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“Good. Then I can live with that.”
But could she? Big Badger was a small town, there wasn’t much to do here. And she could envision herself bumping into Cade every time she turned around for the next six weeks. Bumps she didn’t want to be making. “It’s not about what you can live with,” she snapped. “It’s about what’s best for Michael. Dr. Robinson’s part of it, but you’re a bigger part.” He’d spent their married life staying away, and she’d got used to it. Got used to the distances in their divorce, too, and she wasn’t sure what having him around all the time was going to do to her. But for Michael … “And you’re not staying with me.”
“Didn’t intend to. I took a room at the boarding house. Paid for the full six weeks.”
He smiled, arched ridiculously sexy eyebrows—the whole Cade effect that had always been her downfall.
“Cade Carter, staying in a boarding house and not some luxurious hotel suite?” Belle raised her eyebrows over that one, because it told her, whatever his reason, he was dead serious about spending more time with Michael.
“Find me a luxurious hotel in Big Badger, and I’ll check in.”
“And you’re still not going to tell me what this is really about?” There wasn’t a casual explanation. Knowing Cade, there couldn’t be. But Cade honestly loved Michael, even though Michael didn’t give much back to his dad. So maybe it was about Cade feeling excluded or unloved? Certainly, that’s how she would feel if Michael was as unresponsive to her as he was to Cade. So she hoped that was the simple explanation after all.
But there’d been a time when she’d hoped so many things about Cade, and look where that had got her.
“I can tell you a thousand times a day for the next six weeks. My being here is about spending more time with Michael. That’s all, Belladonna.”
Nope. She knew Cade, and she didn’t buy it. But, as they said, forewarned was forearmed. Only she didn’t know against what. “Fine. You’ve got your extra six weeks. And don’t call me Belladonna.” Meaning beautiful woman, or deadly nightshade, take your pick. It used to be his pet name for her, used when he’d wanted to get his way. Which he’d just done, hadn’t he?
The charmer grin grew larger as Cade tilted his hat back down over his eyes. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a real pushover, Belle Carter?”
Nobody had to tell her. When it came to Cade Carter, she always had been. Looked like that hadn’t changed too much either. “All the time,” she said, opening her office door and gesturing him to leave. “All the time.”
Belle watched him amble down the hall and out the back office door, admiring that same swagger she’d always admired. “So, what are you up to, Cade?” she asked, under her breath, as she shrugged into her white lab coat and headed off to see her first patient of the afternoon. “What are you really up to?” And how was she going to stay resistant to it? That was the big question.
“How would you like to spend more time with your dad this summer, Michael?” Kicking her shoes to the other side of the room, Belle dropped back onto the sofa and lay there, flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. “Michael,” she said again, without glancing over. She knew what he was doing. Playing video games. The love of his life. Lately, though, he hadn’t been playing them so much as creating one of his own, doing preliminary sketches, working out the story details. “Did you hear me? I asked if you’d like to spend more time with your dad this summer.”
“Yeah,” Michael said, his rapt attention still fixed on his game.
“Well, he’s here. In Big Badger.” Not that telling him would make a difference, but he did process the information. Just not always on the spot. “And he wants to spend the summer with you. So you’ll have to start thinking about all the things you’d like to do with him, maybe make a list. OK?”
“Yeah,” he said.
Belle was sure he was simply telling her what she wanted to hear, and paying absolutely no attention to her at the same time. Complex mind. So complex that it scared her sometimes. Most of the time, though, she didn’t think about it. Because to Michael she was only Mom, doing the mom things she was supposed to do. Like making dinner. Her next chore. “What do you want to eat?” she asked him, then added, before he answered, “Not pizza. We’ve had that two night in a row now. So, what else?”
“Pizza,” he said anyway.
She wasn’t sure if that was because pizza was truly his favorite food or if it was simply what came to mind first, turning it into the easiest way to respond to her yet still stay focused on what he was doing. “No pizza,” she said emphatically.
“OK.” He turned to her, grinning. “Fried chicken, mashed potatoes without lumps with white gravy without lumps, corn on the cob and homemade biscuits. With honey.”
Belle moaned, then laughed. He did this on purpose—his sense of humor. Michael knew she couldn’t cook, at least not that kind of meal. And he teased her about it. “You mean hamburgers, don’t you? On the grill?”
“Can I cook them?” he asked.
“Do pigs fly?” she asked, teasing him.
“Only in another universe, Mom,” he said, then turned back to his game.
“When you say something cute like that, you know what I’m going to have to do, don’t you?”
“No!” he squealed, curling himself into a ball. “Not that!”
Belle rolled off the couch then crawled on hands and knees across the floor to Michael, who was rolling away from her. “Yes, that! The cuddle game. You know how much I love the cuddle game.” Her cuddle game was a form of hug therapy used on children who had an aversion to being touched, like Michael had had when he’d been younger. It was one of several sensory issues she’d been dealing with, along with loud noises and some bright colors. It had taken Belle years to get him to the point where accepting physical affection was a pleasant experience for him. Sometimes, even now, she wasn’t sure if it was or if he was merely putting on an act to placate her. Either way, it didn’t matter. A few minutes to cuddle her son meant everything. Everything.
“Can he come to dinner?” Michael asked, before Belle had even gotten all the way over to him.
Of all things, that was the one question that stopped her dead, threw that bucket of water on the cuddle game. Could Cade come to dinner? Her first response was, When pigs fly! She didn’t want to spend the evening with Cade. Didn’t particularly even want to be in the same room with him. But this was Michael asking. Michael, who never asked for anything except more RAM for his computer. “Well, I have a better idea than that. Why don’t I call your dad and see if he’ll come take you out for pizza?” Which was exactly what she did, when Michael’s attention, once again, returned to his game.
“He wants pizza, he wants you,” she said to Cade, when he answered his phone. “And what’s with the pickup truck I saw you in earlier?” A sleek, low-riding sports car was more his style.
“Had to rent something.”
“Well, Michael’s never been in a pickup truck so I don’t know if that’s going to work. You can leave it here and borrow my car.”
“Or I can leave your car right where it is and take him in the truck. Or would the two of you rather meet me somewhere?”
“I prefer the sound of a boys’ night out, while I take a long, hot bath and finish that mystery novel I’ve been trying to finish for the last month.” A night that might have, under different circumstances, been perfect. Tonight, though, the image of a cozy little family of three eating pizza together popped into her thoughts, making her feel, well, not sad for the present so much as sad for the things they’d had in the past. It seemed like such a long time ago. So far away it was difficult trying to remember when they’d been happy. They had been, though. In the early years, when Michael had still been a baby and she had been plunking along through medical school a little at a time, trying to balance motherhood and career. Good times for a while. So many hopes and dreams. Bright futures in the planning. But with a supportive husband for only such a short while before he’d started retreating. “Oh, and I’ve told Michael you’re going to be here for a while, and to get a list ready of things he wants to do with you. And before you tell me there’s nothing he wants to do with you, you’re wrong. There are a lot of things. You have to be patient, getting him to tell you.”
“But he will,” Cade replied. “Isn’t that what you always tell me? Be patient, and he’ll do it. Except he never does, Belle. Never does.”
He did, though. Cade simply wasn’t very good at picking up on the subtle signs. The irony was that that was a typical Asperger’s symptom. Only thing was, while Michael had Asperger’s, Cade did not. And it was Cade’s lack in that area that was, in part, responsible for the death of their marriage. “Then work on it. And, please, not video games and computers. He gets enough of that in his day-to-day life, and he really needs something else.”
“In Big Badger, Texas? What else is there, Belle? You pretty much came to the end of the earth with this job, and I can’t see this place being exactly stimulating for a child.”
“In Big Badger, Texas, you have to use your imagination. Get used to it, Cade. You’re the one who chose to spend six weeks here.” She thought she heard a groan on the other end of the phone. She smiled. “Pick him up in an hour. And make sure he wears his seat belt in that truck. He’s in a new phase where the seat belt bothers him, and he’ll take it off if he thinks you’re not watching. So watch him!”
“Anybody ever tell you to lighten up?”
“Anybody ever tell you that we’re divorced and I’m none of your business any more?” Still smiling, she clicked off. But rather than being angry, she was wondering if having Cade around for a while might be good. Definitely for Michael, but maybe a little bit for her, too? Funny thing was, since the moment she’d heard his voice out there on the Chachalaca, she’d had this peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, it was gone.
CHAPTER TWO
OK, so maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, taking a leave of absence and coming to Texas. Not the most thought-out either, since he’d done it on the spur of the moment. But, damn it, he missed Michael. For all the rough patches in their relationship, and there were plenty of them, his kid was his life, and he hated it that he couldn’t see him any time, like he’d done before Belle had moved to Big Badger.
It was about his brother Robbie, too. It was his birthday today. That was another regret, realizing how much he’d missed. And guilt. Feeling it more acutely as the years rolled on. Recognizing he was well on that track with Michael, too.
So he’d endure Big Badger for a few weeks, see what he really wanted to do after that, and the trade-off for the things he hadn’t figured out yet was extra time to spend with Michael while he was traveling through yet another undecided phase of his life. Maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to relate to his son better or, at the very least, get Michael to respond to him.
Spending time with Belle was also something he’d given a lot of thought to. He’d caused the divorce. There was no other way to look at it. She’d needed a husband, and he’d needed—well, he still didn’t know the answer to that, did he? But whatever it was, he owed Belle in a big way for the letdown of a husband he’d been, and while he couldn’t make that up to her, he could make some amends by being a better father.
How? He wasn’t sure. There weren’t many options open to him. But somewhere inside those next six weeks, maybe he’d prove himself to Michael, and also to Belle, by showing how he was more than the father who simply appeared at the door to pick up his kid every couple of weeks. What would he get from Belle in return? He didn’t have a clue, but he was willing to take anything. Michael needed that. So did he. Because those were some feelings he had to resolve as well while he was here.
Tall order to fulfill—better dad, better ex-husband. To move forward, though, that was his agenda, otherwise he’d have to step away from them altogether, for Michael’s sake, he told himself. Whatever he did, it had to be for Michael’s sake. And for Belle’s. Because, God knew, he didn’t deserve anything for his own sake.
“So, what kind of pizza do you want?” he asked Michael, as they headed to the truck.
“Mom coming?” Michael asked, trailing along behind Cade by a good ten large steps.
“Mom’s tired tonight. So it’s only going to be the two of us.” Not the best choice of words apparently, because once Michael heard them he stopped, then turned around and headed back to Belle’s front door. A purposeful march, and a very obvious one. Michael wanted his mother, not his dad. Understanding that, Cade felt his heart fall.
“I’ll get her,” Michael said.
“But she doesn’t want to come.” Neither did Michael.
“That’s OK. She likes pizza, too. Just not every night.”
With that, Michael disappeared back into the house, leaving Cade standing alone on the sidewalk. Feeling rotten. Inadequate. Feeling like an idiot for not knowing what to do now. Should he go after Michael, insist that pizza was only for the two of them? Ask Belle to come along to make the situation better? These were the things that eluded him, the things he should know how to manage. But didn’t.
“See, this is the way it always is,” he said, clearly frustrated when Belle appeared at the door with Michael in hand.
“I explained it, and now Michael understands that I’m not part of the pizza party tonight. He was just afraid that I might not fix myself anything for dinner.”
It was more than that. It was Michael showing concern for his mother in a way Cade had never seen. Or had never felt from Michael himself. It was a proud moment, seeing that in his son, yet a profoundly sad one as well. To Belle’s credit, though, for being such a good mother to Michael. “And will you?”
Belle shook her head. “Too tired. I’ll grab an apple, maybe some yogurt, and I’ll be good.” She scooted Michael out the door, then took a step back. “So you two have fun tonight. And I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“Sure you don’t want to come with us?” Cade called.
“Sure,” she said, shutting the door.
This time she locked it. Cade heard the bolt latch. “OK, then. It really is just the two of us.” And a whole summer ahead, with more of this. On top of which, he was going to be with Belle. Now, that was going to be the bigger challenge. Belle Elise Foster Carter—the best of his life while he was the worst of hers. Yes, she was definitely going to be the biggest challenge he was going to face in Big Badger, Texas.
“So tell me about school,” Cade said, handing a slice of pizza, pepperoni only, over to his son.
“It’s OK,” Michael replied, his attention fixed squarely on a floor-sized video game in the corner of the restaurant—a road-race game meant for kids twice his age.
“Is math still your favorite subject?”
“Um, yes.”
“Still like your science classes?”
“Uh-huh.”
It was clear Michael was more interested in the game than his dad, and Cade understood that. Still, it was frustrating not being able to hold his son’s attention for more than a fraction of a second, basically losing out to a game, and he was fighting to keep in his nettled sigh. Belle had the relationship with Michael he wanted. He was glad for her. But it bothered the hell out of him that, no matter how hard he tried with Michael, he was barely on his son’s radar. “Want to go play?” he finally asked, giving in to the obvious.
Michael nodded his head and, for a second, glanced at Cade. His expression was … happy? Did he see happiness in his son’s eyes, or was that merely wishful thinking? As quickly as Michael looked over, though, he looked away. Right back at the video game.
“After you finish your pizza,” Cade said. “Deal?”
Michael nodded. “Deal.” Then he crammed the rest of his pizza into his mouth, so much so his cheeks bulged as he tried to chew it and swallow. Finally, his mouth cleared, he held out his hand to Cade. “Money, please.”
“How much?” Cade asked, not expecting an answer.
“It’s a dollar a game. Can I play ten games? Because that would be ten dollars.”
Explained very seriously. But it was the most Michael had said all evening and for that Cade rewarded him with ten dollars. For a moment it crossed his mind to go play the game with Michael, but he knew that would cause his son more frustration than he could deal with, so he twisted his chair to watch, then leaned back to make himself more comfortable. “I’ll save you some pizza for later,” he said, before Michael scampered off.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said, clutching the handful of dollar bills like they were a lifesaving elixir.
Cade blinked his surprise. “You’re welcome. Oh, and, Michael …” he called, as Michael was already halfway across the room. “Have fun.”
“It was nice, hearing him call you Dad,” Belle said, settling into the chair next to Cade.
“Thought you were staying home.”
“Turns out I can’t.”
“Because you don’t think I can take good care of our son?” he asked. “Because you want to see, in action, how you’re the good mom and I’m the bad dad?”
Immediately, Belle bristled. “Don’t go there, Cade. I didn’t come down here to fight with you. I’ve got to go out to the Chachalaca again, to see a couple of the holdouts. The ranch owner threatened them with their jobs and now they’re willing to let the lady doc treat them. So don’t hassle me. This is my fourth time out there, and I’m not happy about it.”
“I could go,” he offered. “Seriously. You could take the rest of the night off, maybe stay here and finish the pizza, and I could go out to the Chachalaca.”
“Trying to make amends is nice, Cade, and I appreciate it. But duty calls, and this duty is mine. What I was wondering, though, is when you take Michael home later on, would you mind staying there with him until I get back? If you can’t, that’s fine. I can call Virginia Ellison, and she’ll be glad—”
“Not a problem,” he said, sliding the pizza box over toward Belle. “If it gets too late, I’ll sleep on the couch. Care for a slice to take with you?”
She laughed. “Between you and me, I really hate pizza. But Michael loves it, and sometimes it’s the only thing I can get him to eat.”
He pulled the pizza back and took a large slice for himself, one dripping with pizza sauce and cheese. “You’re the one who worked with him on calling me Dad, aren’t you?”
“I know it’s difficult for you, not getting to see him more, then when you do it takes him so long to warm up to you. So I thought—”
He held up his hand to stop her, then swallowed the bite in his mouth. “I appreciate it, even if it doesn’t come naturally to him. And what I just said about you coming here to watch me be the bad dad …” He sighed. “You are the good mom, you know. Sometimes when I see that, and see how Michael responds to you—it bothers me, Belle. And it bothers me that you had to teach my son to call me Dad. I loved hearing him say it, but I would have loved it even more if it had been spontaneous.”
“I think it was. Normally, I prompt him before your weekends. Just mention it once or twice. But this isn’t one of your weekends, and what’s happening now is totally off Michael’s routine. So I didn’t prompt him.”
Cade smiled, but didn’t respond, because he knew Belle was wrong. It was her work that had brought about Michael’s efforts. More than that, it made him feel terrible that, even in divorce, Belle cared more about his feelings than he’d ever cared about hers while they’d been married.
“Anyway …” She scooted back her chair to leave, then turned and waved to Michael, who took a moment to glance up from his game in progress. “I’ve got to go. So I’m going to go tell Michael where I’ll be while you polish off all that pizza, because he’s too caught up in his game to want any more of it.” She stepped away, stopped, then turned back to him. “You still got the six-pack?” Referring to his rock-hard abs.
The question totally surprised him. And intrigued him. “Why?”
“Just a warning about what can come from too many nights in the pizza parlor. And if Michael has his way with you, you’ll be here every night.” She smiled. “It would be a pity to mess up one of the good things about you, Cade.”
“Sounds like you almost care.”
“You had nice abs. That’s all I’m saying.” Then, finally, she walked away.
He watched, didn’t budge an inch to stand and be polite, or even walk along with her over to Michael. Belle, with her honey-blonde hair and sassy green eyes. And a sway to her hips that begged his stare. She was sexy as hell. Always had been, always would be. That’s what caught him first glance, but what reeled him in was her intelligence, and her overall zest for life. Belle did life in a big way, bigger than anybody he’d ever met in his life. So straightforward about it, too, like she’d been just then. She still remembered liking his abs? He wasn’t sure how to take it. Maybe as a compliment, maybe as a warning, like she’d said.
Or maybe—nah, he wasn’t going there. He had friends who’d told him sex with the ex after the divorce was awesome. Maybe it was, he didn’t know. But Belle wasn’t the type. And, truly, he’d never even thought about it until just now. Well, maybe he had thought about it a time or two. But not seriously. And what she’d said about his abs—that was Belle being her straightforward self, giving him a warning and letting him know, in her own way, he was going to get a lot of time with Michael. Yes, that’s what she’d meant. He was sure of it. Positive. Well, almost positive.
Still thinking about Belle as she lingered a moment to watch Michael’s game, he knew now what he’d always known—nobody compared. Nobody even came close. In fact, the skinny list of women he’d considered dating from time to time were either so boring, bland, or so inane, trite, or shallow he never got around to the asking-out stage. Truth was, he hadn’t dated because nobody seemed—well, like Belle. Not that he’d ever date her again, or do anything else with her, because he’d messed that up in the worst way a man could mess up the best thing in his life. But in a woman he needed personality and drive and, so far, he hadn’t found that in any way that suited him other than in Belle, and that didn’t count any more.
Which was fine, for now, as he wasn’t in any hurry to settle down again. Of course, some people, Belle specifically, would argue he’d never settled down in the first place. “Look,” he said, jumping into her path as she whooshed by him on her way out the door, “I don’t want to fight. OK? It seems like we’re always fighting, or just on the verge of it, and I don’t want us doing that.”
