Atonement. B.J. Daniels

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СКАЧАТЬ been sending the money he made home to a family? She hadn’t thought he could hurt her any more than he had, but she’d been wrong.

      “Who else lives here?” she asked, her voice breaking.

      He turned to look at her. “Just me and a couple cattle dogs. Why don’t you have a seat? Have you had breakfast? I could make—”

      “I’m fine.” She didn’t even want coffee. And since when had Ethan learned to cook? She just wanted her money and she’d be on her way. Well, not quite. There was that other small matter, she thought, her hand going to the shoulder bag again.

      He motioned her into a seat at the table and placed a mug of coffee in front of her. “I made decaf because of the...” He waved his hand toward her pregnant belly.

      “Baby. It’s a baby, Ethan, and stalling isn’t going to do you any good. Just give me my money—”

      “Hang on a second.” He left the room and she half expected to hear the sound of his pickup engine revving up outside as he pulled another disappearing act.

      To her surprise, he returned a few minutes later with several photos and what appeared to be two newspaper clippings.

      She watched him drop them on the table next to his coffee before he pulled out a chair across from her, turned it around and straddled it.

      “Let’s see if we can clear this up,” he said, and shoved the photos and the folded newspaper clippings across the table to her.

      She didn’t even give the items a glance, wondering what he was up to. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to work. Had she really thought that by coming here she could settle this? With a curse, she started to get up from the table, her hand going to the gun in her bag.

      “Please. I think this will help.” He said the words almost as gently as he had spoken to the filly. Reaching over, he pushed the newspaper clippings aside to expose the top photo.

      She gave him an impatient look. Then, settling back down with a sigh, she glanced at the snapshot lying on the table. Shock rippled through her. Her gaze shot up to him. He looked as if he was waiting patiently. She dropped her gaze to the photo again. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

      The boys were about ten in the snapshot. Both were grinning at the camera, their cowboy hats pushed back. They wore Western shirts, jeans and boots, and stood next to what appeared to be an old barn.

      Her gaze moved to the second photo, an older version of them. She lifted it from the table, still shocked to see the two identical faces. They appeared to be in their teens in this shot. They were dressed much the same as they had been in the other photograph, but in this one, neither was smiling at the camera.

      “Identical twins,” he said as if she hadn’t already figured that out.

      She tossed the photos back on the table and glared at him. Did he really think she was going to fall for this? The photos appeared to be authentic. But she sure as the devil didn’t have him mixed up with some other cowboy—even an identical brother.

      “Fine, let’s pretend you aren’t Ethan. Let’s pretend you’re his twin. But being identical and all, you know where he is, right?”

      “I do.” His gaze went again to her stomach. He looked worried, as if he feared she was going to faint again. “Maybe you’d better look at the newspaper clippings.”

      A feeling of dread washed over her as she reluctantly picked up the first clipping and unfolded it.

      Her pulse roared in her ears. “What is this?” she demanded, even though it was clearly Ethan’s obituary.

      He pushed the other clipping closer to her and waited.

      Tessa swallowed, telling herself this was some kind of trick. She picked up the second clipping and unfolded it. The first thing that caught her eye was the photograph that ran with the article. It was a shot of what was left of a car that had crashed and burned in some ravine in what looked like the desert.

      “Take a look at the date on the newspaper clipping,” he said.

      Her heart plummeted as she saw the date—a year ago tomorrow. How was that possible? She was eight months pregnant! For a moment, she didn’t know what to make of it.

      Then she looked at the cowboy sitting across from her. “Is this some kind of joke?”

      “My brother’s death isn’t a joke. At least not to me.”

      Tessa shook her head as she glanced again at the photos of the twin boys, then at the young men. She couldn’t tell the brothers apart. Nor could she be sure which of them was Ethan.

      She raised her gaze and narrowed her eyes at him. “If your brother is really dead, then unless you’re a triplet...” Her hand went to her belly.

      “Are we back to that?” he asked, sounding sad.

      Tessa stood abruptly. “If it wasn’t Ethan who I met last year, then it was you masquerading as him. That means you’re the one responsible for this,” she said, her hands covering her stomach, “and for stealing my money.”

      He shook his head. “My name is Dillon. Dillon Lawson. And you and I have never met before I looked up a while ago and saw you climbing my corral fence.” His eyes lowered to where the baby was growing inside her, and she saw his gaze soften. “But if I thought for a moment that you really were carrying my brother’s child...”

      Tessa felt such a wave of sadness. She really had believed that when he saw her, saw how pregnant she was, he would do the right thing. “It’s my own fault. I knew the kind of man you were the moment I met you. A charming saddle bum who was as dependable as the weather. You said you were trying to change. I should have known better. As it turns out, you’re more despicable than even I could have imagined.”

      Her eyes burned, but she angrily fought back the tears as she looked into his face. If his brother was dead, then this was the man she’d fallen desperately in love with, the man who had promised her the moon and stars, the man who’d lied to her from the word go. Ethan wasn’t even his real name. He’d used his dead brother’s first name, probably thinking that she’d never track him down, since he’d lied about his last name.

      She hugged her stomach protectively. “Fine,” she said, hating the emotion she heard in her voice. “You want to pretend this isn’t your baby and that you don’t know me? Just sign this and we’re done.” She pulled the form from her shoulder bag and shoved it across the table at him.

      He picked it up and took a moment to look at the form that would give him no rights to their child. When he’d finished, he looked up at her again. “I can’t sign this. I thought I made myself clear. I’m not the father of your baby. Believe me, I would remember if we’d ever...” His gaze locked with hers for a moment. He actually flushed. “If we had ever...met. And with Ethan dead a year ago tomorrow...” He raised a hand to keep her from interrupting him. “I should also warn you that I am undersheriff of Sweetgrass County, so if this whole charade is about extorting money from me or from my brother’s insurance policy...” He pushed the form back across the table toward her. “I also would suggest you reconsider whatever it is you’re planning to do with that .45 you’re reaching for in your bag.”

      “Undersheriff?”

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