Whatever it was, it wasn't the least bit funny. She could tell by his bleak expression. But she asked, anyway, "What's funny?"
"Who knew that you would end up being the one unwilling to take a chance?"
Her anger rose again. She tamped it down. "That's not fair."
He shrugged a second time. "Fair or not, it's the truth."
She bit her tongue. What good would it do to argue the point? "It's…lovely of you, really, to offer to marry me, but I—"
He swore. "It's not lovely in the least. It's the best thing, for everyone concerned."
"In your opinion."
"This has nothing to do with my damn opinion. It's the best thing, period. For you, for me and for Kira most of all. Because we are a family, no matter how much effort you expend denying it."
"I didn't say we weren't a family in our own way."
"So then do the right thing. Make us a family in every way."
She kept her voice soft and even. "I disagree that marriage, for us, is necessarily the right thing. Can we leave it at that?"
He grunted. "As if I've got a damn choice in the matter."
* * *
Matt fumed in silence as he drove Corrie home. When they arrived, his inner gentleman surfaced enough that he offered to walk her up to the door.
"Thanks. There's no need." She got out. He waited in the driveway, the engine idling, to watch over her until she let herself in.
She surprised him by going around the front of the car to his side window. She rapped the glass with her knuckles. He was just ticked off enough at her that he only glared at her, mouth set and eyes narrowed. But then she mouthed the word "Please," and he relented. He pushed the button and the window slid down.
"I had a wonderful evening," she said softly. "I hope we can do this again sometime."
"Damn you, Corrie."
And then she leaned in the window and kissed him. Her lips were cool at first. But they got hot fast.
So did he. He surrendered and kissed her back. Okay, she wouldn't marry him. But at least she was open now about wanting him. Things could be worse.
When she ended the kiss, he got a tender smile and a whispered, "'Night."
Grudgingly, he answered, "'Night."
* * *
He was mad all over again by the time he got back to his place. He went upstairs and undressed for the second time that night.
The ring in its velvet box was still there on the white sheet in the middle of the bed. He stuck it in a dresser drawer where he wouldn't have to look at it and got back into bed. The scent of her was on his pillow. He pressed his face against it and breathed in deep, wondering what the hell she'd done to him.
For the rest of the week, he refused to call her. She didn't call him, either, which completely annoyed him. Saturday, when she brought Kira over, he played it cool.
Unfortunately, so did she. In no time, she had kissed Kira and ducked back out the door, leaving him almost no opportunity to show her how displeased he was with her.
Saturday evening, after Kira was in bed, he thought about calling her at the Rose. Which was totally stupid. She would be busy. It was Saturday night, for God's sake. If he was going to break down and call her, Saturday night was the absolute worst time to do it.
Then the doorbell rang. His heart leapt. He was absolutely certain it would be her, that she'd left her crew alone at the Rose to deal with the busiest night of the week because she couldn't stand it anymore, not talking to him, being apart from him. Maybe she had even come to her senses and decided she'd been an idiot not to accept his marriage proposal.
He took his sweet time answering the door.
But then it wasn't her, after all.
It was Tabby Ellison, long red hair sleek as a satin sheet, green eyes hard, looking as angry at him as he was with Corrie. "What's going on, Matt? You never call."
He almost shut the door in her face. But instead he made the mistake of trying to be reasonable with her. "We broke up, remember, weeks ago?"
"Of course we didn't."
"Tabby. We did."
"We had a fight. You said some awful things."
Actually, she was the one who'd said awful things. All he'd said was goodbye. He tried that again. "Goodbye, Tabby." And he gently shut the door.
But she was ahead of him. She stuck one of her thousand-dollar shoes in the way. "We have to talk."
"No. We don't. It's over. Done. Move on."
"Matt—"
"Please get your foot out of the way. Now."
To his surprise, she did what he asked her to do.
Matt shut the door and locked it, half-expecting her to start pounding on it and ringing the bell. But she didn't. Faintly, he heard the tapping of her four-inch heels as she went down the front steps.
He heard a car start up and drive away. With a sigh of relief, he went into the living room and dropped to the sofa. He just felt crappy, about Corrie. And about Tabby, too.
Really, what had he been doing the past couple of years with Tabby? Yeah, she was good-looking and intelligent and she ran in the same crowd he'd been raised in. But she was way too much like her BFF, Lianna Mercer, who'd been engaged to his oldest brother, Ash—until Ash had met Tessa Jones and found out what he'd been missing. In the end, a man needed more from a woman than a big trust fund and the right social pedigree. He needed the important things, like laughter and kindness and honest affection. Both Tabby and Lianna were spoiled rich girls, pure and simple.
As he sat and pondered the many differences between Corrie and Tabby Ellison, the doorbell rang again. He stayed where he was. With a little luck, Tabby would give up and go away.
Then his cell rang. He assumed it must be Tabby trying yet another angle. But he dug the phone out of his pocket and looked at the display, just in case.
Corrie. His pulse started racing like he was headed straight for a cardiac arrest.
It rang again. He put it to his ear and tried to sound casual. "Hey. What's up?"
"Where are you?"
"What do you mean? I'm home."
"Then would you mind answering the door?"
It took him a second or two to realize what her question meant. Incredible. He'd fantasized her leaving the Rose on the busiest night of the week just to try and make things up with him. But he'd never actually believed it would happen. He cleared his throat. "It's you…at the door?"
"You were expecting someone else?"
He decided against going into detail on that. "You just surprised me, that's all. Come on in."
"Can't. I didn't bring my key."
"Stay right there…" A minute later, he was flipping the lock and pulling the door wide. She was there, on his porch, in a black pea coat and the sexy purple camisole, tight jeans and high-heeled boots she often wore to the Rose. "Shouldn't you be working?" He asked the question and wished he could call it back. It sounded gruff and critical.
But she didn't get huffy. She only grinned. "Yeah. I should be. But they can manage without me for once. And they can always call if there's an issue. Kira in bed?"
He nodded. "She's been asleep since a little after eight."
She hunched into her pea coat and shivered a little. "You gonna let me in?"
He stepped back. "Absolutely."
She came in and he shut the door and then they just stood there in the foyer, staring at each other.
He stuck his hands in his pockets. "I don't suppose you're here to tell me you've decided to marry me after all?"
"No."
"I was afraid you'd say that."
"I'm here to tell you I miss you and I hope that you'll forgive me soon and we can be…friends again."
"Friends."
"Well, okay." Her mouth quirked on one side in a nervous, hopeful half-smile. "Friends with benefits?"
Another pause as he looked at her and she gazed back at him.
He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. He'd been yearning to hold her every minute of every hour sin
ce he'd left her at her house the Monday before. But he felt strangely shy. He kept his hands to himself and confessed, "I missed you, too. A lot."
"Oh, Matt. I'm glad."
"Give me your coat."
She took it off and he hung it in the closet. Then he held out his hand. She put hers in it.
They went up the wide stairs side-by-side. And in his room, they made love. It was really good. But then, it always was with Corrie.
* * *
Corrine called Aleta early the next morning. "I didn't want you to worry. I stayed the night at Matt's."
"Ah." There was a world of gentle understanding in that single syllable. "Good enough, then. Thanks for letting me know." In the background, Corrine heard a man's deep voice. Aleta spoke to him. "It's Corrine. She's at Matt's…"
Corrine knew who the man was, but she asked, anyway, "Davis there?"
Aleta spoke into the phone again. "He is. And I have an idea. Why don't you and Matt bring Kira over here for breakfast? I'm making French toast. You know how Kira loves French toast…"
The last thing she wanted was to eat breakfast across the table from Davis Bravo. But then again, she really did need to get over her animosity toward him. Aleta would appreciate that. Plus, he was Kira's grandpa and Matt's dad.
Burying the hatchet would be the best thing for all concerned.
Corrine said. "Hold on. I'll ask Matt." The three of them were already in the kitchen. Kira sat at the table sipping a glass of orange juice Matt had poured for her while he fired up his ginormous espresso machine.
He sent her a glance over his shoulder. "Ask me what?"
"Aleta's making French toast. We're invited."
Kira set down her glass and let out a crow of delight. "I like French toast!"
Matt must have picked up Corrine's hesitation. "My dad's there, right?" At her nod, he arched a brow. "That okay with you?" She made a face—but she nodded again. "Well, all right then. Tell her we're on our way."
* * *
Davis Bravo was almost sixty. Still, like all of his sons, he was a good-looking man, trim and fit. He had a thick head of silver hair and heavy eyebrows that had yet to go gray.
He greeted them at the door, shaking her hand, telling her that it was good to see her. No, she didn't buy it for a second, but she nodded and smiled and said how nice it was to see him, too. He didn't so much as lift a bushy eyebrow at the sight of her snug, low-cut cami, which, along with the rest of her work clothes, was all she'd had to put on that morning after her impromptu decision to go to Matt the night before.
Kira held out her arms to Davis and he scooped her up. "How's my best girl?"
Of course, she told him. In detail. "Yesterday, Daddy took me to my lessons and then we went to have frozen yogurt. I had chocolate. I like chocolate. With sprinkles. I really like sprinkles." She rattled on about what she'd had for dinner and the movie she'd watched before she went to bed. "And then, in the morning, I woke up and Mommy was there. She had a sleepover with Daddy last night. I bet that was fun."
"I'm sure it was." Davis looked more amused than anything. Corrine figured that maybe he wasn't so self-righteous nowadays, since his wife had left him and he was having to knock himself out trying to get her back, since he'd ended up experiencing a few sleepovers of his own.
"Give Grandpa a kiss," Corrine suggested dryly before her daughter could say more about what a good time she thought her parents must have had last night. Kira planted one of her smackers on his cheek and then reached out for her grandma, who caught her, hugged her and got a big, fat kiss, too.
They went to the kitchen, where the table was set and the coffee was brewed. There was bacon and fresh fruit. Aleta manned Corrine's electric grill and Davis poured them coffee and got milk for Kira.
It was a little weird, Corrine thought, sitting in her own kitchen, having Matt's parents wait on her. Odd, but kind of nice, really. Davis remained on his best behavior through the meal.
Once she'd eaten, Corrine excused herself to clean up and change. When she came back down fresh from the shower in a skirt and sweater, Matt and his parents were still sitting at the table. Kira had moved to her kid-sized table in the corner. She was busy with her crayons, bent over a big piece of construction paper.
"Put on some jeans," Matt said as Corrine went to the counter and poured herself a last cup of coffee.
She turned, leaned against the counter and sipped. "And I should do that why?"
His admiring gaze went over her, head to toe and back again, bringing a slow warmth inside as she remembered the pleasures they'd shared the night before. He said, "We're all going out to the ranch."
And then Davis added, "Please. Join us." He spoke a little stiffly. But he had actually extended the invitation. He was definitely trying.
She'd been planning to choose another church from the phone book. But Matt's tender glance and Davis's honest attempt to smooth over old hurts had her rethinking her plan.
And then Kira said, "Look, Mommy. It's our family, all together."
Her daughter was holding up the picture she'd just drawn: a row of stick figures, five of them, all holding hands, each wearing a big, red smile. Kira was the smallest, in the center. Corrine recognized Davis by his bushy black brows. "It's beautiful, baby," she said around a certain tightness in her throat, as Matt and his parents made admiring noises.
"Put it on the 'fridgerator."
"I absolutely will." She turned her gaze to the three sitting at the big table. "I'll just run upstairs and change."
* * *
"…When she left us and moved to your house, I started thinking they'd never get back together." Mercy, Luke Bravo's new wife, stood at the window in the sunroom, gazing out through the rain at the gardens behind the ranch house. "But now I'm starting to get the feeling they're working things out."
Corrine stood at her shoulder. "Yeah. I'm betting Aleta will go back to him, probably in the next week or two."
The rain hit the windows and flowed down the glass in a thousand tiny streams. Corrine, Matt, Kira and Matt's parents had barely made it to Bravo Ridge and up the steps of the wide front verandah before it had started coming down.
It hadn't stopped. So they'd spent the rest of the morning and the early afternoon inside, which had been kind of fun. They'd watched a movie in the media room on the giant-screen TV, then had lunch. Davis had played Crazy Eights with Kira for more than an hour. The sight of them sitting across the coffee table from each other, each deep in concentration over their cards, had Corrine seeing the family resemblance between them. It was there in the identical way they tipped their heads when they were thinking, in their deep-set eyes and strong chins.
Now, while Kira napped, Matt, Luke, Davis and Aleta had driven out to the stables. Luke wanted to show them some new horse he'd bought. Corrine had stayed behind with Mercy, to enjoy a cup of tea and get to know Luke's bride a little.
Mercy, who had thick black hair and eyes to match and clear, smooth olive skin, turned to give Corrine a smile. "I've been to Armadillo Rose a few times. I like it. The music's good, the atmosphere is friendly. I've always had a good time there. I ran into Luke there once, before we started seeing each other." Her black eyes turned dreamy. "We danced…."
It had been quite a shocker, when Mercy and Luke got married, what with the longtime feud between her family and the Bravos—not to mention, her sister Elena turning out to be Davis's daughter.
Mercy spoke again. "It's a big thing, between Luke and me, to do all we can to bring our families together. After years of both sides going at it like the Hatfields and the McCoys, we want it to be different now."
Corrine asked carefully, "How's your dad doing?"
"Not well." Mercy stared out at the rain again. Javier Cabrera's reaction to learning of his wife's betrayal had been a violent one. He had attended Mercy's wedding, but no one had seen much of him since. "I mean, he's okay physically, really. But he keeps to himself a lot now. He and my mom are still apart."
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Corrine didn't ask if Mercy thought her adoptive parents would ever get back together. She could guess by Mercy's sad expression that the answer would most likely be no.
Mercy forced a smile. "But we'll be inviting my dad to Thanksgiving dinner here at the ranch. And my mom. And of course, Elena will be here. And the whole Bravo family. As I said, the idea is to keep working on everyone, slowly getting them to see that we're all one family now." She chuckled, a wry sound. "It's a big job."
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