She held out her hand. “Does it have anything to do with this?”
He stared at the ring in surprise. “You found it?”
“I was straightening up. It fell out of your pocket.”
He grinned. “And you assumed it was meant for you?”
She scowled. “And who else would it have been meant for?”
“Maybe some woman who knows her own mind.”
“I know my own mind.”
“Do you?”
“Always have.” She circled his waist with her arms and held on, relishing the sense of security that swept over her. “It just took me a while to figure out I could trust my own judgment. I have had reason to question it, you know.”
“You can trust yourself this time, darlin’. I will love you till my dying breath, Patsy Longhorn. I will never hurt you. I will treat Billy as if he were my own and I will make absolutely sure that we have a house crawling with brothers and sisters for him, if that’s what you want.”
“Oh, it is definitely what I want,” she assured him. She gazed into his eyes. “No doubt about it.”
He lifted her hand and admired the ring that fit perfectly. “You stole my thunder. I was going to ask you last night,” he said. “But you had other plans for the evening.”
“I didn’t hear any complaints at the time.”
“No way. Now, though, I want your full attention. No funny business, okay?”
“Okay.”
He surveyed her from the open collar of his shirt to her bare thighs. She could feel the heat of his gaze everywhere it touched.
“Maybe you ought to get dressed.”
She grinned. “My choices are pretty limited. It’s this shirt, the negligee or the raincoat.”
He groaned. “Never mind. I’ll just have to concentrate a little harder.”
“Can’t remember what you had in mind?” She waved the ring under his nose, then dropped it into his palm. “Does it have anything to do with this?”
Justin looked as if he’d never seen the diamond engagement ring before in his life. “This? Yeah.”
His reaction, his inability to focus on anything but her couldn’t have pleased her more. Will had always acted as if half his attention was on a speech he had to make later in the day.
“How about the future?” she coached. “Does it have anything to do with that?”
“You’re beautiful, you know that.”
“The future, together, you and me,” she persisted, refusing to allow him to distract her, too.
“Mmm-hmm,” he said, and reached for her.
Sometime later, Justin finally managed to get out the words and get the ring on her finger, but the moment was almost anticlimactic. She’d given him her answer long before, in his arms, when she’d murmured yes over and over in his ear. And one day soon, when her divorce was final, the whole world would know, too.
* * *
The wedding plans had been taken completely out of her hands the very instant the divorce decree was final, but for once Patsy wasn’t feeling the least bit defensive about losing control over her life. It gave her more time to spend with Justin and Billy, more time to indulge in the incredible romantic fantasy her life had become.
Watching her son with his prospective stepdaddy always brought a lump to her throat. And listening to Will explain to Billy that he would always be his daddy, but that it was okay with him if Billy loved Justin did bring tears to her eyes.
“Thank you,” she told Will as he walked to his car after his visit.
“You deserve to be happy. Your being happy will insure that Billy’s happy, too. How could I want anything less for my son?” He gazed into her eyes. “There’s something I need to thank you for, too.”
“What’s that?”
“For snapping me back to reality and for agreeing to let Billy spend time with me and my family while you’re on your honeymoon. I think it’s time both of us learned something about our roots.”
“You’ve always known who you were, Will. You just got lost for a little while.”
He grinned sheepishly. “Well, that’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.” He gave her a peck on the cheek. “Good luck, sweetheart. I think you’re getting a better deal this time around.”
Patsy didn’t say it, but she knew she was. Her gaze lifted just in time to see Justin coming toward them. Will turned slowly and met Justin’s gaze steadily.
“Make her happy,” he said.
“I intend to.”
“Okay, then, I’ll see you two tomorrow night, right after the wedding reception.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Patsy said.
“You’d be welcome,” Justin added.
Will seemed startled by the sincerity of the gesture. “No, but thanks. Patsy ought to start her new life without a reminder from her old one staring her in the face.”
He got into his car then and drove away, leaving Patsy staring after him, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe he’s not such a bad person, after all. Maybe it was just the circumstances and the timing.”
“I don’t know about that,” Justin said. “The only timing I’m concerned about now is seeing to it you make it to the church on time tomorrow.”
“Sharon Lynn is staying with me. Janet has a timetable posted on the refrigerator door. There’s no way I’ll be late,” she promised.
Of course, she hadn’t counted on getting stopped for speeding halfway to the chapel. Even as she hit the brakes, she glanced at the speedometer and noted that she was barely exceeding the posted speed limit.
Ready for an argument, she glanced up into Tate’s amused eyes.
“Going somewhere in a hurry, aren’t you?”
“You do realize if you keep me out here on the side of the road, I will be late and Justin will worry and the whole family will get in on the act?”
He grinned. “Which is why I decided to be your escort. I don’t want any other law enforcement officer coming along and delaying this wedding.”
She regarded him curiously. “Why is my marrying Justin so important to you?”
“Because the second you get back from your honeymoon, I’m going to follow Doc Dolan down to the Gulf Coast and spend the rest of my days fishing. Already have my place picked out and my wife’s chomping at the bit to get going.”
“Which means what for Justin?”
“That he’ll be sheriff, if he wants the job.”
“Have you told him that?”
“Nope. It’s my wedding present. I’ll tell him at the reception.”
Patsy grinned. “It’s better than another blender, I’ll give you that.”
“Come on, then, girl. We’re wasting time. If you’re late, Harlan Adams will have the state troopers, the Texas Rangers and Lord knows who else out here looking for you.”
When they reached the church, Justin was indeed pacing around outside, with his grandfather right on his heels. The pair of them glared at Tate, who wisely scooted inside without getting dragged into a discussion over his role in her delayed arrival.
“You can go on in now, Grandpa. The wedding’s about to start,” Justin said, his relief evident.
When they were alone, he scowled at her. “I ought to have you arrested, you know.”
“For what? I haven’t done anything.”
“Sure you have. You stole my heart.”
Patsy reached up and cupped his face in her hands. “For a lawman, you sure do have a way with words.”
And then she kissed him, which was why, forever after, everyone in Los Piños would talk about the fact that Justin Adams kissed his bride before the wedding and almost never made it to the chapel at all.
* * *
The Unclaimed Baby
Contents
Chapter One
Ch
apter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter One
Sleet slashed through the bitter cold February night. A few hours from now it was expected to turn to snow, layering over ice in a way that would leave the roads treacherous. Sharon Lynn stood in the doorway at Dolan’s Drugstore and shivered, even though it was plenty warm inside. It was Friday night at eight, an hour when the store should have been closed, but she’d taken to keeping it open later and later. It meant she didn’t have to go home to an empty house, didn’t have to go to sleep and face the nightmares.
Even though months had passed, the images came back whenever she closed her eyes. The bright headlights glaring into her eyes, weaving across the center line of the quiet country road. The screaming crunch of metal against metal, then just the screaming. Her own and Kyle’s.
And then just her own.
That summer night had been clear, with a vibrant sprinkling of stars and a glorious full moon. No danger on the road then, except for a man who’d had too much to drink.
She had been married for little more than a split second when the tragedy struck. It had been their wedding night, a night she had been anticipating and dreaming about for years, it seemed. She was finally Mrs. Kyle Mason and the rest of their lives was spread out ahead of them, a storybook future with a houseful of kids and her wonderful family nearby. In the Adams clan, family meant everything and she’d been waiting a long time to start her own.
Then, in the blink of an eye, her marriage was over and she was alone again. Worse, she had been driving the car, and even though the accident was another driver’s fault, Sharon Lynn had been consumed with guilt and grief ever since, wondering if there hadn’t been something—anything—she could have done to prevent it. For weeks it had taken every bit of strength she had just to propel herself out of bed.
Buying Dolan’s, where she had worked for years and where her mother had worked during her tumultuous relationship with Sharon Lynn’s daddy before their wedding, had given her a reason for getting up in the morning, but it had done nothing to heal her broken heart.
She had been in love with Kyle Mason forever. An honest, decent man, he had bought a ranch that neighbored the family spread at White Pines. Then he had quietly and persistently courted Sharon Lynn, consuming enough milk shakes at Dolan’s that it was a wonder he’d been able to stand the sight of them. Once he’d caught her attention, there had been no turning back.
But when it came to getting to the altar, one thing after another had delayed their vows until that fateful night.
After waiting patiently for marriage, only to have it snatched away from her in a heartbeat, Sharon Lynn had finally concluded that she was not destined for either romance or the family she had always dreamed of. She had resigned herself to a quiet, lonely existence—if it was possible to be lonely with an entire clan of Adamses on her doorstep daily with one feeble excuse or another. Cheering up grief-stricken Sharon Lynn had become the family’s mission. All the attention was wearing her out.
She wasn’t the one deserving of pity, though. It was Kyle, barely thirty when he’d been killed. She shuddered and forced the memory of that night aside. The guilt, however, wouldn’t budge, despite what everyone had said. The official sheriff’s report had exonerated her completely. Her cousin Justin, who’d been on the scene in the horrible aftermath of the collision, was a by-the-book kind of deputy. If there’d been any question of her guilt, though he would have hated laying the blame on her doorstep, he would have done it. Knowing that, she should have been able to rest easy, but she couldn’t.
Even all these long months later and despite her best intentions, the images crowded back, refusing to be ignored. She’d still been wearing her wedding dress, her beautiful silk-and-lace gown, but by then it had been torn and spattered with blood. Her husband’s blood. When her cousins had wanted to get rid of it, she’d refused to let them. It was packed away in the attic as a grim reminder of what might have been. Someday she would have to let it—and the memories—go.
“Oh, God,” she murmured as tears streaked down her cheeks. When were the memories going to blur? When would this unbearable, soul-sick pain stop?
Blinded to everything except her own internal misery, it took a blast of icy air from the unexpected opening of the door to snap her out of it. She hadn’t even seen the man approaching, hadn’t expected anyone to be out on such a cold and furious night. She glanced up to meet worried brown eyes flecked with gold.
“What’s a pretty lady like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” he asked in the easy way of a man to whom flirting was second nature. The words were barely out of his mouth when the crooked smile faded from his lips and worry creased his brow. He stepped closer and skimmed a knuckle down her cheek. “Tears? Darlin’, are you okay?”
There was a gentleness to his voice that soothed, even as alarm flared at the startling way that touch awakened her senses. She looked him over—from the curling black hair damp with rain to the soaked sheepskin jacket, rain-streaked jeans and well-worn boots. Despite the kindness in his voice, there was a hardness to him, not just to his lean body, but in his eyes. It was an intriguing combination, a dangerous one. That must be why her pulse was ricocheting all over the place.
Was he a would-be robber, checking to make sure she was all alone before seizing every penny in the cash register? Her imagination roared off down a frightening path.
Let him try, she thought fiercely, thinking of the gun that Justin had insisted she keep in the store if she was determined to hang around here alone until all hours of the night. She was a better shot than most of the family and not a one of them missed what they aimed for. Of course, there wasn’t much cash worth killing over. She’d taken most of it to the night-drop at the bank just before the new pharmacist had left for the evening.
She scowled up at the man, saw then the exhaustion in his eyes, the stubble on his cheeks, the sensuality of a mouth beginning another slow curve into a disarming smile that softened the harsh angles of his face. What she missed was any hint of a real threat. Whatever this man’s story, it seemed evident to her that he meant her no harm. His concern struck her as genuine, as impulsive and automatic as his smile.
Satisfied, she met his grin with one of her own and briskly wiped away the last traces of her tears with an impatient swipe.
“I was just debating whether to close up,” she said, turning back inside and heading for the lunch counter, which was her domain even though she owned the whole place now. A few months back she’d hired a pharmacist and a teenager to work the rest of the store once Doc Dolan had retired and headed off to the Gulf Coast of Texas. “I didn’t expect anyone to be out on a night like this. You startled me.”
“Sorry. I’ve been on the road all day. When I saw the sign and the lights on, I was thinking more about my empty stomach than I was about whether I might scare you to death. If you need to close up, I can go somewhere else.”
Sharon Lynn heard the underlying thread of disappointment in his voice and watched his gaze settling on the stale doughnuts left over from morning. She could toss those in a bag, give them to him with a takeout cup of coffee and he’d be on his way. The idea held no appeal, not when it would mean empty, lonely hours ahead. These days she was eager to snatch a few moments of companionship wherever she could find it.
“I’m in no rush,” she said quickly. “I still have some soup that’s hot and I can rustle up
a hamburger or a grilled cheese and fries. I doubt you’d find anyplace else in town open on a night like this. Los Piños tends to shut down early when the weather’s bad. Nobody likes driving on the icy roads.”
“What about you?”
“I don’t drive,” she said and left it at that. She hadn’t been behind the wheel of a car since the night of the accident. In fact, she’d moved into her cousin Dani’s old house in town, just so she could walk to work. When she wanted to go out to visit the family at White Pines, there was always one relative or another around who could take her. There was no place else she needed to go.
She ladled up a bowl of homemade vegetable soup and set it on the counter in front of him. “Now, what else can I get for you?”
“A couple of cheeseburgers and fries, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
Mind? Not if it would keep her here a few minutes longer, provide a welcome distraction from her grim memories. Her inability to shake them earlier indicated tonight they were going to be worse than usual.
“Coming right up,” she told him. Her innate curiosity and friendliness kicked in. “What brings you to Los Piños?”
“A job,” he said. “My name’s Cord Branson. I’ve heard there’s an opening on a ranch around here. It’s a place called White Pines. Maybe you know the owners.”
Sharon Lynn grinned and relaxed, the last of her fears vanishing. “I ought to. White Pines belongs to my grandfather, Harlan Adams. My father—his name’s Cody Adams—and my brother, Harlan Patrick, run it.” She held out her hand. “I’m Sharon Lynn.”
“Well, I’ll be a son of a gun,” he said, grasping her hand in his and holding it just a shade longer than necessary, long enough to remind her of that earlier tingle of awareness.
“First I meet a beautiful lady and then I find out she’s related to the folks I hope to work for,” he said. “Looks like this is my lucky night, after all. Do you mind telling me about the place?”
“Of course not.” She described the ranch with the affection of someone who’d grown up roaming its vast acreage. “You’ll never see any place more beautiful, if you don’t mind land that’s a little rugged. Grandpa Harlan inherited it when the house was crumbling and the herd of cattle had dwindled down to almost nothing. His daddy wasn’t meant to be a rancher, I suppose. At any rate, now it’s one of the biggest operations in the state.”
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