Suddenly, the latch clicked, and the door opened.
“Hi, hi!” Cody jumped up and down in place, then, dropping the potatoes, flung himself at Mariana, hugging her leg.
She lifted him into her arms and squeezed the living daylights out of him. “What are you doing here?”
Jacob took her in from head to toe, refusing to hurry. It had been much too long since he’d last seen her.
“You look great,” he said.
With her free hand, she tugged on the hem of her sweatshirt. “I’ve just been hanging around the house all day.”
“You should do it more often.” He liked her power suit and designer jeans. He liked the sweats, too, knowing firsthand the sexy curves hidden beneath the baggy material.
“Kiss,” Cody demanded. Without waiting, he gave Mariana a loud smacking peck on her cheek.
Jacob briefly wondered if the same technique would work for him. Rather than take a chance at being rejected, he retrieved the container of potatoes and held up the paper bag.
“We brought food.”
“I...ah...”
“Invite us in, Mariana.”
Surprise must have given him the advantage, because after a moment’s hesitation, she stepped back and allowed them entry. Jacob had been here twice to move Cody’s things. He’d forgotten what a charming place she had. Small but comfortable and nicely decorated. Would she consider moving?
He made straight for the kitchen. Setting the bag of food on the counter, he removed his jacket.
“Why, Jacob? The visit. The food.” She lowered Cody to the floor. He instantly ran off down the hall, probably to his old room. “Cody, come back.”
“Let him be for a minute.” Jacob began unloading the food. “Are you hungry?”
“Why are you here?” she repeated.
“It’s Thanksgiving, Mariana. A day people traditionally spend with their families.”
“You should be with yours.”
He turned to face her. “I am. You and Cody are my family.”
“Jacob.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
“I’ve been really stupid.”
“No, you haven’t.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “A little stubborn, maybe. We both have.”
“Same thing.”
She laughed then, but it had a sad quality to it.
“I want to fix this. We need to fix this, Mariana.”
“The food, bringing Cody, I really do appreciate it. But it’s hardly enough to resolve our problems. A lot of damage has been done.”
She was right. More drastic measures were needed. “I love you.”
“Oh!”
Crossing the short distance separating them, he stopped in front of her and clasped her upper arms in his. “I think you love me, too.”
“Jacob—”
“Say it,” he insisted.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
“Thank God.” He pulled her to him and tucked her head to his chest. “I was trying so hard to do the right thing by Cody, I did the wrong thing by us.”
“You had a lot of help from me.” She sniffed.
“Are you crying again?”
He drew back in order to gaze into her eyes. Eyes he thought he could get lost in for the rest of their lives.
“Maybe a little.”
“Can we start over? Date like regular people? Move in together eventually because it’s what we both want and not because it’s convenient for Cody?”
“A date? Dinner-and-a-movie kind of date?”
“One without Cody. Simone can watch him. I’ll have a lot more time now that I’m working regular hours, Monday to Friday, eight to five, and not rodeoing.”
“I might have trouble getting time off. Saul gave me two new cases.” Those eyes he could get lost in lit up. “Molinas’s attorneys settled. I made junior partner.”
“Congratulations!” He lifted her into his arms and swung her in a circle.
“Jacob!” she squealed.
He set her down. “Hasbrough and Colletti made the right choice.”
“I wasn’t sure at first. Now, I am.”
“Is that a smug smile you’re wearing?”
“Could be.”
“We’ll work around your schedule. Just promise me we’ll have at least one night a week together, even if it’s just sitting at home in sweats watching TV.”
“You make it sound easy. Like we can just start fresh.”
“We can.”
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes, like bolting at the first sign of trouble.”
“You did do that.”
“I’m serious.”
“I am, too.”
She laid her palms flat on his shirtfront. “We can’t afford to make mistakes. Not with Cody’s care and well-being at stake.”
“Everybody messes up. It’s part of parenting. Our kids will survive.”
“Kids?”
“I was thinking of two or three more.”
“What!” She backed away. “Getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”
He grinned and reached for her. “Maybe a little. I’m willing to wait. Say, a year.”
“A year! More like three.”
“Two. We’ll compromise.”
“You are—”
She didn’t get to finish her thought. Jacob cut her off with a kiss. When they broke apart, she was flushed, breathless and at a loss for words. Good. He liked her discombobulated.
“Do you know what tomorrow is?” he asked.
“The day after Thanksgiving?”
“It’s also Black Friday. The busiest shopping day of the year. You free?”
“For shopping?”
“Ring shopping. I want to marry you, Mariana. Say yes,” he told her when she started to protest.
“Yes!” Cody hollered. He came skidding around the corner and collided into Jacob and Mariana. “Yes, yes, yes!” Holding on to each of their legs, he grinned up at them.
“There,” Jacob said. “It’s settled.”
Mariana looked affronted. “He can’t answer for me.”
“I think he just did.”
She gazed up at Jacob, love shining in her eyes, and tenderly cupped his cheek with her hand. “I was wrong, you know. You aren’t anything like my father.”
“I’m going to make you happy.”
“You already have.”
“I’ll take that as an official yes.” Jacob kissed her again, his fully healed heart beating soundly.
“Hug, hug.” Cody pulled on Jacob’s shirt.
“Good idea, buddy.” Jacob bent and scooped Cody up.
With his son in one arm and Mariana in the other, he held his entire world.
A man couldn’t ask for a better Thanksgiving, a better life, than this one.
*
Keep reading for an excerpt from HIS FAVORITE COWGIRL by Leigh Duncan Be sure to look for the last book in the
TEXAS RODEO BARONS miniseries!
THE TEXAN’S CHRISTMAS
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Chapter One
Hank Judd urged Star forward until palmetto fronds no longer rustled against the big gelding’s front legs. He spotted a grey Brahman in a patch of scrub brush and s
lapped a lariat against his thigh. “Get on, gal. Get on now.”
Her calf at her side, the cow broke from her hiding place. As the newcomers trotted into the open, cow dogs worked them toward the other intruders Ty and Hank had culled from the herd of prized Andalusians.
“I think that’s the last of ’em.” Hank moved into place beside his friend and owner of the Circle P Ranch. Slowly they drove the Brahmans away from the main herd, while the dogs kept strays from wandering off.
“For now.” Ty Parker removed his Stetson and mopped his head with a blue bandana. Fall or not, temperatures hovered above ninety degrees with the humidity so high a man could practically wring water from the air. “Till the next time Ol’ Man Tompkins’s cows decide the grass is greener on the Parker side of the fence.”
Hank let his gaze sweep over the pasture on the far side of recently repaired barbed wire. The cattle had it right—the Circle P’s grazing land was greener.
“Looks like Tompkins could stand to treat his grass with fertilizer and weed kill, doesn’t it? Those soda apples are takin’ over his place.” Wide patches of leafy green tropicals dotted the neighbor’s acreage. The weeds sported wicked thorns no self-respecting cow would go near, much less eat. Looking for something more appetizing, Tompkins’s cattle regularly pushed their way onto the Circle P land, where they helped themselves to the better-tended grass. And if the Brahmans happened to get impregnated by one of the Circle P’s purebred bulls while they were visiting, so much the better.
Better for Ol’ Man Tompkins, that was. The old rancher only gave lip-service to preserving his herd’s bloodlines. Truth was, every mixed-breed calf put money in his pocket, no matter whose bull sired it. Especially since his Brahmans fetched a lower price at auction than Ty’s sturdy Andalusians whose roots traced back to the first cattle brought to the New World by the conquistadors.
Hank clucked to Star as Ty moved ahead. The two men urged the half-dozen intruders along the trail toward Tompkins’s front gate. The plan called for Hank to deliver the cows to one of the pens near the main house while Ty had a heart-to-heart with the neighbor, who had apparently decided not to do his fair share of fence mending.
“I’m glad you’re here to take over for Colt.” Ty’s voice rose over the jangle of metal from the horses’ bridles, the rustle of grass, the occasional warning growl from one of the dogs.
Hank swigged water from his canteen and stared at the distant horizon where the flat terrain met the sky. He shouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t have been...if he could’ve saved his real estate company in Tallahassee from going belly-up. He swallowed. The hows and whys of his presence on the Circle P were nobody’s business but his own.
The cows stirred dust into the air. It clogged his throat, and he cleared it. Four generations of Parkers had raised cattle in this particular section of South Florida. Judds had worked alongside the owners for just as long. Hank and his brothers had vowed to carry on the family tradition after their father’s death six months before. Each of Seth Judd’s five sons had offered to shoulder the responsibility, but Hank’s oldest brother, Garrett, had been sidelined by his wife’s difficult pregnancy. As the next in line, Colt had taken a leave of absence from his job with the Professional Bull Riders to walk in their father’s bootsteps. After he and the Circle P’s new cook, Emma, had fallen in love, the newlyweds had purchased a spread in nearby Indiantown. For the past four months, Colt had spent his spare time overseeing the construction of his own house and outbuildings. His departure had opened the spot for a ranch manager, just when Hank had found himself in need of a job.
“You still think the twins’ll move south sometime this winter?” Saddle leather creaked as Ty shifted toward him.
“Trying to get rid of me already?” Hank switched his reins from one hand to the other. His stay on the Circle P was only temporary. He’d move on just as soon as he got his feet under him again financially. The youngest Judds, twins Randy and Royce, called weekly to remind everyone they were chomping at the bit to take his place. Once they wrapped up their contract in Montana, they’d come home to co-manage the ranch.
“Nah. Just thinking about Noelle. It’ll be hard enough for her to settle in here on the Circle P. Harder still if she has to move again before the school year is out. You all set for her?”
Hank gulped. His ten-year-old was due the day after tomorrow. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. I sure appreciate your letting her join me here.” His father’s death had forced him to take stock of his life, and one of the things missing from it was a relationship with his only child. If he was ever going to make things right with her, he had to act. So, when his ex asked to send their daughter to boarding school for three months while she accompanied her parents on a round-the-world cruise, he had put his foot down for the first time since the divorce.
“Nope,” he’d declared. “She’s coming to the Circle P with me.” And, thanks to a custody agreement giving Hank a say in his daughter’s education, that had been that. Not that he could’ve afforded his share of the boarding school tuition, even if he’d wanted to.
One of the calves veered away from the rest of the cows. Ty waited till the dogs guided it back to its mama before he picked up the thread of the conversation.
“It’ll be good to have kids running about the ranch for a while. Reminds me of when we were young’uns.”
“Sometimes it seemed like there were more of us than there were cattle.” Hank tugged his hat brim low enough to shade his eyes. As the middle of Seth and Doris Judd’s five sons, he’d grown up on the ranch with Ty. Together with boys and girls from neighboring ranches, and a few townies, they’d played cowboys and Indians in the barn, feasted on watermelons and cantaloupes from the garden, caught fish and even tipped a few cattle when they thought they could get away with it...which they never had.
“Jimmy’s gonna miss Bree when she moves.” Ty ran his fingers through Ranger’s mane. His son and the cook’s daughter had become fast friends but, after six months of on-the-job training under Chef Emma, Ty’s other children—foster sons Chris and Tim—were ready to assume responsibility for the kitchen on a day-to-day basis. Of course, Emma would still spend one day a week on the ranch, and she’d put in extra time during the winter and spring round-ups. But once she and Colt moved to their own place, Jimmy would lose his closest playmate. “Having another young person around here’ll make it easier on all of us.”
Hank frowned. “I don’t know.... Noelle wasn’t happy about boarding school. If anything, I think she’s even less excited about coming here for the semester.” Or spending time with a father whose involvement in her life had, until recently, been limited to occasional guest appearances.
“Ten’s a hard age for kids. They’re not little anymore. Not teenagers, either. It’ll be good for her to get away from the city. Even if it’s only for three months. She’ll find out for herself what’s important and what’s not.”
It sounded simple when Ty said it, but from the few visits he’d had with Noelle, Hank was pretty sure dealing with the preteen would be a challenge. He gathered his courage along with Star’s reins. “If you don’t mind my asking, how’d you do it with Jimmy? He was—what—five when he came to live with you?”
“Almost six.” Ty shook his head. The boy had been abandoned on the doorstep of the Department of Children and Families where his wife, Sarah, had worked. “We’ve had our moments, believe me. Jimmy didn’t think much of me at first. But then again, neither did Sarah. The three of us, we kinda grew on each other.” With a knowing smile, Ty added, “It’ll be the same for you and Noelle. You’ll see.”
Hank expelled a harsh breath. He wished he had Ty’s confidence. He had busted his tail trying to provide Amy with the big house, the expensive cars, the country-club memberships that she’d thought were her due as the daughter of a millionaire. In the end, it hadn’t done a lick of good. Like the Tompkinses’ cows, his wife had moved on to greener pastures soon after Noelle was born. He’d convi
nced himself, or let his ex convince him—even now he wasn’t sure which—that a good father sent his child to fancy summer camps, enrolled her in expensive private schools, gave her all the latest toys and gadgets. But the long hours Hank had spent at work meant he was a stranger to his own child. He stifled a laugh at the irony of his current situation. He’d lost the business that had earned him the big house and all the trappings of success, leaving him no choice but to build a relationship with the girl he barely knew.
At the entrance to the Bar X, Ty dismounted. Hinges in need of a good greasing squealed a sharp protest as he pushed open the gate. Hank moved the cattle through, and then held up while Ty swung the gate closed behind him. Before he latched it, the two-way radio Ty wore at his side squawked.
“Yeah,” he said into the mouthpiece. A beat passed. “He did what?” Ty’s voice rose. He tugged Ranger to one side as he reached for the chain securing the gate. “I’ll be right there,” he said at last.
Hank left the dogs to mind the cows while he turned to his friend. Beneath his Stetson, the man’s face had lost its color. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know how he managed to get up there, but Jimmy fell outta the hayloft. Sarah says he’s okay—just had the wind knocked out of him—but she wants me to come home.”
“Go. I got this.” Hank swept his hat from his head and made a shooing motion. “I’ll stop by the house when I get back. Let you know how it went with Ol’ Man Tompkins.”
Ty swung into his saddle. “Never a dull moment when there’s kids around.”
“I understand,” Hank said, though he knew he probably didn’t. He expected he would soon enough. He urged the cows down a weed-choked lane while Ty headed back the way they had come.
Thirty minutes later, Hank called out as he herded the Brahmans into the Tompkinses’ front yard. He held his breath, hoping the crotchety old coot who owned the place wouldn’t shoot him on sight. He had no desire to become the latest casualty of the long-standing feud between the two ranches. A move that wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility if the stories he’d heard at his daddy’s knee were to be believed. For longer than anyone could remember, the Tompkins and Parker families had been at each other’s throats. Legend had it the trouble began when the first owner of the Bar X had tried to dam the Kissimmee River. The move had all but shut off the Circle P’s water supply, and the Judds had stood firmly beside their employers. Only once had there been a chance for a truce, but that hope had died more than twelve years before.
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