style="font-size:15px;"> Truth and conviction pushed her on, through the large gates and enormous wrought-iron arch that announced the entrance to Reynolds Station. She drove down the immaculate concrete drive that seemed to stretch on for a mile, the ranch house rising up in the distance. That conviction never even wavered as she got out of the car and marched toward the side door that was the entrance to the kitchen and, as Arden had invited her in before, she knew was the preferred spot for family and friends to enter.
Ignoring the steady flutter in her stomach that was entirely different from morning sickness, yet nearly as harsh on the few contents still in there, she knocked on the door. A loud, masculine “Come in!” greeted her and she laid a hand on her stomach, willing what little was left to stay put.
And walked straight into chaos.
Ace Reynolds, the oldest brother and resident patriarch, stood in the middle of the kitchen like a football referee. Only instead of his arms extended in demonstrating football plays, each of his large hands was firmly planted on a shoulder. One belonging to Tate and the other to Hoyt.
Both men were filthy, layers of dust covering their shirts and faces, blood dripping from various cuts. Arden flitted around Hoyt with a first aid kit in hand and Belle Granger, Tate’s fiancée, hovered around his head with an ice pack she kept trying to press to his eye. A mix of low growls and muttered curses continued between the two patients which, best she could tell, seemed to be the cause of Ace’s firm and unwavering hold.
“Reese!” Arden’s voice broke through the noise and the greeting was enough to have Hoyt glancing sideways at her from beneath the steady pressure of a bloodied bandage. “Welcome to the O.K. Corral.”
“There wasn’t a gunfight,” Hoyt muttered.
“And thank God for that,” Arden said before lightly smacking him on the back of the head.
Although it had been a long time since she’d swatted at a man, Reese remembered the urge and couldn’t smother the smile. “It looks like I picked a bad time to visit. I can come back later.”
“Stay.”
That lone word—firm and unyielding and without even the hint of a grunt—left Hoyt’s lips. The order seemed to have an effect on everyone in the kitchen, with puzzled looks coming from everyone except Tate.
Instead of uncertainty, a bright wide, triumphant smile spread across Tate’s face. That same sense of triumph filled his words when he spoke. “Why don’t we give them a few minutes.”
“But you’re still—”
Tate cut off Belle with a squeeze of her hand over the ice pack. “I’m fine. Or I will be, once Ace gets his damn hands off me.”
Reese knew it wasn’t polite to laugh, but the harried exit of four adults, all of whom looked as if they’d rather stay and watch, fell firmly into sitcom territory. She wouldn’t be half surprised if the four of them had considered taking up posts on the other side of the kitchen door to listen with empty glasses through the walls. In the end, though, it was Belle’s firmly worded instructions to head outside that had everyone moving, the kitchen door slamming in their wake.
And then she was alone with Hoyt.
He had tossed the bandage Arden had held against his head, his wound obviously tender but no longer bleeding, in a garbage can by the edge of the counter before turning to look at her. “Sorry about that.”
“About what?”
“The middle of our kitchen doesn’t usually look like a MASH unit.”
“Really?” Reese fought the butterflies that had suddenly taken flight in her stomach by picking up a box of bandages on the table and refitting them in the first aid kit. “With a working ranch full of cowboys, I figured this was par for the course.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged before a small grimace marred his firm, full lips. “But usually that’s due to an accident and not a fight between brothers.”
Although the tableau she’d walked in on—complete with Ace holding each man at bay—had suggested as much, it was curious that Hoyt would readily admit it. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That was some heavy duty first aid for nothing.”
His grimace grew wider and for a moment, Reese was half convinced Hoyt wasn’t going to say anything. “He suggested I’ve been in a mood,” Hoyt said.
“At the risk of sounding indelicate, aren’t you always in a mood?”
The surly look on his face broke wide open with a smile so dazzling Reese had to take a moment and simply stare. Good Lord, why hadn’t she remembered just how attractive he was? Her fevered dreams each night had convinced her of just how handsome and good-looking he was, but nothing in those heated imaginings came close to the real thing. She’d thought more than once about calling him, but each time chalked it up to the whole one-night thing and left the situation alone. But now? With that broad smile? Oh, the man was lethal.
And she couldn’t help wondering why she’d stayed away so long.
When he finally stopped laughing, his face settled into easier lines than when she’d first walked in. “Right you are. A point my brother was attempting to point out. I think.”
“Why the fight?”
“Because he brought you up.”
“Me? What’s that supposed to mean? And why is it worthy of a brawl?”
“He had the nerve to suggest I’ve been a raging bastard for the past few months over you.”
“Oh.” She hesitated before pressing on. “Was he right?”
Hoyt seemed to consider the question before that gorgeous green gaze settled directly on hers. “Yeah. I think he is.”
“What would I have to do with anything?”
“Reese.” His voice stopped her, any hints of teasing gone. “You know what happened between us.”
Knew?
Goodness, she’d lived with that knowledge each and every day since. She knew the moments they’d spent together—had watched them on the backs of her eyelids like a vivid film—and hadn’t spent a single day since not thinking about him. While it hadn’t been the only cause of her delayed visit, those vivid reimaginings were one of the reasons she’d stayed away. What had been intended as a casual evening, assuaging an adult need in a very adult fashion, had grown out of proportion in her mind.
Hoyt Reynolds wasn’t her knight-errant come to save her from all the problems in her life. In fact, truth be told, he’d added a complication to her life that—while welcome—was absolutely an obstacle to getting her world back to normal.
Normal had vanished. It had begun back in the spring with her father’s deeds and had only gotten more and more pronounced with her own choices. She was pregnant. And this time next year she’d have a small child utterly dependent on her. Life had changed and it wasn’t ever going to return to where it had been.
“While
