don’t think Josh’s shoulder should be the one Tara cries on,” Bex said, remembering her sister’s hysteria. “It can’t be good for him to see her so upset. We’re taking two cars. She can do
