lines of pain around his eyes had eased.
Despite everything that had happened, despite what he’d said, she was happy to see him. She wanted to go to him and hold him. She wanted to do a whole lot more than that, which probably meant she needed some intensive therapy or at the very least a self-help book with a snappy title.
“You’re obviously pissed off,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “Which I find interesting. If anyone has the right to be mad, it’s me.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked.
“Is that a trick question?”
He ignored her. “I had an interesting visitor at breakfast Saturday morning. Erin.”
Skye opened her mouth, then closed it. She wasn’t sure what to say. Erin had breakfast with Fidela most weekends. If Skye was up, they would ride over together. If not, Arturo came and got the little girl. It was a tradition, one that Erin treasured.
“Let me guess,” Skye said bitterly. “You object to my daughter being on the ranch. Give it a rest, Mitch. I know you’re adjusting and that you’re dealing with an incredibly unfair situation, but Erin has nothing to do with that. She and Fidela adore each other. She’s like their granddaughter. They don’t have kids of their own. You were like their son, so even you should understand. Don’t tell me that Erin can’t go over there anymore.”
“Is that what you think this is about?” he asked. “Your kid eating pancakes with Fidela?”
“Yes,” she said cautiously. “What else is there?”
“Interesting question. Erin invited me to her birthday party. She’s turning eight.”
“Okay.”
He took a step toward her. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That I wouldn’t get it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He looked like he wanted to rip her into tiny pieces. But for what? Her daughter turning eight?
“She told me when her birthday is,” he said, his voice filled with rage. “I did the math. When the hell were you going to tell me that Erin is my daughter?”
The room shifted. Had they been in California, Skye would have assumed this was the big one. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think and, even through the wild disbelief, she ached for him. For the pain she was about to cause.
“Don’t pretend you’re surprised,” he told her. “I know the last time we had sex, kid. It was right after I proposed.”
“I remember,” she said. She remembered everything about that night and the day that followed. “Oh, Mitch. No.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Don’t bother pretending she’s not mine.”
“She’s not,” she whispered.
His expression tightened. “Bullshit. Either she’s mine or you’re a whore.”
She felt as if he’d hit her. “Those are not my only two choices.”
“What else is there? If Erin is Ray’s kid, then you jumped into bed with that old man, what? Two days later? You putting out on the first date now, Skye?” His mouth twisted. “Maybe you are. These days you don’t even require a date. Just a private spot in the sun and a willing guy.”
She raised her hand to slap him. He grabbed her by the wrist and held on hard enough to bruise.
“Tell me,” he whispered, his eyes blazing. “Did you like fucking the old man?”
Tears burned in her eyes. She pulled free of him and stepped back. Her throat felt tight, as if she would never be able to swallow again.
It hadn’t been the first date, but the third and she’d cried the whole time. She’d slept with Ray to find out if she could. He’d held her and told her he’d never meant to hurt her. That he always thought she was special but if the idea of being with him was so disgusting, he would walk away.
He’d been kind and understanding. Sure, he’d wanted an eighteen-year-old bride, but he hadn’t been a jerk about it. She’d been tempted to tell Ray that she would never love anyone but Mitch. But Jed had taken her aside and warned her that if she refused Ray, not only would she be dead to him, but that he would destroy the Cassidy Ranch. He would take Mitch’s inheritance and erase it from the face of the earth.
She’d believed him but she’d still longed for Mitch. In the end circumstances had made the decision for her. She’d been pregnant with Ray’s baby. Just over seven months later, Erin had been born—five weeks premature.
Now she sucked in a breath, wiped away her tears and faced Mitch.
“Erin isn’t yours,” she said clearly.
“I don’t believe you and I’ll destroy you for keeping her from me.”
“You’ll have to prove it first.”
“I want a DNA test. If you don’t agree, I’m willing to go to court to get it.”
A part of her understood. Given their past and the timing of events, it made sense that he thought Erin could be his. A part of her had always wished she was. It was a secret she’d kept from Ray, one that had shamed her. But she’d been unable to let it go.
Mitch’s choices were simple. Erin was his or the woman he’d loved had betrayed him.
She thought about explaining that Erin had a birthmark on the small of her back. A tiny half-moon stain that Ray and all his other children shared. She doubted Mitch would believe her.
“I’ll agree to a DNA test on the condition that you keep this to yourself,” she said quietly. “You won’t discuss it with Erin. I don’t want her hurt.”
“You’re not in a position to dictate terms.”
She raised her chin. “Erin is my daughter. She’s a child and doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of this. If you really think she’s yours, you shouldn’t want her hurt or confused. She can’t know until we have the results.”
Mitch’s dark eyes gave nothing away. “Agreed. I’ll call a lab and have someone stop by.”
He turned and left without saying anything else. She watched him go. He walked slowly but steadily. If she hadn’t known about the prosthesis, she might not have guessed there was anything wrong.
When she was alone, she sank into her chair and closed her eyes. She hadn’t expected this. Didn’t he know her well enough to believe she wouldn’t keep his child from him?
Obviously not, she thought sadly. He believed the worst about her. When he found out the truth about Erin, he would know that she, Skye, hadn’t been lying. But she had a bad feeling that wasn’t going to make an already difficult situation any better.
MITCH STOOD in the center of the stable. The smell of horse and hay was exactly as he remembered, but he felt completely out of place. What he had once taken for granted now only served to point out everything he couldn’t do. Ride? He couldn’t get on a horse, let alone guide it.
Riding should have been easy. He could use a mount, so he didn’t have to push off with his left leg as he swung his right leg over the saddle. But he was unable to balance on his prosthesis. Once on the horse, he wouldn’t have the control to use his left heel.
Frustration, never far away, bubbled to the surface. What was he supposed to do with himself now? Ride around in the truck, like an old man?
“I have something for you.”
He turned toward the voice and saw Arturo leading a bay into the barn. The gelding was big and moved easily.
Mitch took a step back. His heel caught in the wood floor and he nearly fell into the hay.
“This is Bullet,” Arturo said, stroking