Redheaded Stranger: A Cowboy Love Story (Bluebonnet, Texas)

by Amie Stuart

  Next he tried the daycare. No, they hadn’t seen or heard from her since Darrach was supposed to be out all week, right Mr. Boudreaux?

  He wandered around, lost and stunned that she hadn’t even left a note, before his legs finally gave way and he collapsed on the couch. He'd known something was wrong the minute he reached work. No one had called him, and no one knew anything about a break in any case.

  The next time Alex checked his watch, almost an hour had passed. An hour he’d spent in a daze. He wiped his face, shocked when his hands came away damp. He took a deep, cleansing breath and tried to organize his thoughts. He had to get a grip, get himself under control.

  Back upstairs he went to assess the damage and reassure himself that she’d left voluntarily. Closet doors were thrown open, a couple of her T-shirts had fallen to the floor, an extra tote bag had been tossed across the room, his favorite sweater was gone and there was a dusting of face powder on the bathroom cabinet. In Darrach’s room a few of his outfits had fallen to the floor, along with an empty diaper package, as if she’d packed in a hurry—which she had. If she’d been kidnapped—a thought that had crossed his mind—he doubted they would have stopped to pack her makeup or Darrach’s porta-crib.

  She'd set him up so he’d be gone just long enough for her to take off with Darrach.

  "Where" didn’t seem to matter since he couldn’t get past "gone".

  Last but not least, he tried Connie, hoping she’d know something. Over the sounds of the twins and JJ fighting, he learned she’d stopped by that morning, and that Kei hadn’t mentioned any errands. When Connie suggested that Kei was planning a last-minute surprise for their anniversary, it hit him. Last minute wasn’t Kei’s routine, but neither was taking off with an exer-saucer shoved in the back of his Tahoe.

  He should have seen it coming. He’d denied her what she wanted for an anniversary present, so she’d taken it instead. Planned it even.

  He sank down onto the top step and scrubbed at his face, then his hair, at a loss as to his next move. Bluebonnet was the last place he wanted to go, but that’s where his wife was. With his son. And his parents. And his brothers. The world he’d built—his peaceful, orderly, perfect world—had just collided with the world he’d left behind.

  A thought that turned his stomach.

  Damn, Kei! He stood and headed to the bedroom. He might as well pack. Looked like he’d be spending Christmas in hell. Or at the very least, Christmas Eve.

  Not an hour later, Alex was back in the Z4 and back on the highway, dialing Kei’s cell phone every twenty minutes.

  He’d decided his freshman year of high school that ranching wasn’t where his future lay. His brother Ty was made for it, but not him and not Zack. A full scholarship to the University of Virginia had gotten Alex out of Bluebonnet; a trip home for Christmas his sophomore year had answered the burning question about why his parents didn’t get along when he’d discovered his father’s infidelity—and reaffirmed his decision to never come back; his brains and hard work had gotten him into the FBI Academy. Being sent to Texas had never been a part of his plan. He’d been hoping for the West Coast.

  Then earlier this year, his mom had called and said that his half-sister—Delaney—was going to live with them, and he’d gone through the roof. As long as he’d stayed away, he was fine. But his brothers had called, begging and blackmailing and threatening to come get him for Thanksgiving, and the last thing he’d needed was them showing up on his doorstep in Dallas.

  Just as he hit traffic in downtown Austin, his cell phone rang. Without even thinking, he answered, sure it was his wife. "Hey, baby?"

  "Kei’s out in the living room talking with your mother."

  Alex immediately tensed, growling as the traffic rushed around him. No way did he want to get into an argument with his father in the thick, fast-moving traffic.

  "I’m driving. Can we talk later?"

  "Where are you?"

  He heard Darrach cooing in the background and realized his dad was holding his son. "Austin."

  "Good. We’ll see you for dinner, then."

  "Can I talk to my wife?"

  "She’s busy."

  The line went dead before he could get another word out. Once the traffic thinned out a bit, he dialed Kei’s cellphone again, only to get her voicemail.

  * * *

  By the time Alex took the exit for the ranch, the sun had nearly set. He sat at the red light across from his aunt’s dancehall and briefly contemplated stopping in for a beer, or begging her to let him stay the night, but he doubted she’d speak to him, let alone put him up for the night. Ten minutes later he passed his parents’ mailbox at a crawl. Mad as he was at Kei, he didn’t want to tear up her car on the dirt and gravel road. At the end of the road, their house was lit up like a beacon in the chilly December night. He parked next to his Tahoe and his mother’s Suburban, killed the engine, then sat there. He could do this. He could manage twenty-four hours in his parents’ house without losing his shit. He had to, for his son’s sake.

  The porch light came on and the front door swung open. From where he sat, Alexander could see his father silhouetted in the doorway, holding his son. His son! His son, who was smiling at his father, patting his face. His father stepped outside just as Alex scurried from the car.

  He slammed the door and stalked across the yard while yelling, "What the hell, Dad? He doesn’t even have a hat on and it’s freezing out here."

  "He’s fine. He’s got his coat on."

  Alex climbed the steps and reached for his son, whose face lit up at the sight of him. "It’s too cold out here for him."

  His father turned away, effectively blocking him. "Not so fast, boy. You deprived me of nine months with this little guy."

  "Give me my son, Dad." Alex was almost embarrassed at the panicked note that filled his voice. His whole body shook with aggravation.

  "He’s my grandson," his dad countered. "What the hell—"

  "And he’s my son." Alex held his arms out. "Now hand him over," he barked, arms out. He stared at his father, unwilling to back down. Darrach was his son.

  Even the sound of Kei’s voice from inside the house didn’t deter him. "Alex?" She pushed open the screen door and joined them as a fussing Darrach was finally placed in his arms.

  "We’re leaving first thing in the morning," he announced. He kissed his son’s head as his heart finally settled back in place.

  "Zander," his dad sighed, "don’t do this. Not now. Come on inside; let’s talk."

  He cringed inwardly at the sound of his nickname.

  Kei patted his dad’s arm. "You go right ahead and leave in the morning, but I’m staying here for Christmas. And unless you’ve found a way to breastfeed your son, he is too."

  The sight of his perfectly calm wife standing there next to his father like they were old friends was almost too much. "So he gets weaned a little early."

  "Alexander!" Kei scowled at him and reached for the baby.

  This time it was his turn to turn away, shielding Darrach from his mother’s reach.

  His mother appeared with a slam of the screen door, nudging his dad and Kei out of the way and pushing to the front. She took his arm and steered him inside. "Zander, get that baby inside right now. It’s too cold out here for him." Turning, she added, "I’ve got a plate for you on the stove."

  Alex sat at the worn oak kitchen table, his son perched on his lap sharing his mashed potatoes while his mother, father and wife watched. He didn’t really have much of an appetite, but eating put off the inevitable fight.

  "My, my, my," Maggie said softly as Darrach opened his mouth for another bite. "I’d have never believed it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. You two make quite the handsome pair."

  "Thanks, Momma."

  "Tomorrow I expect you to get up and help with the chores." His dad stood and took his empty dessert plate to the sink and rinsed it.

  "I’m not here to work," Alex countered, taking comfort in the weight o
f his son on his lap. He squeezed the baby’s leg and smiled at him as he fed him another bite of potatoes.

  "If you’re here, you work." He slammed the dishwasher, then reclaimed his seat.

  "I didn’t come here to work. I came here to take my family home."

  His mother sighed and shook her head. "This is your home, Zander."

  "You threw me out," he said. "Remember? You threw me out and told me not to come back."

  Maggie narrowed her eyes at him. "And you kept the fact that you had a wife and a son from us. Care to explain that?"

  He pushed his chair back, crossed his legs and re-settled his son on his lap. Darrach turned his head and smiled up at him again, leaning against him. "Hey, boy," he said softly before looking up at his wife. "You mean she didn’t already tell you? I mean, you’ve had five hours to talk about me."

  "You’re being childish, Alex," Kei admonished.

  "Who was it that lied to me and tricked me into leaving the house this morning so she could run off with my son?"

  Darrach pulled himself upright, turned around and proceeded to give Alex sugar, leaving a saliva trail from one end of his face to the other. He smiled for the first time since that morning in Darrach’s nursery and planted a soft kiss on his son’s forehead. He received a crinkle-nosed grin for his effort.

  "Who was it that didn’t tell me the entire truth about Thanksgiving?" Kei propped her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together, eyebrows raised in censure. "Let’s talk about that, shall we? Because you didn’t just ‘lose your cool, insult your sister and refuse to spend Thanksgiving with her’, like you told me. You didn’t just ‘get into a yelling match with your parents and brothers’, like you told me."

  Jerrod stood with a scrape of his chair and reached for Darrach."That baby doesn’t need to be in here for this."

  Much as it painted him, Alex reluctantly handed his son over. His father was right.

  "We’ll be in my study."

  He nodded, his eyes on his wife.

  "Just FYI," Kei continued, "I got a painfully detailed account of exactly what happened from your father a few weeks ago when he showed up at FBI headquarters. After Betti’s miscarriage."

  He winced and settled in for the ass-chewing he deserved.

  "I’ve known for weeks, Alex. I gave you every opportunity to come clean and you didn’t. You insulted and humiliated everyone—" she raised a finger and jabbed in the air at him as he opened his mouth, "—and then told family secrets that were not yours to tell. It was not your place to tell Betti about Ty’s ex-wife. You didn’t just ruin Thanksgiving, Alexander, you set it on fire and laughed while it burned. And for that, you are going to pay."

  She’d known for weeks? Alex’s head was reeling at his wife’s revelation and his cheeks burned in humiliation, but it was the tears glistening in his wife’s eyes that really hurt. Fully aware of his mother watching and taking it all in, he stayed silent, waiting for Kei to finish lecturing him.

  "Do you remember when I had that miscarriage?"

  He nodded solemnly.

  "Maybe I should leave you two alone." His mother made to stand, one hand on Kei’s shoulder.

  "No. Please stay," Alex said. "It was the week before your birthday weekend, Momma. That’s why I didn’t stay. Or part of the reason," he confessed, his half-sister still very much at the forefront of his mind.

  "Do you remember how badly it hurt?" Kei asked.

  He nodded, his eyes now on the table as he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. She’d cried for days, and so had he. He’d been so frustrated. It was one of the few times in their short marriage he hadn’t be able to just fix things. Kind of like now.

  "Well, that’s what your brother and his wife are going through...and you sent her flowers. Flowers?" she added, shouting now. She scowled at him, her own face as red as his probably was but for an entirely different reason. "Yes, we have Darrach, but we won't ever have that baby we lost, and neither will your brother and Betti."

  He opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to the punch, "I’m not saying you caused Betti’s miscarriage, but the upset, the mayhem and the chaos that you caused sure didn’t help. Did it?"

  Lips pursed, he shook his head, then waited and waited and waited as the silence in the kitchen stretched out long and heavy.

  Finally, with a nod, he stood and said, "I’ll be back in a little while."

  He knew what she wanted. He might not be able to make his peace with Delaney, but he was a damned Federal Agent, for Christ sake. Surely he could handle one simple apology to his sister-in-law. The front door slammed shut and a body rounded the corner, meeting him just outside the doors to his father’s den. Her.

  He took a deep, slow breath and slid his arms into his jacket while Delaney backed away, plastering herself against the wall and eyeing him as if he were a rattler. From behind closed doors came the sound of Darrach’s laughter mingled with his father’s. She twisted the knob and darted inside with a swish of her long red hair.

  The sound of her calling his father daddy was worse than fingernails down a chalkboard. Luckily, he couldn’t hear whatever else she had to say because he stepped outside and pulled the front door closed, shutting out all the chaos.

  The converted garage apartment next to his parents’ house was silent. Pete and Handy, his dad’s hands, had probably gone out for the evening. Hell, they were probably at the dancehall with the rest of Bluebonnet’s fine citizens. From the other side of the barn came the sound of cows settling in for the night; it was cold and damp and smelled like shit. Cow shit...horse shit...didn't matter. It was a smell he hadn't missed.

  Besides the cows, he only had the sound of his Nikes crunching on wet gravel to break the silence as he walked down the road to Ty’s house. He should have brought some boots, except he didn’t own any. Maybe he still had some up in his room, but they’d be so old they’d probably fall apart the minute he tried to put them back on. He buttoned his leather jacket and shoved his hands in his pockets, wishing he’d brought gloves, too. And a heavier coat.

  No matter how he felt about Delaney, he had no ill feelings toward Ty's wife. Hell, he barely knew her, other than what he could recall from their high school days.

  He quickly covered the distance to his brother’s doorstep and knocked before he lost his nerve and ended up sleeping on the couch in his father’s den. He was a goddamn FBI Agent. He could do this. He could apologize.

  The door opened and Alex grimaced slightly at the sight of Betti’s sister. How two sisters could look so different and yet not, he had no clue. Betti was blonde, tall and full-figured while Angelina was a brunette with a more slender build, and darker hair. Betti was all curves while Angelina seemed to have more sharp angles, but they both exuded that same sensuality of a woman who was well aware of her worth in the grand scheme of things. If they could have bottled it, they would have made a killing, and despite his words at Thanksgiving, Angelina Blanchard was probably no more a dyke than he was—even if she did wear those thick, ugly-ass crepe-soled boots.

  She propped her hip against the door and looked him up and down. "Oh, look—a two-legged donkey."

  Great. More crap. Just what he needed. "Is your sister awake?"

  "Not for you, don-ke!"

  He couldn’t help but smile at her exaggerated and poorly done British accent straight out of the movie Shrek. And the not so subtle way she’d called him an ass. "Angi, right?"

  "You may call me Angelina, donkey. Only my friends can call me Angi."

  "Alright, Angelina. I’ve come to apologize, and since you’re here, I’ll apologize to you, too. I didn’t mean to call you a dyke. I was out of line. Please accept this sincere and heartfelt apology."

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. "It’s too late to get on my Christmas list. I’m done shopping."

  "Angelina Monique." Apparently, his sister-in-law was still up. "Move." Angelina stepped out of Betti’s way as she appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a dark green
velvet robe, her curly blond hair pulled back in a braid. "Delaney was here earlier. She told me you got hitched, and that you have a cute kid. Why the hell anyone would marry you, I have no clue."

  Despite the sudden gnawing hole in his stomach at the sight of her, he ignored the dig. "May I come in?"

  He caught a low, "Don’t do it," from behind the door, but held steady, hands clasped behind his back.

  She studied him, her expression unreadable as she opened the door a bit wider and waved him in. "It's your funeral, Red."

  The white Berber carpet was still as shocking now as it had been on his last visit two years ago. He shook his head, wondering what in the hell his ex-sister-in-law had been thinking.

  "Awful, isn’t it?" Betti said.

  He snorted. "You could say that. Place looks a hell of a lot better than it did though." A southwestern-style table and chairs sat atop an area rug in desert colors—rust, brown, beige and sage green. The clean, classic design of the dining room furniture almost made the carpet bearable and blended well with the denim couch and oversized chair. In the far corner stood a live Christmas tree decorated with an odd assortment of homemade and store-bought ornaments that somehow didn't come off cheesy.

  "Sit."

  He motioned for her to go first and followed her into the living area, choosing the couch after she curled up in the matching chair. "How are you?"

  She opened her mouth to speak, then looked over his shoulder at Angi. "Go find something to wash."

  "You sure you want to be alone with don-ke?" Angi asked.

  "That’s the last time I buy you a kid’s movie, now go."

  He choked back a surprised laugh as she disappeared through the swinging door to the kitchen.

  "I’m fine. I have some bad days." She adjusted her position, her eyes momentarily on the tree before she turned her gaze back on him. Her sharp green eyes and the stubborn set of her chin belonged to a woman you only made the mistake of underestimating once. He got that now—here. He got it.