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  She tilted her head, giving him a look he couldn’t define. “You are just full of assumptions about how I think and feel, aren’t you?”

  He grimaced inwardly; she was probably right. He went with the only thing he could think of to say. “It was the patent leather boots.” And once more she surprised him with a light, amused laugh. A little relieved, he asked, “What does Ry have to do with this?”

  “You know what my business is. I could be here to talk to him about his work.”

  “Ry does custom work on commission, not to sell online.”

  “So he’ll say no.”

  He considered this. “So you want to, in essence, lie to Lucas twice.”

  “I look at it more as delaying the truth. I would never directly lie to him. And in fact it wouldn’t be a lie, because I would love to talk to your brother about his work. And we sell plenty of custom items,” she added. Then she looked suddenly weary. “I want to meet Lucas, know him. If you won’t let it happen any other way…”

  “What if he hates you?”

  She blinked. “Before or after he finds out who I am?”

  “Either.”

  “Then I’ll just have to deal.”

  “Or fade back out of his life again?”

  She straightened, as if she were stiffening her spine. “No. I am—once my connection to him is verified—in it for the long haul. I’m not one of those who would worm their way into a kid’s life and then drop him. Or ignore him. Or only see him on a whim, when it suited me.”

  “Meaning you’re not your parents.”

  “Exactly,” she said, and he didn’t think he was wrong that a slightly bitter note had come into her voice.

  “Do you have a plan?” The thought of maybe losing Lucas made his voice sharper than he’d intended. Damn, he should have started the adoption thing sooner. Although that might just have complicated things more. “What exactly do you intend?”

  “I’ve told you—”

  “You’ve said you want to be part of Lucas’s life. You’ve never laid out exactly how. You—”

  He stopped as he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching, and glanced toward the long, winding drive that led in from the lockless gate. Saw the small, light blue SUV approaching slowly. Then he looked back at Sydney.

  “We’ll get back to that, but right now I need a couple more answers. One, what happens if I tell Lucas who you are and he doesn’t want to know you?”

  “Then I keep coming back until he does.”

  His mouth quirked wryly. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

  “Whichever works.”

  “Hmm. And what about how he’ll feel about you meeting him and not telling him?”

  “You’re the one who won’t tell him,” she pointed out.

  “Until we have proof,” he pointed out in turn.

  Her chin came up again. “Then it sounds like you’re the one who will have to explain.” Despite the seriousness of the subject he had to smother a grin; she had sand, this woman. “You have more?”

  “What if those DNA tests prove you’re not related to Lucas?”

  “They won’t.”

  “But if they do—”

  “Then I’ll do that fadeaway you talked about. And he’ll never have to know.” Her voice went very quiet then. “Even if he wasn’t my family, I would never want to hurt a child.”

  Because you were hurt too often yourself to wish it on anyone else?

  Of everything she’d said, he believed this the most. And that decided him.

  “Then you’ve got two more people to convince to go along with your little gambit.”

  “Your brother Rylan and who else? Not the other brother I just met, I hope.”

  He shook his head. “Cody’ll go along. And Chance won’t care, unless you hurt Lucas. Nope, that other person will be the hardest sell of all.”

  She stared at him, clearly disbelieving. “A harder sell than you?”

  “Much.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “Be afraid. Be very afraid. Because here she comes now.”

  Sydney blinked. “Who?”

  “My mother.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sydney’s mind raced, gathering all the things she’d heard about this woman, from various sources, whenever she’d brought up the Rafferty name.

  Maggie Rafferty is where the phrase “pillar of the community” comes from.

  No nonsense. Don’t try and tap-dance around Maggie.

  Even Chief Highwater would think twice before taking her on. You don’t cross Maggie.

  Amazing how a woman so soft for her family can be so tough when fighting for them.

  They didn’t all seem possible in the slim, petite blonde woman—the source of Cody’s hair, she guessed—who slid agilely out of the light blue SUV and headed toward them immediately. Obviously she had spotted them long before the vehicle had come to a halt. And her confident stride backed up everything Sydney had heard about her. A dog trotted at her heels, medium-sized, tricolor, and looking like it had some border collie or Australian shepherd in it.

  Sydney glanced at Keller, who stood quiet, waiting. No doubt for her to blow this completely. And maybe she would. But maybe not.

  Sydney braced herself as the woman came to a stop. The dog sat instantly, without command. Right at her side, as if anything else was inconceivable.

  Another comment, or maybe a warning, she’d heard came back to her. Don’t ever try lying to Maggie. She’ll see through you in a millisecond.

  Syd made a decision and ran with it. And spoke before the other woman could. “I’m told you’re tough when you’re fighting for your family.”

  The older woman looked at her assessingly. Was clearly not thrown by the abrupt launch. “As tough as I need to be.”

  “I’m also told you consider Lucas part of that family.”

  “I do. And I’ll fight for him, if necessary.”

  The fierce honesty that rang in the words and Maggie Rafferty’s voice made Sydney smile. “I’m glad,” she said quietly. “Very glad.”

  The woman considered that for a moment. No doubt deciding whether she believed it or not. Sydney held her gaze steadily, sensing the woman would have little patience with someone who couldn’t meet her eyes. Blue eyes, Sydney noticed, very different from Keller’s green. Beneath the fringe of her tousled, flattering pixie haircut, they were bright and clear…and perceptive.

  On the thought, the woman switched her gaze to her eldest son. “Rude to keep her out here in the heat,” she said.

  “I know,” Keller said, sounding unconcerned.

  “I think it’s part of my trial by fire,” Sydney said, keeping her tone neutral. The assessing gaze turned back to her, and she added, “And I understand. I would expect—or want—nothing less. For Lucas’s sake.”

  Her honesty seemed to win the day, and she decided the rest of her course then and there. Honesty was definitely the way to go with this woman.

  “In that case, let’s go inside. We have things to discuss, and it’s too warm today to do it out here.”

  “Welcome to spring in Texas,” Keller said. “It’ll probably be pouring rain tomorrow.”

  “I’ll take it over a sandstorm,” Sydney said. But she noted he made no protest when his mother led the way inside. And she had the feeling her sons numbered first among those who wouldn’t cross her.

  The cooler air inside was a relief. She hadn’t been focused on the heat while dealing with Keller and his wariness, but once she stepped inside, she realized how warm she had gotten. True, she’d been overheated a time or two in desert climes, with no relief such as this to be found, but she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t trade that for the tension she was feeling now.

  You’ve faced down worse than this. The memory of an angry man wielding a curved blade shot through her mind, and how she had truly feared her life might be forfeit if she didn’t convince him she had meant no offense when she’d asked where he�
�d gotten his embroidered tunic.

  But there’s never been more at stake than here and now. She knew that was true. Because this was family. And regardless of how lightly her parents took that term, Sydney had seen all over the world that in most places, it mattered a lot more.

  And she had the feeling here it mattered most.

  Maggie Rafferty looked at her son. Lifted a delicately arched brow at him.

  “All yours,” he muttered.

  “Then you can get us something cold to drink,” his mother said. “There’s a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge.” She gave Sydney a questioning look.

  “That would be nice,” Sydney said politely.

  Keller walked into the kitchen—a spacious oblong with sleek stainless steel appliances and a polished stone counter—while Mrs. Rafferty gestured Sydney to a seat in the equally spacious living room.

  She looked around with interest as she sat down; it was a large room, with walls that reminded her a bit of the saloon, as if they were made of the same stone. This one was sans the bullet holes, thankfully. It was furnished with a pair of rough-finished leather sofas, a couple of coordinating chairs, and two large ottomans providing footrests. The floor was a utilitarian—and cooling—tile, covered in the seating area with a large, colorful rug. A pillow here and there completed the color scheme, except for the big, bright painting on the wall, which coordinated perfectly with the patterned rug.

  She stared at the piece of art. She could tell it was an original from the texture of the paint on the canvas. And it was good. Very good. A view out over a piece of this Hill Country was her guess, perhaps a piece right here on this ranch, either at sunset or sunrise. The colors of the sky and the clouds tinted by the sun were vivid, but believable, a fine balance.

  Impulsively she looked at the woman who had taken one of the chairs opposite Sydney’s seat on the couch. “Which came first, the painting or the rug?”

  Mrs. Rafferty—oddly for her, she felt too intimidated to even think of her as Maggie now she was inside the woman’s home—gave her a faint smile and then a small nod, almost as if in approval. “The painting.”

  Sydney nodded in turn. “That would have been my guess. It’s beautiful work.”

  “It is,” Mrs. Rafferty agreed as Keller walked back in with three iced glasses. He gave one to his mother first, then to her, before he sat down in the other single chair.

  “Thank you,” she said politely, then nodded toward the painting. “Local artist?”

  She didn’t think she’d imagined Keller stiffening. But his mother answered evenly enough. “He was.” Again the raised brow. “Looking to add oils to The World in a Gift?”

  Sydney didn’t turn a hair at the name-drop. “No,” she answered evenly. “Proper shipping and provenance is a bit beyond our kind of operation. I was just…appreciating.”

  “Tell her what you want,” Keller said abruptly.

  Odd, he hadn’t sounded that edgy a moment ago. In fact, he’d seemed almost amused at the prospect of her presenting her idea to his mother. She glanced again at the painting, wondering. But then she turned to look straight at Mrs. Rafferty and repeated her request. And what she’d already agreed to with Keller. The woman listened without comment until Sydney finished.

  Mrs. Rafferty took a long sip from her glass while she looked at Sydney consideringly. “Is there a reason you can’t wait until the test results come back?”

  “None,” she admitted. “Other than my own impatience to right a years-long lie.”

  “Your parents’ lie.”

  “And his parents, too,” she felt compelled to point out. “They never told him they’d found out my father was alive.” But then, reminding herself of her decision, she added, “But since I know my parents, I can at least understand his parents not wanting him to know them.”

  Something changed in the older woman’s eyes then. “And that,” she said softly, “may be the saddest thing I’ve heard in a very long while.”

  “They are who they are. And,” she added pointedly, “I am not anything like them. I’ve worked hard not to be.”

  “I see.” The woman took a long sip of her tea. “Tell me, exactly how do you picture this relationship with Lucas that you want to build?”

  That put her in a quandary. She had the feeling her images of a happy, loving family connection would sound silly and maybe a bit syrupy to this woman who’d raised four sons practically on her own. With the help of her eldest. She wanted to glance at Keller, but guessed it would be a mistake to look away. At least as far as selling her case, to this steady-eyed woman.

  “I want him to know he has family still,” she began.

  “That include your parents?” Keller asked, his voice that drawl again. It seemed to get thicker when he was jabbing at her.

  “No,” she said instantly. “I don’t want anything to do with them myself, why would I think he would?”

  “So is this about what Lucas wants? Or you?” The drawl had faded a little, back to the slight touch she heard in his normal speech. But his tone had become, while softer, somehow more pointed. More…dangerous. To her, anyway.

  “Both,” she admitted.

  “Then what about what’s best for him?” Mrs. Rafferty asked bluntly.

  She blinked. “Isn’t being with family best?”

  “He is with family,” Keller said, his tone so controlled it made her a little nervous.

  “I mean—”

  “You mean blood family?” he asked. “Like yours?”

  Her breath caught. For a long moment she stared into his eyes, those impossible green eyes that looked a bit too chilly for comfort at the moment. Then she lowered her gaze. Felt heat rise to her cheeks. No, she wanted nothing to do with her family, nor did she want Lucas to.

  “No. A new family,” she said quietly.

  “Are you assuming,” Mrs. Rafferty asked, “that you’ll be in charge of Lucas, since you’re older?”

  She made herself meet the woman’s gaze. “I envision being more of an aunt to him, yes. But as he gets older, then more on an equal footing.”

  “That’s what, now how about where and how?” Keller said, his tone still that touch chilly.

  “What?”

  “If you’ve got a plan in place, I’d like to hear it. Where you’ll live—I told you he won’t ever want to leave Texas—and what happens when you go gallivanting around the world again? You plan on dragging him with you like your parents did you?”

  That stabbed hard, and she couldn’t help wincing.

  “Keller,” his mother said softly, but he kept going.

  “We’re talking about the boy I intended to adopt here, so I want details.”

  He intended to adopt Lucas? Formally? She glanced at his mother, wondering if she knew. From the way she was looking at her eldest son, she’d either known or guessed his intentions. She certainly wasn’t surprised.

  “You…never mentioned that.” She sounded as shaken as she felt.

  “Lot of things I haven’t mentioned.”

  “Let’s deal with the immediate question right now,” Mrs. Rafferty said to Sydney rather briskly. “Which is you meeting Lucas before we have those test results.” She shifted her gaze to her son. “Downside?”

  He gave a half shrug. “Lucas thinking we lied to him, not telling him right away who she is. Assuming she is who she says she is.”

  She seemed to consider that. Then she turned back to Sydney, but said nothing, as if she were weighing options. Sydney had the feeling that was something this woman had had to do often. Finally Sydney asked, “Do you believe he will be that upset? Or will the shock outweigh all that?”

  “He’s a pretty level-headed kid, for a thirteen-year-old.” She gave Keller a sideways look. “Unlike some I could mention.”

  That startled Sydney into shooting a look at him. He was grimacing, but it was half a smile, as if his mother had teased him about…whatever had brought that on before. Maybe often. She was seized with a fierce
desire to know what it was. Tried to imagine Keller Rafferty as an impulsive, thirteen-year-old troublemaker. She couldn’t make the idea fit.

  “I think,” Mrs. Rafferty said after a moment, “that Lucas is smart enough to understand why we waited. To think of how he would have felt if we’d told him he had family after all, and then to have it turn out to be a lie.”

  “It won’t,” Sydney felt compelled to say. “It’s not.”

  “In which case, it will be up to you to convince him this is a good thing.”

  Sydney couldn’t help but hear that as a warning. But then it hit her. “Then…you’ll let me meet him? Now?”

  The woman glanced again at her son. So clearly, while she was the matriarch and had them all in awe of her, she still looked to her oldest son, at least for input.

  “She’s got one more obstacle, if she wants to tell this tale of hers. Ry.”

  “He’s working,” Mrs. Rafferty said.

  “I know.”

  “So he’ll be cranky if we interrupt.”

  Keller looked at Sydney then. “She’ll just have to deal.”

  And Sydney didn’t like the fact that the idea made him smile. “Then I’ll deal.” She set down her glass and stood up. “How about now?”

  For the first time Maggie Rafferty smiled, widely. “I like the bull-by-the-horns attitude. Good luck.”

  “You’re not coming?” Keller asked, his tone dry.

  “Far be it from me to interfere with genius burning.”

  When Keller answered her, his tone was entirely different. Softer, even gentle. “You’d know.”

  “Yes. I would. Off with you both, then. Let me know how it goes.”

  Sydney was tempted to ask what that had been about but had the feeling she’d get one of his stonewall answers if she did. So instead she simply followed him back outside, although she blinked when she realized they were headed for the smaller of the two barns across the large yard.

  “Does he work in the barn, or are we saddling up?”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “Could you?”

  “Saddle up? I think I could manage.”

  “You’ve ridden? Don’t tell me the Lipizzans.”