by Carly Bloom
“Aw, cut out the jealous shit, JD. You’re gay now, remember?” Bubba said.
JD yanked on the brim of his hat. “Yes, I remember, and I’m not gay now—”
“Well, that didn’t last long, did it?” Bubba said.
Maggie wanted to scream. “All of you get out! None of this is any of your business. Travis and I are done. Got it? We are done.”
“This shit sucks,” Bubba said. “After losing Happy Trails, I’m not sure Travis can handle losing you, too. He was even blubbering about Scott and Henry. The poor man thinks he’s losing everything.”
“One thing at a time,” JD said. “He’s not going to lose Henry. And no matter how pissed off she is, he’s not losing Maggie either.” Maggie started to protest, but JD glared her into silence. “What’s this about Happy Trails though?”
Maggie’s heart jumped to her throat. No matter how she felt about Travis being the wolf, he and Henry didn’t deserve to lose the ranch.
“It was auctioned off yesterday,” Bubba said. “Gerome bought it.”
Claire gasped. “Daddy bought Happy Trails? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Bubba shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what Travis said.”
“That can’t be true,” Maggie said. Travis hadn’t paid the back taxes yet, but would Gerome really take advantage of someone when he was down? Someone who’d been working so hard to dig out? Maggie wrung her hands. It didn’t add up. Gerome wasn’t that kind of man.
Although she’d recently learned she was a piss-poor judge of character.
“I’m going over there to find out what’s really going on,” she announced.
“Wait! I’m coming with you,” Claire said. “Norbert and Kristen can mind the store.”
“I’m coming, too,” JD said.
Bubba put the ornaments he was holding back on the shelf. “Oh, hell. Me, too.”
* * *
With effort, Travis peeled his lips apart. Next, he forced his eyes open. They felt full of sand, but unless it was a mirage, they were staring at a cup of water. And Tylenol. God bless Lupe.
With a groan, he sat up and popped the pills, downed the water. Yesterday played back like a nightmare. He’d lost the motherfucking ranch. How much time would they have to move out? And how was he going to tell Henry?
The bedroom door flew open. Travis closed his eyes and covered his ears.
“Uncle Travis, come see the tree!” Henry shouted.
“Talk softly, Henry. I have a headache.”
Henry whispered, “Come see the tree.”
“Okay,” Travis whispered back. “Let me get dressed.”
He didn’t have the slightest interest in the tree. But he wanted Henry to be happy and carefree for as long as possible, so he’d pretend.
He managed to piss, brush the fur off his teeth, and get a pair of jeans on. Grabbing a T-shirt would involve bending over to open a drawer, so he’d go without.
The smell of strong coffee greeted him at the bottom of the stairs, and Lupe placed a mug in his hand. Holiday shit was everywhere—decorations, photos, an obnoxious musical Christmas village—and it dang near broke his heart. The place finally looked (and felt) like a home. A real home. The ones he used to see on TV.
They’d never had a tree at Christmastime. Christmas morning had dawned like every other, with Ben Blake hung over and Travis and Scott fighting over toaster waffles.
“Looks like Santa’s elves were busy last night,” he said, clearing his throat of whatever was making it difficult to speak.
“It wasn’t elves. It was us!” Henry said. “You gots to help us put the angel on top.”
“I have to help you put the angel on top.”
“I know. That’s what I said.”
Lupe touched Travis’s arm. “Come into the kitchen, mijo. Let’s talk.”
The kitchen was warm from the oven. Lupe had made cinnamon rolls, and even though his stomach wasn’t in top form, the smell made Travis’s mouth water. He reached for one, but Lupe slapped his hand.
“Are you loco? Not good for a hangover.”
She grabbed a container out of the refrigerator and stuck it in the microwave. “I went to Rosie’s Cocina this morning and picked this up for you. I’d have made it myself, but I didn’t know you were going to need it.”
Travis inhaled. Dear God. The woman was going to force-feed him menudo.
The microwave dinged, and he instinctively checked his phone for a text. Nothing from Maggie. It was over. Everything was over.
Lupe set a bowl and spoon in front of him. “Here you go.”
He’d never tasted menudo. He didn’t reckon himself for a tripe fan. But he knew not to mess with Lupe, especially where food was concerned, so he took a small sip. And it tasted pretty good. The second spoonful was even better. And surprisingly, his stomach was settling down, too.
“Good, right?”
He nodded. Maybe he’d get through this bowl before giving Lupe the bad news.
“I read the notice,” Lupe said. “About the auction. Do you know who bought it?”
“It was Gerome.”
He expected Lupe’s face to reflect the same range of emotions that coursed through him, but she just nodded her head and made a little sound to indicate she wasn’t surprised. Was Travis the only one who’d misjudged Gerome’s character? The man was a sneaky, slimy bastard.
“Uncle Travis!” Henry shouted.
Travis winced.
“JD’s truck is here, and a bunch of people are getting out. Oh! It’s Maggie!”
“Shit.” Travis jumped up from the table, heart pounding. He needed a shirt. He needed shoes. He needed—
“Hi, Maggie!”
Henry had already let them in. Talk about feeling exposed. Travis entered the crowded living room like he was on an episode of Naked and Afraid. What were they all doing here? His eyes settled on Maggie. She stared at him like she was seeing a ghost. Her cheeks turned pink, followed predictably by her ears. What was she thinking about? Thanksgiving night? The night in the shed? His betrayal?
“I told them about the ranch,” Bubba admitted.
“How did you know about it?”
“Everybody at Tony’s knows about it,” Bubba said. “You’re quite the showman. And they also know about your deep and meaningful feelings for Maggie and something about a spreader bar.”
Maggie gasped, and the ears went to Code Red. Travis was pretty sure he was blushing, too, and he had no beard to cover it up. JD pulled his hat down low, shading the upper half of his face, but his grin was clearly visible.
“What’s a spreader bar?” Henry asked.
Jesus. This was great. Travis glared at Bubba.
Bubba shrugged. “They’re for lifting engines and other heavy stuff.” Bubba gave Travis one of his poker face winks before adding, “The tractor supply place on the highway has some.”
Henry had already quit listening, especially since Lupe was holding out a cinnamon roll. “Come into the kitchen, little one. I’ll get you some cocoa to go with this.” She paused at the door. “My cousin, Herman, works at the tractor place. He’ll give you a good deal on the bar.”
Wonderful. Travis was soon to be the proud owner of something used to lift tractor engines, right before he presumably moved into an efficiency apartment in Austin.
Maggie grinned at him, but then covered it up with her hand. Hope sparked in his heart. She was here, wasn’t she? Her big, brown mood ring eyes couldn’t seem to decide between concern, irritation, and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He went to rub his beard and realized it was gone. Oh. Maybe that was the thing he couldn’t put his finger on. Recognition. Maggie was looking at the Big Bad Lying Wolf.
“Maybe you can buy this place back from Gerome,” Bubba said, reminding Travis that there were other people in the room.
“With what? Do you know what this place is worth? I can’t even afford the taxes on it.”
“We’ll figure something out,”
JD said. “Maybe a loan—”
“Someone else is here,” Bubba said. “Man, you know how to host a fucking party, Travis.”
Claire peeked through the curtains. “It’s my dad.”
Gerome Kowalski had come to take the ranch.
* * *
Every cell in Maggie’s body cried Wolf! And judging from the stirring in her heart—and nether regions—they didn’t feel a bit betrayed. Her mind, however, was another story.
Travis was pale, clearly hungover, and half naked. He shouldn’t face Gerome that way. “Go put on a shirt,” she whispered.
His eyes searched hers, probably looking for clues as to whether she’d decided he was friend or foe. But she didn’t have any to offer up. Not when she was in such turmoil. “Go,” she repeated.
Travis bolted up the stairs just as Claire opened the door. “Daddy? Did you have to come so soon?”
Gerome enveloped Claire in a hug. “It’s nearly noon. What are you doing here, sweetheart? Your mama’s going to be upset that she didn’t come along.”
Yeah. Because if you’re going to rip someone’s home out of their hands, why not bring the whole family?
Claire closed the door, and Gerome, wearing a bewildered expression, glanced around the room. “Looks like I walked in on a party,” he said. “A sad one.”
Lupe came out of the kitchen and offered to take Gerome’s coat, which he handed over, along with his hat and a tub of homemade pecan pralines from Claire’s mom.
Who did that? Who offered candy in exchange for a family’s ranch? This was some seriously weird business, and Maggie didn’t dare open her mouth for fear of what might come out of it.
Gerome shook hands with Bubba and JD, both of whom were appropriately curt. Claire, who looked like she’d just discovered her dad had killed Santa, wrung her hands while blinking back tears.
Everyone parted like the Red Sea as Travis came down the stairs. Gerome held out his hand. “Howdy, son.”
Travis was fully dressed in Wranglers, a long-sleeved shirt—pressed and starched—and the square-toe boots. Clean-shaven, clipped hair. He looked like a cowboy.
He looked like her wolf.
Travis smiled and shook Gerome’s hand as if he were a welcome guest. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“Already had my two cups.” Gerome glanced around with apprehension wrinkling his forehead. “Can we go into the kitchen to speak in private?”
Claire stepped forward. “Daddy, whatever you have to say to Travis, you can say in front of us.”
JD and Bubba nodded, and JD topped it off with a vicious yank on the brim of his hat, a gesture that could possibly be interpreted as a direct threat.
Gerome shook his head as if trying to clear it of cobwebs and glanced longingly at the couch. “Why don’t we all have a seat?”
Bubba took the recliner, leaning back and sighing as if maybe he’d take a nap after Travis was done losing his ranch. JD and Claire took the other two chairs, and Gerome sat on the couch.
Maggie stood next to Travis. She could feel the heat radiating off him. He looked calm and collected, but she knew better.
“I’m not sure how all this is supposed to work, Gerome,” Travis said.
Gerome sat up straighter on the couch. “That’s what I came to discuss.”
Travis cleared his throat. “I’m hoping, on account of Henry, that we can remain in the house through the holidays. Then we’ll be on our way.”
“What kind of a man do you think I am?” Gerome asked. He stood, joints creaking. “Of course I want you to stay in the house through the holidays. And after.”
“I don’t understand,” Travis said. “Didn’t you buy Happy Trails?”
“No. I paid off the taxes and now I own the lien. According to the state of Texas, you’ve got two years to reclaim the property.” He walked over to Travis and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What I did, son, was buy you some time.”
Henry ran into the room and threw his arms around Gerome’s legs. “Hi, Mr. K! I didn’t know you was here.”
“Were here,” Maggie said.
Henry made bug eyes at her. “He’s still here, ain’t he?”
“Isn’t he,” Travis said.
“Is there an echo in here?” Henry shouted, sounding just like Lupe.
Travis picked Henry up. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and searched for words—probably trying to soak in what he’d just heard. Finally, he said, “Why would you do this, Gerome? Why would you spend so much of your own money just to buy me some more time?”
“Well, now, before you go making me a hero, you should know there’s a bit of interest involved. But I did it because every boy deserves a chance to be a real cowboy.” He pinched Henry’s nose, and Henry erupted in giggles.
Travis nodded and ruffled Henry’s hair. “Henry deserves a lot of things.”
“That he does,” Gerome said. “But I was talking about you.”
* * *
Travis stood on the porch and watched Gerome drive away. The others, including Maggie, had left earlier, leaving Gerome and Travis alone to discuss the details.
Two years. He had two years to pay off the lien plus interest, and with what he’d already managed to save, it wouldn’t take him nearly that long. But Gerome had suggested Travis wait the entire two years—plus one day. Happy Trails would then legally belong to Gerome, and he could sell it back to Travis without Scott’s name being on the deed.
Travis wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. He wanted to be free of Scott, but he didn’t want to swindle him. Gerome had scoffed. Said he knew Scott’s type and Travis wasn’t doing him any favors by giving him money. But he’d agreed to help figure out a fair way to reimburse Scott for his half of the ranch, minus what Scott owed in rent, his share of back taxes, and of course, child support for the past five years.
It would still be a lot of money. But Travis had big dreams for Happy Trails, and he was going after them full throttle.
And those dreams included Henry and Maggie.
He went upstairs and retrieved the phone he kept in his nightstand drawer. Maggie had shown up today. She still had feelings for him. He just knew it. What they had was real, and even if it had started off with role playing and a fictitious once upon a time, Travis hoped it would end with a very real happily ever after.
The Big Bad Wolf was going to send Little Red Riding Hood one more text.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Travis leaned against the workbench and admired his handiwork. Bright twinkling lights hung from the shed’s rafters. Softly glowing candles surrounded the champagne and glasses he’d set on a small folding table. He clenched a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses—Claire’s creation—tightly in his hand. He’d even ordered dinner from the Corner Café. They didn’t typically do deliveries, but Bubba’s folks owned the place, and he’d offered to bring their steaks to the shed. Travis had no doubt as to Bubba’s motives. Five minutes after he left, all of Big Verde would know how the date was going.
Travis shifted nervously from boot to boot and stared at the door. Would Little Red Riding Hood stiff him? It was just past seven o’clock. He dug for his phone and stared at the text he’d sent.
Can we start our ‘Once Upon a Time’ over? Follow the rose petals to the shed. I’ll be there at 7.
She hadn’t responded, but the text had been delivered. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and resumed staring at the door.
Two hours ago, he’d stood up to Scott with Gabriel at his side. And Scott had consented to relinquish his parental rights. There were still details to work out; the court would have to approve the termination, but Gabriel said it should be no problem since Travis intended to adopt Henry.
Henry would be his son.
Only one element was still needed to turn this fairy tale into a reality, and that was Maggie.
Travis swallowed. Clenched his jaw. She would come. She had to.
The First National Bank of Big Verde wa
s holding its annual employee Christmas party at the Chateau, and the music and frivolity floated on the breeze, just as it had the night of the Halloween gala. The night he’d passed up an opportunity to remove his mask and say Hi. I’m Travis Blake. I know we just met, but I think I might love you.
Because he’d felt it, even then.
Maggie was something special.
His tie was stifling, so he loosened it. Adjusted the dressy gray Stetson he’d bought special for the occasion. And then he just waited, while his heart threatened to burst through his rib cage.
* * *
Maggie parked next to Travis’s truck and stared at the path that led through the cedar trees to the shed. It was covered in yellow petals, which was silly and seemed like a waste of good roses. She slammed her Jeep door and tried to ignore the smile tugging at her lips.
She headed down the path, slowing her pace when she realized she was hurrying. No need to go blasting through the door panting with enthusiasm and drooling forgiveness. Travis was going to have to work for it.
Hopefully he had more than rose petals up his sleeve.
The windows of the shed glowed with an inviting yellow hue. Candles? Had the man brought candles? Maggie swallowed and walked to the door. Her hand hesitated briefly on the knob, then she inhaled and slowly pushed it open.
Her breath caught at the sight of Travis stepping out of the shadows. The nice suit. The sharp, clean-shaven jaw. The deep blue eyes. How had she not known?
“Maggie—” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, held out his hand. “Please come inside.”
She looked past him to the candles, twinkling lights, roses…Was that champagne?
“I promise I won’t bite,” he said.
He pulled her in gently, shutting the door behind her. His eyes roamed her body, clad in a red sweater dress—of course she’d worn red—and added, “Much as I might like to.”
Maggie’s pulse quickened. He was startlingly handsome. She longed to trace his jaw with her finger, remove the suit jacket, loosen his tie, unbutton his shirt…
Travis handed her the roses.