Expecting Thunder's Baby. Sheri WhiteFeather

homestead, keeping recreational horses and raising two sons.

      “I’ve been waiting for you to get here,” he said. “I didn’t want to light the barbecue until you arrived. Your dad and the boys are out back.”

      “And my mom?”

      “In the kitchen,” Margaret supplied. “She’s been helping me with the salads and side dishes.”

      In no time, Carrie was escorted onto the patio. Thunder snared her like a rabbit. He stood up to greet her, and she felt the impact of his presence. Behind him, in a rock-garden setting, was the rustic gazebo where they’d exchanged vows. Carrie shifted her gaze away from it.

      Thunder reintroduced her to Dylan, and she searched for evidence of the boy he used to be. But all she saw was a dark-eyed man with a square jaw and killer cheekbones. He wore his hair long, and his clothes were a tad dusty, as though he’d spent the earlier part of the day in the barn. Dylan was as tall as his older brother but not quite as broad. His muscles were leaner, rangier, cut a bit more sharply. She suspected that he was still boxing, still blowing off steam in the ring.

      “You’re looking good,” he told her, taking both of her hands in his and openly flirting.

      Damn, she thought. Not only was Dylan gorgeous, he had a wicked sense of humor. She could tell he was trying to get Thunder’s goat. “Thank you. So are you.”

      Thunder nudged his brother out of the way, and Dylan winked at Carrie. Suddenly she realized how dangerous all of this was. Thunder had no qualms about restaking his claim.

      But that didn’t mean he’d be getting what he was after.

      

      Thunder listened to the conversations going on around him. The moms blabbed throughout the meal, catching up on each other’s lives. The dads were enjoying themselves, too. As for the divorced offspring…

      Carrie added more margarine to her corn, seemingly busy with her food, and Thunder worked out a plan to be with her.

      In her bed, he thought.

      Why fight the attraction? Why drive himself crazy with it?

      He looked up and caught Dylan watching him. The younger man lifted his beer, then tipped it in a subtle toast, wishing Thunder luck with his ex.

      Wise guy, Thunder thought.

      A few minutes later Dylan’s expression turned serious, and Thunder knew his brother’s thoughts had wandered, that the case they were working on had entered his mind, casting its dark shadow. He’d been traveling extensively, looking for clues, for answers, for someone who might know where Julia and Miriam were, but he hadn’t uncovered any leads.

      After dinner Thunder finagled some alone time with Carrie. Not that it took much finagling. Both sets of parents seemed pleased that they’d gone off by themselves.

      They walked toward the barn. The sun was in the process of setting, turning the sky a soft reddish hue.

      “Is Dylan’s ranch close by?” Carrie asked.

      Thunder frowned. He hadn’t whisked her away to discuss his brother. “No. It’s on the west side of town. Near the river.”

      “And that’s where he found Julia?”

      “Yes.” They kept walking, taking a path lined with spiny shrubs, foliage that grew comfortably in the dry desert soil.

      She turned to look at him. “Julia was pretty when she was young.”

      He had no idea where this conversation was leading. “So?”

      “So…has Dylan mentioned if he’s attracted to her?”

      Thunder stopped and shook his head. “What are you doing? Trying to make something romantic out of this? She was bound and gagged when he found her, with rope burns on her wrists and ankles and dirt and dust on her face and clothes.”

      A small breeze blew, stirring Carrie’s hair. “I’ll bet he carried her out of that trailer.”

      “I’ve carried victims out of agonizing situations, too.” But the only time he’d ever felt truly helpless was when Carrie had lost the baby. She’d been cramped into a ball, bleeding onto the bed, and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing. Nothing but dial 9-1-1. “Can we change the subject?”

      “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

      “Us.”

      She sighed, and the sound drifted into the air. “There is no us, Thunder.”

      “There could be.”

      She gave him a suspicious look. “What do you mean?”

      “I want you to dump Kevin and come to California with me.”

      She sucked in a breath. “Just like that? I’m supposed to run off with my ex-husband?”

      “Just for a few weeks. During your vacation.”

      “That’s crazy,” she said, scoffing at the idea.

      They reached the barn, and he escorted her inside. The building housed two geldings, as well as an Australian shepherd that slept in the tack room.

      When the lazy old dog roused from his nap and lumbered forward to greet them, Carrie petted his mottled head, using him as a diversion.

      Thunder wasn’t about to give up. Being this close to Carrie was making him hungry for the past, for the kind of passion they’d had when they were young. He wanted to rekindle those forbidden feelings, those desperate, consume-each-other moments. “We can work on being friends.”

      She quit petting the dog, stopping to give Thunder a serious study. Then she crossed her arms, using body language that was far from cordial. “You’re just trying to get me into bed.”

      He sent her a cheeky grin. “What’s wrong with being friendly lovers?”

      She punched his shoulder. “You’re incorrigible.”

      He ignored the girly hit. She’d never learned to form a proper fist. “I’m honest, Carrie. I always was.”

      “I’m not sleeping with you.”

      His gut churned. “Because of Kevin?”

      “This doesn’t have anything to do with him. We’re not dating anymore.”

      “Really?” His confidence boosted a notch. “Why? Because you started lusting after me again?”

      She punched him again. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

      “Even if it’s true?” He knew he was making headway. He could see a flicker of resolve in her eyes. “How about if we start off as friends and see where it leads?”

      “What if it doesn’t lead anywhere?”

      “Then I’m screwed. Or not screwed.” He chuckled at his own pathetic wit. “I’m willing to take my chances.” He paused, turned serious. “Honestly, Carrie, I’d really like to try to be friends. I’ve never been comfortable with the way things ended between us.”

      “I need to think about it.”

      “Would it help if I told you that I have a house on the beach?” he asked, recalling the seascape prints on her walls.

      She didn’t respond, but he figured the surf and sand was food for thought. Silent, she headed for the stalls. The horses poked their heads over the wooden doors, curious to see who was visiting them. The dog followed along. So did Thunder. He liked watching Carrie. He liked the way she moved, the way her hips rocked.

      She turned, then blindsided him with a question. “How long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”

      He tried not to wince, to let his discomfort show. He didn’t keep score. But he always played it safe. He used condoms and got regular HIV