by Sabrina York
Mark nodded. “Let’s do that, then.”
Sam glowered. “You didn’t let me finish. And it’s for the family, your friends, too. We deserve it.”
“If you want a party, just—”
“It’s not about the party, doofus. A big wedding is a statement.”
“What? That we can afford it?”
“No.” Sam blew out an impatient breath. “It’s not that at all, dummy. It’s a chance for everyone who loves you to celebrate you. That makes them feel good. You gonna steal that from them? From Cole or Adam?” She glanced pointedly at Roni. “Or Luke? Do you know how over the moon he is for you two? It’s almost like he had a part in getting you together.”
Maybe he had.
Sam barreled on. “You owe us.”
“She’s right.” Roni took Mark’s hand and squeezed.
“Damn straight, I’m right.” She waggled her finger at her brother. “Don’t you even think about eloping, or I might just change my mind about being your surrogate.”
Mark’s heart jerked. Roni dropped her fork.
They both gaped at Sam, sprawled as she was, all over the La-Z-Boy.
“What?” The word barely made it out of Mark’s throat. Something snagged it in there.
“Yeah.” She sat up straighter. “I decided to carry your baby. You know. If you want.”
“Sam.” Roni stared at her, tears in her eyes. “That is so generous. But—”
“But nothing. I’ve always wanted to bring a child into the world, but my love life being what it is...well, this may be the only chance I get to feel all the ecstasies of pregnancy. Besides, paying a surrogate is the most expensive part of the procedure. This only makes sense. You need a womb. I have one. And, well, I am offering it to you.”
“You’d be giving birth to your brother’s kid...” Mark hated reminding her, but it needed to be said.
Sam shook her head. “I’d be giving my brother—and my dear friend—a kid. A kid they both want desperately. Look, I’ve thought this through. I want to do this. Think of it as a wedding present, okay?”
“Sam—”
She cut him off with the slash of a hand. “You guys set an appointment with the doctor and I’ll be there. Now...” She eyed the cakes on the table. “Which one should I try first? Because we all know, once I’m carrying a baby, Lizzie’s not going to let me taste sugar ever again.”
And, since Mark knew his sister, and how she got once she made up her mind, he couldn’t continue to argue. Frankly, it was a waste of time. Besides, he was too overwhelmed with love and gratitude to try. All he could manage was a hug. And then, he didn’t want to let her go.
* * *
Funny how one kind act could change everything, especially a person’s outlook. After that conversation, where Sam made that unbelievably generous gesture, some latent weight lifted from Roni’s shoulders. She hadn’t realized it was there until it disappeared.
Just having the option of Sam as a surrogate seemed to open doors, windows, moonroofs in Roni’s mind. She knew she and Mark would have children. She could visualize herself being a mama. Imagine holding her baby in her arms. Smell the scent of his downy hair. Or hers.
Maybe that was why she was so giddy nowadays. That, and Mark’s presence in her life. And the success of her bakery. And the fact that Gram had perked up significantly now that there was something for her to do all day. The future was bright, which filled Roni with gratitude and a kind of spiritual humility. To those who are given much, much is expected. And all she wanted to do now was give back as much as she could, and with joy.
* * *
Despite how long it seemed in coming, the day of the wedding dawned sooner than Roni anticipated. It felt as though she’d been sucked into a time warp that spat her out in the Butterscotch Ridge Unitarian Church in a wedding dress. Oh, she still remembered everything that had happened in the interim—and a lot had happened—but it seemed as though she’d witnessed it from a distance.
Even the day she and Mark had gone in to have her eggs harvested. The day they’d been implanted in Sam’s womb.
Especially the day she’d gone to court to attest to the fact that Anthony had violated his restraining order. All the Stirlings went with her on that one.
There’d been some disappointments, too, like the news that her father couldn’t get away from work to attend her wedding. She’d expected as much, though. She knew her father well enough. His career had always come first. There was no changing that.
Thank God, there was more than one kind of family; there was the family you were born with and the family you chose. And this was the one she had picked. She was sad her father couldn’t get away, but her cup was full, anyway, and she knew it.
She’d also been super busy with the bakery in that time, keeping up with orders and teaching Carlos and Lupe all her recipes, so they could cover the store while she was on her honeymoon and—she hoped—after that. Now that she and Mark were on the way to parenthood, she’d need someone else running the day-to-day of the bakery, and Carlos and Lupe were an excellent addition to the team. They’d both worked at a bakery before and Lupe’s cake decorating skills far surpassed Roni’s. They were thankful for the work, but were over the moon when Roni and Mark decided that she and Gram should move to the ranch and were going to give them the apartment over the store.
The only downside was that Mark had to finally find new homes for the dogs. Gram wasn’t steady on her feet on most days, and having five to seven dogs romping through the living room didn’t help.
They did, however, keep Tallulah Belle and Snoopy. The puppers didn’t go far. They were adopted by several ranch hands, and of course, Daisy went to Emma as promised. Mark was thrilled that they stayed close.
Ah, yes, it had been a busy time, but now, here she stood, at the back of the town’s church, staring down the aisle at a beautiful sight: Mark Stirling, her handsome soon-to-be-husband, in an actual tuxedo. Damn, he looked good. But then, he looked good in a worn-out flannel work shirt. He looked especially good in nothing at all.
DJ stood beside him as his best man, and Cole, Adam and Nadler stood by his side. Emma, who had already strewn flowers along the path, peeped around the chair in the first row to watch Lizzie, Sam and Crystal make their way down the aisle to their places on the bride’s side. Silence fell as the last of the wedding party took their places.
The crowd rustled, just a little, impatient perhaps, to see their local playboy finally take his vows. And then, when the wedding march rose—exquisitely, from a single violin—everyone stood and turned.
Roni was oblivious to all their stares. She was aware only of Mark staring at her with love in his eyes and conviction in his heart.
It was a beautiful thing, surrendering to love. There was such peace in it. She knew, because she felt it, too. She’d embraced it, too. She’d given up all the pain and anger and bitterness—for this. For him. It felt so right, this moment, so beautiful, it made her chest ache with joy and gratitude.
“You ready?” Luke asked, thrusting his elbow in her direction. It only made sense for him to give her away, given how close they’d become. He was sharp and stunning in his dress uniform, featuring his Purple Heart.
Her stomach fluttered as her pulse shot up. Was she ready? She glanced up at Luke and smiled. No woman had ever been so ready. “Onward,” she said.
And then she took the first step toward the man she loved, and their new life together.
* * *
Look for Luke’s story, the next installment of New York Times bestselling author Sabrina York’s new miniseries The Stirling Ranch, on sale February 2022 wherever Harlequin books and ebooks are sold.
And catch up with the Stirling siblings!
Don’t miss Accidental Homecoming, Danny and Lizzie’s story, available now!
Ranch manager Annie McCade thought her twin niece and n
ephew could join her at the Angel View Ranch for Christmas with her absent employer being none the wiser. But when the ranch’s owner, Tate Sheridan, shows up out of the blue, Annie’s plans are upended. Soon she finds herself helping Tate make a Christmas to remember for his grieving and fractured extended family.
Keep reading for a preview of New York Times bestselling author RaeAnne Thayne’s heartwarming Christmas romance,
Sleigh Bells Ring!
Sleigh Bells Ring
by RaeAnne Thayne
Chapter One
This was war. A relentless, merciless battle for survival.
Backed into a corner and taking fire from multiple fronts, Annelise McCade launched missiles as fast as she could manage against her enemies. She was outnumbered. They had teamed up to attack her with agile cunning and skill.
At least it was a nice day for battle. The snow the night before hadn’t been particularly substantial but it had still left everything white and sparkly and the massive ranchhouse behind her was solid and comforting in the December afternoon sunlight.
A projectile hit her square in the face, an icy splat against her skin that had her gasping.
At her instinctive reaction, giggles rang out across the snowy expanse.
She barely took time to wipe the cold muck off her cheek. “No fair, aiming for the face,” she called back. “That’s against the rules.”
“It was a accident,” her six-year-old nephew Henry admitted. “I didn’t mean to hit your face.”
“You’ll pay for that one.”
She scooped up several more balls as fast as she could manage and hurled them across the battlefield at Henry and his twin sister Alice.
“Do you give up?” she called.
“Never!”
Henry followed up his defiance by throwing a snowball back at her. His aim wasn’t exactly accurate—hence her still-dripping face—but it still hit her shoulder and made her wince.
“Never!” his twin sister Alice cried out. She had more of a lisp so her declaration sounded like “Nevoh.”
Alice threw with such force, the effort almost made her spin around like a discus thrower in the Olympics.
It was so good to hear them laughing. In the week since they had come to live with her temporarily, Annie had witnessed very little of this childish glee.
Not for the first time, she cursed her brother and the temper he had inherited from their father and grandfather. If not for that temper, compounded by the heavy drinking that had taken over his life since his wife’s death a year ago, Wes would be here with the twins right now, throwing snowballs in the cold sunshine.
Grief for all that these children had lost was like a tiny shard of ice permanently lodged against her heart. But at least they could put their pain aside for a few moments to have fun outside on a snowy December day.
She might not be the perfect temporary guardian but it had been a good idea to make them come outside after homework for a little exercise and fresh air.
She was doing her best, though she was wholly aware that she was only treading water.
For now, this moment, she decided she would focus on gratitude. The children were healthy, they all had a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs and their father should be back home with them in less than a month.
Things could be much, much worse.
“Time out,” Henry gasped out during a lull in the pitched battle. “We gotta make more snowballs.”
“Deal. Five-minute break, starting now.”
Annie pulled her glove off long enough to set the timer on her smart watch then ducked behind the large landscape boulder she was using as cover and scooped up several snowballs to add to her stash.
The sun would be going down in another hour and already the air had cooled several degrees. The air smelled like impending snow, though she knew only a dusting was forecast, at least until the following weekend.
She didn’t worry. Holly Creek, Wyoming, about an hour south of Jackson Hole in the beautiful Star Valley, almost always had a white Christmas.
Annie’s phone timer went off just as she finished a perfectly formed snowball. “Okay. Time’s up,” she called. Without standing up, she launched a snowball to where she knew the twins would be.
An instant later, she heard a deep grunt that definitely did not sound like Henry or Alice.
Annie winced. Levi Moran, the ranch manager, or his grizzled old ranchhand Bill Shaw must have wandered across the battlefield in the middle of a ceasefire without knowing he was about to get blasted.
“Sorry,” she called, rising to her feet. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
She saw a male figure approach, wearing sunglasses. The sun reflecting off the new snow was hitting his face and she couldn’t instantly identify him.
“No doubt,” he said, wiping snow off his face with his sleeve.
She frowned. This was definitely not Levi or Bill.
He stepped closer and Annie felt as if an entire avalanche of snow had just crumbled away from the mountain and buried her.
She knew this man, though it had been nearly two decades since Annie had seen him in person.
It couldn’t be anyone else.
Dark hair, lean, gorgeous features. Beneath those sunglasses, she knew she would find blue eyes the color of Bear Lake in summertime.
The unsuspecting man she had just pummeled with a completely unprovoked snowball attack had to be Tate Sheridan.
Her de facto boss.
The twins had fallen uncharacteristically silent, wary of a tall, unsmiling stranger. Henry, she saw, had moved closer to his twin sister and slipped his hand in hers.
Annie’s mind whirled trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
Tate Sheridan. Here. After all this time.
She shouldn’t be completely shocked, she supposed. It was his family’s house, after all. For many years when her father was the ranch manager, the Sheridans had trekked here annually from the Bay Area several times a year for the Christmas season, as well as most summers.
His younger sister had been her very best friend in the world, until tragedy and pain and life circumstances had separated them.
She had wondered when she agreed to take the job if she would see Tate again. She hadn’t truly expected to. She had worked here for nearly a year and he hadn’t once come to his grandfather’s Wyoming vacation ranch.
How humiliating, that he would show up when she was in the middle of a snowball fight with her niece and nephew—who had no business being there in the first place!
“What are you doing here?” she burst out, then winced. She wanted to drag the words back. It was his family’s property. He had every right to be there.
“I might ask the same of you. Along with a few more obvious questions, I suppose. Who are you and why are you having a snowball fight in the middle of my property?”
“You don’t know who I am?”
Of course he wouldn’t, she realized. And while she thought of him often, especially over the past year while living at Angel’s View once more, he had probably not given her a moment’s thought.
“Should I?”
It was stupid to feel a little hurt.
“Annelise McCade. My dad was Scott McCade.”
He lifted his sunglasses, giving her an intense look. A moment later, she saw recognition flood his features.
“Little Annie McCade. Wow. You’re still here, after all this time?”
She frowned. He didn’t have to make it sound like she was a lump of mold growing in the back of the refrigerator. She had lived a full life in the nearly two decades since she had seen Tate in person.
She had moved away to California with her mother, struggling through the painful transition of being a new girl in a new school. She had graduated from college and found success in her ch
osen field. She had even been planning marriage a year ago, to a man she hardly even thought about anymore.
“Not really still here as much as here again. I’ve been away for a long time but moved back a year ago. Wallace...your grandfather hired me to be the caretaker of Angel’s View.”
She saw pain darken his expression momentarily, a pain she certainly shared. Even after two months, she still expected her phone to ring and Wallace Sheridan to be on the other end of the line, calling for an update on the ranch he loved.
The rest of the world had lost a compelling business figure with a brilliant mind and a keen insight into human nature.
Annie had lost a friend.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said softly.
“Thank you.” His voice was gruff and he looked away, his gaze landing on the twins, who were watching their interaction with unusual solemnity.
“Are these yours?” He gestured to the children and Annie was aware of a complex mix of emotions, both protectiveness and guilt.
The children shouldn’t be here. She had never asked permission from anyone in the Sheridan family to have the children move into the caretakers’ apartment with her.
She deeply regretted the omission now. While it was a feeble defense, she hadn’t really known whom to ask. No one in the Sheridan organization seemed to be paying the slightest attention to any of the goings on at a horse ranch in western Wyoming that represented only a small portion of the vast family empire.
Annie knew she was in the wrong here. No matter what uproar might have been happening during Wallace’s illness and subsequent death, she should have applied to someone for permission to bring the twins to live with her here.
Instead, she had simply assumed it shouldn’t be a problem since it was only a temporary situation and the children would be back with their father after the first of the year with no one in the family knowing they had been here at all.
“This is my niece and nephew. Wes’s children.”
Tate and Wes were similar in age, she remembered, and had been friends once upon a time, just as Annelise had been close to Tate’s younger sister Brianna. The McCades lived on the ranch year round while the Sheridan children only visited a few times a year, but somehow they had all managed to have a warm, close bond and could always pick up where they left off when the Sheridans came back to the ranch.