Lone Star Nights (27 page)

Another head bob from Mackenzie.

Alice tried to blink back tears. “Just promise that you'll visit me often. Every summer. School breaks. And promise me that I can come and see you whenever I want.”

“Promise,” Mia said, using her free hand to cross her heart. She left a trail of gold stars there as well, stuck to her fairy-princess dress.

“I promise,” Mackenzie agreed. Heck, she also crossed her heart.

Lucky wasn't sure he could breathe yet—the air was caught in his lungs and throat—much less speak, so he nodded. Cassie nodded, too. And yes, she was crying. Hell, he was crying. He was really going to get kicked out of the man universe now.

“The magic stars worked,” Mia whispered to Lucky.

As a responsible adult, Lucky should have probably tried to dispel the notion of magic, but shit, maybe it was magic. He scooped Mia up, kissed her and passed her to Cassie so she could do the same. Then he pulled Mackenzie into her arms so they could share a group hug. Mackenzie didn't even give a protesting grunt.

Mia caught onto Cassie's face. Kissed her. “We gonna get to stay and run seventy-teen percent of the bulls. And the clowns.”

“Yes, we are. Personally, I think we'll do a great job. What do you think?” Cassie asked her.

Mia giggled behind her hand. “I think we should give Kenzie all the bulls' bootees. She can own them.”

“No bull bootees,” Mackenzie grumbled, but she smiled a little.

When Cassie put Mia down, Alice gave both girls hugs. “I'll get your suitcases from the car,” she added, then looked at Lucky and Cassie. “If they need anything, call me, and I'll stay in touch with them daily through calls and emails. Just make sure I'm a part of their lives.”

Lucky nodded, and because it looked as if Alice needed it, he hugged her. “Of course. You're part of their lives. Ours, too. You're family now, and you're welcome here anytime.”

That put some fresh tears back in Alice's eyes, and after another set of long hugs, more muttered goodbyes, she pulled away from the girls, her clothes and face sparkling from the stars.

Mackenzie folded her arms over her chest as Alice slipped out. “So, I guess you're, like, stuck with us now,” she said to Cassie and him. The attitude was goth girl, and Lucky was a little surprised to realize he'd missed it.

“Seems like it.” Man, his heart was about to burst, but it would probably scare the hell out of them if he started jumping up and down and whooping like an idiot. A happy idiot, though.

“Of course, that means we're stuck with you, too,” Mackenzie said. “Am I still grounded for all that mess that happened with Brody?”

“Absolutely,” Cassie said, and at the same time Lucky added, “You bet. And you can't talk to any boys at the picnic today unless they're your age or younger. Preferably younger. In fact, Ethan will make perfect company for you.”

Mackenzie lifted her shoulder, obviously expecting that.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Alice set down the suitcases just outside the door. Lucky mouthed a thank-you, but it didn't seem like nearly enough. Of course, nothing would ever be enough to thank her.

“So, are you and Miss Cassie getting married?” Mia asked him after Alice left. “Because Miss Cassie said you had to do one thing.” She paused. “What's the one thing?”

To hell if he knew.

But Lucky went with his gut. “I love you,” he told Cassie.

After all, those were magic words. Or so he'd been told. However, they didn't seem to do the trick here.

Cassie gave him a flat look. Mackenzie huffed. Mia tugged on his sleeve again.

“You gotta say it like you mean it. Like this. I love you.” Mia stretched out the words, smiled and then hugged his leg.

Since Mackenzie didn't huff this time and Cassie's look didn't go flat, Mia might be onto something.

“Mia and I will get changed for the picnic,” Mackenzie said. “Don't mess this up,” she whispered to Lucky. “Say it like you mean it.”

Was that it? Was it really that simple? Well, heck. Then he'd been close all along—even though he'd just realized it.

He pulled Cassie to him. Kissed her. A kiss that was too long and deep considering the minister and his wife were walking by them.

“I love you,” Lucky said, and he didn't just sound like he meant it because he did mean it.

When the world didn't collapse and a lightning bolt didn't hit him, he said it again. And again.

Cassie gave it right back to him. “I love you, too.”

Lucky smiled. “So, that was it, huh? I just had to say it like I mean it?”

She shook her head. Put her mouth right against his ear. He felt some tongue. “You have to say it tonight while wearing those chaps and spurs.”

Oh, man.

This love shit was going to be fun.

* * * * *

Be sure to check out the third McCord story, featuring responsible brother Logan, when BLAME IT ON THE COWBOY goes on sale in October 2016. And for more from
USA TODAY
bestselling author Delores Fossen, look for SIX-GUN SHOWDOWN, in August 2016 from Harlequin Intrigue.

Keep reading for an excerpt from
BLAME IT ON THE COWBOY
by Delores Fossen.

“Clear off space on your keeper shelf, Fossen has arrived.”
—
New York Times
bestselling author Lori Wilde

If you loved
Lone Star Nights
, then don't miss the rest of the titles in
USA TODAY
bestselling author Delores Fossen's exciting new
McCord Brothers
series!

The McCord Brothers are the most eligible bachelors in Spring Hill, Texas. But these cowboys are about to get wrangled by the love of some very unique women—the kind who can melt hearts and lay it all on the line.

Blame It on the Cowboy
Lone Star Nights
Texas on My Mind
What Happens on the Ranch
(Digital prequel)

Order your copies today!

“The perfect blend of sexy cowboys, humor and romance will rein you in from the first line.”
—
New York Times
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Blame It on the Cowboy

by Delores Fossen

CHAPTER ONE

L
OGAN
M
C
C
ORD
HATED
two things: clowns and liars. Tonight, he saw both right in front of him on the antique desk in Langford's Interior Designs, and he knew his life had changed forever. He would
never
look at a red squeaky nose the same way again.

Ten Minutes Earlier

L
OGAN
GLANCED
AT
the five signs and groaned. “Marry”

“Me?”

“You”

“Will” was not the way he wanted to present this proposal to his future wife.

His younger brother, Riley, was carrying the “You.” His twin brother, Lucky, the “Will.” Riley's wife, Claire, the “Marry.” Lucky's girlfriend, Cassie, the “Me?”

“Unless I want this proposal to sound like Yoda, switch places,” Logan insisted.

Since everyone but Logan had clearly had too much to drink in the pre-celebration prep for this occasion, he took them by the shoulders and one by one put them in the right places.

Lucky. Riley. Claire. Cassie.

“Will you marry me?” Logan double checked. Then, he checked again.

Logan wanted this to be perfect while still feeling a little spontaneous. Just the day before his longtime girlfriend, Helene Langford, had told him he should be a little more whimsical.

Somewhat wild, even.

Logan was certain most people in their small hometown of Spring Hill, Texas, wouldn't consider him wild even when the expectations were lowered with that
somewhat
. That was his twin brother Lucky's specialty. Still, if Helene wanted something whimsical, then this marriage proposal should do it.

Helene was perfect for him. A savvy businesswoman, beautiful, smart, and her even temperament made her easy to get along with. She'd never once complained about his frequent seventy-hour work weeks, and he could count on one hand how many disagreements they'd had.

She was the only child of State Senator Edwin Langford and a former Miss Texas beauty contestant. Her family loved him, and Logan was pretty sure his own family felt the same way about her.

“You got the ring?” Lucky whispered. Or rather he tried to whisper.

Yeah, his siblings, sibling-in-law and future sibling-in-law were buzzed on champagne, all in the name of celebrating the fact that he was finally going to pop the question to the woman he'd been dating all these years.

Logan double checked the ring. The blue Tiffany box was in his jacket pocket. It was perfect as well. A two carat diamond—flawless like Helene—with a platinum setting. It would look just right on the hand of the woman who would eventually help him run McCord Cattle Brokers.

He took another bottle of chilled champagne from his car. This one he would share with his future bride right after she said yes, and he'd do that sharing without his family around. He wanted to get Helene alone, maybe show her just how spontaneous he could be by having sex with her on her pricy antique desk. The very one she had professionally polished every week.

“All right, no talking once we're inside,” Logan reminded them. “No giggling, either,” he warned Claire.

It was dark, after closing hours, and any chatter or giggling would immediately carry through the building and all the way to Helene's office in the back of her interior design business. He wouldn't have to worry about other customers though since it was Wednesday, the night that Helene used to catch up on paperwork.

Logan eased his key into the lock, turning it slowly so that Helene wouldn't be alerted to the clicking sound. He gave the sign crew one last stern look to keep quiet, and they all tiptoed toward the back. Well, they tiptoed as much as four drunk people could manage, but he wouldn't have to put up with their drunken giddiness much longer. Logan had already arranged for the town's only taxi driver to pick them up in fifteen minutes.

Leading the way, Logan headed to Helene's office. The door was already cracked so he pushed it open, motioning for the others to go ahead of him and get ready to spring into action. They did. Lucky. Riley. Claire. Cassie. All in the correct order, but what they didn't do was hold up their signs. That's because they froze.

All of them.

They stood there, signs frozen in their hands, too.

Logan's stomach went to his knees, and in the split-second that followed, he tried to figure out what would have caused them to react like that.

Hell.

If Helene had been hurt, at least one of them would have rushed to check on her, but there was no rushing. Even though it was hard to wrap his mind around it, the freezing could mean they'd just walked in on Helene doing something bad.

Like maybe she was with another man.

She couldn't be though. Helene had never given him any reason whatsoever not to trust her. Ditto for giving him any reason whatsoever to believe she was unhappy. Just an hour earlier she'd called Logan to tell him she loved him.

Riley looked back at Logan, shaking his head. “Uh, you don't want to see this,” Riley insisted.

But Logan did. He had to see it. Because there was nothing in the room that was worse than what he was already imagining.

Or so he thought.

However, Logan was wrong. It was worse.
Much, much
worse.

CHAPTER TWO

L
IARS
AND
CLOWNS
.
Logan had seen both tonight. The liar was a woman that he thought loved him. Helene. And the clown, well, Logan wasn't sure he could process that image just yet.

Maybe after lots of booze though.

He hadn't been drunk since his twenty-first birthday, nearly thirteen years ago. But he was about to remedy that now. He motioned for the bartender to set him up another pair of Glenlivet shots.

His phone buzzed again, indicating another call had just gone to voicemail. One of his siblings no doubt wanting to make sure he was all right. He wasn't. But talking to them about it wouldn't help, and Logan didn't want anyone he knew to see or hear him like this.

It was possible there'd be some slurring involved. Puking, too.

He'd never been sure what to call Helene. His longtime girlfriend?
Girlfriend
seemed too high school. So, he'd toyed with thinking of her as his future fiancée. Or in social situations—she was his business associate who often ran his marketing campaigns. But tonight Logan wasn't calling her any of those things. As far as he was concerned, he never wanted to think of her, her name or what to call her again.

Too bad that image of her was stuck in his head, but that's where he was hoping generous amounts of single malt Scotch would help.

Even though Riley, Claire, Lucky and Cassie wouldn't breathe a word about this, it would still get around town. Lucky wasn't sure how, but gossip seemed to defy the time-space continuum in Spring Hill. People would soon know, if they didn't already, and those same people wouldn't look at him the same again. It would hurt business.

Hell. It hurt
him
.

That's why he was here in this hotel bar in San Antonio. It was only thirty miles from Spring Hill, but tonight he hoped it'd be far enough away that no one he knew would see him get drunk. Then, he could stagger to his room and then puke in peace. Not that he was looking forward to the puking part, but it would give him something else to think about other than
her
.

It was his first time in this hotel though he stayed in San Antonio often on business. Logan hadn't wanted to risk running into anyone he knew, and he certainly wouldn't at this trendy “boutique” place. Not with a name like the Purple Cactus and its vegan restaurant.

If the staff found out he was a cattle broker, he might be booted out. Or forced to eat tofu. That's the reason Logan had used cash when he checked in. No sense risking someone recognizing his name from his credit card.

The clerk had seemed to doubt him when Logan had told him that his ID and credit cards had been stolen and that's why he couldn't produce anything with his name on it. Of course, when Logan had slipped the guy an extra hundred dollar bill, it had caused that doubt to disappear.

“Drinking your troubles away?” a woman asked.

“Trying.”

Though he wasn't drunk enough that he couldn't see what was waiting for him at the end of this. A hangover, a missed eight AM meeting, his family worried about him—the puking—and it wouldn't fix anything other than to give him a couple of hours of mind-numbing solace.

At the moment though, mind-numbing solace even if it was temporary seemed like a good tradeoff.

“Me, too,” she said. “Drinking my troubles away.”

Judging from the sultry tone in her voice, Logan first thought she might be a prostitute, but then he got a look at her.

Nope. Not a pro.

Or if she was, she'd done nothing to market herself as such. No low cut dress to show her cleavage. She had on a t-shirt with cartoon turtles on the front, a baggy white skirt and flip-flops. It looked as if she'd grabbed the first items of clothing she could find off a very cluttered floor of her very cluttered apartment.

Logan wasn't into clutter.

And he'd thought Helene wasn't, either. He'd been wrong about that, too. That antique desk of hers had been plenty cluttered with a clown's bare ass.

“Mind if I join you?” Miss turtle-shirt said. “I'm having sort of a private going away party.”

She waited until Logan mumbled “suit yourself,” and she slid onto the purple barstool next to him.

She smelled like limes.

Her hair was varying shades of pink and looked as if it'd been cut with a weed whacker. It was already messy, but apparently it wasn't messy enough for her because she dragged her hand through it, pushing it away from her face.

“Tequila, top shelf. Four shots and a bowl of lime slices,” she told the bartender.

Apparently, he wasn't the only person in San Antonio with plans to get shit-faced tonight. And it explained the lime scent. These clearly weren't her first shots of the night.

“Do me a favor though,” she said to Logan after he downed his next drink. “Don't ask my name, or anything personal about me, and I'll do the same for you.”

Logan had probably never agreed to anything so fast in all his life. For one thing he really didn't want to spend time talking with this woman, and he especially didn't want to talk about what'd happened.

“If you feel the need to call me something, go with Julia,” she added.

The name definitely wasn't a fit. He was expecting something more like Apple or Sunshine. Still, he didn't care what she called herself. Didn't care what her real name was, either, and he cared even less after his next shot of Glenlivet.

“So, you're a cowboy, huh?” she asked.

The mind-numbing hadn't kicked in yet, but the orneriness had. “That's personal.”

She shrugged. “Not really. You're wearing a cowboy hat, cowboy boots and jeans. It was more of an observation than a question.”

“The clothes could be fashion statements,” he pointed out.

Julia
shook her head, downed the first shot of tequila, sucked on a lime slice. Made a face and shuddered. “You're not the kind of man to make fashion statements.”

If he hadn't had a little buzz going on, he might have been insulted by that. “Unlike you?”

She glanced down at her clothes as if seeing them for the first time. Or maybe she was just trying to focus because the tequila had already gone to her head. “This was the first thing I grabbed off my floor.”

Bingo. If that was her first grab, there was no telling how bad things were beneath it.

Julia tossed back her second shot. “Have you ever found out something that changed your whole life?” she asked.

“Yeah.” About four hours ago.

“Me, too. Without giving specifics, because that would be personal, did it make you feel as if fate were taking a leak on your head?”

“Five leaks,” he grumbled. Logan finished off his next shot.

Julia made a sound of agreement. “I would compare yours with mine, and I'd win, but I don't want to go there. Instead, let's play a drinking game.”

“Let's not,” he argued. “And in a fate-pissing comparison, I don't think you'd win.”

Julia made a sound of disagreement. Had another shot. Grimaced and shuddered again. “So, the game is a word association,” she continued as if he'd agreed. “I say a word, you say the first thing that comes to mind. We take turns until we're too drunk to understand what the other one is saying.”

Until she'd added that last part, Logan had been about to get up and move to a different spot. But hell, he was getting drunk anyway, and at least this way he'd have some company. Company he'd never see again. Company he might not even be able to speak to if the slurring went up a notch.

“Dream?” she threw out there.

“Family.” That earned him a sound of approval from her, and she motioned for him to take his turn. “Surprise?”

“Shitty,” Julia said without hesitation.

Now, it was Logan who made a grunt of approval. Surprises could indeed be shit-related. The one he'd gotten tonight certainly had been.

Her: “Tattoos?”

Him: “None.” Then, “You?”

Her: “Two.” Then, “Bucket list?”

Him: “That's two words.” The orneriness was still there despite the buzz.

Her: “Just bucket then?”

Too late. Logan's fuzzy mind was already fixed on the bucket list. He had one all right. Or rather he'd had one. A life with Helene that included all the trimmings, and this stupid game was a reminder that the Glenlivet wasn't working nearly fast enough. So, he had another shot.

Julia had one as well. “Sex?” she said.

Logan shook his head. “I don't want to play this game anymore.”

When she didn't respond, Logan looked at her. Their eyes met. Eyes that were already slightly unfocused.

Julia took the paper sleeve with her room key from her pocket. Except there were two keys, and she slid one Logan's way.

“It's not the game,” she explained. “I'm offering you sex with me. No names. No strings attached. Just one night, and we'll never tell another soul about it.”

She finished off her last tequila shot, shuddered and stood. “Are you game?”

No way, and Logan would have probably said that to her if she hadn't leaned in and kissed him.

Maybe it was the weird combination of her tequila and his scotch, or maybe it was because he was already drunker than he thought, but Logan felt himself moving right into that kiss.

* * *

L
OGAN
DREAMED
,
AND
IT
wasn't about the great sex he'd just had. It was another dream that wasn't so pleasant. The night of his parents' car accident. Some dreams were a mishmash of reality and stuff that didn't make sense. But this dream always got it right.

Not a good thing.

It was like being trapped on a well-oiled hamster wheel, seeing the same thing come up over and over again and not being able to do a thing to stop it.

The dream rain felt and sounded so real. Just like that night. It was coming down so hard that the moment his truck wipers swished it away, the drops covered the windshield again. That's why it'd taken him so long to see the lights, and Logan was practically right on the scene of the wreck before he could fully brake. He went into a skid, costing him precious seconds. If he'd had those seconds, he could have called the ambulance sooner.

He could have saved them.

But he hadn't then. And he didn't now in the dream.

Logan chased away the images, and with his head still groggy, he did what he always did after the nightmare. He rewrote it. He got to his parents and stopped them from dying.

Every time except when it really mattered, Logan saved them.

* * *

L
OGAN
WISHED
HE
could shoot out the sun. It was creating lines of light on each side of the curtains, and those lines were somehow managing to stab through his closed eyelids. That was probably because every nerve in his head and especially his eyelids were screaming at him, and anything—including the earth's rotation—added to his pain.

He wanted to ask himself:
what the hell have you done
?

But he knew. He'd had sex with a woman he didn't know. A woman who wore turtle t-shirts and had tattoos. He'd learned one of the tattoos, a rose, was on Julia's right breast. The other was on her lower stomach. Those were the things Logan could actually remember.

That, and the sex.

Not mind-numbing but rather more mind-blowing. Julia clearly didn't have any trouble being wild and spontaneous in bed. It was as if she'd just studied a sex manual and wanted to try every position. Thankfully, despite the scotch Logan had been able to keep up—literally.

Not so much now though.

If the fire alarm had gone off and the flames had been burning his ass, he wasn't sure he would be able to move. Julia didn't have that problem though. He felt the mattress shift when she got up. Since it was possible she was about to rob him, Logan figured he should at least see if she was going after his wallet, wherever the heck it was. But if she robbed him, he deserved it. His life was on the fast track to hell, and he'd been the one to put it in the handbasket.

At least he hadn't been so drunk that he'd forgotten to use condoms. Condoms that Julia had provided so obviously she'd been ready for this sort of thing.

Julia made as soft sound of discomfort. He hoped it wasn't from the rough sex because he got a sudden flash of himself tying her hands to the bedposts with the sheets. It'd been Julia's idea.

And it'd been a darn good one.

Ditto for her idea of tying him up, too. He wasn't one to add some kink to sex, but for a little while it had gotten his mind off Helene and what he'd seen in her office.

Clearly, he hadn't known Helene at all.

Logan heard some more stirring around, and this time the movement was very close to him. Just in case Julia turned out to be a serial killer, he decided to risk opening one eye. And he nearly jolted at the big green eyeball staring back at him. Except it wasn't a human eye. It was on her turtle shirt.

If Julia felt the jolt or saw his one eyed opening, she didn't say anything about it. She gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, moved away, turning her back to him, and Logan watched as she stooped down and picked up his jacket. So, not a serial killer but rather just a thief after all. But she didn't take anything out.

She put something
in
the pocket.

Logan couldn't tell what it was exactly. Maybe her number. Which he would toss first chance he got. But if so, he couldn't figure out why she just hadn't left it on the bed.

Julia picked up her purse, hooking it over her shoulder, and without even glancing back at him, she walked out the door. Strange, since this was her room. Maybe she was headed out to get them some coffee. If so, that was his cue to dress and get the devil out of there before she came back.