“I’ll have lemonade too,” Pax said. “If you have to give up alcohol until the baby is born, it’s only fair that I do the same.”
Matt got to his feet and patted Pax on the back. “Now, there’s a man worth ridin’ the river with, girl.”
“Amen,” Alana agreed.
* * *
On Tuesday morning, Pax awoke to the sound of Laela giggling. His first thought as he sat up in bed was that next year at this time, he could be waking up to his own child’s laughter. Strangely enough, the idea didn’t give him hives or put him into flight-or-fight mode. He threw his long legs over the side of the bed, got dressed, and opened the door to find Laela chasing the cat toward the living room. Poor old Dolly was barely staying out of reach, as if she were playing a game with the baby.
Maverick and Bridget were both in the kitchen, as usual. Bridget was stirring a pan full of sausage gravy, and Maverick was setting the table. Pax leaned on the doorjamb for a little while and drank in the scene. He wanted what they had so bad that it left a bittersweet ache in his heart. But even if he and Alana stayed together for years for the baby’s sake, he’d always wonder if she would have been happier with someone else.
Finally, he pushed away from the doorjamb and said, “Hey, y’all, I’ve got some news to share with you. Alana’s pregnant.”
Bridget dropped her spoon on the floor. Maverick had been putting a spoon on Laela’s tray and he froze like a statue.
“Are you serious?” Bridget whispered.
“Yep,” Pax answered. “She’s only two weeks along right now, but she’s definitely got a bun in the oven. We were at the doctor’s yesterday, and we even heard the heartbeat. I would have told y’all last night, but…” he stammered.
“What happened last night?” Iris came into the kitchen with Laela in her arms.
“Looks like Pax and Alana weren’t teasing at dinner on Sunday,” Maverick said as he laid the spoon down.
“About what?” Iris asked.
“Alana is pregnant,” Pax said. “We weren’t sure until yesterday, and I waited to tell y’all until we could all be together. You were off all afternoon with your church friends, Mam.”
“Congratulations,” Iris said. “Now you don’t have to argue about when to start your family, do you?”
“How do you feel about being a father?” Maverick clamped a hand on his shoulder.
“How did you?” Pax laid his hand over his brother’s.
“I fell in love with Laela the minute I laid eyes on her,” Maverick replied. “She might not be mine or Bridget’s by blood, but by golly, she belongs to the both of us by heart. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“Great,” Pax said. “Absolutely wonderful.”
By birth, Laela belonged to another couple. Her mother had been Bridget’s best friend, Deidre, over in Ireland. When she and Laela’s father both died in a car accident, Bridget had taken Laela to raise. Maverick was in the process of adopting her and making her a true Callahan.
“And Matt?” Iris asked. “Does he know?”
“Yes, and he’s happy about it,” Pax said.
“You do know that fifty years ago, he might have gotten down his shotgun?” Iris said.
“Oh, yeah, I do.” Pax nodded.
Bridget picked up the spoon she’d dropped, tossed it in the sink, and crossed the floor to give Paxton a hug. “This is wonderful news. Our new baby and yours will grow up together. Little cousins on ranches right next to each other. I can’t think of anything more precious.” She wiped at a tear with the tail of her apron. “Damn pregnancy hormones. They’ve got me weeping at the least little thing these days.”
“Thank you all for your support.” Pax had trouble swallowing the lump in his own throat.
“I guess I’ll have to believe there will definitely be a wedding now,” Maverick said.
“I’ve told you from the beginning that there would be.” Pax poured four cups of coffee and carried them, two at a time, to the table.
The wedding had always been a definite thing, Pax thought. Now all he had to do was to convince Alana not to divorce him as soon as Matt had passed away. He didn’t want to be a weekend father or even one who lived across the barbed-wire fence. He wanted to be there for every hour, every minute, every second, of his child’s life.
* * *
“Hump Day.” Alana covered a yawn with the back of her hand when she reached the kitchen that morning. “What do you have going today, Daddy?”
“I’m meeting with the committee for the Daisy Days Festival,” he said. “We’ve got to iron out the final details about getting Main Street blocked off, rerouting any traffic around the carnival that will be set up in that area and extending on down to the park. Just take care of the last-minute things.”
“They’re goin’ to miss you,” she muttered.
“I’m glad to hear you say that, Alana,” he said. “It means that you’re accepting the inevitable and moving forward.”
“We knew that Mama wasn’t going to make it,” Alana told him. “But that didn’t stop the pain when it happened.”
“But it eased it,” Matt told her. “We didn’t want her to suffer any more, so we let her go. It would have been selfish of us to want to keep her and let her suffer the way she was. I wish the two of us could have had another child or two. That way you’d have some siblings to help you get through all this. Thank God for Paxton and his family. I’ll go in peace, knowing that you are in good hands.”
Alana poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table with him. “Maybe I’ll go with you this morning.”
“I’d like that,” Matt said. “How about we go get some breakfast at the café before we go to the meeting?”
“Sounds great to me.” Alana took a sip of her coffee and then pushed her chair back. “I can be ready in half an hour.”
“That should work out fine,” Matt said. “And Pax is coming with us. I’m going to resign today, and recommend they give you and Pax my job as coordinator of the whole festival. It’s time you two stepped up and started helping with the community.”
“Yes, sir,” she said as she carried her coffee up to her room.
She stripped out of her clothing, turned on the shower, and laid a hand on her stomach. “I have to be an adult now, whether I’m ready or not. Three weeks ago, I thought my daddy would live to be an old man. I sure wouldn’t have guessed that in less than a month, I’d be looking at the end of his life and the beginning of yours.”
She talked to herself and the baby all through her shower and while she got ready. When she made it back downstairs, Pax was already there. He and Matt were deep in conversation and didn’t even hear her coming. She stood in the foyer and watched them looking over a paper that had been rolled out and covered the coffee table. Matt pointed to one end, and Pax frowned.
“I think it might work better here,” her fiancé said. “It’s on a little bit higher ground, and the trees won’t be the problem that they would be in the park.”
Matt pursed his lips and nodded. “You’re right. This is why we need new blood on the committee.” He picked up a pencil, erased a few lines, and penciled them in over at the other end.
“You guys going to talk about whatever that is, or are you going to take this hungry, pregnant woman to breakfast?” Alana asked.
Pax shot to his feet, crossed the room, and kissed her. “Good mornin’, darlin’. You look fabulous.”
“I hope you’re still saying that at Christmas.” She wasn’t so sure anymore if they had or had not crossed the line from pretend to real.
Matt stood up, rolled up the paper they had been looking at, and secured it with a rubber band. “Oh, honey, he will be. Your mama was at her most beautiful when she was carrying you. The rush at the café should be over by now, so let’s go get us a plate of bacon and eggs.”
“Where’s the meeting going to be held?” Pax asked.
“In the community room of the bank, right next door to the caf�
�,” Matt answered. “There’s about fifteen of us that’s been on the committee for years. Some new young’uns to help carry on the tradition will be good.” He settled his cowboy hat on his head. “We’ll take Pax’s truck, and I get the backseat. I kind of like being chauffeured around like a celebrity.”
“Please don’t ask me to trade my cowboy hat in on one of those chauffeur-type things,” Pax chuckled.
“Never.” Matt pretended to shudder. “That would be like blasphemy for a cowboy.”
“How about you, darlin’?” Pax whispered. “Would you like me to wear a fancy little hat and polished shoes?”
“Not even if we were role-playin’,” she said. “But now if you wanted to wear a pair of chaps and your cowboy hat and nothing else to bed”—she hip-butted him—“I wouldn’t mind playing that game.”
“Be careful what you ask for, sweetheart.” Pax’s green eyes twinkled. “You might get more than you bargained for.”
Chapter Twenty
No one would ever doubt that Pax and Alana were truly engaged if they saw them walking through the blocked-off section of Main Street and the park that Saturday afternoon arm in arm, laughing and smiling at each other. They stopped by a vendor and got a small order of fried shrimp to share and by another one for jalapeño poppers. Then they had snow cones and later in the afternoon, they shared a funnel cake, with Paxton breaking pieces of it off with his fingers and feeding it to his bride-to-be. To anyone looking on, they were another couple madly in love. And throughout the whole day, Pax had the feeling that someone was watching him. Several times he whipped around and scanned the crowd to see if he could catch anyone following close behind them.
“What’s wrong with you?” Alana finally asked.
“Guess I’ve been watching too many reruns of cop shows,” he admitted. “It feels to me like someone is watching me or maybe even following us.”
“Good,” she sighed. “I’ve had the same feeling, but I didn’t want to say anything. Must be the devil licking at our heels for all the lies we’ve told.”
“Could be, but your dad is a happy man, and I kind of doubt that the feller with the pitchfork is that interested in us. He’s got bigger fish to fry than to chase after a couple who are trying to make a man happy.” Pax pulled a bite of funnel cake off and fed it to Alana, then popped another piece into his mouth.
“Honestly, I imagine we’re feeling what we are because there are so many strangers in town,” Alana said. “Some of them are the carnies and vendors, but folks from as far away as Midland and Dalhart come down here for the festival. We’re used to walking down the streets and knowing everyone we meet and their families from two or three generations. And folks in Daisy have known us since we were babies.”
“You got a point there, but I’ve still got an eerie feeling,” he said.
Alana nudged him with her shoulder. “Think it might be that blond beach boy back there at the sunglasses vendor, lookin’ for a new pair of shades?”
Pax turned around slowly. “Oh, yeah, that’s him all right. He’s got to be with the carnival with that shaggy blond hair and that scraggly beard. And would you look at his boots? Those aren’t real cowboy boots, and I don’t believe he’s a genuine cowboy.”
“What’s the difference in those he’s wearin’ or what you would call real ones?” she asked.
“You see any bullshit on his boots? Any wear on the heels? His boots are brand-new and barely broken in. Not even a scuff mark on them.”
She sat down on a park bench. “I sure don’t. I’m guessin’ he’s a lawyer by day and thinks he can two-step in a bar like the Wild Cowboy on Saturday night. He’s hoping to show off his dancin’ skills and take a bar bunny home with him for the night.”
“With that hair and scraggly beard?” Pax sat down beside her and shook his head. “He’s not even from Texas, and he’s never been to a western bar. He’s sure not a lawyer with that long hair. Maybe some kind of con artist.”
“Who does he remind you of, anyway?” Alana asked.
“I don’t know.” Pax drew his dark brows down and tried to place the kid. “Maybe one of the hands by the name of Jake that’s been helping out on our ranch this summer.”
“No, Jake is just a kid. That man’s got to be at least twenty-two or twenty-three.” She shot another quick look his way. “I know who it is. He looks a little bit like Marty Deeks.”
“Who in the hell is that?”
“He’s a character on NCIS: Los Angeles,” she said. “He’s a detective with the Los Angeles Police Department on the show, and he’s also a lawyer, so that kid could be an attorney even with that hair. He’s a little taller than Deeks, and his hair is a shade or two lighter, but the rest of him sure looks like Marty.”
“A Hollywood actor in Daisy, Texas? That would cause a big hullabaloo, wouldn’t it? But I can see a little resemblance to that character. Guess we’ve finally attracted the rich and famous to our little Daisy Days Festival.” Pax loved playing games like this with Alana. “So what about that woman who’s checkin’ him out while he’s checkin’ out sunglasses? Is she fixin’ to flirt with him?”
“Oh, yeah, she is,” Alana said without hesitation. “And then she’s going to go home this evening to whatever Podunk town she lives in to tell all her friends and neighbors that she saw a real movie star. But then, the way she’s been lookin’ at you, she’ll probably not even see him.” Alana finished off the last bite of funnel cake and threw the paper plate in a trash bin near the end of the bench. “I could sure use a root beer.”
“Me too.” Pax stood up and headed over to the concession trailer that happened to be parked right next to the sunglasses where Hollywood was still looking at shades. Then he turned and looked over his shoulder. “What size, darlin’?”
Her wicked grin told him a smart-ass remark was on the way. “Size doesn’t usually matter, but I’d like a big one this time.”
“Your wish and all that hogwash,” he joked right back at her.
“What’s hogwash?” the guy they’d been discussing asked.
“Nonsense,” Pax told him. “You part of the carnival crew?”
“Nope. I just got into town and thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.” The young man smiled and be damned if Pax couldn’t see even more of that television character.
“Our annual Daisy Days Festival is always held on the Saturday before Memorial Day,” Pax said. “You enjoyin’ it?”
“I guess so. I’m Landon Griffin.” The kid stuck out his hand.
“Paxton Callahan.” Pax shook with him. “Enjoy your visit to our town.”
“Thanks,” Landon said. “I sure hope I will.”
Pax got two large cups of root beer and carried them back to where Alana was sitting. “His name is Landon Griffin. Is that your Marty Deeks?”
“Nope, I looked it up while you were talking to him. In real life Marty is Eric Christian Olsen, and I found out that he’s got a brother who is his stunt double. Interesting, huh?”
“Yep, but the guy is just a kid in town for the festival,” Pax said.
“Okay, then how about that short brunette over there by the jewelry vendor? What’s she doin’ here? She looks like pictures I’ve seen of gypsies,” Alana said.
“She’d definitely with the carnival.” Pax played along.
“How do you know?” Alana asked.
“Her picture is on the poster that’s been up all over town,” Pax said with a straight face. “That’s the fortune-teller.”
The woman turned around, and Alana slapped Pax on the arm. “You had me believing you. That’s Rachel.”
Pax blew on his arm. “Mosquitoes do seem to be bad around here today,” he joked and then leaned over to whisper, “maybe she’ll run away with the carnival and become a gypsy fortune-teller.”
“From your lips to the carnie owner’s ears,” Alana said.
* * *
The festival was a two-day affair. The carnival had moved into town on Friday
evening, had gotten set up and ready for business. Saturday was the big day. Sunday was a little slower, but still not too bad. On Monday, the carnies broke down their equipment, packed up, and moved on to the next town, usually up to Goodnight, where the next big to-do would be held next weekend.
Time had been when neither Pax nor Alana would have gotten home on Saturday night until after midnight the weekend of the festival, but that evening they’d seen all they wanted to see and visited with everyone they knew by nine o’clock. The stars were dimmed by all the carnival lights, and the smell of so many foods mingling together wasn’t so appealing anymore. Maverick and Bridget had gone home an hour before to put a tired and cranky Laela to bed. Iris had declared that she’d had enough and gone with them.
“Look at us,” Alana said as Pax parked in front of her house. “We must be engaged tonight, because if we were dating, we’d be out until dawn.”
“We’re pregnant,” he reminded her. “The baby needs its rest. I read an article this week that said if the mother stays up half the night, then the baby will do the same when it’s born. So if you want to get much sleep after she gets here, then you better keep an early schedule until then.”
“She?” Alana asked.
“Your dad seems pretty sure we’re having a girl,” Pax said.
“Well, if Daddy is wrong, don’t you think it might give a boy a complex to hear himself referred to as she for nine months?” Alana undid her seat belt, slid over, and kissed him.
“Maybe not this early. Want to make a trip by the tack room?” He kissed her this time and teased her lips open with the tip of his tongue.
“Love to, but I’m flat out too tired,” she said when the kiss ended. “Walk me to the door, like that old song says. Kiss me one more time, and then let me get some sleep. We’ll sneak off to the tack room tomorrow after church. You can bring your chaps and boots.”
He opened the door to his truck, stepped out, and leaned back inside. “Darlin’, that would be more than you could stand.”
“Try me.” She flashed a brilliant smile at him.
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