The Rancher's Lullaby (Glades County Cowboys) (16 page)

“I waited for you. You never showed. You left me to handle our last performance alone.” She supposed it had been good practice. After all, from here on out, she’d have to handle everything on her own.

Garrett’s gaze dropped. He scuffed a booted foot against the floor. “I could say I got busy with stuff for the ranch...” He faced her, his blue eyes probing. “But that’d be a lie. I won’t lie to you, Lisa. I never have. Your news, your news knocked me flat.”

“It did the same thing to me.” She cupped a hand over her midsection. In her mind’s eye she saw herself in six or seven months, her flat stomach swollen with child.
Their
child.

The hard ridge of Garrett’s jawline softened. His trademark smile faded. “I behaved badly. I know. You’d be well within your rights if you never spoke to me again. But I hope you will. I brought a peace offering. Donuts and decaf.” Like a kid holding out a bouquet of hand-picked flowers, he lifted a tray.

Her determination to remain strong and unyielding wavered as the scent of warm cinnamon floated through the air. Her traitorous stomach grumbled. Not ready to forgive him, not certain she ever would, she exhaled. As quickly as it had flared, the fight seeped out of her. “I’m always hungry these days,” she admitted. She peered inside the bag and snagged a donut. “So, where do we go from here?”

He wasn’t the man she’d thought he was, hadn’t stuck by her when she needed him most. But he had given her the one thing she wanted above everything else. So, even if they weren’t together, Garrett could be as involved—or as uninvolved—in their child’s life as he chose. She bolstered her defenses for a discussion of mundane things like visitation and child support. In a move that sent a squiggle of longing straight through her chest, Garrett ran a hand through his hair.

“That depends.” He stared into the room behind her, a pained expression marring his handsome features. “Looks like you’re packing. You—you haven’t sold the store, have you?”

She glanced over her shoulder at a table crowded with boxes. “Oh, that. To kick off the tourist season, the chamber of commerce is hosting a barbeque a week from next Saturday. There’ll be face painting and pony rides for the kids. I was just pulling some things together for a sidewalk sale. All the shops are having them.” She gave a half laugh. “I might have gotten carried away.”

“I’ll say.” Careful not to touch her, he edged past. Reaching out, he ran a finger through a dozen packages of guitar strings. “So, you’re staying?”

“Yes.” The truth was she’d fallen in love with small-town life, with neighbors who called early morning greetings to one another across the street, with Okeechobee. Down at The Clock Restaurant, Genna saved her a spot for breakfast each morning. The owner of the bakery sold her day-old cookies at half price. She’d grown accustomed to the heat, the humidity and the sunshine. Most of all, staying put meant giving her child something she’d never had—a sense of stability, of permanence.

She gave Garrett a long look. Was that relief or disappointment in his blue eyes? A week ago, she’d been able to read all his moods. She’d loved their closeness and thought she always would. But now—now they danced around one another like complete strangers, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“How about you and LJ?” she asked, struggling to have a normal conversation in a situation that was anything but normal. “What’s next for you?”

He stared over her left shoulder, toward the street. “Randy and Royce, they were always supposed to manage the Circle P.”

He was leaving?
In a way, it would make things easier. She was pretty sure her broken heart would heal quicker if she didn’t have to worry about running into him in the produce section every time she ducked into the Winn-Dixie. She only wished she didn’t feel so empty at the thought of never seeing him again. Despite his faults, Garrett was a good man, a good father. She blinked away a stray tear for all their child would miss if he wasn’t around. “Where will you go? Back to Georgia?”

“What?” Garrett’s attention snapped to her. “No. I didn’t mean... I guess I jumped right into the middle instead of starting at the beginning the way someone once told me to.”

She’d given him that particular piece of advice, and when he grinned, her breath stalled as she caught a fleeting glimpse of the old Garrett, the one who loved her, the one she loved.

“The twins are staying in Montana. Ty asked me to manage the Circle P for good. I agreed.”

Lisa swallowed. She should have known he wouldn’t leave. Now that he’d come home, Garrett would never take LJ away from the rest of his family. But where did that leave them, their child?

Garrett took a pad of sheet music from one of the boxes, leafed through it and put it down. “I am moving, though. Emma and Colt lived in one of the smaller houses on the Circle P till they bought their place over in Indiantown. It’s fixed up real nice. Me and LJ, we’re moving in there next week.”

“Oh,” she managed. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t think of one good reason for Garrett to leave the comfort of the main house unless...unless he wanted to date again. Pain snaked through her chest, and she stilled. She’d never pictured him arm-in-arm with someone else. Never in a million years. Before she could stop herself, she saw some other woman taking LJ to the barber for his first haircut. Walking him to the bus on his first day of school. Cheering for him at his first rodeo. Some other woman, but not her.

A wave of tears threatened. This time she wasn’t quite as fast at blinking them away. She beat a hasty retreat to the register, where she grabbed a tissue from the box under the counter.

“Sorry.” She blotted and mopped and managed a weak smile. “Hormones, I guess. I should have expected you to start dating again.” Why, half the women in town were probably sliding casseroles and decadent desserts into their ovens already. The image of them all converging on the Circle P was too much, and Lisa blinked back another round of tears.

Garrett stepped closer, closed the gap between them. “No. It’s not like that. It’ll never be like that.”

She lowered her tissue. “It’s not?”

“How could it be, when the only woman I love, the only woman I’ll ever love, is standing right in front of me?”

Unwilling to trust her ears, she searched his face. “What did you say?”

His jaw worked, but he didn’t speak. Determined to wait him out, she watched as his gaze dropped to a spot just below her waist. At last, he shuddered.

“This baby... I don’t think I could survive it if anything happened to you. But calling it quits between us is no good because, either way, I’ve lost you.” His words faltered. He cleared his throat. His eyes searched hers. “I haven’t, have I? I haven’t lost you?”

“What about our baby?” She held her breath.

“All I know for sure is that I love you more than I’m afraid.”

“You love me?” She gave her head the slightest shake. She had to hear him say it. Her word whispered through the quiet room. “Still?”

“I never stopped. I will until the day I die. Will you give me a chance? Give us a chance?”

A chance. As terrified as he had to be of this pregnancy, he still loved her, was willing to take a chance that this time everything would work out all right. How could she do less?

“I love you, Garrett,” she whispered. “I’ll always love you.”

Before she finished speaking, he reached into the pocket of his Wranglers. While her heart pounded in three-quarter time to the rhythm of the rancher’s lullaby, he dropped to one knee, his hand extended. Diamonds sparkled in his palm. “Lisa Rose, I love you. I promise I’ll love this baby, too. I want us to build a life together—you, me, LJ and our child. Will you marry me?”

She placed her hand over her midsection, where someone had loosed a flock of butterflies. “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.”

Her hand shook as he glided the ring onto her finger. In one move, Garrett rose and snugged her to him. As she stepped into his embrace she knew without a doubt that in his arms was right where she belonged. Where she’d always belonged.

“I can’t say I’ll breeze through this pregnancy,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ll probably hover over you like a mother hen till the delivery. And for the next fifty years after that.”

She tipped her face to his, releasing a breathy sigh as he trailed kisses across her cheek to her lips. Unwilling to wait a moment longer, she twined her arms about his neck and pulled him close. Instantly, he covered her mouth with his own. The press of his lips against hers sent ripples of awareness from the tip of her nose to her toes.

Garrett groaned and pressed her to his shoulder when the bell over the door signaled the arrival of another customer. His strong heartbeat echoed in her ear as she pressed her head against his wide chest. Now that they were together, she wanted to stay in his arms forever. Speaking around him, she called out, “Sorry. We’re closed for the day.”

She barely heard the bell jingle behind the retreating customer.

Garrett’s eyebrows rose. “You’re sure you can afford that?”

“Things are looking up,” she whispered, entwining her fingers in his. They certainly were. She reached for the man who’d captured her heart and made all her dreams come true, and she knew she’d finally come home.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from BACK TO TEXAS by Amanda Renee

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Chapter One

“Who do you think should play us in the movie?”

“Do actresses even come in your size?” Waitress Bridgett Jameson poured her newfound sister, Abby Winchester, another cup of coffee. She drummed her fingers on the luncheonette counter waiting for her next order. This wasn’t a conversation Bridgett wanted to have so early in the morning—let alone smack dab in the middle of The Magpie, where every word you said spread across town faster than a sneeze through a screen door.

Abby pouted. “What I lack in stature, I compensate for in charm.”

Lack in stature.
The nine-inch height difference between them made their recent discovery even more shocking. Fraternal twins. Bridgett didn’t think she’d ever get used to the idea.

She grabbed a rag and wiped the counter, hoping someone would come to her rescue. She didn’t dislike Abby. It was the situation she hated. A month ago, they’d been well on their way to becoming good friends. Maybe they’d have a chance at it again once Bridgett absorbed the fact that her mother had lied to her for the past twenty-eight years. And the revelation that her biological father was the town’s mayor, Darren Fox. A man she’d seen almost every day of her life, but who had never acknowledged her existence. Heck, he didn’t even leave her a decent tip.

Gutted by the lies private investigator Clay Tanner had unearthed regarding her and Abby’s parentage two weeks ago, Bridgett was uncertain what she should do next. Up until then, she’d had a rather normal life in her hometown of Ramblewood, Texas. The people she worked with at the luncheonette, along with her friends and mother, had collectively formed the only family Bridgett had ever known, and it’d suited her just fine. Of course, she’d fantasized about who her father was. Who wouldn’t? Especially after the way her mother had glamourized him.

Her mother had claimed Bridgett was the product of a love affair, and that Bridgett’s father had been an Air Force pilot who had transferred overseas before Ruby had known she was pregnant. Never to be heard from again. Well, she was half right. Bridgett was the result of an affair. And Darren
had
been in the Air Force. But that was where the truth had ended and twenty-eight years of lies had begun.

“Why would anyone want to make a movie about us?” Bridgett stole a quick glance at the kitchen pass-through window once more for her order.

“All the crap we’ve just been through has amazing movie-of-the-week potential.” Abby removed a bundle of magazines and notes from her bag, fanning them across the counter. “Please help me plan this wedding. New Year’s Eve is in a few months. If Clay has his way, we’ll be married in the barn with a beer-and-pretzel main course.”

The private investigator hadn’t merely discovered she and Abby were sisters, he’d officially become Abby’s fiancé last week. In the span of seven days, the two of them had gotten engaged, packed up what Abby needed from the house she’d shared with her brother in South Carolina and moved her across the country to Clay’s ranch.

“Between working here and at the Bed & Biscuit, I don’t see where I’d have the time.”

“But you have to.” Abby reached for Bridgett’s hand, her smile desperate, almost pleading. Bridgett suspected her sister was on the verge of asking her
the question.
The one Bridgett had hoped to avoid. At the very least, she hadn’t wanted it to be a public event where the neighborhood busybodies listened in on their conversation. “I’m hoping you’ll be my maid of honor,” Abby said.

Bridgett stared down at the all-too-personal contact, recognizing that if she moved away she’d offend Abby. “I’m flattered, but we’re virtually strangers. I’d think one of your friends would appreciate the honor.”

“Sure, yeah, you’re right.” Abby withdrew her hand, returning her attention to the magazines. “One of my friends—no problem.”

So much for trying to spare her feelings.

Abby dropped her eyes and rapidly thumbed through the pages. To say their lives had changed overnight was an understatement. On top of the twin-sister revelation, Darren had suddenly grown a conscience and had decided he wanted a relationship with his daughters. He could wait an eternity for all she cared. The likelihood of a reunion was zilch. Bridgett found it impossible to face the man who’d demanded her mother to get
rid of her
before she’d been born
.
At that time, Darren had known of only one baby. The birth of twins had been a surprise to them both.

Bridgett cut Abby a slice of rum vanilla cream pie as a peace offering and set it next to her coffee. While the truth may have been hard for Bridgett to accept, she’d known who her mother was all along. When Abby had learned her parents had adopted her, she’d been rightfully outraged.

Ruby’s reasons for separating her twin daughters disgusted Bridgett. Not knowing she even carried twins, Ruby had decided to give her baby up for adoption months earlier. When Abby was born, Ruby had refused to hold her, banning the infant from the room. She had already promised to give Abby to a couple in town—Darren’s Air Force buddy and his wife. When Bridgett had unexpectedly arrived a half hour later, Ruby had believed it was a sign to keep the second baby.

Abby sliced her fork through the pie’s tip and took a bite, appearing to savor the mouthful. “I think this became my favorite dessert the first time I ate here. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Bridgett grabbed the almost-full sugar dispenser in front of Abby and topped it up. Afraid her thoughts would betray her, she pretended to be busy.

Bridgett had mixed emotions about Abby. She’d always wanted a sister, but Abby’s arrival had unearthed a mountain of drama. Ramblewood, Texas, might be a tiny dot on the map, but when Darren’s paternity secret had surfaced the day before he’d announced his much-anticipated run for senate, their unsuspecting Hill Country town had become quite the spectacle. Complete with constant media coverage. If one more person asked her for an interview or snapped her photo, she’d scream. Luckily, it had begun to die down over the past two days when Darren had renounced his senate run. It still hadn’t quelled the local gossip, though.

Ruby’s lies had compounded from the day of the twins’ births. The extent of the deception sickened Bridgett. Ruby had claimed she and the twins’ grandparents had had a major falling out when she’d told them she was pregnant. Ruby maintained to this day that she had no idea where they lived. Bridgett wondered if the story was true or another fabrication. Their grandparents would probably be easy to locate, especially since Abby was engaged to a private investigator. But since they’d never tried to contact Bridgett, she had no desire to search for them.

Growing up, Bridgett had suspected Ruby was keeping secrets based on the quick way her mother had dismissed any questions she’d had regarding her grandparents or the name of her father. Eventually, Bridgett had given up and stopped asking.

Now Bridgett just wished people’s tongues would stop wagging long enough for her to regain her footing. The media coverage had turned her and Abby into local celebrities. It irritated Bridgett how the reporters always found the need to mention their ages along with the fact that Bridgett was single. Since the news broke it seemed as if every bachelor within a ten-mile radius had asked her for a date. She didn’t need any coddling and she certainly didn’t need any extra baggage in her life. Besides, she refused to settle for just anybody.

“Order up,” Bert called through the pass-through window, giving Bridgett the opening to walk away from the increasingly uncomfortable conversation with her sister.
Her sister.
Bridgett doubted she’d get used to those words anytime soon. She used to take waking up in a good mood for granted. Now she prayed for a normal day. No stares or whispers. No tearful phone calls from her mother. Normal was miles away from Ramblewood and she’d rather be anywhere but here. And hopefully that day would come sooner than later.

Bridgett refused to leave anything else to chance. Every afternoon she made of point of checking the Help Wanted ads online in the towns at least a hundred miles from Ramblewood. She’d jump at the first offer. For now, she kept her plans to herself, not wanting to risk anyone trying to talk her out of it. She wanted to secure a job before she left town. Her ultimate goal was to open her own restaurant, but until she found one she could afford, she’d make do managing someone else’s.

Bridgett grabbed the plates and headed for her customer’s table at the front of the luncheonette. When she passed Lark she whispered, “Take over counter duty for me.” The other waitress nodded.

Bridgett had been hesitant when Maggie Dalton, The Magpie’s owner, had hired Lark Meadow a few weeks earlier. Lark had rolled into Ramblewood on the bus. Disheveled, with not much more than a duffel bag and a guitar, Lark had said she was on her way to New Mexico after a disastrous string of Nashville auditions. She’d sold everything she had owned to take a gamble on her big dream and no longer had a home to go back to. Refusing to turn the woman away, Maggie had helped Lark rent a studio apartment above the florist’s shop across the street.

Bridgett had a hunch the newcomer was on the run, but if Maggie wasn’t concerned, she wouldn’t pry, either. Lark seemed to appreciate the privacy and she’d turned out to be a welcome addition to The Magpie. Considering Bridgett planned to leave town soon, she felt less guilty knowing another waitress was already trained and in place.

Bridgett took a few more orders before she noticed Abby packing up her wedding explosion. The normally perky pint-size blonde’s shoulders slumped as she mumbled a quick “see you later” on the way out. Bridgett sighed, wishing she hadn’t been so abrupt with her sister. If only Abby hadn’t asked her to stand up for her at the wedding.

Bridgett wanted to get to know Abby on her own terms, but Abby was relentless. She stopped in the luncheonette every morning for breakfast, called at night to share what she’d learned at her new job and sometimes she showed up at the Bed & Biscuit uninvited. It was too much, too soon.

Through the vinyl magpie-bird cutouts on the luncheonette’s picture window, Bridgett watched Abby trudge to her car and drive away. She hated hurting Abby, but Bridgett wasn’t ready to embrace the happy family-unit idea yet.

“May I have a refill, dear?” Charlotte Hargrove, one of Ramblewood’s biggest gossips, waved her cup in the air. Bridgett removed the coffee carafe from the brewer and wondered how long it would take before her mother called and demanded she be nicer to Abby. Twenty minutes was the norm for Charlotte’s gossip to spread, but it had been known to travel faster than a bee-stung stallion when it was particularly juicy.

“Are things okay between you two?” Charlotte asked when Bridgett arrived with the coffee.

Hesitating, Bridgett tried to figure out how to answer the question without feeding into the rumor mill. “Abby’s a bit overwhelmed with the wedding plans.”

“Won’t she be a beautiful bride?” The older woman’s round cheeks brightened when she spoke. “Tiny as she is she’d probably pass for a cake topper in her gown. I do hope they start a family soon. I bet they’ll have the most darling children.”

And
there
was the knife twist. Charlotte wasn’t a fool. She knew Bridgett wanted kids. Growing up, Bridgett had longed for a big family, begging her mother to marry and have more children. Ruby had delighted in her daughter’s dreams and shared them with her clients. Because of her mother’s well-intentioned meddling, half the town seemed determined to set Bridgett up on one embarrassing blind date after another.

After many failed attempts and a few short-term romances, Bridgett had learned to say no to any further matchmaking. So she hadn’t found
the one.
She refused to settle. What was the rush anyway? Although, she did have to admit, it had smarted when her sister had blown into town and snagged herself a husband. Not that Bridgett had been interested in Clay. She never went for the strong silent types. But he and Abby suited each other perfectly.

Bridgett totaled Charlotte’s bill and left it upside down on the table. “They’ll have beautiful children. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Hoping for a mental break, Bridgett headed into the kitchen. From his position at the grill, Bert briefly glanced her way. No one worried about their beloved, yet rough-around-the-edges cook asking too many questions. Bert kept mostly to himself.

“Do you need any help?” Bridgett asked. The breakfast rush had wound down and she’d had enough of the remaining customers’ endless stares. They acted as though she’d break at any moment.

“I’m good.” Bert plated a stack of pancakes and set them on the pass-through. “Lark, table four.” He smacked the silver service bell.

“I’ll take it out.” Since she’d asked Lark to cover the counter, Bridgett could manage delivering one of her orders. Besides, Charlotte was on her way out.

Bridgett had begun waitressing at sixteen and twelve years later here she remained. The Magpie wasn’t exactly her career choice. She enjoyed her job to a certain degree, but she’d meant for it to be a stepping-stone to owning her own place. When Bridgett was nine, she’d stumbled across a weathered Betty Crocker cookbook at a yard sale. Her mother couldn’t cook to feed an ant, so Bridgett had begun preparing their meals out of necessity. Cooking for two had been fine at first, but the more Bridgett experimented with different spices, the more she wanted to share her creations with someone other than her mother. Maggie gave her kitchen time when they were slow. A few of her recipes had been house specials, and her Mexican
cemita
sandwich filled with pork, avocado, cheese and chili had become a regular menu item. When Maggie had converted the upstairs offices into a second kitchen, she’d asked Bridgett to be her sous-chef during catering events. It allowed her more cooking time and the extra money she made went into her restaurant fund.

Bridgett delivered Lark’s order and started another pot of coffee. Life wasn’t perfect, but whose ever was? Bridgett had been reasonably happy up until recent events, and although she still kept an eye out for Mr. Right, it wasn’t a priority. She had enjoyed her quiet, unassuming existence until she’d headlined the evening news. She’d contemplated dipping into her savings account and leaving town immediately, but her restaurant dream was the one thing that kept her going on most days. Until she could find a better solution, she’d opted to move out of her mother’s house.