“I can’t imagine you with rough edges. Did your mom let you get away with stuff?”
“All the time.”
“She did?”
“You have to remember she was still in high school when she had me. She made a stab at being an adult, but she was more of a buddy than a mom. I asked for a guitar and she got me one. Sold some collectible dolls she’d been given as a kid.”
“She sounds very loving.”
“Loving, yes, but she was no disciplinarian. I wasn’t used to following rules, which is why I lit out to escape living with foster parents. I knew they’d make me toe the line.”
“Why did you agree to follow rules at the Buckskin?”
“I fell in love with the place. And the people. Henri and Charley taught me that being a cowboy involved more than riding and roping skills. They demanded a respectful attitude, kindness to those less fortunate and courage in the face of adversity.”
Her expression softened. “That’s you all over. You showed all those things when I called you on Friday.”
He grinned. “I was quaking in my boots.”
“Me, too. Except I wasn’t wearing boots.”
“Do you have any?”
“Girly ones with four-inch heels, but that day I had on flats.”
“You don’t have riding boots?”
“I’ve never been on a horse.”
“What?”
The gleam of amusement was back. “Not everyone makes that a priority, you know.”
“Lucy didn’t take you when you were here for the wedding?”
“We didn’t have time. She promised we’d go out this visit.”
“Is it safe for the baby?”
“So I’ve been told. Besides, I’m a beginner. We’ll only be moseying down the trail.”
“I’d like to take you out, too, then.”
“I don’t know about that, CJ.” She was smiling, though, which usually didn’t signal a rejection. “I’m not sure I could handle it.”
“Why? It would be exactly like going with Lucy. We’d meander down the trail at a snail’s pace.”
“It would be nothing like going with Lucy. I’ve never seen you ride a horse, but I’m sure you’re very good at it.”
“I am, which means I’ll keep you safe. And I’m a decent riding coach, too.”
“I have no doubt, but the thing is, I’ll have trouble keeping my hands to myself this week as it is. If I’m confronted with you in full cowboy mode astride a gallant steed, I might not be able to control myself.”
At last, an opening. “We need to talk about that. You just admitted you want me as much as ever. Why do we have to lock it down this week? Why can’t we—”
“Because now we’re linked together by this child, and we will be for the rest of our lives. But we never intended to build a life together.”
His chest tightened. “Did you meet someone? Is that what this is all about?”
“No, I didn’t. But I will someday, and when I do, I want to feel…”
“Free?” Her point was logical. And he hated it.
“Yes.”
He couldn’t argue with that. Time to wave the white flag, damn it. He heaved a sigh. “Okay.”
“I want you to feel free, too. I can’t be your life partner and you deserve to find a woman who can be.”
He gazed at her in helpless frustration. He hadn’t felt free since their night together in April. Dating held no appeal. The woman he wanted was sitting across from him.
This was going to be one hell of a week.
Chapter Four
Isabel had expected to struggle with this issue but she’d counted on CJ to embrace the concept once she’d explained it. Instead he sat there with his arms crossed over his broad chest and a scowl on his handsome face.
Well, he had mentioned that for the first sixteen years of his life he’d mostly gotten his way. She ducked her head, because it wouldn’t do for him to catch her smiling at his belligerent pose.
He was an intelligent guy, so eventually he’d figure out he’d be better off accepting this short-term sacrifice for a long-term gain—a future in which they co-parented as friends, not lovers. In that scenario, they could happily dance at each other’s wedding when the time came.
CJ would likely find someone before she did. He’d admitted back in April that he was looking for a commitment. Because of that, she hadn’t intended to invite him into her bed. Then he’d hinted that he’d prefer one night to having nothing. Game over.
Sarah’s mom brought out their fries, their cider and a bottle of catsup. After introducing herself to Isabel and chatting with them for a moment, she went back inside to help Sarah with Amy.
“Yum.” Isabel created a little pool of catsup on her plate, dipped a fry in the sauce and finished it in two bites. “Exactly what I needed.”
“Is it orgasmic?”
“A slip of the tongue on my part. I apologize.”
“A Freudian slip?” He’d crossed his arms over his chest again.
“Possibly.” She met his hot gaze. “It would help if you’d stop looking at me like that.” She broke eye contact and picked up another fry.
“How am I looking at you?”
“You know perfectly well.” She ate the fry and glanced at him. “It’s obvious what you’re thinking.”
“And you’re not?” Uncrossing his arms, he reached for his bottle of cider and took a slow sip, drawing her attention to his mouth.
On purpose? “Now I am.”
He put down the bottle and leaned his muscled forearms on the table. “Because you can’t help it any more than I can. I’ve considered what you said, and it makes sense, but—”
“Let me guess. You want to start that program after I leave next weekend.”
“What’s wrong with that?” He dumped catsup over all his fries and started eating.
He might regret telling her about his indulgent mother. She had his number, now. “Have you dated since I left in April?”
She’d caught him with his mouth full. He shook his head and kept chewing.
“Why?”
He finished chewing and swallowed. “Didn’t feel like it.”
“But you told me you were tired of the single life,
