The Coltons of Texas

But heaven help her, she couldn’t look away.

And then there was no choice as Ethan lowered his head, his mouth barely touching hers. Her breath lodged in her chest as her entire body went still.

Did she dare?

And then her arms were around his neck and she couldn’t have pulled away if the barn had risen in flames behind them.

Ethan’s hands shifted to her hips, turning her fully from the fence rails to stand flush against his body. Their child pressed between them, a vivid, tangible reminder that they’d created life.

The past months faded away as his lips met hers. Every ounce of pent-up longing and need seemed to shudder through her as Lizzie gave herself over to the moment. The man she’d dreamed of through more years than she wanted to count was here.

And she was in his arms.

A soft sigh drifted up her throat, the unconscious exhalation an interpretation of all that was in her heart. That sigh seemed to say: Finally.

His tongue met the barrier of her lips and she opened for him, the act of possession unmistakable as he slipped inside. His fingers clutched at her hips, pulling her even more tightly against him, and even with their child between them, she could feel the need that tightened his body with the same driving force that consumed her.

Lizzie lost all sense of her surroundings as her world narrowed and expanded all at once. All she could feel was Ethan. All she could think was Ethan.

All she wanted was Ethan.

The boy she remembered had become a hard man, tough and strong, his body as unyielding as the land that was his.

Yet just like the vivid blooms that found a way to flourish, even in the hardest earth, Ethan had made something of himself. Had followed his dream and his love of animals to create a life for himself.

A home.

Lizzie clung to him a bit tighter, allowing him to deepen the kiss even further, as one thought thundered louder than all else.

She wanted that home with him.

It was that truth that finally had her pulling away. With determined steps, she tore herself away from the only force on earth that made her forget herself.

“Lizzie—” His lips were wet, his hazel eyes almost black with the heavy dilation of his pupils as he stared at her.

“I—” She broke off, the question in his eyes almost powerful enough to have her moving right back into those strong arms.

Almost.

The baby chose that moment to kick, the swift punch of a tiny foot under her rib cage enough to break her fully out of Ethan’s thrall. Her hands went to her stomach, and she winced as their child aimed one more field goal toward her ribs.

“What is it?”

“It must be three o’clock.”

“What? Why?”

“The baby’s active. He starts like clockwork every day at the same time.”

“He?”

She offered up a rueful smile. “Yesterday I called it a she all day. I trade off every day.”

His gaze drifted down over her stomach, and she saw something cross his face before he took a firm step back.

“What is it?”

“I... I mean, do you mind if I—” He extended a hand, and she gripped his palm firmly in hers before he gave himself a chance to pull away.

Shifting away the material of his thick vest, she placed Ethan’s hand high over her abdomen and was rewarded with another kick. His fingers flexed against her skin, the wide press of his palm nearly covering half the width of her as a look of sheer awe had his mouth widening into a smile.

“I think we’ve got a UT football scholarship in our future.” He tightened his hand once more as the baby shot out another foot jab. “Feel that kick.”

“Or a Rockette.” She smiled as the image of thick football pads faded into a sequined dance outfit. Lizzie knew their comments were steeped in society’s views on girls and boys, and she’d had several months to admit to herself she wasn’t fully immune to the ingrained pull of baby culture. Everything she looked at in the stores was pink or blue, a wave of color determined to stamp identity from the very earliest age.

Conscious of that, she couldn’t resist poking at whatever image had settled in Ethan’s mind. “Maybe we’ll have the first girl kicker at UT.”

He smiled down at her. “Or a cowboy–slash–ballet dancer who wows them on the New York stage.”

She welcomed her child’s interests, whatever they might be, but hadn’t realized how relieved she was to hear his unspoken agreement. “You’d be okay with that?”

“My child can be whatever he or she wants to be. I’ll be proud.” His hand cradled her stomach as his gaze settled on hers, intense and unwavering. “Always.”

Lizzie nodded, not sure what to say. She’d thought to tease out any inherent bias and instead had her game turned on her in the most impactful of ways. While she had no doubt Ethan Colton would be an amazing father, to actually hear the pride that already filled his voice left her with the insane urge to start bawling right there in the middle of his ranch.

Unwilling to analyze those emotions too closely, she closed them up and vowed not to take them back out until she was alone. She already knew her attraction to Ethan hovered way too close to the surface. She did not need to add hormones and the urge to weep every five minutes to her list of emotional sins where Ethan Colton was concerned.

He removed his hand from her stomach, a gentle reluctance painting his features before he put a few additional steps between them. He shifted on the balls of his feet, his gaze drifting out over the paddock. The fierce conviction that had painted his features as he made promises for their child’s future faded as his gaze followed Dream’s easy progression around the practice ring.

Their quiet moments drifted off on the light afternoon breeze. The strong, gentle man who had been so present and in the moment with her had gone, leaving the hard, stoic face he showed the world standing in his place.

Lizzie wanted to bring that other Ethan back—wanted to pull him away from the cloud of memories that seemed to perpetually hang around him, no matter what the situation—but she kept her distance.

It wasn’t her place.

And while it nearly killed her to acknowledge that fact, carrying his child didn’t change anything. She and Ethan Colton didn’t have a relationship. For her own emotional protection, she’d do well to remember that a baby couldn’t banish the demons he carried inside.

“There are storm clouds in your eyes, Lizzie.”

The quiet observation pulled her from her own thoughts, and she stared up at him. The questions in her mind fought to come to light, but she held them back, offering up a small shrug instead.

“It’s nothing but a trick of the light.”

* * *

The woman stood in the distance and stared at Ethan Colton and Lizzie Conner. Damn stubborn fools. It didn’t take the high-powered binoculars in her hand to see the connection that snapped between them like Texas heat lightning.

What would it be like to be filled with an attraction that intense? The thought filled her with a shot of something so powerful her knees actually trembled from the force.

And now there would be a baby.

The first Colton grandchild.

Matthew would be beside himself when he found out. Despite his absolute inability to control the horrible urges that lived beneath his skin, he valued family above all else. It shaped him, like clay molded from the earth, and had driven his every action since childhood.

He even attributed his need to kill to his family.

The terrible jealousy Matthew had felt for Big J Colton had driven him down the darkest and most twisted path a human could travel. His need to kill—or maybe it was simply the excuse he’d settled on—had all been tied to the brother who’d never loved him or cared for him.

And it was a legacy that haunted them all.

Chapter 5

Lizzie smoothed the purse on her lap, a motion that was going to wear a hole in the leather if she didn’t stop. She’d thought to spend the day in her room in an attempt to give Ethan space as he tried to come to grips with the impending change she’d thrust upon his life. So it was more than a little surprising to wake up to a home-cooked breakfast, a hot cup of herbal tea and the announcement they were going to investigate her house.

“We really don’t need to do this.”

They’d nearly traversed the length of Blackthorn County, and she could see the familiar landmarks that made up the last two miles to her home.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve said that.”

“Have not.”

“Yes, you have. First you asked me if I had better things to do today. Then you suggested I might want to turn around and stay home to keep an eye on Dream. And about ten miles back you told me your house was a mess and you’re embarrassed to bring anyone into it.”

Okay, maybe she’d exaggerated about the house, Lizzie thought as she pictured the cleaning she’d done before she left. But she hadn’t got to the kitchen floors and that was an embarrassment. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“I get that. What I don’t understand is why you don’t want me to see your place.”

“You have seen my place.”

Flashes of the night they’d shared sprang to the forefront of her thoughts, vivid memories full of passion and heat. She’d invited him home after the rodeo, and Ethan had followed behind in his truck. She’d spent the entire drive convinced he’d take the gentlemanly way out and tell her he couldn’t come in after thinking it over. Yet she’d worried for nothing when they’d practically fallen out of their cars, barely making it across her small front yard to the door, their hands full of each other.

“Why don’t you want me to see your place today?”

The question pulled her from the haze of memories, and Lizzie swallowed hard around her suddenly dry throat. “It’s not that I don’t want you to see my place. You’re always welcome in my home.”

She fought the traitorous voice that whispered through her mind, taunting her with the truth. She did want Ethan to see her place. Often.

Forever.

Shaking it off, Lizzie ignored the temptation to hope and instead acknowledged the inevitable: he wasn’t turning the car around. She forced optimism into her tone and pasted on a small, determined smile. “I’m just sorry I’ve dragged you into this.”

Ethan’s gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, but it was impossible to miss the hard flex of his jaw or the sparks that lit up his gaze. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Someone’s been intent on scaring you. Worse, they’ve taken advantage of a terribly vulnerable time in your life. I’m here to help.”

“I know. And I thank you more than I can ever say.”

His jaw remained stiff, and Lizzie wasn’t sure if her gratitude irritated or frustrated. She felt both emotions and a host of others she hadn’t even figured out yet.

Although she hadn’t wanted to keep the baby a total secret from him, she knew Ethan’s feelings on children. After the initial shock of discovering her pregnancy, she’d consoled herself with the idea that she’d tell him after she’d adjusted to motherhood. She and the baby would get into a routine. Make a life together. And then she’d figure out a way to tell him.

Instead, some creepy jerk had forced her hand and put a very dark mark on that future.

She directed Ethan to the turn for her small subdivision, a townhome community that sat about a mile off Main Street. When he only nodded his head and murmured a husky “I remember,” she turned her gaze to the window, another one of those nameless emotions bubbling to the surface.

The February weather had been colder than usual, so the trees that lined the entry to her development were still bare. Even without the pretty shades of green that had canopied the neighborhood on his last visit, Ethan took each turn like a pro.

He did remember.

Which did nothing to help her internal argument to stay cool, calm and distant toward Ethan Colton.

An unbearable heaviness threatened to pull her under at the realization, and she rubbed a slow, soothing hand over her belly. The baby was in one of its quiet periods and had settled down during the drive. Over the past few months, every time she’d begun to feel any anxiety, Lizzie had focused on the life she carried. Staying calm for the baby was essential to its well-being, and she was determined to avoid as much stress as possible.

Or at least the self-induced kind, Lizzie admitted with a quick eye roll that reflected back at her from the window of Ethan’s truck.

Oblivious to her thoughts, Ethan turned in to her driveway and cut the engine. His gaze roamed over the brick facing before he turned toward her with a smile. “What a great place. I thought so before, and it’s only more true in the light of day.”

“I love it. I’ve loved this place from the first moment I saw it.” The baby gave a sharp kick as if to punctuate the point, and Lizzie laid a firm hand over her stomach.

“You okay?”

“Field-goal practice has begun once more.”

“Do you need to sit for a moment?”

“No. Walking will help move her a bit.” She was already reaching for the door handle when long, strong fingers came down over her hand.

“Wait. I’ll come around.” The strength that lined his features softened as his gaze drifted to her stomach. “So the baby’s a girl today?”

“I told you. I like to trade off each day.”

“So you did.” His hand lifted from hers to settle over the large mound of her belly. “But she’s still kicking field goals?”

Her voice came out on a husky croak, her throat desert dry. “Like a champ.”

“Which means you definitely need a bit of pampering. I’ll come around to get you.”

The tender moment of connection ended, the crackle of electricity that seemed to flow between them effortlessly fizzling in the cool air that blew in through his open door. Lizzie kept her hand on the door handle but followed Ethan’s command to stay put.

It was nice to have the help and the extra bit of attention. Even if she put aside the feelings for Ethan that never seemed to fully go away, it was just nice to have someone to talk to about the baby. Her coworkers had been excited for her, and she’d made a few friends since she’d started at the bank, but they weren’t with her in her more private moments. Decorating the baby’s room or picking out some items at the store had been all her own doing.

“Why don’t you give me your keys and I’ll go in ahead of you?”

“I know you’re worried, but it’s not that bad. This is my house.”

One eyebrow rose. “Humor me.”

Lizzie stilled from where she worked her way out of the seat belt. “You use that look to get whatever you want, Colton?”

“Did it work?”

“Sadly, yes.”

One of those rare smiles lit up his face. “Then consider it an effective tactic.”

Lizzie allowed Ethan to help her from the elevated passenger seat of his truck, then handed over her keys. “I’ll stay behind you.”

She stayed true to her word but couldn’t fully eliminate the seeds of resentment that took root as she followed him to her front door. This was her home. She’d worked and saved and had been so proud when she’d qualified for the mortgage on her own. All her hard work and dedication, focus and goal setting, had paid off. And ten months ago, she’d signed the papers and moved in.

Now she had to face the fact that someone had threatened all she’d worked for. Worse, they’d threatened the fragile life she protected within her.

“Come on in.” Ethan gestured her through her open front door. “I’ll look around, but everything looks like it’s in place.”

“Everything’s where it should be. The curse of the foster child.”

“Oh?”

The curious “Oh” had gone straight over her head, but the question beneath his question didn’t. Lizzie glanced up from her focused perusal of the front living area. “Sure. Keep things neat as a pin so you don’t give them a reason to get rid of you.”

“You said that without a trace of bitterness.”

“Because I’m not bitter. Not at all.” When he only continued to stare at her, Lizzie pressed on. “I had wonderful people who took care of me. They did the best they could and they did love me.”

“I hear a but there.”

“But I was the stubborn teenager who kept my distance from them. They weren’t my real parents, and I never let them forget it.”

“You sound sad about that.”

“More than you can know. Roy and Rhonda Carlton were my last foster family and they cared for me. They gave me a home, and I didn’t appreciate them nearly enough.”

“My brother Chris mentioned their passing several years back. We thought they might have known—”

Lizzie’s attention sharpened on all Ethan didn’t say. “Thought what?”

“It’s nothing.”

She leveled her own stare on him and knew the well-practiced gesture had a similar effect as his lone eyebrow. Nor did she miss the resigned look or the small exhalation as Ethan paced through her living room, his large frame at odds with the delicate furniture she’d selected.

“Chris is a PI, and he looked into them a bit when we were trying to find out more about Josie. To see if they knew anything. That was about a year after she disappeared and—” his large shoulders rose and fell in a simple shrug “—he discovered they died in a car accident.”

“A hit-and-run on a night full of storms,” she affirmed. “It was a terrible tragedy, but I’ve always taken comfort that they were together.”

“Did they have other foster children at the time?”

“No. After Josie ran away they didn’t seem to have the heart for it any longer. She and I were the last fosters they had.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Didn’t you miss Josie?”

Pain she’d long buried speared through her midsection at the direct mention of his sister. Although she was a year and a half older, Josie had been her best friend, and the two of them had been as close as sisters.

Until the day they weren’t.

“Of course I did. The Carltons practically raised both of us. But she and I had grown apart and then one day she just disappeared.”

“She did that to us, too.” Ethan continued to drift around the room, his restless energy as raw as an impending storm. “Grew apart. Stopped wanting to see us for our court-sanctioned visits. Until the day she just vanished.”

“Did you ever find out where she went?”

“No.” He picked up a small crystal giraffe from her coffee table and turned it over in his hands. Although his gaze was ostensibly on the small piece, Lizzie could tell he was a million miles away. “And no amount of digging by my law-steeped siblings has provided any information.”

As she watched him, another thought hit Lizzie, as powerful as the proverbial storms she saw in Ethan. Curious, she pushed them in a different direction. “You don’t believe the nonsense some asinine journalists have begun spouting about her. The ridiculous notion that she’s taken up your father’s torch and is the Alphabet Killer.”

Ethan stiffened at her words, his normally stoic facade going to granite. “It’s not just the journalists.”

“Who, then?”

“Forget I mentioned it.” Ethan glanced down at the object he had gripped tight in his hands before gently settling it back on the coffee table.

“Come on, Ethan. You can’t tell me you really believe it. I realize none of us knew Josie as well as we thought, but I do know her well enough to know she’s not a killer.”

“No. I don’t believe—”

His words vanished into the air as a hard thud echoed from overhead. Ethan looked up, his gaze sharp. “What room is that? Above us?”

“The baby’s room.”

Another thud sounded above them and Ethan leaped from the room, the heavy tread of his footsteps already echoing as he raced up her stairs.

“Call 911!”

* * *

Ethan was torn between staying with Lizzie downstairs and heading after the intruder in her home, but every instinct screamed to take the option that might end this here and now.

More noise echoed from the upstairs hall and Ethan headed in the direction of the sound, quickly catching his bearings as he ascended to the second-floor landing. A door at the far end of the hall slammed closed and he had no doubt it was now locked as well.

As he moved determinedly toward the door, Ethan mentally cataloged what he knew of the house. It was relatively new and Lizzie was only the second owner, which meant the builder had likely left skeleton keys in the event someone was locked in.

A large quilted giraffe hung from the door and Ethan lifted his hand to the lintel, satisfied when his fingers brushed the thin piece of metal. He had the key in the lock and the door open in moments.

Only to find his rush was in vain.

The empty room’s lone window was already open, its bright pastel-colored curtains blowing in the afternoon breeze.

He crossed the small space in a matter of steps and caught sight of a figure racing across the back of the development. It briefly crossed his mind to follow, but he knew it for a fool’s errand.

“Did you—” Lizzie broke off, her voice heavy and out of breath as she came through the door.

“He’s gone.”

“He?”

“I thought.” Ethan stopped and turned back toward the window. The figure had vanished, but he conjured up the image in his mind. “He was wearing a thick sweatshirt with the hood up, so I guess it could be anyone. They were too far away to get a sense of height.”

“The police will ask what color.”

“It was nondescript navy blue.” Ethan glanced down at his own sweatshirt, tossed on that morning from a stack of similar clothes in the bottom of his drawer. “Just like I’m wearing. Hell, like half the population wears every weekend.”

“It’s still something.”

Lizzie stood framed inside the doorway, long, curly waves of hair framing her face, and he stilled. Since he’d seen her the morning before, his emotions had roller-coastered through the ups and downs of his new reality.

Yet here she was. Standing in the doorway of their child’s room, a warrior goddess prepared to do battle to protect her home. He saw no fear. Instead, all he saw was a ripe, righteous anger, spilling from her in hard, deep breaths.

“Maybe you should sit down?”

“I’m too mad to sit.”

“Once again, I’m forced to ask the obvious. Humor me.”

He reached for the window, but she stopped him. “Leave it. It’s not that cold, and maybe there are fingerprints.”

Although he had no doubt the perp had left nothing behind, Ethan did as she requested. She’d already taken a seat in the rocking chair in the corner, and he felt his knees buckle at the image that rose up to replace her in his mind’s eye.

Lizzie, rocking in that same chair, their child nestled in her arms, suckling at her breast.

The shock of emotion that burrowed beneath his heart raced through him, and Ethan fought to keep any trace of it from showing. How could he feel so much joy at something so unexpected?

At something he’d never wanted?

He’d grappled with that fact from the very first moments with Lizzie the morning before in his kitchen and had yet to find any answer.

Yes, she carried his child. And yes, that had raised a protective instinct he never knew he possessed. But it was something more. Something deeper.

He’d spent his entire adult life avoiding entanglements, so the depth of how far he and Lizzie were now entwined should have been a concern. So how come he wasn’t feeling more restrained? He should feel as if he had a noose notched against his throat, but instead, these weird moments of excitement broke over him, swamping him in a confusing mix of protectiveness and desire.

The sound of sirens broke through his thoughts, and he grasped at the intrusion like a lifeline. He needed to get out of his head and focus on the issue at hand.

Lizzie was in danger.

The anger that had ridden her cheeks had faded, leaving her face pale, her green eyes wide. She was scared—more than she’d likely admit—and it broke his heart that she had to deal with something like this.