Branded as Trouble Read online

  Mila glanced at her watch. “Why didn’t you just wait in bed?”

  “Because Tate’s been out of the room most of the morning at appointments, and I’ve already had to use my safe word with Roman three times. My son certainly knows how to start a fight.”

  Yes, and so did Belle. Mila kept that to herself, though. And she wondered about safe words. That wasn’t something she’d expected Belle to say, but Sophie’s mother was a little like Vita. You couldn’t be certain what would come out of her mouth.

  Like now.

  “Why would a man want whipped cream sprayed in his boxer shorts?” Belle asked.

  Mila was certain she got a deer-in-the-headlights look. “I’m not sure,” she settled for saying. “Why?”

  “Because that’s what Roman was going on about yesterday when he was waking up from surgery.” She took Mila’s hand, pulled her closer. “You think women have been doing that to him?”

  Mila suspected that women had done a lot of things to Roman. Probably whipped cream along with other edibles. She might be a virgin, but she wasn’t clueless.

  “That nurse, Alicia, has been flirting with him,” Belle went on. “I told her to take care of my bedpan. I didn’t have a bedpan, mind you, but I thought it would remind her that she’s not there to play under the sheets with my son. Will you talk to her about it?”

  Mila would rather eat a cactus. But she nodded. If Roman gave her any hint that it was a problem, she would say something to Alicia. What, exactly, Mila didn’t know, but Roman was here to recover. That might not happen if Alicia managed to give him an erection.

  “Now, to the fantasy,” Belle went on. “Did you bring me the webpage address?”

  Mila nodded and took the paper with the info from her purse. She didn’t hand it to Belle right away, though. She moved the woman closer to some chairs and sat so she could make eye contact with her.

  “Are you certain you want to do this?” Mila pressed.

  “Of course. Didn’t you hear what I said about wanting to live my life? Lordy, I can hardly wait to get started. I’ve missed so much.”

  Mila knew the feeling. But she also knew something else. “The fantasies can be fun, but they shouldn’t be a substitute for a real relationship. If you want to start dating, I’m sure there are several men in town who would love to go out with you.”

  One man, anyway. Billy Lee Seaver. Mila didn’t think it was her imagination that the man had stars in his eyes when it came to Belle. Probably the only reason he hadn’t asked her out already was because she’d been his best friend’s wife.

  Belle just stared at her. “You let the fantasy dating be a substitute for your life,” the woman pointed out.

  “Yes. But I’m not doing that anymore. I’ve put the fantasy dating on hold.” Maybe permanently. It only made her feel even emptier when she went through the motions.

  “Does that mean you’re going to date for real? I hope so.” Belle didn’t give her a chance to answer. “That’s why I copied this for you. One of the nurses let me use her computer. Not the one swishing her tushy around Roman. But one of the other ones.” She took a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Mila. “It’s three dating sites.”

  Mila recognized them since they were the very sites she’d recommended to Sophie a couple of years ago. Sophie had gone on one date, and it hadn’t worked out so well. Besides, Mila really wasn’t up to going out with a bunch of men with the hopes of finding a prince among frogs.

  “I don’t know about this.” Mila couldn’t have sounded more uncertain if she’d tried. But what she really felt was unconvinced, and nothing was going to get her to change her mind.

  “Well, how about someone local, then?” Belle asked. She smiled, a sneaky little smile. “There are plenty of men in town who’d love to go out with you.” Belle didn’t add gotcha, but she could have.

  “I’m thinking more about a hiatus from dating,” Mila said.

  “Or we could double.” Belle suddenly got very excited as if that were a wonderful idea.

  It wasn’t.

  Mila would rather eat two cacti than double date with her best friend’s mom.

  “And there’s Roman,” Belle added a moment later.

  Mila silently cursed, wondering if the woman was actually going to start playing matchmaker. But Belle wasn’t looking at her. Instead, her attention was on the room she shared with Tate and Roman.

  And Roman was there.

  In the doorway.

  Mila got another of those tingles again. An especially warm one that went all the way to places that should be no-tingle zones. Because Roman didn’t see her that way. He only saw her as Valerie’s and Tate’s cousin.

  “Oh, there’s Twila Fay Betterton,” Belle said. “Yoo-hoo, Twila Fay!” she called out, and waved at the woman. “She’s probably here because her hemorrhoids are giving her fits again,” she added in a whisper to Mila. “Why don’t you go check on Roman while I talk to her?”

  Again, without waiting for Mila to respond, Belle took off, wheeling her way toward Twila Fay, who did indeed look as if she were suffering from some kind of anal pain. Or maybe that was her usual expression.

  And speaking of expressions, Mila tried to fix hers before she started toward Roman. She went with what she hoped was a friendly but casual smile. It faded quickly, though, when Roman staggered a bit and caught on to the doorframe to steady himself. Mila shoved the dating site list in her purse, hurried to him, and just like that, he was in her arms.

  “Dizzy spell,” he snarled.

  “Then you shouldn’t be standing. Come on. Let me get you in bed.”

  Bad choice of words. Very bad. Because she went stiff, and there’s no way Roman could have missed that since they were touching in several places. Not the tingly place, thank goodness.

  He chuckled, all low and husky. It sent out a Texas-size amount of pheromones. Mila quickly tried to rein in any effect that might have on her.

  Too late.

  The effect was there.

  Roman put a stop to that, though, by brushing a kiss on the top of her head. It was the kind of thing a man might do to his sister. Or a friend. It was a kiss of death for any woman wanting romance. Which she wasn’t, Mila assured herself.

  She led him to the bed and had him sit. Again, not a bright idea because she ended up between his legs, too close to him and with their gazes practically colliding.

  “Thank you again for what you did for Tate,” he said.

  Another nail in her kiss-of-death coffin. He felt obligated to her. And he shouldn’t. “Tate wasn’t in any real danger,” she reminded him. Thank God. “Someone would have found him soon enough, or he would have woken up on his own.”

  Mila was about to add that when she took those particular meds the drowsiness only lasted a couple of hours, but she really didn’t want to discuss anything to do about the discomforts of her menstrual cycle with Roman.

  “So, did you give Mom those dating sites?” he asked.

  She stepped back from him. Nodded. And, in turn, Belle had given her a list. “If she goes through with any dates—” she put dates in air quotes “—then Clay will vet the guys.”

  “Like he does for you?”

  Mila didn’t make eye contact with him. Didn’t confirm what he’d just said, either, but she suspected this had come up in his conversation with Sophie.

  “It works,” she answered, trying to sound light and carefree. “I’m in one piece.”

  Physically, anyway. Whenever she was around Roman, she felt a little damaged. As if all the pieces were there but not in the right places.

  Maybe that’s why there was tingling in her panties.

  “You’re too good a person to not have someone in your life,” he added a moment later.

  “Pot ca
lling the kettle black.” She hoped that would cause him to chuckle again just so she could hear that pheromone-y sound.

  But no. Roman shook his head. “I’m not a good person.”

  Mila nearly jumped to argue with that. There were better than good things about him. He’d raised his son on his own. He’d built a business. And he hadn’t been in trouble with the law in years.

  All right, that last part wasn’t so much good as it was that Roman had learned to follow the straight and narrow. Or maybe he’d just learned not to get caught.

  “I don’t want anyone in my life,” he continued. “I only have room for Tate right now.”

  Of course, she’d known that, but it was a little soul-crushing to hear him say it aloud. And this time, the words really sank in. Not just his, but Belle’s, too. And Sophie’s.

  Because Mila did indeed want someone in her life.

  She always had. She’d just wanted the wrong person, and it was obvious that wasn’t going to change. In fact, it could get worse. After what’d happened, Roman probably was going to spend even more time and energy just being a dad.

  Mila glanced down at her purse. It was still open, and she could see the note with the dating sites that Belle had given her. She’d planned to toss it first chance she got, but that wouldn’t happen now.

  Maybe it was time to move past the fantasy level and find someone who could fill all these empty places in her life.

  Maybe it was time for clothing removal, after all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ROMAN HADN’T BEEN sure there was anything worse than his mother’s annoying verbal jabs. But there was. And it was his son’s silence.

  Now that Belle had been sent home the day before, Tate and he had the room to themselves. Something that Roman had wanted. That’s because he’d envisioned it giving them a chance to have some long, meaningful conversations.

  It hadn’t.

  Tate was playing with the yo-yo Vita had sent him while he watched some show about soy farmers. Not that there was a good channel selection on the hospital TV, but it was a hit to the ego that his son preferred organic soy farming to him. Before that, Tate had preferred a documentary on dwindling fly-fishing spots. Before that, he’d played a game on his phone until the battery had died. When no one had been able to find him a charger, the marathon of compelling TV had started.

  Roman wasn’t sure how much longer this would go on. They were waiting on Dr. Sanchez to give them a yay or nay verdict. Nay would mean they’d have to stay in the hospital one more day.

  A yay would mean they could go home.

  Tate was fine physically and probably could have already left, but Roman was thankful the doctor had kept the boy with him. This way, they could leave for home together instead of Tate having to stay with the housekeeper, Garrett or Sophie.

  “As soon as we get home, I’ll start looking for a new school for you,” Roman threw out there. Like everything else he’d said to his son, he rethought that. Maybe Tate wasn’t mentally ready for school yet, but he couldn’t imagine that it would be a good idea for him to just sit around in between therapy appointments.

  And there would be therapy.

  Dr. Woodliff had already made it clear that he wanted to see Tate indefinitely.

  “I can drive you back here for your sessions,” Roman added, rethinking that, too. It was possible that just the thought of therapy was depressing for Tate.

  It sure as heck was depressing for him.

  So was the fact that he was getting behind at work. Of course, that depression was to a much lesser degree than what he was feeling for Tate. Roman had delegated some of the work to his assistant, and his business partner, Lucky McCord, had taken on some, as well. But sooner or later, Roman needed to tackle at least some of the paperwork. The trips he’d have to hand off, too, since he didn’t want to be away from Tate until things were back to normal.

  That was another depressing thought.

  Normal hadn’t been exactly stellar what with Tate’s surly moods. Roman hoped the new normal was an improvement, but he would settle for a life where his son didn’t feel the need to take pills to dull his pain.

  “Will my mom be at my appointments with the doctor?” Tate asked.

  It wasn’t an out-of-the-blue question. Dr. Woodliff had said that Valerie should come for some of the therapy sessions. Roman had nixed that at first, but then the doctor had reminded him that Valerie was at the root of this.

  Root.

  Yeah, she was. But that didn’t mean she would help matters if she came. She could only stir up Tate and make things worse. She’d stir up Roman, too. Not in a good way, either. There was no trace of the love he’d once felt for her, but there sure as heck was a lot of resentment.

  Still, Roman had tried to call Valerie, using the last phone number he had for her. It was no longer in service so he’d asked Clay to try to track her down. Roman had even had his housekeeper take Clay the envelope that had arrived for Tate the day of the suicide attempt. There hadn’t been a return address on it, nor any hint of Valerie’s whereabouts inside. It had been just another recycled card, this one for his birthday. But there had been a postmark, and it was possible Clay could track her down using it. That was one of the few advantages to having a cop in the family. That, and the fact that his sister was crazy in love with the guy.

  There was a knock at the door, and Roman sat up, figuring it was Dr. Sanchez. But it was Garrett. His big brother glanced at him, at Tate, the yo-yo and then at the TV.

  “Well, hell. No wonder you’re down in the dumps,” Garrett said, clearly not afraid to address the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. “Here, this might help.” He dropped a phone charger on the bed and handed Tate a brown paper bag. “Burger and fries from the diner. I asked them to add some extra grease for you.”

  Tate reached for both right away. “Thanks, Uncle Garrett.” He sounded so happy that Roman was surprised he didn’t add some “gee-whizzes” to that. Tate plugged in his phone and started in on the burger.

  “Is that an extra grease burger for me?” Roman tipped his head to the second bag his brother was holding.

  Garrett shook his head. “The doc said you’re still on a restricted diet so I got you some crackers and vanilla pudding.” He flashed his golden boy smile, the one that made him the darling of Wrangler’s Creek. “It’s not whipped cream, but it’ll have to do.”

  Roman scowled at him. A long, mean scowl. Obviously, Belle had been blabbering. Thankfully, Tate didn’t ask about the whipped cream reference, probably because he couldn’t hear over his own chewing. He was wolfing down the burger as if it were the cure for everything that ailed him.

  “So, when are they springing you from this place?” Garrett gave Tate’s bare foot a tug.

  Tate shrugged. “Dad was just talking about that. Soon, I guess.” He stopped in midbite and perked up again. “Do I have to go back to San Antonio? Can I stay with you, Aunt Nicky and Kaylee at the ranch?”

  Kaylee was Nicky’s four-year-old daughter. Hardly a companion for a teenager. In fact, there was no one at the ranch anywhere near Tate’s age.

  Garrett looked at Roman. “That’s up to your dad, but you know you’re welcome anytime. Your dad owns the ranch, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know, but he hates it there because of Grandma fussing at him. But I don’t hate it there.”

  Roman nearly pointed out that Tate hadn’t spent a single night at the ranch, but he had visited a couple of times. However, this probably had more to do with Tate not wanting to return to his friends, because he would have to give some kind of explanation about why he’d been gone. Of course, most of those friends already knew he’d been expelled from school so they might think he’d already moved on.

  Garrett turned to Roman, and while he didn’t smile exactly, Roman thought h
is brother might be fighting back doing so. That’s because Garrett wanted Roman back at the ranch. He was the person in the family who was always trying to get them all under the same roof.

  But his mother was under that roof, too.

  “I’d love for both of you to stay,” Garrett said to Tate. “But it’s up to your dad. He probably has something pressing back in San Antonio.”

  Yes, Roman did. His sanity was what was pressing. It was bad enough being here in town, and despite the safe words his mother had come up with, Roman doubted she’d stick to using them. No, once the shock of her heart problem had worn off, she’d be back to her own harping self. And he’d be back to snapping at the harping. Not exactly a peaceful environment for his son.

  Then Tate said something that changed everything.

  “Please, Dad.”

  That was it.

  Two little words that had plenty of emotion behind them.

  Roman’s kneejerk reaction was still to say no. Their life and home weren’t here. His job wasn’t, either. Plus, there was that whole other part about the ranch being a crap-pit for him. Too many memories. Too much bad blood.

  “Please,” Tate repeated. “Can we go there together?”

  And that question erased any argument Roman could have given him. However, Roman could put some conditions on it.

  “Okay, we can stay at the ranch.” Roman was surprised a thunderbolt didn’t hit him because he’d sworn he wouldn’t go back there. “But only for a couple of days. Just until you’re feeling better.” Until he was feeling better, as well, since Roman wasn’t sure how fast he’d be back at full speed.

  Judging from Tate’s frown, he didn’t like Roman’s condition. “Uh, I was thinking I could finish out the school year here. It’d only be for six weeks,” he quickly added. “I could go to school here and keep on seeing Dr. Woodliff without having to drive back and forth.”

  Obviously, Tate had given this a lot of thought. Too bad he hadn’t let Roman in on it so he could have figured out if this was a good solution or a disaster in the making. Garrett was of no help. His brother just shrugged.