Finally, a Family--A Clean Romance

by Callie Endicott

  “Yes,” he said, “but that’s a mutual decision. You’d need to want it, as well.”

  “More, um, sounds good.”

  Electric shocks seemed to travel down his spine. “In the interests of complete honesty,” he said carefully, “I have to confess that the idea of being a parent is both wonderful and terrifying.”

  Jessica broke into one of her merry laughs. “That just means you’re sensible.”

  “You and Cyndi can train me properly,” he said, smiling. “Like all fathers, I’ll make mistakes and we’ll have to do a lot of talking and sharing, but that’s one of the good parts of marriage. Of course, I’m still waiting to hear how you feel about me.”

  Faint pink stained her cheeks and she lifted her lovely eyes to meet his gaze. “I don’t know when I started loving you, but I do.”

  For a moment Logan’s muscles turned into mush and his lungs gasped for air.

  “So, Jessica...will you marry me?”

  Instead of an enthusiastic yes, Jessica traced an outline of the infinity symbol on the small table he’d brought to the overlook. “The thing is, you and I come from such different worlds. Regina and Tom are nice, but they’re ultrasophisticated. They’ve traveled everywhere. And you’ve probably gone even more places and done more things than they have.”

  Logan thought about the longing he’d seen on his parents’ faces during their visit, the regret of not being closer to him.

  He shook his head.

  “Jessica, deep down, Penny and my mom and dad are very much alike. We talked most of the night before they flew home. They’re glad I didn’t join their world of diplomacy and power connections. I think they loved the Flash Fair so much because it celebrated the kind of values and community ties they long to rediscover.”

  “But that’s about them, not you.”

  “Actually, I’m just getting to the same realization sooner. I want community and love, parenthood and marriage. But even if they didn’t feel the same way, it doesn’t mean anything. After all, you chose a different set of values than your mother and father. Is it impossible to believe that someone else could do the same?”

  Humor rippled across Jessica’s face. “That’s an excellent point.”

  “Maybe love can conquer all,” Logan said, “because real love includes the commitment to work on it.”

  “I have a feeling you’re right.” Her voice was husky and he saw happy tears in her eyes.

  * * *

  JESSICA BLINKED RAPIDLY as Logan came around the table to draw her into a kiss.

  “I love you so much,” he said. “I didn’t know the heart could hold this much love. But I have a feeling the more someone loves, the more space their heart has to love.”

  “Love can do that for you.”

  “Isn’t it grand?”

  His arms held her tightly and he could feel his pulse matching hers, beat for beat.

  “We can do anything,” he said against her lips, “so long as we do it together.”

  EPILOGUE

  Seventeen months later...

  LOGAN STARED IN wonder at the tiny bundle he held.

  “She’s so small,” he breathed.

  “Bigger than Cyndi was,” Jessica told him. She smiled, though her face was tired and flushed after the hours of labor.

  “Really?”

  “A whole pound.”

  Taking parenting classes and reading a dozen books hadn’t prepared him for this moment.

  “I’ll go out and get everyone,” he said, carefully putting little Anne Regina back into her mother’s arms.

  In the waiting room, Cyndi flew into his arms. “Is Momma okay?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, hugging her tight.

  He looked around the room. Penny was sitting hand in hand with Kevin. That Christmas they’d officially declared themselves a couple and everyone expected them to get married soon. Logan’s mom and dad were there, as well; they had flown to Seattle as soon as they’d learned Jessica had gone into labor. He had never seen them look happier.

  Sadly, while Jessica’s folks had sent a flower arrangement to the hospital, they’d declared that the demands of work wouldn’t allow them to come right away. At least they’d made it to the wedding fifteen months ago, along with Jessica’s brothers. Logan liked the elder Parrishes, despite himself. Someday he hoped they’d slow down and be a bigger part of their children’s lives. After all, the renovations they’d done to the Satterly House included a private guest suite where their respective parents could stay during visits.

  Rachel and Simon were also waiting with their kids, along with Nicole and Jordan and their little one. It was too bad about Jessica’s mother and father, but baby Anne and Cyndi had lots of people who were choosing to be family.

  “Is everything okay?” Adam asked, holding his baby daughter in his arms, while Cassie held their twin son.

  “Great.” Logan lifted Cyndi, thinking she was growing so fast he might not be able to do it for much longer. “As expected, a beautiful baby girl. Eight pounds, two ounces, twenty-one inches long.”

  A chorus of congratulations sounded, while Cyndi hugged his neck. It was hard to remember that he’d adopted her—she was so much a part of his heart.

  “I have my camera,” she whispered in his ear. “Did you already take the first picture?”

  “Pictures weren’t as important as just being there with your momma,” he said softly. “In a little bit, you and I can take the first one together.”

  Then they led the whole family toward Jessica’s room to introduce them to the newest member of the clan.

  * * *

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  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Cowboy’s Perfect Match by Cathy McDavid.

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  The Cowboy’s Perfect Match

  by Cathy McDavid

  CHAPTER ONE

  RARELY DID ANYONE beat Bridget O’Malley to the kitchen. Most mornings, she rose by 5:00 a.m. and was elbow-deep in preparing breakfast before her younger sister, Molly, stumbled through the door at six thirty. Grandma Em didn’t arrive until seven.

  Roll out croissant dough. Soften butter. Slice strawberries and squeeze oranges. Grind coffee beans.

  Bridget mentally reviewed the tasks ahead while crossing the spacious parlor, her feet barely making a noise as she expertly avoided the floorboards she
knew would creak.

  Entering her most sacred of sanctuaries, she drew up short at the sight of both her sister and grandmother sitting at the kitchen table, nonchalantly sipping coffee and eating yogurt parfaits that were intended for Sweetheart Ranch’s guests.

  “What are you both doing up so early?” Bridget sighed with mild annoyance—she’d have to make more parfaits—and grabbed her apron off the hook. With the practiced ease of someone who’d done this every day of her life since she was fifteen, she slipped the neck loop over her head and knotted the belt.

  “I have some things to go over with the two of you before work starts.” Grandma Em motioned for Bridget to join them at the table. She didn’t live at the ranch, so her early appearance was even more unusual. “This is the only time today all three of us are free.”

  Bridget put a kettle of water on the stove before sitting. Her brain didn’t fully function without the assistance of her ritual morning tea. Steeped, thank you, with boiling water poured slowly over a bag. No instant or those little pods for her.

  “Are you wondering about the hayride and cookout tonight?”

  “Among other things,” Molly answered. “All twelve guests have signed up. Did you finalize the menu?”

  “Not quite.” Bridget grabbed a stack of guest-meal requests off the table and shuffled the papers like a deck of cards. “Our most recent newlyweds in cabin two want the zucchini, bacon and Gruyère quiche for brunch this morning. Cabin three is gluten-intolerant and cabin five is pescatarian.”

  “What’s that?” Grandma Em asked.

  “Eats fish and seafood but no meat.”

  “Ah. Learn something new every day.”

  Sweetheart Ranch boasted six cabins in total and construction was scheduled to begin in the fall on another two. Business had been booming since the ranch recently appeared in the Valentine’s Day issue of Southwest Bride magazine. According to the article, it was one of the top-ten most romantic wedding venues in Arizona.

  Additional cabins weren’t the only planned expansion. Starting this week they’d added a hayride that ended with a campfire and cookout. Once they hired a full-time wrangler, they’d offer guided trail rides and a monthly “cowboy day.” The food part of the operation was also growing. In addition to wedding cakes, continental breakfasts and a specialty honeymoon brunch, light catering was now available.

  That last idea had been Bridget’s. Grandma Em was owner of the ranch and head wedding coordinator. Molly assisted their grandmother and was in charge of guest relations. Bridget handled the food. Sweetheart Ranch wasn’t just a family-run business, it was truly a labor of love. In more ways than one.

  I’m thinking of surf and turf,” Bridget said. “Grilled shrimp for the pescatarians and anybody else. Steak for the rest. I can easily roast ears of corn on the fire. Then side salad and rolls, both regular and gluten-free.”

  “Doesn’t sound cowboyish enough,” Molly mused. “We are a Western-themed wedding ranch.”

  “I’ll add beans.”

  She shrugged. “I like that.”

  Not pinto beans, Bridget decided as she shut off the stove and prepared her tea. She couldn’t bring herself to serve the unimaginative cowboy standby. Instead, she’d prepare Mexican charro beans with just a few poblano peppers for a touch of heat.

  Grandma Em went on to talk about their upcoming weddings. April was going to be a busy month for them, as were May and, especially, June. They’d recently set a ranch record on Valentine’s Day. Eight ceremonies over a twelve-hour period. They’d be having almost as many ceremonies every Saturday in June.

  Several couples had made unusual requests that required extra attention. Everything from a paralyzed groom walking with the aid of a robotic exoskeleton to the ranch’s first-ever canine ring bearer to a surprise flash-mob procession down the aisle that would be a huge surprise to the guests.

  “The Literary Ladies book club requested a lunch on the sixteenth.” Grandma Em consulted her paper calendar. She was old-school.

  Bridget preferred her electronic tablet and was seldom without the device. Not only did she store her recipes and research potential new menu items, but she also kept a detailed calendar and multiple lists without which she’d be a disorganized mess.

  “I’m free that day. Do you know what they want?”

  “They’re thinking along the line of finger sandwiches.” Grandma Em passed Bridget a piece of paper. “But I told them you’d call this week and finalize the details. Here’s the contact info.”

  “This is great!” Bridget entered the name and number, her to-do list growing. She’d been considering adding wine tastings and English high teas to the ranch’s offerings. The Literary Ladies’ lunch would be a good test run.

  Molly then brought up their projected reservations and several housekeeping issues, after which she distributed the first-quarter financials.

  Giving the reports a cursory glance—the finances were really Molly and Grandma Em’s department—Bridget looked at the clock. Six forty-two! At this rate, she’d never get the continental breakfast served in time. Guests started wandering into the main house around seven o’clock, their stomachs growling.

  She pushed back from the table and jumped to her feet. “Keep talking. I need to get busy.”

  While she arranged a mouth-watering selection of homemade croissants and breads on a tray, Grandma Em and Molly continued their discussion. Ranch business soon gave way to the subject of Molly’s boyfriend, Owen. He’d asked to bring his three children along on the hayride tonight, if no one minded.

  “Of course he can,” Grandma Em assured Molly. “He’s family.”

  Both Grandma Em and Molly were deliriously happy. Grandma Em had eloped last November with Homer Foxworthy, a retired minister and Sweetheart Ranch’s on-staff wedding officiator. Molly was seriously dating Owen, Homer’s great-nephew. Bridget suspected her sister and Owen would one day soon be reserving the chapel for their own nuptials. Unlike their grandmother, Molly would never elope. She was a white-dress, big-splashy-wedding kind of gal.

  Bridget remained the sole unattached O’Malley woman. She’d like to say she didn’t care. Truthfully, she harbored a tiny bit of jealousy toward her grandmother and younger sister. Happy for them, absolutely. They deserved the wonderful men they’d found. But Bridget also envied them. At thirty-two, her biological clock was ticking. Not fast but faster than it had been. Another birthday looming in the near future and no immediate prospects weren’t helping.

  Mustang Valley was a cowboy town with a substantial male population. Though Bridget would admit it to no one, that perk was one of the reasons she’d accepted her grandmother’s job offer last year. So far, she’d yet to meet anyone with real potential.

  Then again, she spent most of her time working, often putting in fifty to sixty hours a week. By the end of the day, she wanted nothing more than to unwind in front of the TV for an hour and rest her aching feet. Most nights she was in bed by nine.

  Rushing back and forth between the kitchen and the parlor, Bridget quickly laid out the food. Besides the scrumptious breads and croissants, she’d included fruit salad, homemade jams and almond butter, yogurt parfaits and two choices of fresh-squeezed juices.

  There! The room looked beautiful enough to appear in a TV commercial.

  Wait a minute. What a great idea! She should tell Molly. Along with everything else she did, the younger O’Malley sister handled the ranch’s marketing and advertising.

  “Hey,” Bridget announced as she entered the kitchen. “What if we do a TV commercial?”

  She was met with complete silence. Molly and Grandma Em had left at some point through the back door.

  No big deal. She’d tell Molly later. Grabbing her tablet off the counter, Bridget opened up her “idea” file and quickly typed in a note about making a TV commercial. Her eyes fell briefly on yet another of
her many lists, this one titled “dating nonnegotiables.” Any man she met who failed to meet her criteria wasn’t worth pursuing.

  Her family teased her about the list, told her she was being ridiculous and limiting her chances. Look at Molly, for example. She’d found a wonderful man who, at first meeting, had seemed completely wrong for her. Bridget didn’t care. She wanted a marriage like her mother and late father once had. She’d rather be alone than marry the wrong man, which was the mistake her mother had made with her current husband, Bridget’s stepfather.

  A few minutes into slicing fresh zucchini for cabin two’s quiche, Bridget heard the echo of heavy footsteps in the parlor and assumed the first guests had arrived for breakfast. She wondered if the footsteps belonged to the middle-aged couple who’d been there since Thursday, enjoying a second honeymoon.

  “Hello!” a male voice called out. “Anyone here?”

  “Help yourself,” Bridget answered and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “There’s coffee, tea, hot chocolate and juice at the beverage station.”

  “I can have whatever I want?” he asked, uncertainty in his tone.

  “Sure.”

  She smiled to herself. Must be the groom from cabin five. He and his bride had gotten married two days ago and remained holed up in their cabin since then. When Bridget delivered the couple’s specialty brunch yesterday morning, only the bride had come to the door. Bridget guessed the groom had still been in bed and thought “good for them.”

  Brushing aside a stray lock of hair, she hurried to the parlor and issued a warm greeting to the groom. “Good morning. Nice to see you.” She refrained from adding “At last.”

  He paused, a china plate in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other. His gaze took her in from head to toe, very slowly and very thoroughly. The corners of his wide, handsome mouth turned up into a grin that quickly spread across his entire face. “Nice to see you, too.” There was no mistaking the spark of male interest in his eyes.