Daughter on His Doorstep

by Janis Reams Hudson

  But he got the message and backed up a scant inch or two.

  “Trey,” she said again. “I’m not ready for this.”

  He ran a hand up her ribs and stopped just short of her breast, sending her pulse into overdrive and making her breasts feel as if they were swelling.

  “How ready do you have to be?” he asked.

  “Stop.” The word sounded feeble, even to her ears. “I can’t do this,” she said. “I don’t do this. Casual sex has never been my style.”

  “Casual?” He stepped back and dropped his arms to his sides. His eyes were dark and hot. “Is that what you think this is?”

  “Isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Maybe for you. I’m not feeling all that casual about it right now myself. I want you. I seriously want you.”

  How was a woman supposed to answer a declaration like that? Her knees were weak, her chest was tight and, lower, she was hot and throbbing. Her mind was slow and fuzzy. All her blood had gone elsewhere. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I think you already said it.” His voice was gentle, as was his touch when he reached up and stroked her cheek with one fingertip. “You’re not ready. I can wait. I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for. But I hope you don’t mind when I remind you from time to time that I’m ready.”

  She swallowed. “Remind me how?” Was he going to pressure her?

  “Like this.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, touching her nowhere else but her mouth. It was the most tender, yet arousing kiss she’d ever experienced, and it was over all too soon.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  She swallowed again. “Okay.”

  He stroked her cheek again. “Whenever you decide you’re ready, you just say the word, and I’m all yours.”

  She had to grip the counter behind her to keep from sliding to the floor like a heated puddle of wax.

  “I’m going to go check on the girls.” And he turned and left.

  It was a long moment before she was able to gather the strength to turn around and pick up the plate she’d left in the sink.

  What she had to decide was if she was going to be strong enough to resist him. If she wanted to resist him. She was supposed to resist him. Wasn’t she?

  Chapter Eight

  Finally the Flying Ace Ranch was proclaimed a chicken-pox-free zone. To celebrate, the family was having a cookout Sunday afternoon.

  “We usually do it every Sunday,” Donna told Laurie over the phone. “But since the boys have been sick, Belinda and I just haven’t had time.”

  “What’s that noise in the background?” Laurie asked. “I know it’s not a baby this time.”

  “That’s just Belinda, hooting with laughter. I was being generous including her when I said we hadn’t had time for a cookout. She doesn’t cook around here—by popular demand—unless the only alternative is to starve to death.”

  Laurie chuckled. “And she pays you to talk about her like that?”

  “She considers it a high compliment. So we’ll be safe Sunday, since I’m doing the indoor cooking and Ace is grilling the burgers.”

  Laurie knew plenty of people like Belinda, who didn’t like to cook, but she’d never understood it herself. She gained a great deal of pleasure from cooking—preparing a meal to not only nourish the body but to please the palate as well.

  If the truth were known, all Laurie had ever wanted to be in life was a good homemaker. She wanted to take care of a family of her own on a full-time basis, turning a house into a home where people loved to come.

  Actually the truth was known, to Jimmy, because she had shared her dream with him before they’d ever married. He had thought it a wonderful idea, because he was just old-fashioned enough not to want his wife to work. He had promised her that she would never have to.

  Naive on his part, to make such a rash promise.

  Even more naive on her part for believing it to the point of dropping out of college without earning her teaching degree.

  Six months after the wedding he decided he was bored in his accountant’s job with its steady pay, so he quit. Real estate, that was for him. Big deals, big bucks.

  Big pie in the sky. Pipe dreams. Jimmy had proven himself a terrible real estate salesman. Laurie had been forced to take a minimum-wage job to keep food on the table.

  That was when she realized that if her children were to have the things they needed and deserved it was going to be up to her to provide them. She buried her dream of being a full-time homemaker, worked her fingers to the bone and went back to school to finish getting her teaching degree.

  She’d been working ever since. But she’d meant what she’d said to Trey the morning after Amy’s accident. This job did not feel like work. It felt like…her dream.

  “Sounds like you’re going to have a good time,” she said to Donna.

  “We are, and so are you, since you and the girls will be here.”

  “I thought you said this was a family thing.”

  “Honey, on the Flying Ace, family means everybody, and that includes you. We’re liable to even have the county sheriff or one of his deputies show up for a meal. Whoever happens to be patrolling this end of the county that day.”

  Visions of dozens of Wilders and their employees—and the local law enforcement community, no less—threatened to unnerve Laurie. Whatever they thought of her would reflect on Donna, since Donna was her aunt as well as the person who had brought her here to work for Trey. “Are you sure?” she asked, hoping she had misunderstood and wouldn’t be expected to remember everyone’s name and make a good impression on all of them.

  “I’m positive,” Donna stated. “You don’t have a choice, you know.”

  That sounded like vintage Aunt Donna. When she wanted you to do something, she didn’t take no for an answer. Not ever. If she offered a person a choice, it was “Do it my way, or do it my way.”

  “I don’t?” Laurie asked.

  “Not unless you want everybody on the place trooping over to Trey’s house to get a look at you and the girls. Then you’d have to feed them and clean up after them. Trust me, honey, you don’t want that,” she added with a laugh.

  Laurie gave in, and not too reluctantly. She had to admit she was curious about the rest of the family. She’d been hearing Donna speak of “her boys,” meaning the three young ones she took care of—or, as Donna put it, “ramrodded,” or “rode herd on,” depending on the day of the week and how rowdy the boys were being at the time.

  “What should I bring?” she asked her aunt.

  “Just your sweet self, and those darling little girls of yours. And if you think of it, you could bring Trey and Katy, too.”

  “Oh. Them, huh?” Laurie chuckled. “Both of them?”

  “Well, Katy for sure,” Donna answered with a laugh.

  “You couldn’t pay me to leave her behind,” Laurie said. “But I was talking about food. What should I bring?”

  “Not a thing. We’ve got it covered.”

  “Oh, no. If I’m included as family, I contribute as family.”

  “Hmm. Okay, bring your appetite. That’s what everyone else is bringing.”

  “Aunt Donna.”

  “I don’t know what you’ve got on hand over there,” Donna said. “What do you want to bring?”

  “I can bring potato salad, or a pie, or—”

  “Bring a pie. It won’t matter what kind. It’ll get inhaled. The only other dessert we’re having is homemade ice cream, so that’ll be great. Tell Trey to have all of you here no later than two. But if you can come earlier, do.”

  “Okay, we’ll see you then.”

  Sunday, Laurie thought. She had two days to psych herself up to meet the rest of the Wilders. And to learn how to look at Trey Wilder without having memories of their kiss—kisses—make her breathless every time she saw him or drew near him or thought of him….

  Oh, mercy, were they going to be able to take one look at her and know she’
d developed a terminal case of the hots for her employer?

  The weather on Sunday could not have been more perfect. It was a balmy eighty degrees with a slight breeze and not a cloud in the wide, blue sky. When Trey pulled the Blazer to a halt near the rear of a rambling two-story house, three young boys exploded out the backdoor.

  “Uncle Trey, Uncle Trey!” they cried.

  Laurie was immediately struck by the boys’ resemblance to Trey, with that coal-black hair and cocky grin. “They’re your brother’s sons?”

  “Ace’s, yeah.” Trey killed the ignition and glanced at her. “What’s that look for?”

  Laurie shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just that they look enough like you to…well…”

  Trey threw back his head and laughed. “To make you wonder, huh? When you meet Ace you’ll see that the boys really don’t look all that much like me.”

  She met Ace when he walked around from the far side of the house as she was climbing out of the Blazer. Trey had been right. Ace Wilder was a slightly older version of Trey, but with enough subtle differences, which were mirrored in the faces of his three sons, to have her sighing with relief that Trey hadn’t done something unthinkable with his brother’s wife—three times.

  Ace introduced himself to her while on the other side of the truck Trey was introducing the girls to the boys.

  Ace’s lips twitched. “We’ll have to see how that goes.” He nodded toward the kids.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, either my boys will be nice to your girls because they know they’re expected to and because I hear your girls are extremely likable, or they’ll turn their noses up simply because they’re girls.”

  He led her around the truck and reeled off a string of names. The oldest boy was Jason, age eight. Then came six-year-old Clay, then Grant, the youngest, at four.

  A huge white dog came loping and barking from the far side of the house, followed closely by the most striking woman Laurie had ever seen. Not beautiful in the classic sense, but vivid, with slate-gray eyes and short black hair that turned to fire in the sunlight.

  “Boys,” the woman yelled. “We’re gonna have dog for supper if you don’t keep him away from the hamburger meat.”

  “Come here, Scooter, or Mom’ll get you.” Jason grabbed the animal’s collar.

  Laurie braced herself to lunge. The dog was the size of a small sofa, and while the boy was somewhat tall for his age, she feared the dog would merely take off and drag the boy in its wake. But there proved no need for a rescue, as the dog plopped its rear on the ground and gave a sloppy doggy grin.

  “Look at him.” The woman, whose voice dripped with disgust, propped her hands on her hips. “Acting like I didn’t just catch him with an empty meat wrapper in his mouth.”

  “And that,” Ace said with a grin, “is my sweet, demure wife, Belinda.”

  “Hey, it’s the fox,” Trey said, calling her by her nickname.

  “Hey, number three,” Belinda called, using his. “You brought them, finally.” She crossed the yard and held out a hand to Laurie. “Welcome.”

  Laurie accepted the handshake, mindful that this woman was Donna’s employer. Whatever Belinda thought of Laurie would reflect on Donna. But there was no reservation in Belinda Wilder’s handshake or her smile of welcome. Both were warm, firm and sincere.

  More people poured out of the backdoor of the house, and still others from around the corner, the way Belinda and Ace had come. Names and faces swam in Laurie’s head.

  She met Jack Wilder and his wife Lisa, with her leg in a walking cast, and their nine-month-old baby, Jackie. For being only a half brother to Ace and Trey, Jack looked enough like both of them that the three could have been triplets, but for the slight age differences.

  As for Lisa, she had the kind of quiet beauty that Laurie had always envied. And the love in her eyes whenever she looked at her husband or daughter nearly brought a lump to Laurie’s throat.

  Stoney Hamilton came next. His face was lined with age, but his eyes shone with sharp intelligence and wit.

  Laurie learned he’d been the foreman on the ranch for more years than anyone could remember. He’d retired several years ago and turned his job over to Jack, but retirement didn’t mean he was finished on the Flying Ace.

  “Still have to keep these youngsters in line,” he told Laurie with a wink. “’Specially them youngest ones, now that they’ve got young ladies to entertain today. Why don’t you introduce me to these pretty girls of yours.”

  Amy was eating up all the attention. Carrie seemed to be enjoying herself but was, as usual, quieter.

  But Carrie seemed utterly fascinated by Frank Thompson, the ranch’s fifty-something horse trainer.

  “After chow,” he told Carrie, “we’ll mosey on down to the corral and have a look-see.”

  Mr. Thompson’s exaggerated drawl and bow-legged swagger broke through Carrie’s reserve and had her giggling along with Amy, while Ace’s three boys rolled their eyes at Thompson’s antics.

  Just when Laurie thought she’d met everyone, a car pulled up beside the Blazer.

  “You made it,” Belinda cried.

  This, Laurie determined at once, was the sister, Rachel. She was, in a word, gorgeous. A beautiful, feminine version of her brothers. Extremely feminine at the moment, Laurie thought, realizing the woman was about seven months pregnant. She practically glowed with it.

  Lord, Laurie thought. Surrounded by all these black-haired, blue-eyed beautiful people, she felt like an alien. Even Rachel’s husband had black hair, though his eyes were more blue-green than pure blue. But there the resemblance ended, for there was no mistaking his Native American heritage.

  Their son, Cody, was the spitting image of his father. He appeared to be about the same age as Ace’s middle son, six-year-old Clay. Cody fell right in with his cousins, and was introduced to the girls, with Stoney keeping an eye on all of them.

  “So,” Donna said, slipping her arm through Laurie’s. “There you have them. The Wilders. What do you think?”

  Laurie chuckled. “I think I’m just about overwhelmed.”

  “They like you.”

  “They’ve only just met me,” Laurie protested. Although she did want them to like her. For Donna’s sake, she told herself.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Donna said. “They like you.”

  Throughout the afternoon Trey tried to keep close tabs on all of “his” girls.

  Katy was passed around from arm to arm until she put up a fuss. In keeping with his decision to give Laurie Sundays off, he changed and fed her himself, then put her down for a nap in the kitchen with the women.

  There he was able to checkup on Laurie. Just to make sure everyone was treating her right. Not that he thought they wouldn’t, and if they didn’t, Donna could give them what for easily enough. He just felt better for checking.

  She seemed to be holding her own with the out-spoken Belinda and the quieter Lisa, as well as the sharp witted Rachel. If every few minutes she glanced out the window into the yard to check on her daughters, no one could fault her.

  Carrie and Amy were his third center of attention. He wanted them to have fun, but he hoped his nephews and their monster of a dog weren’t playing too rough. Especially given Amy’s injured wrist.

  But all the kids seemed to be having a good time in the backyard. He would just stroll on out there in a minute, just to remind the boys there were grownups around keeping an eye on them.

  He headed out that way but barely got past the porch when Jack waylaid him and slapped a beer in his hand. Jack steered him away from the kids and around to where Ace stood ruling over the grill in the side yard.

  “’Bout time you came around here,” Ace complained.

  “You wanted me, you should have hollered. I was only in the kitchen.”

  Jack smirked. “Yeah, and you would have loved it if one of us had stuck our head in the door and said, ‘Hey, number three, what’s the story with you and the new nanny?�
��”

  Trey frowned. “What do you mean, the story. There is no story.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jack tipped his head back and swallowed a big gulp from his bottle of beer.

  “Pull my other leg, bro,” Ace said with a smirk.

  “I’d be glad to, if I knew what the hell you were talking about.”

  Jack and Ace looked at each other for half a second, then burst out laughing. While they were still wiping the tears from their eyes a couple of minutes later, Grady strolled up from the barn.

  “What’s going on?” Grady asked.

  “Love,” Jack said with an exaggerated sigh.

  Trey figured both his brothers must have had a few too many beers, and he said so.

  They both broke out in laughter again.

  “Look at him,” Ace crowed. “He doesn’t have a clue.”

  “You got that right,” Trey said, shaking his head.

  Grady chuckled. “I think they’re talking about you, number three.”

  In the act of taking another swallow of beer, Trey nearly choked. “What?”

  Ace and Jack broke up again.

  Jack was the first to sober. “We really shouldn’t be making fun of him, you know. She seems perfect.”

  “And those girls of hers,” Grady added. “They’re a couple of little sweethearts.”

  “Laurie?” Trey croaked, his stomach tying itself in knots. “You think I’m—that we’re—that she’s—”

  “Listen to him,” Ace crowed. “He can’t even talk, he’s so far gone.”

  “Yep.” Jack hooked his index finger around the neck of his bottle, then his thumbs on the front pockets of his jeans. “And it’s about damn time, too.”

  Trey didn’t know whether to laugh with them, start throwing punches or simply walk away and hope they came to their senses soon. “You jokers are out of your minds.”

  “Sure we are.” Jack’s grin mocked him.

  “That’s why,” Ace said with a wave of his arm, “you keep thinking up excuses to go into the house.”

  “I do not.”

  “And why you follow her around with your eyes, like a lovesick puppy,” Grady added, getting into the spirit of things.