The bottle did the trick. After Kyle got both girls fed, they quieted down and fell back asleep in their cribs. This time, he and Grace made it out of the room, but when they reached the living area off the kitchen, flustered was too kind a word for the state of her nerves.
Kyle collapsed on the couch with a groan.
“So,” she croaked after taking a seat as far away from him as possible. “That was pretty stressful.”
“Nah.” He scrubbed his face with his hand and peeked out through his fingers. “Stressful is dismantling a home-made pipe bomb before it kills someone.”
They’d never talked about his life in the military—largely because he was so closemouthed about it—and judging from the shadows she glimpsed in his expression sometimes, the experience hadn’t softened him up any, that was for sure. “Is that what you did overseas? Handle explosives?”
Slowly, he nodded. “That was my specialty, yeah.”
He could have died. Easily. A hundred times over, and she’d probably never have known until they paraded his flag-draped coffin through the streets of Royal. The thought was upsetting in a way she really didn’t understand, which only served to heighten her already-precarious emotional state.
He’d been serving his country, not using the military as an excuse to stay away. The realization swept through her, blowing away some of her anger and leaving in its place a bit of guilt over never acknowledging his sacrifices in the name of liberty.
“And now you’re ready to buckle down and be a father.”
It seemed ludicrous. This powerful, strapping man wanted to trade bombs for babies. But when she recalled the finesse he used when handling the babies, she couldn’t deny that he had a delicate touch.
“I do what needs to be done,” he said quietly, and his green eyes radiated sincerity that she couldn’t quite look away from.
When had Kyle become so responsible? Such an adult? He was different in such baffling, subtle ways that she kept stumbling in her quest to objectively assess his fitness as a parent.
“Did you give any thought to our discussion yesterday?” she asked.
“The job? I signed on to head up Wade Ranch’s cattle division. How’s that for serious?”
Kyle leaned back against the couch cushions, looking much more at home in this less formal area than he’d been in the Victorian parlor yesterday, and crossed one booted foot over his knee. Cowboy boots, not the military-issue black boots he’d been wearing yesterday. It was a small detail, but a telling one.
He’d quietly transitioned roles when she wasn’t looking. Could it mean he’d been telling the truth when he’d said he planned to stay this time?
“It’s a start,” she said simply, but that didn’t begin to describe what was actually starting.
She’d have to adjust every last thing she’d ever thought about Kyle Wade and his ability to be a father. And if she did, she might also have to think about him differently in a lot of other respects as well, such as whether or not he’d grown up enough to become her everything once again. But this time forever.
Four
Kyle reported to the Wade Ranch cattle barn for duty at zero dark thirty. At least he’d remembered to refer to the beasts as cattle instead of cows. Slowly but surely, snippets of his youth had started coming back to him as he’d driven to the barn. He’d watched his grandfather, Calvin Wade, manage the ranch for years. Kyle remembered perching on the top rail of the cattle pen while Calvin branded the calves or helped Doc Glade with injured cows.
Things had changed significantly since then. The cattle barn had been rebuilt and relocated a half mile from the main house. It was completely separate from the horse business, and Liam’s lack of interest in the cattle side couldn’t have been clearer. His brother had even hired a ranch manager.
Kyle could practically hear the rattle of Grandpa rolling over in his grave.
He’d always insisted that a man had to manage his own business and Calvin hadn’t had much respect for “gentleman” ranchers who spent their money on women and whiskey and hired other men to do the work of running the ranch. Clearly Liam hadn’t agreed.
The red barn dominated the clearing ahead. A long empty pen ran along the side of the building. The cattle must be roaming. Kyle parked his truck in a lot near a handful of other vehicles with the Wade Ranch logo on the doors. Easing from the cab, he hit the ground with bated breath. So far, so good. The cowboy boots were a little stiff and the heel put his leg at a weird angle, but he was going to ignore all that as long as possible.
He strolled to the barn, which had an office similar to the one in the horse barn. But that’s where the similarities ended. This was a working barn, complete with the smell of manure and hay. Kyle had smelled a lot worse. It reminded him of Grandpa, and there was something nice about following in Calvin’s footsteps. They’d never been close, but then Kyle had never been close with anyone. Except Grace.