The Littlest Cowgirls--A Clean Romance

by Melinda Curtis

  He spotted Laurel in the manager’s apartment behind the front desk and unabashedly wandered in. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’m carrying a bus.” Laurel was hand sewing a seam on something pink. “And the bus is taking the mountain pass too fast.” She sucked in a breath and shifted. “I suppose you might feel the same way given your impending fatherhood. A little off-balance. A little like you should have seen this coming.”

  Before Wyatt could decide how to answer, Laurel gasped again. She snagged his wrist and pressed his hand to her mighty belly bump.

  Something kicked his hand.

  A baby.

  He got chills, the way he did when he read a good script. His brain jolted, the way it did when he drank a double shot of espresso. And his heart... His heart nearly stopped beating, the way it was supposed to in that all-confusing moment when a man fell in love.

  A baby kicked him a second time.

  “So strong,” he murmured.

  Ashley appeared behind him. The sisters exchanged a glance, a look of endearment. If Ashley carried regrets, she didn’t let it stand in the way of her love for Laurel.

  Wyatt withdrew his hand slowly, reluctantly, while Laurel finished knotting her thread. She got to her feet, shook out the material—a western-style dress—and handed it to Ashley, who wore... “Is that a man’s suit?” Also old-west themed.

  Ashley nodded. “Here.” She handed him a black parasol and a beaded handbag that was heavy.

  “Is this filled with gold coins?” He opened it. “I should have known. It’s a pistol. Are you playing Mike Moody?”

  “I’m his sister Letty, remember?”

  Laurel was fastening the dress over Ashley’s suit like a big apron. “Wyatt, can you bind it in back? It’s Velcro. I’d rather not bend over for fear of a bus crash, if you know what I mean.”

  “Laurel, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it doesn’t sound good,” Ashley chided.

  Wyatt and Laurel exchanged a glance, and a friendship of sorts was forged. One that would forevermore be defined by bus references only the two of them would understand. He handed Ashley her parasol and purse, and fastened the dress in the back so that no one could see she was wearing a suit.

  As soon as he was done, Ashley hurried out the door.

  Wyatt followed her to the porch. “Why does Letty need a man’s suit?”

  “If you want to know, you’d have to sign a nondisclosure agreement to keep you from giving away the ending.” She lifted her skirt in front and ran down the porch steps, bustle swaying behind her like a wedding dress.

  “I’m not signing an agreement. And I’m not playing Mike Moody.”

  “Then you’ll just have to wait a few days to watch it in the Old West Festival on Sunday or on the big screen someday.” Ashley whirled on him, sending her skirts in a wide swath that brushed his legs like a slap. And then her palm pressed against his chest. “You’re not allowed to watch rehearsal. It’s closed. Cast members only.”

  She was fire and brimstone, a complete reversal of her mood in the woods, and yet he wanted to kiss her anyway.

  Ashley withdrew her hand and held up a finger. “You can’t have life both ways.”

  “Both ways? What are you talking about?”

  “You can’t kiss me one minute and expect me to forget my production values the next. The film has a twist and I’d rather the world didn’t know it. And you can’t go all moony-eyed over Laurel’s twins one minute and pretend you’ve never met her the next. Get over it, and appreciate her for who she is. And—”

  He kissed her. Right there on the top porch step, out of sight of the front desk. It was either that or listen to her snipe at him some more, and he was rather tired of the sniping, mostly because she’d made good points.

  * * *

  WHEN WYATT STOPPED kissing her...

  When his lips left hers...

  Ashley felt like she was still floating. She didn’t move, not even to open her eyes. “‘Licensed to thrill.’” That was the tagline for Ian Bradford films. “They got that right.”

  Footsteps sounded. Retreating footsteps.

  Ashley opened her eyes.

  Wyatt was walking away from her. “Have a great rehearsal. Break a leg.” He went into the general store.

  I am in big, big trouble.

  Laughter drifted to her from down the road. The cast was waiting for her in front of the smithy. They’d picked up their costumes from Laurel before she had.

  Ashley hurried down the stairs.

  Jonah came out of the diner. He gestured toward the way she’d come. “That was a show unto itself.”

  “Can’t you be like normal brothers and threaten to go slug the guy who stole a kiss from me?”

  “Look at me.” Jonah held up his slender arms. He had Crohn’s disease and managed it well, which meant he had hardly an ounce of fat on him. “I couldn’t take Wyatt Halford in a chess match, much less a punchfest.”

  It was true. And arguing with Jonah was much like leaping on a hamster wheel. He was good at arguing and comebacks and could keep going forever. Ashley chose a change of subject. “I should have done my hair.” Several of the women in the cast had their hair swept up. “I’m a horrible example of leadership.”

  “You’re not. You’re just half in love with a hot actor.”

  “Don’t even joke about it, Jonah.”

  He darted in front of her, bringing her to a halt. “I’m not joking. You’re falling for Wyatt. You were in a daze after that kiss. If anything needs adjusting to set a good example, it’s my little sister’s heart.”

  “I’m not in love with...the sexiest man alive.” She’d inserted Wyatt’s title because it gave her emotional distance. That was what was called for. She couldn’t afford to fall in love with him, much as her heart was increasingly pining to do so.

  “Tell yourself whatever you need, Ashley, just don’t fall for that guy. You know his reputation. The last thing you need when you launch your own production company is for gossip to be more prominent than your business skill.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “SO, THIS IS your afternoon snack?” Mack, who ran the general store, rang up Wyatt’s purchase of a package of olives, almonds and water.

  Wyatt smiled, the same way he’d smiled at Roy a few minutes earlier when he’d tried to convince him to finance the renovation of the A-frame. “How’s that T-shirt project coming along?”

  “I decided to respect your privacy.” Mack shrugged. “Or rather Laurel’s privacy, since it looks like we’ll be having a lot of tourism based on Mike Moody alone.”

  He took a step back. No one but Laurel’s immediate family was supposed to know about his relationship with those babies.

  Mack held up her hands. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  But who wasn’t it safe with? “Who told you?” Anger bunched his shoulders. He’d bet anything it was the person who’d posted on the website a few weeks back—Shane. Everything went downhill after they met. And now he was nowhere to be found.

  Mack gestured out the open back door, which led to a small porch for guests. “I don’t think she meant to do it. But she’s having a bad day and she’s twelve.”

  Gabby. Of course.

  Wyatt drew a calming breath, collected his purchases and went to seek her out.

  She sat at a table eating an ice-cream sandwich. When she saw him, she immediately ducked her head, as if that would make her invisible. She was the only customer on the porch.

  Wyatt hesitated in the doorway.

  The family of moose were working their way slowly across the meadow. A bee buzzed past. In the distance, someone laughed. It was all so normal, as if he were back home. As if he were sitting with one of his sisters in the backyard after an argument, because that was where his mother used to send them after t
hey’d had a disagreement.

  “Work it out,” she’d say, pointing toward the kitchen door, even if it was snowing outside.

  And they would, because what else were they going to do? They’d want to be inside eventually. Was that why they hadn’t worked out their last disagreement?

  Wyatt sat down next to Gabby and began eating.

  Laughter drifted in the air again. He assumed it came from Ashley’s dress rehearsal. He felt a familiar tug, the likes of which he thought of as his acting bug.

  “Am I in trouble?” Gabby asked, staring at her ice cream, strawberry blond hair blowing in the breeze.

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because...I told someone something I shouldn’t.”

  People fascinated Wyatt. Not because he was a people person, but because, as an actor, he was curious about their layers of character. Gabby, the much-beloved preteen, was a good person. And good people didn’t always make the right choices, especially growing up. How they handled adversity said a lot about their character.

  The first few days he’d been in Second Chance, he’d assumed Laurel and Ashley were trying to put something over on him. He’d expected them to hit him up with an unrealistic child support proposition. But the reality was that their intentions were as originally stated. He, Laurel and Ashley were in an unusual situation and, for the most part, the way they’d handled themselves was to be admired. They could have used his reputation for gain, but they hadn’t. They were good people.

  Just like Gabby.

  “I’m sorry,” Gabby said, getting to her feet.

  Wyatt stayed her with his hand. “Your father raised you right.” He’d do a good job raising Laurel’s babies, too. Maybe it was time to look at those paternity papers.

  “Dad probably wouldn’t agree with you right now.” But Gabby sat back down, wiping at an ice-cream drip with her napkin. “Twelve has been a difficult year for me.”

  Laughter cascaded through the air once more.

  And Ashley had said it wasn’t a comedy.

  Wyatt turned to Gabby, the girl who spent most days at the inn’s check-in desk, the girl who, by Laurel’s admission, had heard more than her share of confidences.

  “You said you know the facts about Mike Moody.”

  “Yep.” She gave him a big smile. “Well, most of them, anyway. Jonah didn’t give me all the notes he used to write Ashley’s script.”

  But Wyatt bet it was enough for him to get up to speed on the infamous bandit. “Tell me.”

  * * *

  ASHLEY ENTERED THE INN with a smile on her face and her arms filled with Letty’s dress.

  Her wool suit itched, but all in all, rehearsal had gone well. She’d called for another one tomorrow because this one had too much laughter. She might have skills in organizing, but she was being tested as a director, at least with the amateur troupe she’d assembled. While they’d turned in their costumes to Laurel, Egbert had given Ashley and Jonah notes on the performance. He may run the fly-fishing business, but he also considered himself an expert on Mike Moody, and they hadn’t gotten the street play to his liking.

  “Ashley, can we talk to you?” Laurel sat behind the check-in desk normally occupied by Gabby.

  Mom stood next to the rack of costumes, looking like the end of the world was looming.

  And then they both turned and went into the apartment.

  Ashley followed them inside, closing the door behind her. “What’s wrong? Where’s Mitch? Is it time to go to the hospital?” She draped Letty’s dress on a kitchen chair. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Listen, Ashley. Just listen.” Mom crossed her arms over her conservative navy pantsuit.

  “Okay.”

  Laurel sat in her usual chair and drew her sketchbook in front of her. “Have you been looking at cabins in town?”

  “Yes. There’s this cute little A-frame and—”

  “Cabins for me?” Laurel’s voice escalated.

  “Yes. How did you know?” Ashley rushed on. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

  “I knew it,” Mom muttered. She never muttered.

  Ashley felt the hair rise on the back of her neck.

  “Roy told me.” Laurel pressed her lips together, as if she couldn’t trust herself to say more.

  Ashley sat down in the chair with the dress on the back. “Is something wrong?” Something horrible must have happened. “Is Roy okay?”

  “Yes and yes.” Laurel gripped her sketchbook. “Roy saw you kissing Wyatt at this cute little A-frame you found for me and my family.” That was snarky. Laurel was rarely snarky.

  “I can explain.” Not really. Ashley floundered. “It seemed like the right thing to do, given the mess we’re in.”

  “No.” Laurel pounded the sketch pad on the table. “It’s my mess, Ashley. My mess. My wedding. My family.”

  “I’ve been trying to help,” Ashley whispered, because Laurel rarely lost her cool.

  “I’ve said from the beginning that you don’t have control of this situation.” Mom lorded over the kitchen. “Falling for Wyatt Halford is not going to help.”

  “I’m not...” She was. “I just...” Ashley reached for a defense. “This is like being on location and letting the chemistry do its job. It means nothing. Nothing long-term.” But her words didn’t hit the right note.

  “There’s chemistry and Wyatt understands you,” Mom said as flatly as if explaining terms of a contract.

  “Yes.” Ashley nodded.

  “He’s like you in so many ways,” Mom said.

  “Yes.”

  “Open your eyes, Ashley.” Mom’s voice was as somber as an undertaker’s. “That doesn’t mean he’ll fall in love with you.”

  Ashley nodded. “I don’t expect him to. I mean, he’s Wyatt Halford. His name has never been linked to anyone for more than a week or two. And, you know—” stop babbling “—I suck at relationships. At this rate, I’ll never have someone of my own. Which is fine,” she rushed on to say. “I’ll have my work and...and...a little dog to fill those empty spaces. Right, Mom?”

  Laurel and Mom exchanged glances.

  “I want you to achieve all your dreams.” Tone softened, Laurel pushed her sketch pad toward the middle of the table. “But first, we have to get through this.”

  “Yes.” Ashley couldn’t agree more.

  “You’ve spent a lot of time with Wyatt,” Mom said, losing the undertaker voice. “Why hasn’t he made a decision about the babies?”

  “He wants to do the right thing, same as we all do.” Ashley’s fingers sank into a pink flounce on Letty’s dress. “But he doesn’t know what that is.”

  “And so he spends time debating this extremely important issue by kissing you?” Mom raised her finely shaped brows.

  “No.” Yes. Man, this looked bad.

  “You think you’re falling for Wyatt. And maybe he’s falling for you, too.” Mom was being unusually kind, as if she’d drunk too much spiked tea to state more than the hard truths. “But more likely, you’re just two celebrities circling a situation, each trying to come out on top in the press.”

  “It’s not like that. Wyatt’s not like that.” Ashley’s heart was sinking. How often had she played a scene like this, where she defended herself when she knew she should be agreeing with everything being said to her? “Wyatt went to Roy because he didn’t want you and the babies to be cramped in this space.”

  “In our home, you mean.” Laurel rested a hand on her belly. “That’s not his decision to make. Or yours.”

  “You’re right. I crossed a line. I’m sorry.”

  “There’s more,” Mom said. “And it’s not pretty.”

  Was any of this? It had been ugly from the get-go.

  Laurel nodded. “Last week, Cam and Ivy bought Roy a phone from this century, hoping he c
ould use some of the apps to monitor his health. Roy took a picture of you at that A-frame you toured.”

  That explained how they’d known about the kiss.

  “Only Roy is better with a set of power tools than a smartphone app,” Laurel continued. “He doesn’t know how to look at the photos he’s taken. So, he stopped by here. I pulled up the photo. And before I showed it to him, I deleted it.”

  “What? Why? I was fully clothed. I swear.” And there had been no inappropriate groping either.

  Laurel grimaced. “You were, but—”

  “Hang on.” Ashley laid a cold hand on Laurel’s forearm. “Roy’s not part of the Snaparazzi.”

  “He’s not,” Mom said, using her undertaker voice once more.

  “I sent the picture to myself before I deleted it, but only so you could see it.” Laurel picked up her phone. “I feel horrible lying to Roy about it, but he wanted to send the picture to Wyatt. You’re both posting pictures, but this...”

  “Show me,” Ashley demanded.

  Laurel tapped her screen but kept it averted. “You may think you’ve got this under control. After all, as an actress you’ve had to kiss a lot of guys.”

  “Not a lot.”

  Mom’s sharp gaze challenged that statement.

  “Okay, an average amount for an actress my age,” Ashley allowed.

  Mom didn’t challenge that.

  Laurel continued to keep her screen averted. “I’ve seen your on-screen kisses, Ash. There’s distance. We all know why.”

  “You’re afraid of losing people,” Mom said, with that rare maternal note to her voice. “But in this case, how you handle this relationship with Wyatt might just influence the future of Laurel’s little girls.”

  “Reminder. Check.” Ashley held out her hand for the cell phone, and this time, Laurel showed it to her.

  Ashley leaned forward. There was the A-frame, the porch, she and Wyatt locked in a heated embrace as if that kiss shut everyone else in the world out.

  Except Wyatt had his arm raised toward the camera. And his thumb up.