by Tina Leonard
The blanket she’d thrown at Frisco was on the floor. Picking it up, she folded it, then knelt to put it in the bottom drawer. What she couldn’t see last night caused her to hesitate now. A framed picture of a man, a woman and twelve ragamuffin-looking boys stared out at her. The picture was eight-by-eleven, black-and-white, taken by a real photographer on the grounds of the Union Junction ranch. Though the boys looked rag-tag, it was clear that they were loved and happy. Everyone wore jeans, except the lady, who wore a Jackie Kennedy-style dress and gloves. She reminded Annabelle of Audrey Hepburn, with her big eyes and delicate frame.
If this was the Jefferson brothers’ mother, she’d been quite a looker. She’d also been slightly built. Annabelle wrinkled her nose. She hadn’t lost ten of the pounds she’d gained with Emmie. Multiply ten pounds by twelve kids.
And all the boys had that wiry, lean frame. “It’s not fair. At least one of you could have been a mutant,” she muttered. If the man in the picture was the father of the clan, he was tall, lean and handsome. Like all his offspring.
You’d think the Union Junction women would be throwing panties at the ranch windows every night.
Still, why waste a good pair of panties when none of the brothers was inclined to settle down? It was a little unsettling, because she knew Frisco had started knocking edges off her hard heart, softening it into a penetrable organ once again. If anything, this picture told her why she couldn’t fall for him, even if she wanted to. She couldn’t live up to the family frozen in time, captured in a perfect moment.
She put the frame away and stood up.
Frisco was leaning up on his elbows, watching her intently. “Find everything you need?”
“Not yet,” she said, her nose in the air. She hated getting caught snooping and he darn well knew it, so he could just temper his sarcasm with a little sweetness today. “Have you found everything you need?”
“Not yet,” he replied.
She crossed her arms. “I don’t have to wait on you hand-and-foot. It’s not a royal right ceded to you just because you were dumb enough to roll down a hill.”
He scratched at the stubble on his face. “Calm down, Sparky. I apologize. I’m a little sensitive about…what’s in that drawer.”
“Fine. I’m a little sensitive about being snapped at.”
His gaze roamed over her long skirt, boots and red sweater. “How’d you sleep?”
“Just like Emmie.”
“I seem to have a beneficial effect on you Turnberrys.”
That she wasn’t about to debate. “Do you want some orange juice? Breakfast?”
“I’m not very hungry. Thanks.”
“Call me if you need something.” She went to scoop up Emmie, who was starting to flail restlessly beside Frisco, a sure sign a bottle was needed.
“I’m sorry I teased you last night about the rivals across the street.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
She bent to pick up the baby. He reached out with a hand to halt her in mid-bend.
“I’ll feed her. I’ve got nothing else to do, and I might as well be useful.”
Her heart turned over. “Why are you being so nice about my baby?”
“Why not?”
“Because I really don’t need your pity, and neither does Emmie. We’re fine, Frisco, really fine on our own.”
“I don’t pity you. I’m feeling sorry for myself.”
She stared into his dark eyes. “Because?”
“I don’t really know. But I haven’t held a baby in years, and I’m not ever going to hold one of my own, and the experience is far from killing me.”
She couldn’t say that yes, he would hold one of his own. He was pushing forty—slowly, but pushing it all the same—with no apparent inclination to do anything about getting babies. Her gaze slowly dropped, then returned to his. “Is it because of the picture? Is that why you keep it hidden?”
His eyes hooded suddenly. “I just want to feed Emmie, Annabelle. That’s all I’m asking for. I have a strange feeling you’re not going to be here much longer, and after that—and after my leg heals—I’m going to be back to work. Back to being myself. All this will be out of my system.”
She wondered how he could know exactly what she’d been thinking. “Okay,” she said, her arms hesitantly offering Emmie to him. “I’ll bring you a bottle.”
“And flip on that TV, if you don’t mind. Emmie and I are going to watch something intelligent like football, aren’t we, Emmie?” he cooed to the baby now curled into a tucked position on his chest. “Football strategy is good for you. Teamwork is key to a well-run home and business.”
“Good grief.” Annabelle left the room to hurry downstairs for the bottle. The man was a bit unhinged, even in an undrugged state.
“I THINK YOUR LITTLE birdy might be about ready to fly the coop,” Jerry said to Delilah as they perched in his truck for a quick lunch break. “Not that I’m supposed to be giving you any info, mind you.”
“I was afraid of that.” Delilah sighed. “Annabelle’s my rolling stone. The only reason she hung around the salon as long as she did was because she felt guilty about Emmie. Figured it was best for the baby to have a chance to know her father. Annabelle’s real sensitive about that type of thing since she lost her father last year.”
“Is that why she looks so uncomfortable all the time? Like she can’t light for more than five minutes?”
“She’s still grieving, that’s for certain. And trying to figure out her place in the world. Annabelle doesn’t really belong in a small town, I’m afraid. She’s a big-city girl, the daughter of Jason Turnberry, wine magnate. She’s got a ton of money, though she’s refusing to touch much of it right now while she’s trying to figure out where she fits and what she could make of herself without family money. I’ve often been thankful for her decision to live more simply, because I believe if that pond scum, Tom, had ever figured out who she was, he’d have stuck on her like a leech. And he didn’t love her. Not even a little, so I’m grateful she’s smart enough to try to find her own way.”
“It’s good to know who one is in life.”
“Yes.” Delilah nodded. “And Annabelle never had the chance to figure it out. Her mother was some society dame who didn’t want her, so Jason Turnberry raised her. Only he became ill in the last ten years of his life, starting about the time Annabelle would have just about graduated college. She came home and spent the last years of her father’s life nursing him. He was her best friend, her only family, and he left Annabelle his company.” Delilah shrugged. “So when she lost her father, she lost her whole person.”
Jerry sighed. “It’s too bad she won’t find herself in time. I do believe I saw a twinkle in Frisco’s eye for her.”
“Well, if he twinkled, she’d sure put out the flame. Besides, she doesn’t belong here, Jerry. And if I’m not mistaken, these boys are somewhat emotionally devastated themselves. No bonding ability at all. A lot of cock, a bit of bull and too much story, if you know what I mean. No feminine touch to rein all that in.”
“I don’t reckon you put two people in the same boat unless they both know how to row.”
“And how to swim if the boats tips over.” Delilah stood, brushing crumbs from her jeans. “I’m just learning a few new strokes myself since my sister came to town.”
“You’ll outlast her.”
She shook her head. “I have no idea what makes Marvella tick. But if grit gets me any points, I’ll be standing no matter what she does. You don’t happen to know where I can find a cowboy who can stay on the meanest bull in Texas, do you?”
“I’m well past my youth, Delilah, though you know I’d sure try to stick in the saddle. Why do you need a cowboy?”
“Every year the town holds a big fair, and one of the draws is bull-riding. The cowboy with the best time wins the purse. I sure could use the purse, now that Marvella’s managed to draw my business down so much. We’ve always won, and I’ve always been able to give
the purse to charity. This year, I’m sorry to say, my business is the charity.” She looked at him sadly. “If I want to keep these girls on, I’m going to need some cash.”
“Delilah, I’d be happy—”
She held up a hand. “Thank you, Jerry, but it’s a resourceful woman who rides the waves of luck, be it high or low tide. If it’s time for the Lonely Hearts Salon to go out on ebb tide, so be it. But I plan to pay my girls something.”
He pursed his lips. “What kind of riding is it?”
“Ugly. Because you have to have a bull that doesn’t just dance around like a youthful grandma. You have to have one that’s full of fire, as that’s what draws the audience. And my bull is Bloodthirsty Black.”
“Oh. And Marvella’s?”
“Bad-Ass Blue. She just got him last year—bought him from the best-scoring cowboy at the Fort Worth rodeo.”
“She really does have it in for you, doesn’t she?”
“Every bit, every step of the way.”
“Ever think about getting out of her way?”
“Nope.” She shook her head at him and grinned. “I was there first. I’m older. It’s my town. If one of us goes, it ain’t gonna be me.”
“That-a-girl.” He squinted toward the dam where the Jefferson brothers were busy replacing sandbags in the shoring that had slipped in the night. “You know what sticks in a saddle the best, Delilah?”
“What?”
“A tall tale. Every word bigger and braver than the last. A lot of cock, a bit of bull and too much story, as you put it.”
“The Jefferson brothers?”
“I heard one of them mention he was thinking about trying the rodeo circuit.”
She watched them for a few moments. “Nah,” she said after a while. “They’ve already got one man down. Whoever rides Bloodthirsty Black is likely to get busted up. I couldn’t do that to them.”
“You just don’t want to ask them because you’d be asking for something for yourself. These men know what it means to try to keep a business afloat, Delilah.”
“I know. But I’m admiring Annabelle these days, Jerry. I’m going to figure out something on my own.”
Chapter Ten
Around nightfall, Laredo and Tex went to town with Jerry to pick up the ladies and haul them back to the ranch for dinner.
“They sure have been good sports about their vacation getting screwed up,” Laredo said.
“I may miss them when they go,” Tex agreed. “A few of them, anyway.”
Jerry grunted from his place at the wheel. The brothers looked at each other.
“Maybe this means we need a woman or two at the ranch. Liven things up a bit,” Tex said.
“We could get some dogs if all we wanted was to liven things up a bit,” Laredo pointed out. “Although that Katy Goodnight gal kind of caught my eye. I like the way she mops.”
“Oh, now there’s a proposal. ‘Hang out with me at the ranch so I can watch you mop.”’ Tex and Jerry had a good laugh at Laredo’s expense.
“I like the way she moves her tush. Back and forth, side to side. Then north and south. Her dark hair flops around in that long ponytail and—what?” Laredo stopped as both men were staring at him incredulously.
“You’ve got the hots for her,” Tex said.
“Uh-uh. Liking to watch a woman mop is not having the hots for her,” Laredo argued.
“He may have a point. It sounds more like he has a fetish for clean floors.”
“And even if I do have a fetish for clean floors, which I do not—is it a crime to like the way a woman moves, I ask you? Is that any better or worse than having an over-excited enthusiasm for manure and buds that never open for you?”
Tex stiffened, insulted. “Any day now, one of those roses is going to open, Laredo. It’s going to be lush and beautiful and fragrant—”
“Jeez, Tex, why don’t you just get a woman?” Laredo couldn’t explain why he was so annoyed, except that he hadn’t liked being teased. That didn’t make him a chauvinist or anything. She could have been wiping tables and he probably would have been just as—
An unpleasant thought hit him. “There’s a possibility that I don’t know what a woman’s for beyond housekeeping, and the obvious,” Laredo said slowly. “I never thought about it before. All I remember of mom is her cleaning the house. She was happy about it. She sang a lot.”
“She could pipe up on Dad a bit, too,” Tex said wistfully. “Boy, he didn’t like it when she was upset with him.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“I just don’t have her magic touch with roses,” Tex said with a sigh.
“It hasn’t felt like the Union Junction Ranch in a long time,” Laredo said. “More like Malfunction Junction, just like the townfolks say. Seems more and more as if they’re right.”
Tex nodded. “Yep. That’s what we are. Malfunction Junction.”
Jerry didn’t say a word as he drove. Laredo decided there wasn’t anything else to say. He was feeling melancholy and reminiscent. The Lonely Hearts ladies had shown him one thing—life at the ranch was pretty stale. He’d been ready to scratch his itch a long time ago, and head out to see the world, starting in the Appalachian mountains, maybe head up the eastern seaboard.
It would be hard on Mason, what with Frisco being off his leg for a while. But there was no time like the present for a man to do something big with himself, and as soon as winter lightened up a little, he was going to leave.
ANNABELLE GAVE EMMIE her last bottle for the evening, then put her in a pretty white sleeper. “You’re such an angel,” she told the baby. “I love you.”
Emmie seemed to nuzzle her back. Annabelle knew it was too soon for her daughter to really react to her, but still, it felt good. And she looked forward to the future, when Emmie would recognize her instantly.
For a moment, she thought of Tom, and what he’d chosen to miss out on. She felt sorry for Emmie, who would never know her daddy. “I had a wonderful daddy, your grandfather. You would have been the apple of his eye.”
That made her sad, so she tucked her baby onto her chest and headed up the stairs to put Emmie to bed.
“It’s about time,” Frisco complained as soon as she entered. “Don’t you think Emmie should get to bed earlier?”
“I beg your pardon? Are you trying to tell me you know what’s best for my daughter?”
“No. I missed her, though. Come here, little bit, and let me hold you.”
Frisco stretched out his arms to take the baby, and it was all Annabelle could do not to let the tears she felt stinging show. She surrendered the baby, watching her tiny daughter be engulfed by two big hands.
“I heard you’re leaving tomorrow,” Frisco said.
“From who?” She felt surprised and embarrassed. She’d wanted to slip out without him knowing.
“You said goodbye to Delilah. She was pretty shook up about it, and she told all the girls so they’d know to say goodbye to you tomorrow.” He laid the baby down beside him, tucking a blanket around her, before giving Annabelle a full-on stare. “I figured I’d say my goodbye tonight.”
“I see. Well, it’s a bit awkward.” It was a lot awkward.
“Were you going to say goodbye to me?”
She avoided his gaze. “Not necessarily.”
“That would have hurt my feelings.”
She still didn’t look at him. “That wouldn’t have been my intention.”
“Maybe not. I’m just telling you that I wouldn’t have liked that at all.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Please look at me.”
It was hard, because she wanted to—and yet, she was so afraid. There were things she wanted to see in his eyes, and yet, those same things she didn’t want to see. How could she explain to him what she really didn’t understand about herself?
“Annabelle.”
Slowly, she turned at the command in his tone. “Yes?” she whispered.
“Kiss me.”
“
I can’t.”
“Because?”
She could barely hold his gaze. Even her hands were trembling. “Because I’m…it’s not the right thing to do.”
“Can’t take advantage of a man with a broken leg?”
He was trying to lighten the mood, but when it came to the idea of kissing him, she couldn’t take it as a simple matter of swapping saliva. “Why do you want to kiss me?”
“Because I have the strangest feeling that I’ll always regret it if I don’t. You…pull me to you in some way I can’t quite explain. And I think you feel that pull, too.”
“I don’t.”
“Not at all?”
She lowered her gaze.
“I understand about Emmie’s father, Annabelle. I know it’s too soon for you. I’m not trying to rush you. It’s like having the answer to a question, and I guess I want the answer.”
“You scare me,” she murmured.
“In a good way?”
“Is there a good way to scare someone?” She stared at him, curious.
“Well, you scare me a little, too. But I think it’s called attraction. And I understand you want to leave. But I’m more scared that you won’t kiss me.” He caught her fingers in his as she stood beside the bed. “I really, really got scared when I found out you were leaving tomorrow. Tell a man who’s got a busted leg that the woman he’s been mulling over kissing for two days is leaving. That’s almost cruel. I couldn’t come find you; I couldn’t run you down and grab you like I wanted to. I had to wait, and hope that you’d come upstairs to put Emmie in my bed. It was torture, Annabelle.”
She hadn’t meant to torture him. She was tortured enough for both of them. He’d been the one to turn away last night, which had hurt more than she could have imagined.
And yet, she was touched that Frisco had wanted to come to her for this kiss he wanted so badly. He’d admitted to feeling some of the pain she was feeling, which made her feel much less alone. “I felt abandoned,” she whispered.