Dallas congratulated himself. He’d corralled Lizzie’s children like a bunch of calves he’d roped. Not that he was winning any popularity contest with Stella, and as the front door opened downstairs, he stopped patting himself on the back.
“Hi, sweetie,” he heard Lizzie say. “Did you guys behave for Dallas?”
Jordan said, “We were good, Mom.”
Dallas grinned. That was putting a spin on things, but oh, well. Anything less would worry Lizzie, especially when she wasn’t feeling well. He clambered down the stairs, pausing on the bottom step to simply look at her. Dark hair neatly in place today, better color in her face, but her green eyes avoided his. He was almost getting used to that touch of suppressed—was that guilt?—he kept seeing there. She held Jordan tight before letting him go with a kiss on top of his head, though he squirmed. “That’s my boy,” she said. “Where are Seth and Stella?”
“In her room,” Jordan said, not mentioning the accident in the hall.
Finally, Lizzie glanced up at Dallas. Even then, her gaze landed on his shoulder. “No trips to the emergency room?”
“Nope.”
“The water guns are still in the closet?”
“Yep.” Dallas watched Jordan head for the kitchen. “Jordan’s cleaning his room, getting some things ready maybe for charity.”
Lizzie stared at him. “You must be a miracle worker.”
He shrugged. “I managed. That’s what the Hulk would do. What’s the word on you?”
Her blank expression looked as evasive as the other. “Word? Oh. Doc Baxter, um, said I’m fine. No medicine or anything.”
“What about the flu?”
“Another day or two, he said.” She set her purse on the entry table. “I feel better already. Really,” she insisted when he cocked his head. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m not dying. I am, however, eternally grateful for all the help you’ve given.”
“I like looking at you,” he said. And she was changing the subject. Again.
Jordan skimmed past them, carrying the plastic trash bag up the stairs. “I’ll be done in a minute. Get the tape ready!”
“Which gives us a little time. While I was kid sitting, I made coffee. Want some? We can talk in the kitchen.” Dallas added, “Then I promised Jordan we’d watch some bull riding.”
“That’s generous of you, but I hope you didn’t mention the kids’ rodeo. I haven’t told them yet. If I say something too soon, they’ll get overexcited.”
“It’ll be a lot of fun for them. Maybe Jordan will get to chase a calf?”
“Another reason to wait. I haven’t decided. I don’t want him hurt.”
“You saw how safe it really is. How much fun it can be.”
She smiled, then admitted, “I don’t want you hurt either.”
He tried to tease her. “Then I’ll stay out of the calf event.” He sobered. Her interest had pleased him, though. “I’m not looking for a fight about Jordan,” he said. “The kids’ rodeo is your choice, like anything else, but I am wondering why you want to avoid talking about what Doc said. Are you telling me the truth?”
She didn’t answer. She riffled through the mail on the hall table, her back to him, shutting him out. She had the right to do that too—they weren’t married or anything—and she didn’t know how he felt about her despite his current commitment phobia, but her rejection stung. Made him worry more.
Lizzie reminded him of his mother, always covering up the true state of her health. That choice was hers too, but he wished she would talk, ease his concerns or simply admit the truth, whatever it might be. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen now.
But Dallas would bet every one of his bull ropes and belt buckles that she was lying.
“I SHOULDN’T HAVE trusted him. I guess Calvin made his decision.”
At the defeated tone of Becca’s voice, Elizabeth glanced up from the rug order she’d been processing in the store’s office. With luck, she’d finally be caught up before Olivia returned, but Becca’s statement made Elizabeth close the window on the computer. “He hasn’t come back?”
Biting her lip, Becca shook her head.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Elizabeth said, quelling the soft roll of nausea in her stomach. “Are you feeling better otherwise?”
She should ask herself the same question. Physically this morning she could at least function enough to work. Since her visit with the doctor, she was being more careful about what she ate, which included a few soda crackers before she got out of bed, but emotionally she felt awful. Are you telling me the truth? Dallas had asked. She hated keeping this secret, but finding the right time to tell him hadn’t happened yet. Plus, after he knew, their friendship might well go up in smoke. The help he’d provided with her children, the kisses they’d shared, the easy comfort of his presence would end. What if, once he knew, Dallas couldn’t get back to the circuit fast enough? He might even leave before his rodeo.
“I don’t know how I feel,” Becca finally said.
At least she’d had the inner fortitude to let Calvin know he was going to be a father. Because of Elizabeth, Dallas remained clueless, and for the past few days she’d been avoiding him. Of course, he had a right to know, but she could only hope Doc Baxter’s wife hadn’t overheard from the reception area during Elizabeth’s appointment. If she talked, Dallas might hear before Elizabeth told him.
Becca dropped onto a chair. “I told you how my dad reacted. With Calvin gone, I’m in a worse spot. It’s just me and...” Her gaze softening, Becca laid a protective hand over her stomach.
Elizabeth tried to choose her words carefully. “You wouldn’t want to marry Calvin anyway, Becca, if he’s not on board about this baby.”
Again, Elizabeth could have been talking about herself. If only she and Dallas didn’t live in such different worlds—if he wanted a deeper relationship right here in Barren, if a family other than his parents was on his mind...would she take that second chance?
