Wild, Crazy Hearts – the Bradens & Montgomerys (Pleasant Hill – Oak Falls)

by Melissa Foster

  It was Saturday morning, and Brindle was setting out snacks for after the game. She looked across the football field at Trace standing on the sidelines and warmed all over. She’d bought him a black baseball cap with the No Limitz logo on the front. He looked rugged in a different way from when he wore his cowboy hat, bringing her right back to their high school days. That overprotective-daddy streak was sexy as hell, because who didn’t want their man to protect their child? But she knew he was in for a hot shot of rebellion if he didn’t ease up before their daughter was a teenager.

  Luckily, she had plenty of time to talk some sense into him.

  “Look at our baby sister going all domestic on us,” Sable said as she and Amber approached. Amber’s trusty companion Reno lifted his nose for some love.

  “Hi, you guys. Thanks for coming out to support the team.” Brindle reached down to pet Reno.

  “Support the team, scope out the hot, single dads. Same-same.” Sable crossed her arms over her quilted leather jacket, her jeans-clad hip jutting out as she smirked from beneath her black cowgirl hat. “I guess those meetings with the married minds are working.”

  They’d had another meeting the other evening. Morgyn was in Maryland visiting Graham’s parents, so Grace had brought Sophie in her place. Sophie had Brenna, her baby girl, with her, and they’d spent more time admiring her and talking about midnight feedings, schedules—or lack thereof—and sneaking sexy times in while the baby napped, than they did about cooking and cleaning. That was just fine with Brindle. She hadn’t thought about the lack of sleep, schedules, or privacy that would come along with motherhood. She’d not only scheduled another meeting of the married minds, which she realized she desperately needed, but she’d gone right home and discussed their upcoming potential lack ofs with Trace. Apparently he’d already been debriefed by his father, because he had it all figured out. Don’t worry, darlin’. The great thing about working on the ranch is that when you’re on maternity leave, I can come home when the baby naps and take my Mustang for a ride, which’ll free us up to sleep at night. Two birds, one stone, he’d said with a wink.

  They’d started moving her things into Trace’s house, and she found herself wanting to do more for him, so learning to cook was high on her list of priorities. The cleaning? Not so much.

  “I’m trying, but I’m still better in the bedroom than I am in the kitchen,” Brindle said. “I do want to learn to cook, though.”

  “If that’s what having a baby does to you, then count me out,” Sable said.

  “Count me in!” Amber flipped her brown hair over her shoulder and reached into the snack bag, helping Brindle set out juice boxes. “I can’t wait to do things like this. I want to be the snack mom, the carpool mom, and make family dinners, sew Halloween costumes…” There were potential complications associated with epilepsy and pregnancy, and Amber was aware of them. She’d talked on and off about adoption and surrogacy.

  “You’ll be an incredible mother,” Brindle said. “You’ve got the patience of a saint.”

  Sable’s gaze swept over the bags of sliced apples and carrot sticks, pretzels, Goldfish crackers, and Pirate’s Booty, and she said, “Think you went a little overboard with the snacks?”

  “I looked up snack ideas online and there was a huge list,” Brindle said as she set more bags of Pirate’s Booty on the table. “I don’t know what the kids like or what their parents are used to bringing for snacks. I asked about food allergies, and we’re clear there. I want to support Trace’s coaching in every way I can. Besides, it’s the last game of the season, and I didn’t want to let any of the kids down. This way they have choices.”

  Sable grabbed a juice box from the bag of snacks and looked at it. “These things are tiny.” She set it on the table and said, “So…Are you ready to tell us if you’re going to have a cowboy or a dancing girl?”

  “Sorry, sis, but my lips are sealed. You’ll find out the same time everyone else does, at the Turkey Trot.” Not only had her and Trace’s families been begging for answers, but her students and the other teachers were, too. She and Trace had come up with the perfect gender reveal, and Brindle’s lips were sealed.

  “You know you and Trace have more hashtags now, right?” Amber informed her. “There’s Team Trindle Filly for a girl and Team Trindle Colt for a boy. The whole town is making bets.”

  “I know,” Brindle said, spotting Jeb and Chet heading their way from the parking lot. Jeb was watching Trace like a hawk. “Some of my students made T-shirts. I can’t believe our pregnancy is that interesting to the whole town.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” Amber said. “The two least likely people to ever settle down are having a baby and moving in together. You two are what urban legends are made of. People will still be talking about Team Trindle when we’re old and gray.”

  “Are you guys in on those wagers?” Brindle asked her sisters as Jeb and Chet joined them.

  “Is she really asking Amber which team she bats for?” Jeb teased.

  Amber rolled her eyes. “I’m Team Filly.” She glared at Jeb and said, “And no comments from the peanut gallery.”

  “Hey, it’s all good,” Jeb said.

  Amber added, “I can’t wait to see Trace with a baby girl in his arms.”

  “Down, girl,” Brindle teased. “That’s my man you want to ogle.”

  “I’m Team Colt,” Sable said, eyeing Chet. “Every generation needs hard-bodied men who are good with their hands.”

  Chet and Jeb chuckled.

  Brindle set her hand on her hip. “Okay, hold up. It feels weird to hear you say that about my potential future son—your nephew.”

  “I meant to train horses and work with power tools,” Sable said. “Geez, get your mind out of the gutter. What are you, Chet?” she asked with a seductive lilt to her voice. “Team Colt or Team Filly?”

  “That’s a trick question if I’ve ever heard one,” Jeb said, nudging Chet with his elbow.

  Chet held Sable’s stare as he said, “Personally, I’m into women, not horses. But as far as Trace and Brindle’s baby goes, I’m Team Colt. I’m not sure Oak Falls can handle a Montgomery-Jericho filly.”

  Sable lifted her chin at the surly firefighter with a look that would have most men stepping back. Chet stood taller, meeting her challenging stare with one of his own.

  “You got a problem with strong women, Hudson?” Sable asked.

  “Nope. Strong suits me just fine. But strong and reckless? That’s a dangerous combination.”

  “Shouldn’t a badass fireman like you be prepared for anything? Reckless can be fun.” Sable flashed an arrogant smile, her eyes raking down his body. “Unless your hose isn’t capable of dealing with the flames?”

  Chet stepped closer to Sable, the muscles in his jaw strung tight. “There’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Holy smokes,” Amber whispered to Brindle. “I thought you and Trace were hot.”

  As Sable and Chet had a stare down that could melt steel, Brindle finished setting up the snacks, and Amber headed over to the sidelines. Jeb stood with his feet planted hip distance apart, arms crossed, chin dipped low, and his eyes locked on Trace, oblivious to the Chet and Sable drama unfolding just a few feet away.

  “He’s really good with the kids, isn’t he?” Brindle said. She was proud of Trace for finally taking steps toward doing the things he loved beyond ranching. Trace hadn’t told his family that he was thinking of coaching next year. He said he wanted to be sure before getting anyone riled up over changing schedules and hiring more help for the ranch, but at least he was exploring it as a possibility.

  Jeb nodded, jaw tight. “If you have a boy, he could coach him one day.”

  “Mm-hm,” she agreed, though she was dying to say, We’re having a girl! Keeping their secret was torture. She’d almost blurted it out with Trixie yesterday when she stopped by the ranch to see Trace. She’d have to duct tape her mouth shut if she wasn’t careful.

  “He never should have g
iven up those scholarships,” Jeb said. “He had a promising career in football.”

  “I know. If I were a better person, I’d have broken up with him for good back then, so he’d have gone away to school. But I was selfish. I loved him too much.”

  “That wouldn’t have done it anyway.” Jeb turned toward her with a serious expression. “He’d never have left even if he believed you were really done with him. My brother doesn’t give up, and his love for you was too deep even back then. I knew it before he’d even graduated from high school. If he were JJ or Shane, I’d have thought differently. But Trace has always loved hard and forever. Ask him someday about Riviera.”

  “His old dog?” She knew he’d had a basset hound named Riviera when he was young.

  “Yeah. She got real sick, and my parents should have put her down. She was incontinent, could only eat if the food was pureed, and she’d whine so loud half the night she kept the whole family awake.” Jeb stared just past Brindle, as if he were reliving the memory. “Trace wouldn’t let them put her down. He couldn’t bear to say goodbye to her, so he made her diapers, pureed her food, and slept in the barn with her for a month, until she passed away in her sleep. He couldn’t have been older than eight or nine.”

  “Aw, he must have been heartbroken.”

  “He was, and after she died he scared the piss out of our parents. They thought he ran away in the middle of the night because he was so grief stricken. Our old man found him sleeping in the barn. The fool did that every night for a week until my father finally forbade him.” Jeb sighed heavily and said, “That love and loyalty goes for the people in his life—you, our family, friends—and for the work he does. Ranching is in his blood, Brindle, like my father and Shane, and to a point, Trixie. Although she’s got other dreams to fulfill. But Trace would be miserable if he didn’t work the ranch. What I hadn’t realized until these past few weeks when he started working with the kids was that he needs this in his life, too.”

  “Right?” was all Brindle could manage. “I’m so glad you see that!”

  He nodded. “He was a miserable son of a bitch while you were gone. When you two used to fight, working with the animals would get that ornery shit out of his system. But that wasn’t enough when you were gone. When I first heard he was helping Sin, I wondered if he’d be able to shake missing you enough to be patient with the kids. But it’s like being around them filled at least some of the gap you’d left behind.”

  “I’m sorry I left for so long, but we both needed to grow up.”

  “It’s been painful watching you two play games for so long. But I’m glad you’re both figuring it out.” Jeb slid his hands into his coat pockets and said, “He’s going to make a great father, and I hope he’ll keep this up, too.”

  As he headed for the sidelines, Brindle said, “I hope you’ll tell him that.”

  Jeb turned with an amused grin. “You think anyone can tell Trace anything that’ll make a difference?” He shook his head and said, “You are two stubborn peas in a pod. This has to be his idea, but you probably already figured that out.”

  Figured it out? As cheers rang out and the players barreled into Trace, hooting and hollering because they won the game, she wondered how she could have been such a fool. They really were two stubborn peas in a pod. She thought she’d been planting seeds about coaching, but she’d really shoved them down so deep they risked suffocation. She’d also thought escaping Oak Falls had given her the clarity she needed to find the answers she was looking for, but it turned out those answers were only a starting point.

  As the kids ran over to collect their snacks, Trace’s eyes locked on hers, and he grinned with his team’s victory. A familiar zing of heat skated through her veins, reminding her that their true answers could only be found through the power of #TeamTrindle.

  Chapter Sixteen

  TRACE COULD COUNT on many things in his small hometown, like gossip running thicker than sludge in a creek, a community that rallied together in hard times and came out in droves in celebration of events like the Turkey Trot, and unpredictable weather that could thwart one’s plans at a moment’s notice. Luckily it wasn’t snow they faced Thanksgiving morning, but an unusually warm, sunny day. Perfect weather for the 5K race, but not so perfect for the plans they had for their gender reveal. But his quick-thinking girlfriend had found a solution, and a little paint had done the trick.

  Trace’s brothers and friends stood with the crowd of runners beneath the enormous banner hanging over Main Street announcing the race and marking the start and finish lines. Usually, there were fall-colored balloons dancing above the banner, but this year the balloons were pink and blue with #TEAMTRINDLECOLT and #TEAMTRINDLEFILLY printed on them. Main Street Sweets, the local bakery, had set up tables along the sidewalk and were selling pink and blue lemonade, blueberry and strawberry pies, and pink and blue frosted cookies. Spectators and racers wore pink or blue shirts with the Trindle hashtags and matching wristbands. Hell, even Trace’s father sported a pink wristband, while his mother wore a blue one. While he and Brindle had planned to do their gender reveal at the end of the race, they’d had nothing to do with the balloons, bracelets, food, or T-shirts. They were both shocked to find themselves at the center of so much excitement.

  “Let’s go, Trace!” Beckett hollered, waving him over.

  Trace held up his finger. “Almost done, darlin’?” Brindle was pinning his number on the back of his shirt.

  “Yup.” She looked adorable in the new maternity jeans and top she’d bought with Grace and Morgyn. She’d gone shopping just in time. Rubber bands no longer did the trick. “You’re all set to win.”

  “Can you at least tell us how you’re going to do the reveal?” Trixie asked. She was sporting a bright pink and black flannel shirt tied at the waist and a matching pink wristband.

  “Nope,” Trace said, pulling Brindle into his arms. In the past, she’d walked the race to set a good example for her students, but this year she wanted to cheer Trace on, and he fucking loved that.

  “You suck,” Trixie said. “I’ll remember this when I have a secret you want to know.”

  Trace narrowed his eyes. “You have secrets?”

  Trixie, Lindsay, and Brindle laughed. He didn’t like the idea of Trixie having secrets, but he had bigger things on his mind than what secrets his sister was keeping. Mainly, winning this race and finally revealing the gender of their baby so his family would get off his back. His mother had tried to sweet-talk it out of him, while his brothers had tried to bully it out of him. His father had tried buddying up, sharing stories about when each of his children were born, trying to coax it out, father to father. While Trace loved having that new commonality with his father, he’d stayed strong and kept their secret. But it was Trixie’s efforts that had amused him the most. She’d tried a little of everything. She’d brought him cookies, called him names, and even offered to dish long-held secrets about Brindle. The thing was, he knew more about Brindle than Trixie—or anyone else—ever would. He didn’t cave.

  But he’d be glad when the time came for their big announcement, because he hated secrets almost as much as he’d hated being away from Brindle.

  “I still can’t get over how much everyone is pulling for us,” Trace said to Brindle.

  “I know. It’s crazy, isn’t it? I plan on taste testing the cookies while I’m cheering you on.” Brindle had been ravenous lately—in the kitchen and in the bedroom.

  “Did you have a hand in all this pink and blue, Lindsay?” Trace asked.

  “Who, me?” Lindsay’s feigned innocence gave her away.

  “Linds, as fabulous as this is, why didn’t you tell me?” Brindle asked.

  “Did you clue me in on the gender of your baby? See what happens when you mess with the party princess?” Lindsay said smugly. “But I can’t take full credit. I found an order form for the balloons on Nana’s kitchen counter. She and her partner in crime, Hellie, had already ordered them. That was my inspiration for
the bracelets and T-shirts. Once those were ordered, word spread fast. We had hundreds of orders before they were even made.”

  “I can’t believe you guys didn’t hear about it sooner,” Trixie said.

  Lindsay waved her hand and said, “That would be because of my threats. I told everyone who ordered one that if they let the cat out of the bag to Trace and Brindle, I’d not only never plan an event for them, but that I’d sabotage whatever events they held.”

  “Man, you’re vicious,” Trace said.

  “Attention, racers,” boomed from the speakers by the podium where the mayor was announcing the race. “Please take your places. The race will begin in exactly five minutes.”

  “Gotta jet, darlin’.” Trace kissed Brindle and said, “Wish me luck.”

  He noticed everyone around them lifting their phones, taking pictures of the two of them kissing. He didn’t know how he felt about pictures of him and Brindle all over social media, but heck, she was his, and any way he looked at it, people knowing about it was a damn good thing.

  “You don’t need luck,” Brindle said. “You’re already the winner in my book.”