Secret Heart Read online

  Nate Montgomery had been the first boy in the history of boys to take a second look at her in high school. Nothing ever happened, but he had been kind to her, and that meant more than anything. Most of the other boys treated her like she had the plague. Justifiably so; Jimmy had been a year behind her but an absolute shithead—and that was on top of the reputation their parents had around town. Nobody wanted to mess with Layla knowing Jimmy came with the package. With time, and a variety of jobs working with the public of Three Rivers, things had come around. But nobody ever looked at her the way Nate did the night she'd seen him across the bar eighteen months ago.

  This was why it absolutely killed her to have to shutter up her nervous excitement. Oh, she could be cordial to him in public, but his offer to come to the house and help out was laughable. The minute he saw Mason, he'd know. She saw parts of Nate in him every single day. And she was perfectly content to keep that to herself. Or she had to be, at least. She'd made the decision to do this on her own, so she was going to do just that. The last thing she needed was for someone to think she was looking for handouts, so she made Nan eat whatever she brought for them when she turned up with food.

  Nan held Mason at arm's length, then brought him in to give him loud, exaggerated kisses on each round cheek until the child was squealing with laughter. Then she cuddled him close, pressing her cheek against his. Half the time, Layla was more or less convinced Nan knew her connection to the baby, but Nan would never ask…and Layla would never tell—anyone…including her parents.

  Single motherhood wasn't easy, but she couldn't imagine any better life, really. A little person to love and love her back, to try to raise without all the mistakes made in her own childhood. That hadn't settled well with mama and daddy. They'd pushed, and pushed, and pushed, until they'd pushed Layla and Mason clear out of the house. They'd stayed in Nan's basement for a couple weeks until the deal with the Jenkins' place came up. Nan had helped with that, too.

  "Oh he was, was he?"

  "Oh you know when he comes and goes, don't pretend you don't." Layla teased as she tore lettuce and sliced cucumbers and tomatoes into a bowl. She arranged two plates on the kitchen island and dished out the casserole with the salad on the side.

  "Well, as long as he keeps coming back," Nan said, settling Mason into the high chair at the table and retrieving a pair of glasses from the cupboard by the sink. When Kerri was unavailable, Nan happily cleared her schedule for the baby, and she was comfortable in the home. Layla liked it. Like family was supposed to be, or at least what she imagined it should. "I'd like to see him settle down back here in Three Rivers."

  "I know, but it's hard to make a real living on the rodeo circuit when you're two hours away from it." Layla brought the plates to the table, then went back for silverware and salad dressing.

  The three of them tucked in around the small, round, battered kitchen table. Nothing in the house was fancy; the payments and household bills were a big enough burden, but it all belonged to her. She got up early every Saturday morning since she'd moved in and hit every yard sale she could find to assemble her little ragtag group of possessions, but she was proud of what she'd accomplished. There were still a few small things on her wish list, but she anticipated being able to save enough pennies to buy them new by the end of the summer if she couldn't find them secondhand before then.

  "That's true, if you were making a living on the rodeo circuit…but I feel like Nate won't be doing much of that, anymore. I'm hoping the basement apartment is a more…permanent…arrangement."

  Layla's fork full of casserole stopped halfway to her mouth as she tipped her head and narrowed her eyes at the woman who was innocently tucking into the food she'd brought. Everybody knew about Nate's accident. There had been cards and well-wishes and even, apparently, a video of the wreck on the Internet Layla had never been able to bring herself to watch. But there had never been any talk that he wouldn't rodeo anymore. And Nan's implication that that might be the case gnawed at her insides. She'd arranged her entire life plan around the idea that Nate Montgomery would never settle back down in Three Rivers. She knew he'd never come back for her, but she hadn't banked on a career-ending injury re-settling him here.

  Letting out a breath she hoped didn't betray her nerves, Layla straightened, pressing her lips together. Nan was about the only person who didn't fuel the rampant rumor mill in Three Rivers; not intentionally, anyway. Taking the older woman's example, Layla didn't probe further, because Nan had never probed about Mason's father. Oh, the rumors were busy, even now, and especially as the boy's blond hair was coming in darker and his cheeks got chubbier. She supposed those rumors and speculations would probably never die—it was something she'd have to get used to, just the same as doing this all on her own.

  "Well, whatever he does will be exactly what he does," Layla reminded her.

  "That's true. That boy has always had a stubborn streak, ever since he was your age," she stopped halfway through her words and patted Mason's chubby cheek lightly. He paused partway through his selection of cut up pasta and veggies Nan had given him in a separate bowl and offered her a smile that showed his two grown in bottom teeth and the top middle teeth starting to poke through. "Oh, are those new? My goodness, he's growing up fast."

  "You can say that again. After lunch, he'll show you how quickly he can worm out of your line of vision on his belly."

  "Already?"

  "Already. Can't wait to get on his feet and running." She swallowed and smiled at her son. All at once, it was amazing and terrifying the way he'd grown and developed in the eight short months of his life. There were times she wished there was someone there with her to see, but most of the time, sharing like this once a week with Nan, and sharing the highlights with Kerri was almost as good as the real thing.

  "Oh he will be, before you know it," Nan said, shaking her head. "Boys. They grow right up from under you before you even realize it."

  —THREE—

  "Just for the record, you have exactly two more weeks to feel sorry for yourself," Nan huffed, throwing a couch pillow at Nate, who was stretched out with his feet on her coffee table. The apartment downstairs was comfortable enough, but he liked the companionship of Nan buzzing around, so he found himself in her living room ninety percent of the time he had the choice and nothing better to do. Eventually, it would get old, but for now it was just right. "I didn't raise you boys to wallow in self-pity."

  "Oh, you like having me around," he said with a laugh as he tossed the decorative pillow back at her, hitting her retreating backside. The look she gave him when she swung around reminded him all too much of his middle school days—in particular, the day Jack Anderson dragged him home by the ear when he'd found Nate clinging to the back of one of his good steers while Cutter and the Baylor boys had watched, whooping in delight. His brother, Banks, of course, had headed home at the first sniff of trouble, so Nan had been waiting on the doorstep with the flyswatter in hand. It didn't take much thought to remember how sore his backside had been.

  After a second, his grandmother's face softened. "Of course. I love having my boys both in one place. Shame what caused it. But a woman can still take joy in having family around."

  Nate got to his feet to follow her into the kitchen where Nan was in full Sunday dinner mode. She'd peeled a whole ten pound bag of potatoes, and the biggest chicken he'd ever seen had been roasting in the oven since before lunch. He flicked on the oven light and looked at the bird, his stomach growling. Nan had taught both he and Banks how to cook—'the most valuable skill a man can know', she'd insisted—but she'd have been disappointed if she knew how many microwave dinners he'd eaten when he lived on his own. Her homemade meals ranked high on his relatively small list of things he looked forward to when he'd faced down the fact that he had to come back to Three Rivers. The other had been waiting behind the bar at Danny's, all soft curves and new, sexy confidence.

  "Did you adopt two more families while I was gone?"

  "
No," Nan retorted, swinging her gaze to him again. "Why?"

  "Cause it sure looks like you're feeding two more families."

  She took that opportunity to retaliate, snapping a dishtowel against the back of his thigh.

  "As a matter of fact, I am. The leftovers will make a couple casseroles. One for the Andersons, and one for Layla."

  "Do you feed the whole town now?" He laughed, skirting away from another threatened slap of the dish towel. He knew the Andersons had been having a tough time and he suspected Nan used the food as an excuse to make sure that old house Layla had told him about hadn't eaten her up. She was a braver man than he was, living at the Jenkin's place all by herself. If it wasn't falling apart, it was definitely haunted at the very least.

  "Just the ones I like." A broad grin swept her face.

  "That's everyone," Banks interjected with a laugh from the doorway. Nate's older brother had been by for dinner three times this week, but this was the first time he wasn't wearing his sheriff uniform. With such a small law-enforcement team, his brother was rarely not on call, but the deputy, Carter Collins covered the slow Sundays.

  "You're one to talk," Nate quipped. Banks made a face.

  "It's my job to be fair to everyone in town. That doesn't mean I have to like them."

  The bigger man settled at the end of the table so he could observe the goings-on in the kitchen. He was good at his job—at least there weren't many complaints. He'd served with his predecessor as a deputy for enough years that when Sheriff Watling retired, he was the natural choice for election. Nan had been so proud. The youngest sheriff in the county's recorded history, Banks had a knack for resolving conflict with his quiet, even temper in check. There was no way in hell Nate could have done it; all the extra fuse Banks got had been cut out of Nate's.

  "Same here," Nan added, poking into her pot of potatoes with a fork to test them.

  His family had bigger hearts and stronger constitutions than he did, that was for sure.

  "The last time I checked, grandmothering the entire community was not an actual job," Nate chided.

  "It is my job. Somebody's gotta do it. And besides, I like it."

  He recalled how Layla's face lit up telling him about his grandmother's frequent visits. Nan clearly wasn't the only one who liked it.

  "Fair enough." He turned to Banks, leaning back against the counter, more in his grandmother's way than close by to help if she needed it. He'd been on his ass in front of the TV for most of the day so he felt like he needed to at least look like he could be helpful. "What about you? You still liking your job?"

  "Wouldn't still be doing it if I didn't."

  Three Rivers was the quiet sort of town where the most trouble the sheriff ever had to attend to was a drunken brawl. The majority of Banks' work was officiating marriages, with the occasional speeding ticket or domestic dispute. His brother readily admitted how unsuitable the job would have been if he had to deal with homicides and drug rings. But as it stood, the job suited him just fine, and gave him lots of time for his real passion—raising cutting horses. He had a small but superb herd and a hundred acres to devote to it. Nate had never been more jealous.

  "Anything exciting?"

  "Jonas Pierce had a loose cow on the highway last week." Banks shook his head, chuckling. "Everybody ran around like chickens with their heads cut off until Lily came riding up out of the woods on that little cutting horse Finn gave her and took him home. We were just lucky she happened to be in the area."

  "That does sound exciting," Nate said, rolling his eyes. Everything moved slower in Three Rivers except the gossip. He peeked over Nan's shoulder as she mashed potatoes with one hand and stirred gravy on the stove top with the other.

  "Can I do anything to help?"

  He was living there rent-free, the least he could do was help with dinner. Except she wouldn't let him. He knew that much. But he did have to ask. And he and Banks would look after the dishes once they were done—because house rule said she who cooked didn't do dishes.

  She shot him a signature Nan look. "No, go sit down."

  He knew enough to do as he was told, and pulled up a chair perpendicular to his brother. No matter why, it was good to be home.

  —FOUR—

  "I'm tellin' ya, I have a spare bedroom. You're more than welcome to it," Banks insisted.

  "And I'm telling you…I'm perfectly fine bunking with Nan for the time being," Nate returned, nodding out the open window in greeting to Stephanie Turner as his brother's patrol car trawled slowly down the main drag of Three Rivers. He knew all too well about Banks' property, recently renovated ranch house, and handful of quarter horse broodmares—things he thought Banks probably acquired to keep up with him in the first place. And now that Nate had lost everything he had, right down to the horses, he might have been a tiny smidge jealous of what Banks still had. It wasn't his brother's fault Banks had chosen the line of work with insurance and a pension. It might have, technically, been as dangerous as bull riding, but there was a safety net. Nate, on the other hand…If I'd had a safety net, I wouldn't be here right now.

  "Hey, you know I think the Reichers might be looking for someone to work the cattle…since Chase is on the road, they're a little shorthanded."

  "Uh huh," Nate said absently as they idled past Danny's Bar. Banks had asked him to ride along to try to stave off potential cabin fever, but Nate had accepted in hopes he might see Layla somewhere. He wasn't sure what she was driving, but it was worth a shot. "Hey, pull over."

  When he didn't, Nate glanced across the seat to his brother who was giving him a dubious look.

  "Sheriff in uniform in the bar, eh?"

  "You don't have to come in." It's probably better if you don't. "Just pull over."

  His brother's expression didn't change as he hit the blinker and pulled up to the sidewalk. Nate climbed out, shutting the door behind him, and then leaned back in the open window. "I'll find a way home."

  If Layla wasn't there, he could at the very least forget his troubles for a couple hours, then hitch a ride back out of town toward Nan's. He straightened, then heard Banks' voice.

  "Hey." His brother leaned across the seat to make eye contact through the window. "I better not be hauling you out of here later on."

  Nate blew out a dismissive breath and rolled his eyes. His days of scrapping were well behind him—he didn't get drunk and unruly very often anymore…well, unless it involved a recently-won buckle. Yeah, his brother's sleep schedule was safe tonight.

  "All right, Sheriff." He raised two fingers to his forehead in a half-hearted salute, and Banks gunned the engine only long enough for him to jump back before he peeled away from the curb.

  Two long strides put Nate inside the door of the Danny's, tugging off his ball cap as he surveyed the interior. It was only just past supper time, so while the dark bar had a few patrons pulled up at the long bar, it was mostly quiet, save for Danny in the corner, cursing while he tried to set up a sound system. And behind the bar, looking pretty as a picture, Layla stood with one luscious hip cocked while she dried a beer glass and chatted with Rusty McLain. She wore the same dark jeans and white t-shirt that hugged every soft curve and line of her body, and her dark hair gleamed under the lights. He might have been imagining it, but he was pretty sure his heart skipped a couple of beats.

  Since he'd seen her that first night, he hadn't been able to get her off his mind. The ability to turn his thoughts to her sweet smile or the soft sway of her hips was a bright spot in the otherwise bleak terrain of his return to Three Rivers. And she flashed that smile at him; the pretty, welcoming, fresh face of Danny's…until it died on her lips when her eyes met his. He almost checked to make sure he'd put on deodorant; he knew from personal experience crushed dreams occasionally led to poor personal hygiene, but…no, he was good today.

  He bellied up to the bar, sliding onto the stool he'd occupied the last time he'd been in, and, because she was good at her job, she crossed the space between them an
d put a paper coaster down in front of him.

  "Nate," she said, with another smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "What can I get you?"

  You… "Just a beer."

  With practiced fluidity, she grabbed the beer from the cooler and popped the top off, setting it in front of him. She made the briefest of eye contact with him to make sure he was satisfied, then made to leave but he tipped his head toward her and then toward Danny in the corner. She stopped because she'd always been polite and he was playing on that because he was a desperate asshole.

  "What's going on?"

  "Karaoke Sunday never died."

  He shook his head with a laugh. "So we'll be treated to the vocal stylings of Emma Pierce and Stephanie Turner tonight, eh?"

  "Emma Baylor," Layla replied with an unreadable expression, then pressed her lips together. "And yes. You good?"

  "Actually, one more thing."

  She tipped her chin up, indicating he should continue. God, she was different. Cool, calm, and collected. Sexy in her confidence. The fact she had no time for him made him want her time that much more. It was usually the other way around, but he couldn't help himself. Yeah, desperate was the right word. And he'd never felt desperate when it came to women…except this woman.

  "You should let me take you on a date."

  She inhaled a slow breath, her chest rising, like she was preparing a long list of reasons why she couldn't, which were probably also the same reasons she shut him down when he offered to help her out with her house, but he held up a finger, interrupting the process.