Bound to You Read online

  “He just turned two last month.”

  “When’s his birthday?”

  “May seventh.” He’d been born nine months to the day of his conception.

  “Wow,” Sam said. “What’s his name again?”

  It bothered her that he didn’t remember his son’s name. Even though he hadn’t known when they’d met he had a son. “Ethan.”

  “Ethan. That’s okay, I guess. Ethan what? What’s his middle name?”

  She hesitated, wishing she hadn’t felt so sentimental and forgiving when she’d named her son. “Ethan Samuel.”

  Sam was silent for a little while, and for the first time she wished she could see his eyes. Was he offended? So touched he couldn’t speak? At last, he found his voice. “Why’d you name him Samuel?”

  He was offended, obviously, and now planned to torture her. “Why do you think? After you.”

  He startled her by laughing. Not a simple laugh, but a rumbling laugh that went on and on and ended with what sounded like tears of hilarity. “Lord…. We’ve got ourselves in one hell of a mess, huh, baby.”

  “You think his name is funny?” she demanded, now the offended one.

  “Well, yeah,” he said, “since that’s not my name.”

  “Sam is short for Samuel.”

  “Usually,” he said, “but not in my case. My mom was probably doped-up on painkillers when she named me.”

  “So what’s your name?”

  He hesitated and let out a long, soft groan. “I’ll only tell if you promise not to repeat it.”

  “Fine, whatever. What’s your name?”

  He groaned again and shifted in his seat. “Samson. They started calling me Sammy when I was little so I wouldn’t get beat up. Samson Elijah. The Elijah part was from my great-granddad. Probably a cool name in 1883, less so in 1983 when I was born.”

  For a moment, she couldn’t respond, and then a slow tickle of humor came over her. Samson? It was a little funny. And a little sad that she hadn’t known Ethan’s father well enough to know his real name.

  “Good grief. This just gets worse and worse,” she said with a groan. “My poor baby is doomed.”

  “No, Ethan Samuel is a good name,” he said seriously. “A good solid name. You did good. Better than my mom, for sure.”

  Warmed by his compliment, a month’s worth of stress seemed to melt off her shoulders. She wanted to really talk to him, to move over beside him and pretend the past three years hadn’t happened. But she couldn’t. There wasn’t really anything between them now. The entire situation was still too uncertain.

  “I have a brother named Boone,” he said, still going on about names. “So be glad. That could have been me.”

  “He has your eyes,” she said, not sure why she felt the constant need to compare this man, a virtual stranger, to her precious son.

  “Yeah, you said that.” Suddenly his voice sounded tight and annoyed. “I can hardly remember what he looked like.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “Mad? I don’t know yet. Surprised. Shocked. And yeah, a little upset you didn’t tell me sooner. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know where you were.” You ran off, remember?

  “You could have asked any one of my family and they would have told you. I wasn’t hard to find.”

  That was true, and she had thought of that many times over the past three years, but…. “Well, honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted you to know. You got what you wanted and then you dumped me the next day. By the time he was born you and I had no relationship. I wasn’t sure…. I was scared. I realized I never really knew you. I wasn’t sure if I could trust you. My dad kept saying….” She stopped and took a deep breath before her babbling got out of control. “I didn’t know what to do.”

  He let out a long breath. “I sat in my truck for about an hour that day after I called you, trying to decide what to do. I was afraid you’d give up law school to follow me. I probably would have taken you if you’d wanted to come and then you’d have resented me for the rest of your life for costing you your education and career. You had that plan. You were always talking about your plan. The law degree, the city, and so on. So, I finally started the truck and drove off.”

  Jenna was amazed he’d thought of her at all before he’d left. “Why did it have to be one way? Me going with you? Why couldn’t you have stayed with me?”

  “My granddad was having problems,” he said, weakly. “Somebody had to run the ranch.”

  “But why you? You have brothers, right?”

  “I was the only one free. Jack has three businesses to run and the others are all married with kids and couldn’t pull up stakes. I had to go because…. Your dad said a broken heart was better than a shattered life. And he was right. You weren’t ready. You had things left to do.”

  “You talked to my dad? He never said anything.” She’d known how afraid her father had been of her getting too involved with Sam, or anyone, and ruining her life. He’d said that to her, too, that a broken heart was better than a shattered life. He must have gone to Sam and made the decision for her.

  “I should have called back,” Sam said. “Talked to you and set things straight, but…. Hell, it was easier not to.”

  She shook her head and looked off, her mind spinning, her emotions darting wildly between anger and regret. And an odd sense of acceptance of all her father’s faults now that he was gone. “It doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t have changed anything. Probably.”

  “It would have if I’d known you were pregnant,” he said. “I would have come back. I wouldn’t have turned my back on you.”

  Jenna looked off, her stomach burning. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “So what do you want?” he asked with the same tight voice. “Why are you telling me now?”

  She turned and looked out at the corner light, shining a golden circle onto the grass. What did she want? She couldn’t remember. “I don’t know. I wanted you to know. Ethan will wonder someday soon.”

  After a long, tense silence, Sam leaned to the side, stretching his neck. “C’mere,” he whispered. “Look at this.”

  She moved up beside him and saw what had caught his attention. Flying squirrels scurrying all over the tree with the bird feeder. Screeching and making a racket with their claws against wood. She’d grown used to their presence.

  “They’re out almost every night this time of year,” she told him, feeling brave enough to sit beside him, grateful for the distraction. “They live in a big bird house the park rangers built out in the woods. Last year we had eighteen but this year I’ve only seen twelve at any one time.”

  Sam stood up and walked to the railing for a closer look. Pepper sat at the base of the tree, staring up at the activity, watching the squirrels fight and run and play, waiting for one to finally fall. Pepper wouldn’t have given a burglar a second glance, but the squirrels he found incredibly interesting. One little squirrel stood upside down on the side of the tree boldly staring back at the dog.

  “Go on up,” she said. “They’re not skittish. We feed them peanut butter.”

  They walked across the lawn and watched the squirrels feeding off the sunflower seeds and corn she kept out for them. Adorable, pudgy little creatures with big bulging eyes and folds of soft gray fur.

  “Rowdy little things,” Sam said with a laugh. “Your dog ever catch one?”

  “No. Sometimes they’ll fight and one will fall but they’re too quick. When they race to the very top of the tree you know they’re about to glide. One’s headed up.”

  They watched the squirrel glide through the air, baring its white belly, landing with a crash of branches and leaves on an unseen tree in the dark woods. Sam looked at her with wide eyes.

  “The kid ever see this?” he asked.

  “No, they’re nocturnal. He’s always asleep.”

  “Then go get him. He needs to see this. This is something.”

  “Go get him? Right now?” Th
en it occurred to her this was Sam’s excuse to see his son. This was his way of asking. “Well… all right.” After all, this was a special occasion.

  Ethan was still asleep in her arms when she carried him outside. Sam was standing by the tree, looking up, just as she’d left him.

  He smiled at her without looking at Ethan. “They all flew off,” he said, almost whispering, “and then in a minute they all came coasting in one by one. Like a fleet of jets. Figured it was over and then looked up and here they come. I’ve never seen anything like this. We don’t have them out at our place. You know, my parents’ place. Sure don’t have them on the ranch in Texas.”

  “A state park backs up to our property. They need lots of trees to survive.” She adjusted Ethan in her arms, trying to get Sam’s attention, but he kept staring up at the squirrels.

  “Not much bigger than a rat,” he said. “Thought they’d be bigger. Heard about ‘em, but…. You know, my granddad wasn’t just a rancher. He was also a clockmaker. Not a lot of people knew that. His family was making clocks since before they came to this country. He started teaching me from when I was a kid so the trade wouldn’t die off. Mom would send us kids out to Texas to spend the summers on the ranch.”

  “Sam, he’s heavy.”

  “Gonna look,” he said with a shaky voice, “just give me a minute. Gotta get up my nerve. My life’s about to change forever.”

  He let out a breath and looked down at Ethan. He stared down at him for a long time.

  “Move into the light,” he finally said, whispering.

  Jenna stepped backed near the house under the corner light. Sam held up a hand to shield Ethan’s sleeping eyes. “You think he has my eyes?” he asked.

  She nodded. “He also has your frown. He has several of your facial expressions.”

  “Really.” Sam’s eyebrows peaked and his eyes seemed to be placed higher on his face. She was certain that if he had ever truly seen anything in his life, he was seeing this baby now. “My god, he’s an angel,” he breathed.

  “He’s perfectly healthy.”

  “This is you and me,” he whispered, glancing at her. “This is what it looks like. I can’t believe it.”

  He reached out a tentative finger and lifted Ethan’s hand. Ethan grabbed hold in reflex, squirming a little, and smacked his lips.

  “This is one fine child, Jenna,” he whispered, not speaking to her at all. He lifted Ethan’s hand to his lips. “Look at his little fingers…. This is my child.” He let out a joyous laugh. “Look at this. I have a son!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jenna stood guard over her son as he slept soundly tucked into his own bed. A strange tingling sensation at the base of her spine was beginning to worry her. The tickle had to be fear, she was certainly afraid. She hadn’t expected Sam to take such an interest in Ethan. Not so soon, anyway.

  Walking the room, rubbing her lower back, she tried to organize her thoughts. Had she really considered what was best for her son when she’d opened this very large, frightening can of worms? Probably not.

  Nothing made sense anymore. Sam had acted like he wanted to be Ethan’s father.

  He should have been running for the border, not kissing Ethan’s fingers and declaring him his son.

  But being a sperm donor and being a father were two different things entirely. Did he understand that?

  She’d completely forgotten that she really didn’t know him. She hadn’t been thinking clearly since the moment she saw him standing in the park looking so magnificent, storming her mind with memories, and breaking her heart all over again.

  She’d let her emotions make decisions for her. This was not how she usually handled a situation. She prided herself in being sensible. Yet, in her own defense, she hadn’t expected Sam to latch on to Ethan the way he had.

  She didn’t know him at all. Not anymore.

  Overwhelmed and confused, she walked across the hall to her bedroom and sat down on the bed, jumping when she noticed a small box resting on her pillow.

  It was a gift from Brianna, no doubt. Her little sister had always done that, left gifts whenever they’d had an argument. She left small gifts instead of facing up to an apology. Not that she’d been wrong this time. She’d been absolutely right. No matter what they had to do to survive, no matter what they had to suffer, she couldn’t marry a man she detested for money. Especially now that she’d let Sam become involved in Ethan’s life.

  The small box was rectangular and white, and a red bow had been artfully tied at the top - typical Brianna. Jenna sat down, pulled the ribbon free, and opened the lid. After pushing through red tissue paper, she lifted an owl carved of wood, which bore a clock in its chest.

  With a pounding heart she realized this wasn’t from Brianna, this was from Sam. He’d talked about learning to make clocks. His granddad had taught him. It was some kind of longstanding family trade. Sam had made this clock.

  She stared at the little creature for a minute or two before she could truly force herself to believe it. The gift was from Sam. Which meant he’d come upstairs at some point and placed the box on her bed. He’d been in her room.

  She stood and turned around, almost expecting to see him hiding somewhere, almost able to feel his energy lingering between the walls. How had he known which room was hers? Because of Ethan’s toys piled on the chair in the corner, of course. Because Bri always kept her door closed and had a colorful hand-painted sign that read Brianna’s Room. Private Property!

  There was no card, just the symbol of the gift itself. He must have left it while she’d put Ethan back to bed, before they’d met on the front porch to exchange phone numbers and awkwardly say goodnight.

  It was even set to the right time. With the aid of folded tail feathers, the owl could perch itself on a table. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the little owl clock on her nightstand.

  Then she picked it up again and examined it. The work was amazing, with its perfect little carved ears, a shiny cherry coat, and feathers that were smooth to the touch.

  It was just about the cutest thing she’d ever seen.

  A present for Ethan, she realized. A wonderful, thoughtful, impressive gift for her son, from his father.

  There was no card because he hadn’t known his own son’s name when he’d carefully packaged the gift. Still, even then he must have known he couldn’t walk away from his own flesh and blood.

  Sam had carved the delicate, intricate details with his own hands, out of an ordinary hunk of wood. He had the talent to create something both whimsical and beautiful. He was a true artist.

  Her heart swelled and all bad thoughts of Sam were replaced by the pleasant memories she had of him from three years ago. All the times he’d made her laugh, the incredible heat of his affectionate hugs, and the sense of romance she had experienced for the first time in her life looking out at the shimmering water on that warm, perfect summer’s night.

  God, she still wanted Sam. Not only for Ethan’s father. She wanted him for herself. Just as she’d wanted him three years ago.

  She still loved him.

  She’d never really stopped.

  If only dreams could come true, she mused as she strolled to the nursery. But she’d learned the hard way not to dream. Dreams didn’t have any place in reality – life made sure of that.

  In reality, she would likely grow old watching Sam from afar as he stood beside Ethan. And in a few years, she would probably have to fight with Sam and his new wife over custody rights. That was how reality worked. She’d learned this truth the hard way.

  Leaving the owl clock on Ethan’s dresser with a heavy sigh of acceptance, she went to see if she could get some sleep.

  ***

  Sam rolled his truck to a stop in front of Jack’s house and sat staring at nothing, trying to remember how Jenna had looked holding the little boy. Trying to remember the child’s face, which now seemed to blur. And to feel the soft, trusting grip on his finger that had stunned him with emotion.


  He might have to marry her, he realized, sitting up straight. He might have to marry Jenna Morgan. She was the mother of his child.

  His crotch sprang to life, oblivious to his tormented mind. He would have to marry Jenna Morgan.

  He closed his eyes and pushed all overwhelming thoughts aside, focusing his memory, almost involuntarily, on her body, standing there just inches from his hands, her intense energy swirling into his nostrils and spinning his brain.

  That thick blond hair, like a river of molten gold, long enough to wrap around his hand three times and hold her steady. Her breasts so full and firm he could have buried his face between them. Legs so long her hips had to sway enticingly in order to accommodate their stride. And those blue eyes of the gentlest shade, aimed at him like a double-barrel shotgun, not only seeing him, but seeing right through him.

  He opened his eyes. “I’m a father,” he whispered aloud, to hear how it sounded. “This is my son, Ethan.”

  His thoughts drifted to the still blurry memory of a small child with blond hair falling on the steps, staring up at him with wide, curious blue eyes suspiciously the same dark shade as his own.

  Jenna’s blue eyes were the light shade of a spring sky, the shade of those dainty wildflowers his mother grew in her window boxes every spring.

  He leaned his head back and smiled. Jenna. She did remind him of those delicate little flowers. Somehow, she pulled it off. Probably five-ten, if not taller, but she never seemed large, or awkward. She had grace, style, class, and a dancer’s coordination.

  When he looked into her eyes, when he felt her energy on his skin, there had always been a sense of rightness. He’d been drawn to her from the first moment he saw her, and that hadn’t changed.

  Jenna Strickland. It sounded good.

  But it felt like certain death.

  And filled him with a fear unlike any he’d ever known. Not even finding his granddad still and lifeless in bed had felt like this.

  Dammit!

  He jumped out of his truck and barged into Jack’s house, not slowing until he’d thrown open the door to his brother’s room and flipped on the lights.