The Pride of Jared MacKade (The MacKade Brothers 2)

"What was to mention? I took out the check and gave it to that broker you recommended. I didn't feel like dealing with the rest, so I put it aside until this morning. I guess I'll put the buckles away for Bryan. He might want them one day. The clothes'll go to charity, I suppose."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why should I have?" She turned back, vaguely annoyed, vaguely curious. "It's not a big deal. No long-lost lottery tickets or pouch of gold dust. Just some old clothes, older boots, and papers."

"And photographs."

"Yeah, a few. He wasn't big on souvenirs. There's one of him in the chute I like. It shows who he was, always gearing up for the next ride. I figured Bryan might like to have that, too."

"And this one?" Jared held up the snapshot of Savannah and the cockily smiling cowboy.

She lifted a brow, shook her head. "I don't know how I got into those jeans. Look, I'm going to throw some burgers on the grill."

When Jared shifted into her path, she was genuinely surprised. She tilted her head, studied him. And waited. "Have you shown this to Bryan?"

"No."

"Do you intend to?"

"No. I don't think he cares what his mother looked like at sixteen."

"He would care what his father looked like."

She could almost feel her blood slow, go sluggish. "He doesn't have a father."

"Damn it, Savannah, are you going to tell me this isn't Bryan's father?"

"I'm going to tell you that isn't Bryan's father. A couple of rolls in the hay doesn't make a man a father."

"Don't slice words with me."

"It's a very important distinction in my book, Lawyer MacKade. And since this seems to be a cross-examination, I'll make it clear and easy. I had sex with the man in the picture you're holding. I got pregnant. End of story."

"The hell it is." Furious, he slapped the picture down on the dresser. "Your father knew. He wouldn't have kept this, otherwise."

"Yeah. That occurred to me when I found it." And the hurt had come with it, but it had been slight and easily dispatched. "So what?"

"So why wasn't anything done? This isn't a kid we're talking about. He had to be over twenty-one."

"I think he was twenty-four. Maybe twenty-five. It's hard to remember."

"And you were a minor. He should have been prosecuted—after your father broke his neck."

Savannah took a deep breath. "In the first place, my father knew me. He knew that if I'd slept with someone, it was my choice. I was a minor, technically, but I knew exactly what I was doing. It wasn't a mistake or an accident. I wasn't forced. And I don't appreciate you casting blame."

"Of course there's blame," Jared shot back. "That son of a bitch had no right touching a girl your age, then taking off when there were consequences."

Her eyes lit. "Bryan is not a consequence."

"You know damn well that's not what I meant." Pulling both hands through his hair, he paced away. "There's no going back and righting wrongs at this point. I want to know what you intend to do now."

"I intend to cook hamburgers. You're welcome to stay, or you're welcome to go."

"Don't take that attitude with me."

"It's the attitude I've got." Then she sighed. "Jared, why are you gnawing at this thing? I slept with a man ten years ago. I forgot him. He forgot me." To illustrate, she picked up the photo and dropped it carelessly in the wastebasket beside the dresser. "That's that."

"Just that simple?" It was that, Jared realized. Exactly that that gnawed at him. "He didn't mean anything to you?"