out a slice of peach pie and placing it and two forks on the table, she sat as far away from Cody as the farm-style table would allow.
Cody studied the pie. “How do I know you didn’t poison it?” A suspicious brow shot up, and even though the smile didn’t reach his eyes, he managed to lighten the tension.
“Guess you don’t.” Shelby couldn’t mask the slight tremor in her voice. “And there’s no soap in this one, I promise.”
“So, Lulu’s been talking?”
Talking was grossly understating what Ms. Luella had done. She had walked around like a prized bull that just threw the national champion rider to the ground before they even left the pen.
“Yeah, told me the whole story after she uncuffed herself from the stove.”
“Apparently, she thought I was in need of a good mouth-washing.”
“Guess she doesn’t listen to herself at bingo. Otherwise she’d have a permanent sudsy smile.”
They both laughed, but it came out forced and hollow.
Shelby softened her voice and watched Cody’s face for his reaction when she ventured, “She also told me you pretty much fired the whole lot of ranch hands. Including Sam and Hal.”
“Yup,” was all he said, but his mouth grew stubborn.
Despite everything that had just happened and the painful loss she’d experienced when he’d said that they could never be friends, it still felt good to talk to him about something other than the past. Wanting to close the distance between them, Shelby rested a hand on the table, her fingers reaching out to barely brush the tips of his. “That must have been hard.”
“You don’t think I was harsh?” Cody’s eyes shifted, almost daring her to judge him.
“I think that you had your reasons and that’s all that matters.” Cody had never been one to jump the gun. He thought things through, weighed the consequences before acting. So if he felt he needed to fire those men, then he must have had reasons. Didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting though. “Even so, I know it must be weighing hard on you. I figured that’s what had you up most of last night, worrying about their families.”
“Dylan told me about Sam’s granddaughter.” Cody’s hands slid closer, linking just two of their fingers.
“Emily,” Shelby went on, trying to ignore the sensations his fingers created. “She’s a year younger than Jake. Two years ago, she was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes and the shots alone would kill them if they didn’t have insurance. But that doesn’t make it your fault.”
Cody shrugged, looked almost shy. “I think I found a way he and his family can stay on the insurance until he finds another job.”
This time, it was Shelby who slid closer, her hands enveloping his fully. “You’re a good man, Cody Tucker.” She granted the compliment with a soft smile. Cody’s fingers tightened around hers.
“Yeah, well, kids shouldn’t have to suffer for their parents’ problems.”
There was so much meaning in that one sentence, it choked Shelby. Mesmerized by this enigma of a man sitting inches from her, she shifted in her seat, wondering what he wanted out of all of this, hoping that he was ready to be a man of his word with regard to his own son.
Before she could ask, Cody forked off a good quarter of the slice and brought it to her lips, his brow raised in challenge.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Shelby defiantly opened her mouth.
Cody slid the fork in, and she closed her lips around it. The velvety texture mixed with the flaky crust had her eyes sliding shut in sheer appreciation. Ms. Luella could cook.
When Shelby opened her eyes, it was to find Cody staring at her intently, and this time, she had no problem deciphering what he wanted. Ever so slowly, Cody withdrew the fork from between her lips, the slide of cold metal on her tongue seductively erotic.
Without breaking eye contact, he flipped the fork over and placed it into his own mouth, making the same sensual pass. Shelby swallowed her entire bite whole.
Something in Cody’s eyes shifted, turning them from amber to a deep, liquid mahogany as they roamed down her neck, to her breasts, and back up again, her body swaying closer with every heart-pounding inch of his exploration. It was only when his eyes met hers that Shelby realized her lungs burned to the point of barely breathing.
“You’d better go,” Cody rasped. “I’m afraid pie is no longer what I’m craving.”
Yes, she should go. But would one night with Cody be so bad? If they both knew the terms going in . . .
No way. They could never be simply friends. And Shelby had trusted him with her heart once, believed he’d loved her and would always be there for her. Now she only believed in one thing—Jake.
“But we still need to talk about Jake.”
“Do you really think that if you stay here we’ll end up talking?”
He was right. This would have to wait. Staying here with him half naked and looking like an invitation to roll in the hay would only lead to one thing . . . another broken heart.
Plus, Shelby was allergic to hay.
“I am covering two swing shifts at work, so Jake and I will be staying in town for a few nights. We’ll be back Sunday. Just in case you wondered where we were at.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
“Night, Cody,” Shelby said, and before she did something she’d regret, like crawling on his lap and licking his chest, she scurried toward the door.
“Shelby Lynn.” His voice, addictively potent, had her feet rooting themselves in the doorway. “Earlier today, Lulu called Jacob ‘JT.’”
Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned her head. The insecurity she saw there, burning in Cody’s eyes, was enough to bowl her over. “His friends call him ‘JT.’ It’s short for Jacob Cody Tucker.”
Outside of her pounding heart and the hum of the refrigerator, the room was so quiet it made her even more aware of Cody’s strained silence. Whether it was from anger or relief, she couldn’t tell—but the recognition that flickered over his son’s bearing his name was undeniable.
“He’s your son, Cody. I never hid that from him. . . .” She paused, letting him absorb the information. “Or anyone else.”
The silence stretched on for so long Shelby began to wonder if this conversation was over, at least for the time being. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion. “What did you tell him about . . . me?”
She wanted to cry at the pain she heard in his voice, the shame in his sunken shoulders. But then she reminded herself that he’d chosen this. He’d been the one to turn his back on them. And until she had his commitment in writing, she had no intention of making this easy on him.
“I didn’t downplay what happened back then. I told him that you loved him, but you weren’t
