“Am not! Am not! Am not!” After screaming her declaration at him, she ran for her room.
“Oooh.” Betsy shook her head. “Now she’s really gonna get it.”
“Go to bed,” Dallas said wearily.
Betsy scampered off, and he completed Bonnie’s task, washed his hands then pondered heading to her room to lecture her, but on what? He had never missed his wife more. When it came to raising their girls, he suddenly felt as if he was failing miserably. When had they changed from adorable munchkins to monsters?
Before their wild night, Dallas would’ve asked Josie for help, but now that he recognized just how little self control he had in keeping his hands off her, he felt powerless in that arena, as well.
Maybe someday he’d be ready for a second shot at love, but for now, becoming the father Bobbie Jo had trusted him to be was his number-one goal.
OF ALL THE ROTTEN LUCK…
Dallas stood in the candy aisle of Mefford’s—the town’s only pharmacy. Surveying the antacids in the next section was Josie. Outside, the wind was fiendish and her red corkscrew curls formed a sexy-as-hell mane. The cold had pinkened her cheeks and the lips that still haunted his every daydream.
Hoping to avoid the woman, Dallas took the long way to the checkout, down the bandage and corn pad aisle. Too bad for him, Josie must’ve used the same tactic. Her furrowed brows told him she was just as annoyed by another chance meeting as him.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said with what he hoped came off as a casual laugh.
“Getting ready early for trick-or-treaters?” she asked, eyeing his cart brimming with sweets.
“Nah. I’ve had trouble getting the girls to do their chores, so I figured positive reinforcement might work. You know, get them to brush their teeth, hand them a candy bar—that sort of thing.” He cringed. “Not that they’d get to eat it right then, but later.”
Josie crossed her arms and pressed her lips.
“What? You think it’d be better if I spanked them?”
“Dallas, most kids want their parents’ attention. Have you ever tried something as simple as talking to them—especially Bonnie—and hearing from her why she’s developed a penchant for trouble?”
Rolling his eyes, he noted, “I’m a grown man, and if I can’t figure out how to fix her, how is she supposed to tell me?”
Hands to her temples, she closed her eyes. “You’re an impossible man. Just once, when you ask for advice, and I take time from my schedule to give it, would you at least grant me the courtesy of pretending to listen?”
“I did, but I seriously doubt something as simple as asking Bonnie why she’s so sassy is going to produce radical change.” Shaking his head and sighing, he muttered, “I’m starting to think maybe you’re not such a great teacher.”
“Funny,” she snipped, “because I’m now certain you’re an awful father.”
IN THE DRUGSTORE PARKING LOT, Josie was so upset by the nasty exchange that she retched in the grass alongside her car.
Life wasn’t just unfair, but downright cruel.
In her heart, she knew she’d been an amazing mother. Emma had been the center of her existence. Josie had been firm when needed, gentle and loving and fun when not. She’d taught her basic numbers in fun ways like lying on the grass, counting clouds.
How dare Dallas accuse her of being anything less than an excellent teacher? Because in doing so, he’d also touched a raw nerve. How many times had she blamed herself for not having been more in tune with her husband? If she’d recognized his drug problem in time to find him help, would her happy life have never changed? Would Emma still be here, a lovely little girl with her whole life ahead of her?
That line of thought sent Josie retching into the bushes.
“Hey…” Tone considerably softer than the last time they’d talked, Dallas stepped up behind her. “You all right?”
“Does it look like it?” she snapped.
“Whoa.” Holding up his hands, he said, “I was just asking a simple question. No need to bite my head off.”
“Oh—there’s every need.” She hadn’t thought it possible to feel worse, but being near Dallas caused a headache in addition to her nausea. “You and I made a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake. We’re not friends. I don’t need you coming over here to check on me, when I’m obviously fine.”
“Whatever.” Turning his back on her, he walked away. “But I’d do the same for a stranger.”
Josie should have been pleased, but was instead oddly sad. Which made no sense. But then neither did this wretched flu refusing her a moment’s peace.
“NO,” BONNIE SAID THAT NIGHT when Dallas presented her with a new brand of toothpaste.
Betsy announced, “She doesn’t like that one, either.”
Dallas was on the verge of brushing Bonnie’s teeth himself whether she liked it or not, when he thought back to the brief conversation he and Josie had shared before things had gone bad. She’d urged him to talk to his daughters. Genuinely talk to them—as if they were old enough to understand.
“Tell me something,” he asked his oldest girl on a whim, “why are you always giving me so much trouble about brushing your teeth? You didn’t used to. What’s changed?”
Opening her mouth, she put her finger inside, proudly wiggling her right front tooth. “What if when I stick the brush in there it knocks my tooth out and then I choke half to death?”
“Okay, wait—when you threw your last paste in the toilet, you said it was because it tasted bad.”
“It did,” she said with a cock of her head. “’Cause if it knocked out my tooth and I choked half to death it would’ve been poison.”
Dallas supposed that was logical enough thinking—if you were five. “So let me get this straight, you refuse to brush until that tooth falls out?”
She nodded.
Betsy suggested, “What if she just brushes all around that one? Would that work, Bonnie?”
“I s’pose.” And just like that, the battle and war had been won.
While Dallas was certain this small victory by no means marked the end of his parenting trials, at least he’d managed to do one thing right—and he hadn’t even resorted to candy bar bribes.
Though he knew he had Josie to thank, his mouth went dry at the mere thought of admitting her victory. The woman made him crazy. Meaning the less he thought about her, the better off he’d be.
“I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU.” A week later, Josie had just put the last of her kids on the bus when Nat approached, blowing on her hands to ward off the cold. “You’re even more pale than usual.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Josie said, hustling into the warm school, “the sun hasn’t been out in days.”
“Still…” Nat held open the door.
Cheeks stinging from the sudden warmth, Josie asked, “Have I mentioned lately how great you are for my ego?”
“Don’t blame me. Shelby and the office crew noticed, too. When was your last physical?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Ignoring her friend, Josie headed for her room to work on assembling student portfolios. “When you have something fun to talk about come see me.”
Josie had barely been at her desk twenty minutes when her eyelids grew heavy. Exhaustion clung to her, weighing down on her shoulders like a warm velvet cape. Figuring a catnap wouldn’t hurt, she rested her head on her desk…
Waking three hours later to find her classroom dark, Josie conceded it was time to give her doctor a call.
BY MONDAY OF THE NEXT WEEK, Josie sat in Doc Haven’s office, having her blood pressure taken by his nurse. She still hadn’t shaken her bug and it was getting ridiculous how many times she’d had to ask Shelby to watch her class. It couldn’t be normal that she spent more time in the bathroom than with her students.
“Perfect,” the nurse said. “One-twenty over seventy five.”
“Good to know I’m not having a heart attack,” Josie grumbled.
“Oh, now,
can’t be all that bad. Open up and let me take your temperature.” When that turned out to be normal as well, she said, “Run on down to the bathroom and tinkle in a cup for me, and then the doctor will be in.”
Josie thanked the woman before completing her task.
Back in the exam room, she sat on the crinkly paper, hating the way it felt beneath her. Adding cranky to her list of symptoms, she slid off the table to fish through a magazine basket. Settling on People, she was midway through an article on stars with their own Vegas shows when a knock sounded on the door.
“Everyone decent?” Doc asked, slowly opening the door while reading her chart. Looking up, he seemed surprised. “Well, hello. Don’t I usually see you on your turf?”
“Nothing personal,” Josie said with a wry smile, “but afraid so. We all appreciated you showing up so fast last week when Lyle Jenkins fell off the monkey bars. From the backward angle of his arm, even I could tell it wasn’t a simple strain.”
“No kidding,” Doc said with a whistle. “Poor kid’s gonna be in a cast for a while.” Taking a seat on a rolling black stool, he asked, “Back to you, what seems to be the problem?”
Josie described her now-impressive list of symptoms, convinced she must’ve picked up some rare flu. “I love my job, but it’s gotten to the point that I literally have to force myself out of bed in the morning.”
“Hmph.” Standing, bushy gray eyebrows furrowed, the doctor checked her eyes, nose and throat. He felt the lymph nodes at the base of her head. Had her lie down while he palpated her abdomen and stomach. “All of the usual suspects seem fine. When was your last period?”
“Few weeks ago. It was lighter than usual, but nothing too out of the ordinary.”
“Is there a chance you might be pregnant?”
“Absolutely not.” While carrying Emma, she’d never felt better. Now, she resembled the walking dead. Whereas she’d been upset with her friends for noticing how awful she looked, now it’d gotten to the point where it wasn’t anything she could hide.
Nodding, he jotted the information in her chart. “Sit tight while I get my nurse back in here to draw blood.”
Joy. Nothing made her already agitated stomach more uneasy than the sight of her own blood.
Another knock sounded at the door, but instead of the nurse like she’d expected, it was Doc. “Ran into the lab tech in the hall. Looks like we caught a lucky break in figuring out what’s wrong.”
PREGNANT.
The whole ride home, Josie couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. Spotting is normal for some women the doctor said when she’d told him about her period. As for her feeling great when carrying Emma, he’d explained that away, too. Apparently each pregnancy plays by its own rules.
In her cozy little house she fed Kitty before making a beeline for Emma’s room. While some people went to the cemetery to talk with their deceased loved ones, she’d always felt closer to her daughter here.
“Sweetie, I never saw this coming, did you?”
When she’d heard she was carrying her daughter, she’d cried from happiness. Now, hands covering her still-flat stomach, she wasn’t sure what to feel. Of course, she was excited, but in a cautious way. As she would be if it was rumored Santa was bringing her a new laptop for Christmas. No use in celebrating until she had the box—or baby, in this case—in her hands.
On her feet, Josie moved about the room, touching photos of Emma when she’d been a baby and then a toddler and then a little girl at her first teddy bear tea party.
The phone rang.
Josie jogged to her bedroom to answer and said with forced cheer, “Nat, great news. Doc Haven says I’m anemic.” True. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone the rest.
“That’s it? Did you tell him how queasy you’ve been?”
“He gave me a head-to-toe exam and aside from the iron, I’m the perfect picture of health.”
“Whew. That means you’ll be able to come Christmas shopping in Tulsa this weekend with me and Shelby.”
Laughing, she perched on the side of the bed. “I’m touched by the depth of your concern.”
“You know how worried I’ve been.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, plucking a brown leaf from the ivy on her nightstand. “I also know how much you’ve been dreading hitting the malls.”
“Got me there,” she admitted, “but back to your health, so all you have to do is pop a few vitamins and you’ll be fine?”
“Uh-huh.” Especially in about seven and a half more months.
When Josie returned the cordless phone to its charger, she was trembling. Not so much from fear of once again becoming a mother, but from telling Dallas he was going to be a father.
Forcing a breath, she dug her cell from the bottom of her purse and flipped it open to find Dallas’s number. Once he answered, she said, “Are you available for dinner tomorrow night? We need to talk.”
Chapter Eleven
Dallas was more than a little perplexed by Josie’s invitation. Their last conversation wasn’t even civil. When he’d questioned her as to why she felt the sudden need to play nice, she’d seemed evasive. Significant? Probably not, but as he parallel parked his truck in front of her vine-covered cottage home, he couldn’t help but wonder if there would be more to the night than a simple meal.
Three weeks into October, though it was only six, darkness had fallen on an overcast day. The air was cool and crisp and laced with the scent of burning leaves. Somewhere on the block an old hound bayed. With no leaves on the trees, the lonesome sound echoed down the street.
He liked this season.
Crunching through fallen oak and maple leaves in her yard, he mounted the few steps to the front porch, ringing the bell.
She opened the door, holding out her arm to gesture him inside. “Hurry. It’s chilly.”
On his way past, he handed her a bottle of merlot and a flower bouquet. “Thanks for the invite.”
“You’re welcome.” She shut the door.
“What smells so good?”
“Roast. It’s been in the Crock-Pot all day.” He trailed her into a homey kitchen what was too frilly for his taste, but he could see where a woman would find it appealing. While she put the bouquet of fall blooms in an antique Mason jar, he started rummaging through drawers.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“Corkscrew.” Why, he couldn’t say, but his runaway pulse sent signals to his brain that this was a date, when nothing could be farther from the truth. He needed a drink. Preferably bourbon, but in a pinch, vino would do.
From down the hall, a cat came running only to hit a full stop, sitting back on his or her haunches.
“Who is this furry creature joining us for dinner?” Dallas asked, kneeling to stroke Josie’s pet behind its ears.
“Kitty is the man of the house, and has highly discriminating tastes. I doubt he would lower himself to sample my fare.”
Chuckling, Dallas scratched under the cat’s chin. “Sorry, fella. I have a feeling you don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Speaking of missing,” she said, nodding behind him. “You might check over there for the corkscrew.” Josie placed the flowers on an antique, hardwood table. “Second drawer down, to the right of the stove.”
“Thanks.”
While he popped the cork, she got glasses, holding them out for him to pour. “You’re trembling.”
“Hungry,” she said, hastily setting them on the counter. “Thomas lost a tooth, then misplaced it. Took a couple hours to find it. My whole afternoon was shot. With what little time was left over, we played number bingo.”
“Sounds good to me.” He grinned. “Especially since my girls weren’t involved in the tooth incident— I hope.”
Pushing aside her wine, she said, “You’re safe. They actually helped with the search.”
“Whew.” He feigned wiping sweat from his brow.
“We’ve got about twenty minutes till the potatoes are ready. What would yo
u like to do? Cards? TV?”
Finishing his wine, pouring a fresh glass, he asked, “How about we use that time to get to the heart of the matter—why you called.”
“Yes, um, about that…” Her complexion blazed, much to his dismay, making her all the more attractive. Making the night in general all the more strange.
A timer dinged—saving her from giving him a straight answer.
While Josie took homemade yeast rolls from the oven, she delegated jobs for him like retrieving milk and butter and sour cream that Josie used to create decadent mashed potatoes. Fresh asparagus and gravy rounded out the meal.
Kitty slept through it all, lightly snoring on a thickly padded window seat.
“My mother would be jealous of your skills,” he admitted after dishing out thirds of roast. Creamy horseradish dipping sauce made his taste buds sing. “At the ranch, she’s the only one allowed to prepare meals.”
“What did your wife have to say about that?”
“Actually, she enjoyed it. She was a cowgirl through and through. Loved working cattle with me. Hated being indoors.” Aside from their love of children, the two women couldn’t have been more different.
“Oh.” She lowered her gaze to her plate.
“Why would you care? It’s not like you and I would ever have a connection that would place you out on the range.”
Paling, she excused herself before making a mad dash toward a hall bathroom.
By the time she returned, some of her color was back, but not all. He’d cleared the table and managed to put most of the food away in the Rubbermaid tubs he’d found in a bottom drawer.
“Thanks,” she said with an awkward wave toward the nearly clean kitchen.
“Sure. No problem.”
She took a Sprite from the fridge, rolling the cool can across her forehead before popping the top.
“You’re scaring me,” he admitted, alarmed by the way she clung to the counter edge for support.
The Rancher's Twin Troubles Page 10