Tied Up, Tied Down (Rough Riders #4)(62)

“Good thing you have me, huh?”


“Very good thing, but you’re foolin’ yourself if you think the only reasons I’m with you is because you can cook and do laundry.”


Are you with me only because of Eliza?

“Besides, sweet thang told me she had a hankerin’ to ride in the truck.”


She laughed. “She did?”


“Yep. She loves Gretchen Wilson. She already knows all the words to ‘Redneck Woman’.”


Sky pressed her forehead to the rain-slick wooden pillar on the porch. She resisted asking him if he’d grabbed the diaper bag. Or if he’d bundled Eliza up since the night air was damp. Or if he knew what kind of formula and diapers to buy. She really resisted asking him why he hadn’t asked her to come along.

Because the sobering truth was, Kade didn’t need her to come along. He could handle anything when it came to Eliza, with or without her.

Why didn’t that thought make her happy?

Because she wanted him to need her, the way she was beginning to need him.

“Sky, we’re at the store. We’ll see you in a bit.”


She clicked the phone shut and stayed on the porch, absorbing the warm rain, feeling bewildered, and a little bereft.

Chapter Twenty-one


Lights bobbed up the driveway. Kade’s truck rolled to a stop. The door opened and a baby wailed. Skylar dashed down the porch steps before Kade had Eliza out of the car seat.

“What’s wrong?”


“She’s mad at me for some reason. She screamed all the way home. Again.”


“I’m sure it’s not you personally, Kade.” Sky unbuckled Eliza, picked her up, and right away Eliza snuggled into her and quit crying.

Kade froze. “What did you do to get her to stop?”


“Nothing magical. Must be luck.” She draped the blanket over Eliza to keep the rain off. Inside, while she waited for the bottle to warm, she changed Eliza’s diaper and put her in her fuzzy pajamas.

After sucking down the bottle, Eliza fell asleep as if she’d been drugged, rosebud mouth slack, dark head thrown back. Sky settled her in her crib and returned to the kitchen.

Kade was drinking a beer, gazing out the back door. She saw six canisters of formula, three bags of diapers, a gallon of milk, a bag of apples, a six-pack of beer and a chocolate cake.

Hmm. She hadn’t given him a list, but still, slim pickin’s. “Kade? You okay?”


“No. I never knew how damn hard it was to shop with a baby. Like a dumbass I took her out of her car seat, thinkin’ the car seat would take up too much room in the cart. So I’m holdin’ her, tryin’ to steer the cart with one hand. I made it to the baby aisle and loaded up her stuff. By the time I reached the bakery, she was screamin’. She screamed in the dairy aisle. She screamed in the produce section. All these people were starin’ at me like I was the worst parent ever—or glarin’ at her like she was one of them bratty kids you hear all over the store. I grabbed beer and booked it to the check-out.”


He drained the bottle and set it on the counter. “And Eliza was the damn Energizer Bunny—she just kept on a goin’. The checker couldn’t wait to get rid of us. I loaded the pitiful amount of groceries in the cart and realized I couldn’t push it, hold her, and unlock the truck door, even if it hadn’t been rainin’. I had to ask the carryout boy to help me.

With five lousy bags.”


Skylar circled her arms around his waist, pressing her face into the middle of his back, hoping she was giving him half the effortless comfort he always offered her.

“Shopping is hard. I usually leave Eliza with India when I go to the store to stock up.”


“Wish I’da known that. No, I’m glad I learned firsthand how hard it is just to do simple things when you’re cartin’ around a baby.” Kade turned into her embrace and tilted her face up. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around, Sky. For everything. For your pregnancy and her birth, but mostly because you’ve had to do all this stuff yourself and it ain’t fair.”


“Stop beating yourself up. Let’s move forward, not back.”


“Okay. Does that mean—”


A blinding reflection of headlights flashed in the window behind Kade. Skylar looked over her shoulder. A car had pulled up by the outside fencepost and cut the lights.

“What the hell?”


“What?”


“Who is dropping by at ten at night? Were you expecting anyone?”


“No.”


“I don’t like this. Not at all.” She scurried out of the house and made it halfway up the gravel driveway, when the rear car door opened. The chink chink chink of glass bottles hitting rocks echoed back to her.

“Hey! What are you doing?” She began to run. “This is private property!”


The car was thrown into reverse, narrowly missing the fence. The engine gunned, muddy water and gravel sprayed her from head to bare toes as the vehicle fishtailed down the driveway and out of sight.

“Goddammit!”


A large hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”