Texas Two Step: Texas Montgomery Mavericks, Book 1

by Cynthia D'Alba

  “Give me those,” she said, pretending to be embarrassed.

  He tossed the set on the bed. “Lean up and I’ll unzip this purple monstrosity.”

  “It’s not purple. It’s eggplant.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Right. Lean forward.”

  She did, and he unzipped the dress.

  “Can you wiggle it up to your waist? Then I can pull it over your head.”

  This time, she rolled her eyes. “I am not giving you a free peep show.”

  Grinning, he pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket. “Will a hundred dollars buy me a private show?”

  She threw a pillow at him. “Get out of here. I can do this.”

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m being all caring and professional here and all I get is criticism.”

  She yawned. The stress and drugs combined to make it almost impossible to stay awake. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me. Coming to the hospital. Giving me a ride home. Helping me get settled. But you don’t have to stay. I’m home. In bed. Almost in my pajamas. I’ll call my mom to drive in from their place. She’ll be here within an hour or so. Besides, I think I’ll be asleep pretty soon. Now turn around. I want to get out of this eggplant…I mean, dress.”

  He turned and she wiggled the dress over her head. The satiny material slipped over her head with a quiet swoosh. After unfastening her strapless bra, she tossed both across the room to a chair. Her brand-new thigh-high stockings, with their rips, snags and runs, had been left in a trash can in the emergency room.

  “Mitch?”

  “Yes?” he answered without turning around.

  “I think I made a mistake with my pajama selection.” She covered herself with the satin blue top.

  He turned. “You want that red teddy now?”

  She smiled, too tired and too drugged to laugh. “Ha. Ha. I need a gown. I think I’d be more comfortable.”

  “Same drawer?”

  “Yes, but you’ll have to dig a little deeper, near the bottom. I don’t wear gowns much.”

  “For my money,” he muttered, “you don’t need to wear anything at all.”

  This time he bypassed the teddies. She suspected he’d seen a few lace bras and thongs, but when he finally pulled something from the drawer, it was her short, white cotton gown.

  “This one?” he asked, holding the gown up.

  “Perfect.”

  He tossed the cottony-soft material to her. “Toss me your top and I’ll put it back in the drawer.”

  “Thanks,” she said, or rather, slurred. She pitched the pajama top, too exhausted and medicated to care what he might or might not see.

  As soon as she had the gown settled around her, thick waves of exhaustion overwhelmed her. Heavy weights pulled at her eyelids, making it almost impossible for her to hold them open any longer.

  “Have to sleep.”

  Mitch pulled the duvet from under her. After her brief time spent on scratchy hospital sheets, she gave a silent thank you for high-thread-count cotton sheets and fabric softener before she settled into her own sheets.

  “Remember,” she said on a yawn. “You need to leave now.” Her eyes now at half-mast, she took one last look at the most handsome man she’d ever seen and wanted to cry…not from the pounding in the head or the throbbing in her leg, but for what might have been.

  Chapter Six

  Mitch slipped a hanger into Olivia’s discarded dress and hung it inside her closet. Picking up the picture of a newborn baby off her dresser, he studied the face. The baby looked familiar, but since it was probably a niece or nephew, it wasn’t surprising the baby held a resemblance to Olivia. He smiled as he remembered seeing numerous other framed pictures in her darkened living room. She was obviously crazy about the kid. One day, she would be the best mother, and if he had anything to say about it, he’d be the father. All it would take was a little wooing and convincing on his part and she’d be back in his arms where she belonged.

  After pulling one of the overstuffed reading chairs to the side of her bed, he sat and studied her face pale against the white pillowcase. Stroking a finger down her soft cheek, he questioned every decision he’d ever made that had excluded this incredible woman from his life.

  Could he ever tire of looking at her? He didn’t think so.

  Would he ever stop loving her? No. Never.

  He did love her. He’d loved her six years ago, but he’d been honest when he’d said he wasn’t ready for marriage. Every time he remembered their fight, how he’d walked away, he hated himself more. Though everyone was entitled to youthful mistakes, and he’d made a couple of doozies. Leaving Olivia and marrying his late brother’s pregnant fiancée topped his list of regrets.

  He’d been right. He hadn’t been mature enough for marriage…to anyone, especially not to Joanna St. Claire. She was too society-conscious for him. She’d have been the ideal wife for his brother, James, the gentleman rancher. As a working rancher’s wife, she struggled.

  Strands of Olivia’s blonde hair fanned across her pillow. He caught a few in his hand, allowing the silky texture to slip between his fingers.

  So many mistakes. So much lost time.

  At the time, he’d believed he’d made the right decision when he’d left Olivia in Dallas and encouraged her to date around. He was five years older and a heck of a lot more experienced than Olivia.

  He’d worried that her professed love for him was based on his being her first lover, that she was confusing lust for love. The last thing he wanted to do was take her hundreds of miles away from her family to his isolated ranch and have her regret the decision. He’d loved her enough to give her the time she needed to be confident in their love.

  Walking away. Mistake number one.

  He brushed hair off Olivia’s forehead and kissed her. I’m so sorry.

  Then there was Joanna. Mistake number two.

  Joanna and her parents had been like a second family, her house a second home. James, Joanna and he had been the three musketeers growing up—all for one, and one for all. When James died and Joanna told him she was pregnant with James’s baby, Mitch did what he hoped James would have wanted and married her. James’s child deserved to be born a Landry.

  The headrest of the chair caught his head with a soft bounce as he blew out a long sigh of frustration. Joanna had tried to be a good wife. It wasn’t her fault the marriage had failed. No, that distinction was all his.

  The marriage had failed because he wasn’t there for Joanna. He’d even been away in Montana on a cattle-buying trip when she miscarried just barely into her sixth month. Even then, she didn’t fault him. For almost four years, she’d tried to be a good and loving wife, but Mitch never loved her the way a man should love his wife…the way he loved Olivia…then and now.

  He suspected Joanna never loved him either and tried to make the best of a bad situation. It had always been James for her.

  He leaned forward again, his forearms resting on his thighs. Olivia’s breaths came slow and regular. Was it too late for them?

  Olivia seemed obsessed with someone named Adam. Was her situation with Adam serious enough that he’d lost his chance in getting her back?

  If he could just get her to come to his ranch for a month—or even a couple of weeks—he believed they could find their way back to each other. Maybe build a life together. Raise a family together. She still loved him. He was sure of it. What he wasn’t sure of was what was holding her back? What had she done that she thought so unforgivable?

  For half a minute, the thought flittered through his mind that with Olivia knocked out on heavy painkillers, he had the whole house to himself. He could explore, examine the pieces of her life, look for evidence of her involvement with another man.

  But a room-by-room search was beneath him. Hell, even the slimy thought was beneath him. He was embarrassed that he’d even had it. He needed Olivia to trust him enough to tell him she’d moved on and was in a new relationship. Rifling through her h
ouse while she slept might give him information, but would not endear him to her.

  No. Waiting for her to give him more details of her life was important.

  One thing he could do while she slept was get his things from Grayson Mansion. The tux he’d worn since this morning had long since passed the expiration point.

  He hated the idea of leaving Olivia alone long enough to go to the Grayson, pack his things and return. Knowing her, if she needed something she’d try to use the crutches again and possibly do more damage to her ankle or her knee or both.

  One lesson life had taught him was if you were willing to pay, you could usually buy whatever you wanted.

  He called Grayson and spoke with a very accommodating night manager. It might be almost midnight, but the staff at the exclusive hotel was happy to pack his luggage and forward it in a cab to his location. One phone call. Problem solved.

  Fatigue hit him like a tidal wave. He yawned and checked his watch. It’d be at least an hour before his luggage arrived. Odds were Olivia wouldn’t stir for a while and he really needed a shower. He couldn’t imagine that she’d mind him borrowing hers.

  The bathroom was exactly as he’d expected. Marble tiled walls. Shiny floors. Spotless mirrors. Olivia’s perfume scenting the air. Fresh towels hung on chrome bars. Make-up scattered across the counter. Mitch gave the room a once over and decided he could get used to sharing his space with Olivia.

  The master bath at his house was unnecessarily large and ornate. Too much so, in his opinion. More than once, he’d thought the space large enough to accommodate a family of six. The idea of sharing his home—and bathroom—with Olivia, making babies and building a large family with her made the corners of his mouth twitch with a grin.

  A sense of right and peace filled him, feelings that had long been absent from his life. He wouldn’t mess it up this time.

  He stripped, then flipped the water to hot in her shower. Stepping under the spray, he sighed with relief. The day had been long and stressful after a night of very little sleep, although he wasn’t complaining. Being with Olivia again was as much as he’d hoped and more than he expected.

  They were meant to be together. Now, he only had to convince her to leave Adam and come with him, to give them a chance to rediscover the love they’d shared.

  When the water turned cool, he turned it off and stepped out. Lifting his forearm to his nose, he sniffed. The shampoo and soap was a little feminine for his taste, but he smiled with the knowledge that no male grooming products littered her shower. Obviously Adam didn’t have claim to her bathroom. And if he had anything to say about it, Adam never would.

  He slicked back his hair. Growing out his usual close-cropped hair for the wedding had been a favor to the groom. He couldn’t wait to get home and see his barber.

  After wrapping a dry towel around his waist, he moved back into the bedroom. He’d rest for a minute, then slip back into his tux pants before the taxi arrived with his clothes.

  Retaking the chair beside the bed, he leaned over to check on Olivia. She gave a cute little snore. He grinned. Propping his feet on the bed, he leaned back in the chair to await the arrival of his luggage.

  The loud dong-dong-dong of the doorbell startled him awake. Springing from his chair, he glanced at Olivia. She cleared her throat, rolled on her side and went back to sleep.

  He shoved his legs into his tux pants at the same time calling, “Hold on. Be right there.”

  Olivia’s groan from the bedroom had him checking the time. Three-thirty a.m. Her pain medicine should be wearing off. After tossing his luggage into a corner of her room, he got water and her pills.

  “Olivia.” He gently shook her shoulder. “Olivia. It’s time for your meds.”

  Her eyes flittered open. “Mitch?”

  “Yeah. It’s Mitch. Here,” he said, holding out the two pills in the palm of his hand. “Take these.”

  “Why are you still here?”

  He touched her hand. “Take these pills.”

  She took them and washed both tablets down with the water he gave her. She laid her head back on the pillow. “You need to leave. I’m fine by myself. Used to it.”

  “Uh huh. I hear ya.”

  In a minute, her soft snore filled the quiet room. He stretched his arms out in front of him then tilted his head side-to-side to loosen the muscles. He wasn’t going anywhere without Olivia. Or at least, not without a promise from her to visit him. After removing his tux pants, he slipped into bed beside her.

  A door slammed loudly. The rattle of the pictures hanging on her walls made Olivia bolt upright in bed. The backside of a warm male body pressed up to hers…a body she’d know even in her sleep.

  “Momma?” The voice of a young boy echoed from the living room. “Momma? You up?”

  “What the…?” Mitch rolled, facing the direction of the noise.

  “Mitch. I can explain. But for now go to my bathroom and put on some clothes. Please. And hurry.”

  “What—”

  She pushed his shoulder, trying to move him out of her bed. Her puny shove had about the same effect as if she’d tried to move a mountain with her bare hands.

  “Just go. Now. Please don’t argue.”

  Mitch grumbled as he slipped from her bed, grabbed his luggage and sequestered himself in the bathroom. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Adam darted into the room. Her Adam. The love of her life. All three-foot four-inches of snips and snails and puppy dog tails.

  He wore a white T-shirt dotted with spots of chocolate, probably ice cream, and wrinkled khaki cargo shorts decorated with splotches of spaghetti sauce. He was minus shoes.

  “Momma. Nancy said you got a boo-boo. Did it bleed? Where is it? Can I see?”

  Olivia’s heart swelled with pride at the sight of her beloved son. “Come here, sweetheart. Momma is going to be fine. It’s just a little boo-boo. Sorry. No blood and gore.” She grinned.

  Adam giggled.

  Olivia lifted the sheet off her legs to display her wrapped ankle and knee. Hanging around the gym, Adam had seen lots of wraps and braces but never on his mother.

  His little eyes widened. “Can I touch it?”

  She smiled. “Sure, but be careful and don’t push too hard.”

  His small hand barely touched the brown bandage. “Did that hurt?”

  His touch didn’t hurt, but her entire leg throbbed with every heartbeat.

  She forced a smile. “No, not at all.” She held out her arms. “Come here. Did you have fun playing with Nancy and Mark last night?”

  Adam climbed into her bed and into her arms. His pointy elbows dug into a bruise on her side she didn’t even realize she had. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  Wrapping her arms around her precious child, she kissed the top of his head. “What did y’all do last night?”

  He wiggled out of her arms and bounced on the mattress. “We had skettie and ice cream. Then we watched Cars and The Incredibles.”

  “Really? Spaghetti and ice cream, huh?” She poked his belly with her finger, getting a laugh and squirm. “I’d have never guessed. Wow, that sounds like quite an evening.”

  She looked at the young woman who had come with Adam. “Thank you for looking after him. I wasn’t expecting to see you two so early.”

  “Sorry about that, Olivia. Mark got up to open the gym at five. Adam got up too. I guess he’s used to your schedule. Honestly, it took everything to keep him at my place for two hours. He charged through the house before I could grab him.”

  Olivia chuckled at the description of her son. “I know. Stopping him can be like stopping a runaway locomotive.” She kissed the top of Adam’s head again, savoring the little boy smell of sweat and youth. “I can’t begin to thank you for watching him. Once I knew you’d keep him for the night, I didn’t worry about him at all. He wasn’t any trouble, was he?” she asked, stroking Adam’s dark, wavy hair.

  “No more than usual,” Nancy replied with a laugh. />
  Adam pointed toward the corner. “Who’s he?”

  In her joy at seeing Adam, Olivia had forgotten Mitch.

  Dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, Mitch stood in the corner near the bathroom door. Verbally, he was quiet. However, his clenched face and balled-up fists screamed volumes.

  She glanced toward him with arched eyebrows, praying he’d excuse himself and leave without making a scene.

  He didn’t.

  Mentally, she crossed her fingers he hadn’t gotten a good look at her son.

  He had.

  His gaze bounced between her and Adam, his face flushed, his eyes cold and flat. He didn’t have to say a word. The wrath in his expression said everything.

  Mitch was furious. And in shock. When he’d moved to the corner, he wasn’t sure who would be coming through the door. If someone had suggested Olivia’s son, he’d have scoffed. To his astonishment, a miniature replica of himself stared back at him from her bed.

  Last night, when they’d gotten to her house, he hadn’t turned on lights. Instead he’d navigated through the entry hall into the shadowy living room and down to her bedroom with the light from the full moon. Later, he’d kept the room dark so she could rest. Of course he’d noticed the baby pictures, but he’d assumed they were pictures of a nephew. But now…

  He was thankful he was leaning on the wall. His legs melted to mud at the sight of her son. He’d ridden bucking horses that’d left him less stunned.

  Adam was Olivia’s son, not her lover.

  His son? Their son?

  No, impossible. She’d never have kept their child a secret from him. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

  She had.

  So what was Friday night all about?

  Mitch pushed off the wall and took two long strides to the bed. Holding out his hand he said, “I’m Mitch Landry.”

  The little boy eyed him critically then placed his small hand inside Mitch’s large one. “I’m Adam Montgomery Gentry.”

  Mitch smiled. It wasn’t his son’s fault he’d been kept away. “It’s nice to meet you, Adam. You should call me—” He hesitated and locked gazes with Olivia’s fear-struck eyes. She knew he knew. How could he not? “You can call me Mitch. So Adam, how old are you?”