A Weaver Vow Read online

  And then he heard the word yoga, and his attention zoomed right in on the women like a dog going on point.

  He grimaced, turning up the volume a little, hoping to drown them out, but it was no use. He finally looked over his shoulder casually. “Yoga’s a popular subject,” he said. “My mother was talking about it this afternoon.”

  Pam looked at him, her round face wreathed with a smile. “When I called up Lucy to register for the class, she told me I’d just snuck in before she had to cut off registrations.”

  He grinned wryly. “Who woulda thought? Yoga classes in Weaver.”

  “Not just yoga. I hear Isabella’s gonna teach a belly dancing series soon, too.” She smiled wickedly. “And maybe pole dancing. Robby’s not sold on the idea, but I told him it’s supposed to be terrific exercise.”

  Erik tried not to let his jaw drop. And then he had to work hard not imagining Isabella wiggling her hips around in some dance-of-the-seven-veils thing...much less swinging around on some damn pole. He could well imagine conservative Rob’s reaction to his wife doing it.

  Obviously recognizing his discomfort, Pam laughed. “Blame your cousin Lucy. She’s the one who hired Isabella. I was talking to Neesa Tanner at church this morning and she was raving over how much little Jenny likes her tap classes with Isabella.” She swiveled her stool around to face him. “You’ve got that boy of hers working out at your place. What do you think of her?” Her nose practically wriggled. “She’s single,” she said in a singsong tone.

  He made a face and turned back toward the television. Pam was the dispatcher, but even when she wasn’t on duty, she seemed compelled to dispatch news concerning the residents of Weaver. After a moment, he stood, dropped some cash on the bar for the beer he’d only partly consumed and headed out.

  His brain could stay preoccupied with a woman just as easily at home.

  “I hear she’s staying at your mom’s old house.” Pam’s voice followed him.

  He stopped cold at that revelation but tried to act nonchalant. “Oh, yeah? Small world.” Then, because something he didn’t want to examine really closely had started zipping through his veins, he sketched a wave and pushed out the entrance.

  Out in the parking lot, however, he raked his fingers through his hair, struggling with disbelief. He almost called his mom right then and there to ask why she had kept that particular nugget to herself, but fortunately a glimmer of common sense remained inside his head. Not that that glimmer kept him from driving right past that very house.

  His mom had grown up there, not moving out until she’d married his dad. But she’d never sold it. Somebody in the family had always seemed to find a use for it at one time or another through the years.

  The grass in the little rectangular yard was a bit overgrown, but otherwise, the place looked pretty much the same as it always had. White paint. Black trim.

  And in the picture window that looked in on the living room, he could see Isabella sitting at a table, her head propped in her hands. Weariness screamed from her hunched shoulders.

  The glimmer of sense faded to black. Winked out completely.

  He pulled next to the curb in front of the house and shut off the engine.

  She hadn’t budged.

  Calling himself ten kinds of fool, he got out of the truck, spotted the covered dish from his mom and grabbed it. It was still warm but no longer hot enough to need the towel. Dish in hand, he headed up the front walk and knocked on the door. From there he couldn’t see through the window, but it was only a few seconds before she pulled open the door.

  Her dark eyes widened and filled with alarm. “What are you doing here? I thought everything went okay yesterday.”

  He wanted to kick himself. “It did,” he assured her quickly. The last thing he wanted was to cause her more worry. “I was just at my folks’ place,” he added, holding out the dish. “And since I was passing this way anyway, figured I’d deliver these leftovers from my mom.” Hell. His ears were burning. “She remembers how much I ate when I was Murph’s age.”

  Her gaze dropped to the dish, then lifted back to his face for a moment before skittering away again. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He’d have been better off staying at Colbys and putting up with Pam. He lifted the lid. “Say you’re not a vegetarian.”

  She let out a sudden, breathy laugh. “This is a very unexpected surprise.” She reached for the dish and her fingers brushed against his as she took it. If she felt the tingling that he did, she showed no sign of it as she lifted the lid again and leaned over a little, inhaling deeply. “Smells wonderful.” She glanced up at him. “But would these leftovers be yours if not for us?”

  “You won’t be taking any food outta my mouth,” he assured her drily. “Every week I get another batch or two from someone. You’re saving my refrigerator from being overloaded.”

  “Well, then.” She smiled. “How can I refuse? I’m sure Murphy will devour it.”

  Erik could easily see over her head into the living room. The furniture was the same furniture that had been there for years, from the squishy, slightly worn couch to the round table in the dining area. “Where is he?” He couldn’t be certain, but the papers spread across the table looked like bills.

  “In his room doing homework.” Her smile turned wry. “Or else just avoiding me as much as he can.” She took a step back. “Would you like to come in?”

  She was wearing a pair of skinny blue jeans and an oversize white shirt that hung down to her thighs. Her white-blond hair was pinned up in a messy sort of knot on top of her head and her feet were bare.

  Everything about her was appealing.

  Except the sparkling diamond on her finger that blinked at him like a flashing stoplight.

  “Thanks, but I gotta head back home.”

  “Okay.” Her lips curved a little, seeming only to accentuate the fullness of her rosy lower lip. “I’ll be sure to get the dish back to your mother the next time I see her.”

  This was what he got for attributing the leftovers to his mom. “Just bring it out next time you drive Murph to the ranch.” He managed not to ask if he’d have to wait until Saturday for that. He had no intention of pushing it.

  “I’ll make sure she gets the dish with all the other stuff I’m collecting from her,” he added. “Now, go on and enjoy the rest of your Sunday,” he said.

  Her eyes turned bright and her dimple flashed. “I will,” she said, clasping the dish to her chest. “Especially now that I won’t even have to cook.”

  He managed a grin and turned to go.

  It was all he could do not to trip over his own two feet as he strode back to his truck.

  Whoever said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach had it all wrong.

  All it took was a pair of flashing brown-black eyes and a mischievous dimple.

  Chapter Four

  The following Saturday, Isabella tried to allow more time to get out to the ranch. Erik had been kind enough to drop off those leftovers. The least she could do was take him up on his offer of a tour of his ranch.

  Not that she had a single inkling whatsoever about cattle ranches. She wouldn’t know at all if she was oohing and aahing at the appropriate times.

  But still.

  Having driven the rough stretch of road four times now, she was a little better prepared for that particular experience. She fancied that she was even beginning to learn when to maneuver to the right or left to avoid particularly jarring holes. Which made the trip go considerably faster.

  But they still didn’t arrive as early as she’d planned.

  She just hadn’t anticipated having to nearly physically drag Murphy out of bed to get him going this morning. And it hadn’t helped that she’d dithered over what outfit to wear, all because she’d be seeing Erik Clay for a few minutes. That was something she had never done in her life. Not even with Murphy’s father.

  The boy was sprawled in his seat, his eyes at half-mast and his lips turned dow
n in displeasure at having to spend more time with the man he called “the Jailer.”

  She wished she knew what to do to help him change his attitude. She’d already spoken with his counselor, Hayley Templeton, for suggestions. But nothing was working.

  “I wanna go back to New York—” Murphy broke his silence with the abrupt announcement “—and live with my real mom.”

  Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. It wasn’t the first time that he’d mentioned his mother. Jimmy had never lied to his son about her, though. Murphy knew perfectly well that Kim was a troubled woman who’d spent time in jail. “I know you want to go back to New York. But that doesn’t mean we know where your mother is.” If Isabella took him back, admitted that she had failed to provide him what he needed, he’d be placed into the foster-care system. Maybe with a better, more suitable family than her.

  But guilt and grief collided inside her chest every time she thought about it.

  She’d promised Jimmy.

  “I’m sorry,” she said huskily. “I know you miss your dad. I do, too. But going back isn’t going to happen right now.”

  “Then when?”

  They topped the rise in the road, and the ranch buildings came into view. It relieved her as much as it worried her. “I don’t know,” she said. Never, if she had her choice. Sooner, if the caseworker didn’t like what she saw when she visited.

  Murphy just gave that disgusted wordless grunt of his.

  But he said nothing more as she drove the rest of the way and parked next to the dusty blue pickup truck beside Erik’s house. “Come on,” she said as she climbed out of the car. “The sooner you get started, the sooner you’ll be finished.”

  “Yeah, until you get out here to take me home.” He slammed the car door shut and stomped ahead of her, heading toward the barn he’d worked on last week. When Isabella followed, his head swiveled around, and even beneath his Yankees ball cap she could see the alarm in his eyes. “Don’t you gotta leave to go teach?”

  “Yes. But not right this minute.” She caught up to him. “I want to see what you’re doing and say hello to Mr. Clay. He’s offered to show me around the ranch.”

  His lips twisted. She was certain he would have said something if Erik hadn’t appeared at that particular moment. Luckily he did, coming out of the partially standing barn. He had a pair of goggles dangling around his neck and a sledgehammer in his leather-gloved hand. Dusty jeans and a pair of equally dusty boots completed his outfit.

  And she nearly swallowed her tongue.

  Lucy hadn’t told her exactly how well they grew male gods out here in Wyoming.

  With nothing else covering his wide shoulders and washboard stomach but the gleam of sweat, Erik Clay looked as if he belonged on some calendar somewhere for women to drool over.

  “Thought you said you missed my dad,” Murphy accused in a low voice.

  Horrified at herself, Isabella dragged her attention away from all that raw glory. “I do.”

  Murphy just made a face.

  And why wouldn’t he?

  If she missed Jimmy as badly as she believed, why was she getting hot and bothered just from seeing a man’s bare chest? And why had she been worried about what to wear?

  “Mornin’, Murph. Isabella. Beautiful morning to be outside, isn’t it?”

  It was beautiful. Every day the weather was growing a little warmer; winter was giving way to spring, even though snow was left in patches here and there. She mentally axed the whole tour altogether. She couldn’t hang around to enjoy the morning.

  Not with a man who wasn’t Jimmy.

  “It is lovely,” she agreed. She folded the lapels of her long, purple cardigan sweater around her and avoided looking directly at Erik again. “I’ll be back about the same time as last week, if that still works?”

  “Ought to be fine. Murph, you know where the tools are. Get yourself that same hammer you were using last week. We’re going to finish demoing the old barn this morning.”

  Murphy gave Isabella another searing look as he trudged off toward the other barn that was situated well beyond the house.

  Isabella watched him go with an unsettling sense of panic.

  “You all right, Isabella?”

  She started, unintentionally looking back at Erik, only to find that he’d pulled on a short-sleeved shirt while she’d been avoiding looking at him. It ought to have helped. But the pale blue checked shirt was only partially buttoned, and the image of his bare chest seemed engraved in her mind’s eye. “I’m fine,” she said quickly.

  “You’re looking kinda peaked.”

  “Nothing some sunshine won’t take care of.” She looked back at her car. “I have your mom’s dish in the car. Is there someplace you’d like me to put it?”

  “Kitchen’s fine.”

  She nodded and started toward her car. “The, um, the roast was delicious. I told your mother when she came to my yoga class last week. I forgot all about the dish, though.” Hope Clay had looked plainly delighted when Isabella had mentioned the leftovers that Erik had dropped off. “You have her eyes.” She cursed herself the second she heard the words come out of her mouth.

  She had no business noticing—or commenting—on any such thing.

  “I’d better give ’em back, then,” Erik murmured.

  She frowned, automatically glancing up at him.

  He was smiling slightly. “That was a joke, Isabella.”

  Feeling foolish, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. Guess I’m preoccupied.” Yes. With things you were supposed to have buried with the man you were going to marry.

  “I can be a decent listener if you want to talk.”

  Panic bubbled inside her, which was silly. Just because he was offering didn’t mean she had to take him up on it. She yanked open the door to the backseat and retrieved the dish that she’d left on the floor. Clutching it to her midriff, she closed the door. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Erik hid a sigh. She was as skittish as a new filly, hanging on to the pan as if it was a shield.

  “I don’t want to keep you from your work,” she said quickly. “Just point me toward your kitchen.”

  He nodded at the house on the other side of the vehicles. “Kitchen’s in the back.”

  “It really was thoughtful of you to deliver the leftovers.” She smiled quickly, nervously, but her lashes kept her gaze hidden, and then she was scurrying around her car, aiming for the steps leading up to the deck.

  Erik let her go, figuring she needed the space.

  He remained right where he was until she returned a few minutes later. When she spotted him still standing there next to her car, her steps faltered.

  “Was there something you needed to tell me about Murphy?”

  “Something I want to say,” he allowed. “Isabella, I’m well aware of that ring you wear.”

  Her eyes widened. She opened her car door, and her fingers curled over the top. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She wasn’t talking about the ring, of course, and he knew it. “I think you do,” he countered softly. “I’m attracted to you. I’m not the kind of guy who bothers hiding something like that. And I think maybe you feel a little bit of the same.”

  Red color hit her pale cheeks. “You’re imagining—”

  He lifted his hand. “Let me finish.”

  Her lips clamped together. Her gaze avoided his.

  “Attracted or not, I see your ring. Your fiancé died less than a year ago. You’re not ready to take it off. Maybe you’ll never be ready to,” he added, even though he hated the reality of it. “I would just feel better keeping the air clear between us. Until you want to take off that ring, or even want to start thinking about taking off that ring, I’m not going to push.” He’d try, anyway. “Isabella. Please. Look at me.”

  She swallowed visibly, making something ache inside him, until finally she lifted her chin. Then her lashes.

  And her black-brown eyes met his.

 
; He felt the impact rock through his gut and managed a smile. “Even if you wear that ring for the rest of your life, it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to be your friend.”

  Her throat worked. Her gaze shied away again. “Are men and women ever really just friends?”

  They were when there wasn’t a speck of physical chemistry between them. And that damn sure wasn’t the case here. But he’d do his level best to try. If only so she’d learn she could trust him. “I’d like to give it a shot,” he said quietly.

  She gnawed on her upper lip. “Murphy needs to be my focus. My only focus. We’re all that each other has left. He—”

  “Will adjust,” Erik said. “I know it’ll take time, but he will adjust. To everything, including a new life here in Weaver.”

  She shook her head. Lifted her slender shoulder. “Time’s just it. Murphy’s only provisionally under my guardianship. Our caseworker could decide at any time that I’m not good enough for the job and take him away from me.”

  He frowned. Of course she was good enough. Anyone with eyes in their head could see she was doing everything she could for Murphy. “Why? You were engaged to his dad. Obviously a part of their life. Does he have other family? What about his mom?” The boy hadn’t mentioned her, but that didn’t mean much. Murphy hadn’t volunteered anything to Erik.

  “His mother is around somewhere. But Jimmy—my fiancé—always had custody. They were never married and she has a lot of problems. Murphy doesn’t know her at all. And Jimmy and I—” She looked away. “We were only engaged a few weeks before he became ill. He proposed a month after we met. The court is very aware of that.”

  He did the math. Murphy had told him his dad died less than a year ago. Which meant Isabella hadn’t been a long-term fixture in the man’s life at all. Yet she’d taken on raising his son. “And he doesn’t have anyone else?”

  She shook her head. “When Jimmy realized he wasn’t—” Her voice thickened. She cleared her throat. “One of the last things he was able to ask of me was to take care of Murphy,” she finally said. Her voice was a little steadier, but when her gaze flicked up to his, her eyes were damp. “Murphy’s my only family now, too. I can’t lose him, as well.”