by Judy Duarte
“My name is Jolene,” the nurse said, extending a manicured hand to her patient.
“George Grimes,” he said, offering her a big ol’ smile and giving her hand a shake.
Miranda had to stifle a chuckle.
But she just about lost it when George said, “Now that Jolene’s here, you guys had better get a move on. That rodeo is going to start soon, and they expect a big crowd. You don’t want to be late.”
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the county fairgrounds and found the parking lot nearly full.
George had been right. People were already filling the grandstands and lining up at the concession booths.
“The bigshots at Esteban Enterprises have to be happy about this crowd,” Miranda said to Matt, as Emily skipped beside them, her ponytail swishing across her back.
“I’m sure Drew Madison is thrilled. I haven’t seen him yet, but he’s here somewhere. And he’s probably eager to talk to me.”
Miranda knew why. When Drew learned that Matt had decided to end his bull-riding career, he offered him a job, and Matt told them he’d have to think about it.
“Have you made a decision yet?” she asked.
“Yes, but it’s not what they’re going to want to hear. Working for them would still require me to travel, and I’d rather stick closer to home. Besides, the doctor told George he’d better think about retirement. And I’d like to buy the ranch from him.”
“I can’t see that man sitting in a rocker all day. What would he do if he retired?”
Matt laughed. “Well, since he’d be a permanent resident at the Double G, I expect he’d follow me around all day and tell me what I should be doing differently.”
“Do you really want to run cattle?” she asked. “Not that it would matter to me. But you never wanted to before.”
“Actually, I’d rather raise rodeo stock. I have a lot of connections, and that would keep me in the thick of things, but I’d still be home for dinner most nights.”
“Speaking of connections,” she said, “it certainly looks as though your endorsement and personal promotional efforts were a success. Thanks in large part to you, both the Rocking Chair Ranch and Kidville will get sizable checks.”
“I’m glad. They’re both great charities and will put the money to good use.”
“Emily,” Miranda called to their daughter, who’d skipped a little too far ahead. “You’d better get back here before you lose us.”
When she didn’t respond, Matt released Miranda’s hand and went after their daughter and brought her back.
“They’re selling snacks,” Emily said. “Can I have a popcorn? And a lemonade?”
“Okay,” Matt said. “But first, I want to introduce you both to Jim Hoffman, one of the directors of Kidville. I just spotted him on the grassy area near the front entrance.”
A short walk and a minute later, Matt introduced Miranda to a round-faced heavyset man in his mid-to late-fifties.
“Jim,” he said, “this is Miranda Contreras, my soon-to-be wife and the CPA I told you about. And this is our daughter, Emily.”
Jim took Miranda’s hand, his nearly swallowing hers up, and gave it a warm and gentle squeeze. “I’m so happy to meet you. If you have time next week, I’d like you to come to Kidville and talk to my wife and me about going to work for us. Matt says you might have something else lined up, but we could sure use someone to conduct an audit before long.”
“I do have a couple of irons in the fire,” Miranda admitted. “But I’d be happy to help with that audit. I’d also like to stop by and see you next week. I’ve heard wonderful things about Kidville and the work you two have done.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Jim said. “It was nice meeting you, but you’ll have to excuse me. I need to look for my wife before she and the kids we brought with us find seats without me.”
“And I have to find a seat before my knee gives out on me,” Matt said. But he’d hardly turned toward the grandstand when he said, “Uh-oh. Getting off our feet will have to wait.” He pointed toward a parade of senior citizens, all men wearing Western wear and cowboy hats. Several rode in wheelchairs, and a couple pushed walkers.
An older cowboy, who still stood tall and strong, pushed one of the wheelchairs, while an attractive redhead in her sixties pushed another.
“Looks like Sam and Joy, the couple who run the Rocking Chair Ranch, have brought some of the retired cowboys with them. I’d better say hello.”
Miranda smiled to herself. One step forward, two steps back.
Moments later, Matt was introducing her to Sam and Joy.
“What’d you do?” Matt asked. “Rent a bus?”
“Just about,” Sam said. “Joy and I both drove, but we wouldn’t have been able to fit everyone who was able to attend into our cars. So some of the ladies from the Brighton Valley Women’s Club offered to help out.”
“Maybe, after you get the funds from the rodeo, you’ll be able to afford to buy a van.”
“That’s the plan,” Sam said.
“Hey, Sam!” one of the old men said. “If you don’t quit your yappin’, we’re going to miss the opening ceremony.”
Sam laughed. “I’ve got a rebellion on my hands. So I’d better go.”
As he and the old cowboys headed toward the stands, Miranda gave Matt’s hand a tug. “And you’d better sit down.”
“You got that right.”
But before they made any forward progress at all, Matt paused and pointed toward the entrance with his free hand. “Look who’s here.”
When she spotted her dad, her breath caught. “I didn’t expect to see him show up.”
“Neither did I.”
Her father headed toward them, looking solemn—but not angry.
“Abuelito!” Emily, who’d just realized her grandfather had arrived, darted toward him, clearly happy to see him. He stooped to greet her with a smile and a hug, followed by a kiss on the cheek.
When Emily took her grandfather by the hand and led him to her parents, he said, “I hoped I’d find you here.”
“What’s up?” Miranda asked.
“I need to apologize,” he told Matt. “But under the circumstances, saying ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t seem adequate.”
Maybe not, but it was a start.
“I also want you to know that I’m turning over a new leaf. It might not be easy. Old habits are hard to break, but I’m sure going to try. I’ve already met with an anger management counselor, and I like her. I’m going to see her again next week.”
“Thank you,” Miranda said, glad that he’d listened, that he’d followed through.
“I wasn’t sure when you two were getting married,” her dad added. “All Miranda said was soon, so I wanted to make sure I got an invitation.”
“We’re getting married at the Brighton Valley Community Church at two o’clock next Saturday,” Matt said. “It’ll be a small wedding, since we don’t want to wait any longer than we have to.”
“I hope you’ll be there,” Miranda said.
“I wouldn’t miss it, mija.”
“Good.” Miranda gave her father a hug. He held onto her a bit longer than she’d expected, but she could sense his repentance in the embrace. When he finally let her go, he managed a sheepish smile.
Then he turned to Matt. “How’s your uncle?”
“He’s at home, recovering. But he looks good and says he feels better than he has in years. We would have gotten married already, but we both want him to be there.”
“I’m not going to be a flower girl,” Emily said. “I get to be a bridesmaid. And tomorrow, Mom and I are going shopping to buy my dress.”
“I can’t wait to see you wearing it,” he said. “You’re going to be as pretty as your mama.”
Emily reached for her grandfather’s hand, then loo
ked at Matt. “Can we get the lemonade now? I’ve been waiting a long time.”
“And patiently,” Matt said. “So yes, let’s go.”
With her free hand, she reached for her daddy, joining the men with her love and innocence, rather than the animosity that had separated them for years.
“By the way,” Miranda’s father said. “I’m moving the main office back to Brighton Valley. I figure you’ll probably want to stay home with the baby after he’s born, but your job will be ready for you when he gets older.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. But we’ll have to see what happens.”
Her father tilted his head, no doubt surprised by her comment.
“Just so you aren’t blindsided,” she said, “I’ve been talking to Hazel Jorgenson, the owner of the Brighton Valley Pharmacy. I want to help her get the soda fountain up and running again. We think we can turn it into a local landmark.”
Her father blinked, clearly surprised by her plan, but he didn’t object. And after a couple of beats, he said, “I hope things work out for you.”
As they neared the concession stand, Miranda’s father surprised her yet again.
“Emily,” he said, “college has always been important to me. I know it’s still a long time off for you, but I’ve set up educational trusts for you and your little brother so the money will be there for you. But if either or both of you decide you’d rather take another career path, I’ll support your decisions.”
Miranda’s eyes filled with tears, something that seemed to be happening a lot lately, and she mouthed a silent Thank you to the first man she’d ever loved.
“The trust is flexible,” her father said. “That means you can use the money to buy a house or start a business instead.”
“I’m definitely going to college,” Emily said. “I have to because I’m going to be a veterinarian. So I can use the money for that. But if there’s any left over, can I use it for my rescue center?”
“You bet you can, mija. I had no idea you liked animals so much, even when you introduced me to all the ones living on the ranch.”
“I love them. And guess what? Tomorrow my daddy is taking me to buy another lamb. Remember when I showed you Bob and told you I wanted to get him a wife? Well, it’s going to be a girl lamb, and I’m going to name her Betty. Then they can have babies.”
Her grandfather laughed. “I guess it’s a good thing that you live on a ranch and not in the city.”
“Yep.” Emily released both of the men’s hands so she could get in line.
Miranda couldn’t believe the way her life had finally fallen into place. Sure, there were bound to be trials and setbacks. But nothing that love and family couldn’t overcome.
She eased toward Matt and slipped her hand in his. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
He pulled her into his arms. “A couple of times, but not nearly enough.”
Then he kissed her—right then and there, for all the world to see.
Epilogue
On Saturday afternoon, Matt stood beside the altar at the Brighton Valley Community Church in black jeans, a white Western shirt and a bolo tie, waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle. His old high school buddies, Clay Masters and Adam Santiago, stood with him—best men in every sense of the words.
Uncle George took a seat of honor in the front row, across from the pew where Miranda’s father would sit after giving his daughter to Matt.
George obviously couldn’t be happier to see the two people he loved the most in the world finally tie the knot. In fact, last night, he’d surprised them both by giving them a quitclaim deed to the ranch—his wedding gift to them.
“The only thing I’m not deeding over to you is my bedroom,” George had said. “Because I aim to live on the Double G until I die—or until you move me to the Rocking Chair Ranch.
“That’s a promise,” Matt told him.
Matt had invited his father and stepmother to attend the wedding, something Miranda had encouraged him to do. It hadn’t taken much prodding, though. After all, this was the time for family harmony, forgiveness and second chances. His dad actually seemed pleased to hear the news and congratulated him.
“We’d be happy to attend,” his dad had said. “But we’re leaving on a cruise the night before. Can I make it up to you by taking you and Miranda to dinner when we get back?”
“Sure,” Matt told him.
Because of his father’s absence, Clay’s wife Erica sat beside George. Next to her was her sister Elena and Drew Madison, Elena’s husband.
Adam’s wife Julie, who was a music therapist and a whiz on just about any instrument imaginable, sat at the church piano. As she began to play the wedding march, signaling that the bride would soon walk down the aisle, Matt’s heart soared in anticipation. It had been a long, nine year wait, but Miranda would soon be his wife.
Emily, who wore a pretty yellow dress and held a bouquet of daisies, began to walk toward the altar first. Her bright-eyed smile and dimpled grin just about turned Matt inside out. But when he spotted the pregnant brunette walking behind her, his breath caught. Miranda, the love of his life, the mother of his children.
His eyes grew misty. Damn. He wasn’t a softy. He never cried. But this was different. Today was different. He’d never felt so many powerful, nearly overwhelming emotions—love, happiness, pride, hope....
Carlos smiled as he handed over his daughter’s hand, clearly—finally—accepting Matt into his family—and finding him to be a man worthy of his daughter.
As Matt and Miranda turned to face the minister, Matt squeezed Miranda’s hand, letting her know that they were bound together.
Not just for this moment, but forever.
* * *
Look for these titles from
USA TODAY bestselling author Judy Duarte’s
Rocking Chair Rodeo miniseries
The Soldier’s Twin Surprise
The Lawman’s Convenient Family
Available now wherever
Harlequin Special Edition books
and ebooks are sold.
Keep reading for an excerpt from It Started with a Pregnancy by Christy Jeffries.
Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Special Edition story.
You know that romance is for life. Harlequin Special Edition stories show that every chapter in a relationship has its challenges and delights and that love can be renewed with each turn of the page.
Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Special Edition every month!
Visit www.Harlequin.com to find your next great read.
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Join Harlequin My Rewards and reward the book lover in you!
Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever and whenever you shop.
Turn your points into FREE BOOKS of your choice
OR
EXCLUSIVE GIFTS from your favorite authors or series.
Click here to join for FREE
Or visit us online to register at
www.HarlequinMyRewards.com
Harlequin My Rewards is a free program (no fees) without any commitments or obligations.
It Started with a Pregnancy
by Christy Jeffries
Chapter One
Rebekah Taylor stared at the pregnancy test in her hand. How could it
be positive? They’d used protection, one of the condoms she’d gotten as a gag gift from a friend’s bachelorette party a couple of years ago. Sure, the thing had been an embarrassing shade of glittery pink, but it should have worked in the heat of the moment.
Except it hadn’t.
Had the condom expired? Rebekah glanced at the reflection of her wide, panic-filled eyes in the mirrored medicine cabinet. Every six months she methodically went through all her kitchen and bathroom cupboards and threw out everything that was even close to its expiration date.
How had she missed something as important as this? Sighing, she slouched lower on the toilet seat. Probably because she’d hidden the little heart-shaped box in a back corner of her nightstand drawer, where it was out of sight and out of mind. It probably would’ve stayed in its hiding spot indefinitely if she hadn’t been so desperate.
And so lonely.
Although, at least she’d had a condom to start with, unlike the carefree Grant Whitaker, who’d come to her house unprepared for a one-night stand eight weeks ago. Not that either one of them had been expecting things to get physical that night.
In fact, Rebekah hadn’t been able to stand the guy the first few times he’d visited Spring Forest, North Carolina. Flying in from Florida in his board shorts and T-shirts and flip-flops every couple of months, he looked more like a surf instructor than any kind of business professional.
And the weird thing was, for such a relaxed-looking guy, he’d always watched Rebekah like a hawk. She was the director of Furever Paws, his elderly aunts’ nonprofit organization, yet he constantly kept his eye on her—as though he expected she would stuff her pockets full of dog biscuits and sneak them into the puppy kennels if his back was turned. Of course, he was pretty much like that with everyone who worked at the shelter. Everyone who wasn’t family, at least. The guy was undoubtedly protective of his relatives.
“Nobody would mistake you for being a part of the Whitaker family,” she told her reflection. As a biracial woman with an African American mother and an Irish American father, Rebekah’s deep bronze skin and black, springy curls were a stark contrast to Grant’s lighter, sun-kissed complexion and wavy blond hair. Would their baby favor one of them over the other? Or would their child be blessed with the best of both gene sets. “Stop it!” she commanded herself. She’d barely known about the pregnancy for three minutes and already she was letting her emotions overrule her logic.