by Tina Leonard
Crockett’s eyes were round. “You are marrying the mother of your triplets, aren’t you? We Jeffersons are going to start getting a bad reputation if the seed doesn’t stop getting scattered with such enthusiasm.”
Last glared at Crockett. “I know you’re referencing me, and, in case it’s any of your business, which it isn’t, Valentine isn’t interested in marrying me. Nor am I interested in marrying her. What happened, happened. We’re happy with our baby, and we’ve worked it out just fine.”
“I guess I have to know, Archer, in the spirit of family history and precedent,” Crockett said, “did the Curse of the Broken Body Parts factor in? Did she hurt you?”
“Yes and no,” Archer said crossly. “She kicked me.”
“Kicked you?” Last asked.
“In the family jewels,” Archer elaborated.
They stared at him.
“And you still eked out triplets,” Last said, his tone admiring. “Had she not disturbed the House of Archer, you could be expecting quads or quints!”
“I don’t know if that qualifies for The Curse,” Archer said. “I saw stars and maybe a galaxy far, far away. But nothing broke, although it certainly felt crippled at the time.”
“I think that means you’re safe,” Last opined. “The Curse is a precursor to courtship the hard way, but clearly she didn’t kick you as hard as you thought she did. Although there is probably a story,” he added thoughtfully, “that we need to hear about how a lucky brother goes from receiving a kick in the zipper to unzipping her zipper. Even a stallion usually treads carefully around a filly with aim.”
“Did you ask this woman to marry you?” Bandera wanted to know. “Did you give her an option?”
“He doesn’t have to answer that,” Crockett interrupted. “I agree with Archer—let’s just eat.”
“You don’t want to hear about marrying mothers, Crockett,” Bandera said, “because you’ve got the hots for Valentine.”
Everyone gawked at Crockett now that the secret was out. The silence was stiff and somehow heavy. Uncomfortable. Embarrassed. He pushed back his chair, tipping it over, and left the dining room.
Last vacated as well, throwing his napkin onto his plate with fervor.
Bandera shrugged, got up and left.
Archer blinked as he sat alone. “Congratulations, Archer,” he said to himself. “So happy for you, Archer. Fatherhood will suit you, Archer. Aren’t you the lucky dog, Archer?”
Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” He had his own ideas about family and responsibility, and now that tricky Miss Clove had shanghaied him into being a father, everything—most importantly, her—would go by his set of standards.
Three little boys. They would grow up to be just like his brothers and him. Jefferson males. Hardworking, hard-loving. Hardheaded.
Just like Clove.
One of them was going to have to bend, because he had no intention of ending up without his woman, like Mason, or having custodial arrangements, like Last.
Clove was due a compromise, and he was excellent at the skill of convincing.
“ARCHER,” CLOVE SAID when he returned late that evening with flowers, “you do not need to romance me. I understand you have an ornery need to try to change my mind, but that just shows me you don’t understand how important this is to me. There is not going to be a compromise.”
He grinned at her, slow and sexy. “Yes, ma’am.” Handing her the flowers, he sat at the kitchen table. “I looked forward to your cookies all day long.”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“Did I mention I like the new curves on your figure?”
“Flattery isn’t going to work.” She put her glasses on and gave him a look of disdain. “You passed me up when I was wearing these.”
“And any man would,” he said reasonably. “I can’t even see your pretty eyes. Why do you wear those things?”
“Because I can’t see.”
“Obviously, or the salesperson would never have sold them to you. Here, let me help you.” He slid them from her face. “Now, the real you. You shouldn’t hide behind those things.”
Clove blinked. “Hide? Hide? I never hide. I’m a stuntwoman. I’m brave, no different than you when you’re on a bull or a bronc or your Appaloosa.”
“I knew we had something in common. Bravery,” Archer said with satisfaction. “This isn’t going to hurt as much as we think it will.”
“What won’t hurt?” Clove gave him another suspicious look as she placed a glass of milk in front of him. “I can’t bear to see you eat cookies without milk, but I am not serving you, for the record. I’m only complementing my baking.”
He grinned, making her heart flutter. “Thank you,” he said. “Even if you’re not serving me. The cookies are delicious, and it won’t hurt much to fall in love with you.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “We’re going to have to, you know. For the sake of the children.”
“We’re going to have to fall in love?”
“Yes. These are the best chocolate-chip cookies I’ve ever eaten. Do you stand in this kitchen all day and bake these wonderful morsels?”
“Yes. It’s the trade-off Delilah and I made. She wouldn’t charge me, though I said I wanted to pay her. But she said no woman related to the Jeffersons ever owed her a dime. No matter how many times I try to explain that I’m not related to the Jeffersons, she seems to think I am.”
“Delilah doesn’t know I’m the father?”
“No. I haven’t told anyone. Remember, I didn’t want you to know.”
“And that makes me quite wary of you, AussieClove. Secretive wasn’t something I saw in your e-mail persona.”
“Guess we were both in for some surprises.”
“Yes.” He sniffed a snickerdoodle, his face wreathed with pleasure. “Definitely worth the wait. So how did Delilah know you were related to me?”
“I told her that you recommended I stay here—and I am not related to you.”
“We are related by baby, and I’ll pay your bill while you’re here, at least until I move you to the ranch. You don’t have to stay on your feet all day.”
She ground her teeth. “Back to the have-to-fall-in-love part, I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“I’ve done a survey of my family, and between those who have a working relationship with the mother of their child, and those who have fallen in love, Cupid is definitely preferable.” He looked at her. “You have your reasons for doing things, and I have mine. We should work together on this—for the sake of our children.”
He sounded so smug she wanted to argue. Wanted to throw a wall of denial at him, maybe even a cookie jar.
She had a feeling he’d throw it right back and call it fun.
Chapter Eight
“I came here to find you, by the way,” Archer said, eating his cookie and reaching for another. He settled himself comfortably into a kitchen chair.
“Well, here I am.”
He grinned at her curt tone of voice. “No, I meant, before I knew you were pregnant yesterday. I had returned here to start hunting for you. I was going to start by asking over at the Never Lonely if you had left a forwarding address.”
She used a spatula to move some cookies onto a baking sheet, then put it down to come stand in front of him. Manfully, he resisted the urge to sweep her into his lap and give her a Texas-size smooching, starting with her earlobes and ending up at her toes. He’d done a lot of thinking now that he’d gotten his predicament off his chest to his brothers, and he’d decided this new family was going to go all his way.
He was going to be an excellent father, just as Maverick had been to him and his brothers.
“Were you looking for the plain me or the dolled-up me you made love to?” she asked.
He winked. “Wouldn’t you like to know. But I believe in leaving a woman guessing.”
She looked so sweet and so forlorn standing there, hoping
he’d say the right thing. Archer grinned. She thought she was a tough girl, but she was sweet as a snickerdoodle. Her half-tailed cat wound around her ankles, meowing for attention. Clove’s hair was silvery and chin-length blond—recently cut. He liked the style on her. It brought out the blue in her eyes and gave her a well-cared-for look. “So who cut your hair?”
“Delilah.”
He nodded. “I should have known. The style is simple and attractive. I like it better than the bar-stool-babe style you had before.” He looked at her for a moment, his thoughts flying. “You’re pretty,” he finally said softly. “And pregnancy agrees with you.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“No, I’m not.” He stood, taking her gently by the arms, which sent Tink scurrying to the hallway. Lifting Clove, he sat her on top of the counter. “I was merely looking for Clover, Clove, any way you look. I told you, I don’t have a type. I like ladies in general. And all the girls like me.”
Her lips parted in astonishment. He laughed. “But if you won’t serve me, then you must feed me.”
“I will not.” She drew back a bit, but her eyes were on him, watching. He noticed she didn’t push him away or hop down from her perch.
“I wanted to find you,” he said, breaking a cookie into quarters as he moved between her legs, “because I couldn’t forget you. Eat.” He put the cookie into her mouth. As she chewed, he kissed her fingertips.
She swallowed. “Yes, but—”
“You talk too much. That’s your problem. We liked each other better when we wrote and didn’t speak.” He fed her another piece of cookie and kissed the inner crook of her arm. “You smell like homemade treats,” he said. “I find that strangely erotic.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised by anything about you that’s strange.”
He laughed, putting another cookie into her mouth. “What do you expect from a cowboy? I like my woman in the kitchen.” He kissed her palm. “I like my woman in the bedroom.” He ran a hand under the skirt of her dress, pulling her toward him and nearly off the counter. “I’m going to like my woman in every room of the house. And outside the house, wherever I can get you.”
He slid her onto his waist so that he could kiss her above the sweetheart neckline of her dress. Her legs stayed wrapped around him. Archer groaned. “You stay sexy like this, and I’m going to have to make love to you, little mama.”
“And when I’m not sexy? When I get huge? And can’t see my feet?”
“I’ll suck your toes,” he whispered. “I promise you’ll always be able to feel those little piggies just fine.”
That made her slide down from his waist. He didn’t stop her.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“It’s not going to work,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I know you’re doing this for the children. And while I appreciate your feeling responsible, I don’t want a man that way. I’ve always been independent.”
“You need to come to the ranch. See the real me before you decide what you want. I’ve seen the real you. I’ve seen several real yous. Now it’s your turn.”
She moved away. “I don’t want to.”
“For the children, you should.”
She began putting away cutlery in a drawer. “We can’t make something out of nothing. And that’s what it would be. I did this for Lucy, and in my mind, my motivation is clear. Maybe not right or pretty, but clear.”
He sighed. “If you don’t want to go to the ranch with me, then let’s take a weekend away where we can talk.”
“If you talk, I might give in. That’s what you want.” She turned to look into his eyes. “You don’t know what it would be like to be childless. You wanted to be that way for always. My sister did not. She loves her husband and wants him to be happy. This is the closest to real motherhood she will ever have, Archer. I can’t let you sway me, and even if I could, I would always know you did it because of your sense of masculine pride. You ignored me both before and after the Cut-n-Gurls fixed me up. Suddenly, my pregnancy has you beating your chest like a caveman. But since you went back and read our e-mails, surely you saw your desire to always stay single and footloose. I have no desire to change that.”
He sat down. “I understand about your sister. I sympathize. And no, this wasn’t how I saw my life. But I’d be a cold human being if my heart didn’t warm to the thought of three little babies with my blood, my genes and maybe my mother’s and father’s characteristics.”
She looked away.
“You want me around,” he said. “You want your babies to know their father. There’s nobody like me. I’m rough-and-ready and a little wild, but I know how to take care of the people I love. And I am the kind of man who will love his children.”
“Lucy and Robert will,” Clove said, her voice trembling and not so sure of itself.
“Only in the capacity of aunt and uncle. I’m sorry, Clove,” he said. “You had a good game and you pulled a good stunt, but I’m no fool. My children stay here, and if I have to make it a legal issue, I will do that.”
Her eyes widened. “There’s no way you can!”
“I can. Marry me, stay here, and bear my children on Texas soil. I’ll take very good care of you. But if you fight me on this, I won’t lose. Mason has suggested that, given your orneriness, the only way to make you see the light is with a custodial lawsuit. However, that didn’t work very well in Last’s case. I prefer to do things without lawyers. Especially since you and I are well suited to each other.” He smiled. “I can’t forget the little woman who got me all fired up in my own truck bed.”
“You can’t treat me the way you do Tonk. You can’t just badger me until I do your wishes.”
“I’d rather go about this like rational adults. It would be best for all if you quit acting like a savior for your sister and let us go about our business.”
She gasped. “How dare you?”
“How dare you do what you’ve done? It’s sneaky and wrong and quite possibly the most heartless thing I’ve ever known a woman to do. You and I are quickly going to get sideways on this matter—”
“We already are. Good night.”
Clove left the kitchen. Archer watched her go, his lips flat and drawn. What a dilemma he’d gotten himself into! She was so stubborn and truculent, like a mule in a garden patch. Then she could be all sweetly melting in his arms, driving him mad thinking about her body. His babies inside her body.
He wished she’d let him romance her so that they could capture something real before the babies arrived. From the way they’d made love, he knew there could be something between them. She’d been so innocent that night that the memory of it made him want to cry. She’d turned his heart to jelly with her intent to give away his children. He deserved the chance to prove himself a good husband, a good father, a good lover.
Now all they were going to see of each other, he supposed, was their bad sides.
He heard her bedroom door close upstairs. His jaw tight, he shook his head.
She was his virgin. She was going to stay his.
He headed up the stairs.
Walking into her room, he planted himself on the floor. “I plan on you and I getting along, Clove. We simply have to. I know we’re on opposite ends of a very long spectrum, but you can’t take my children, and you can’t leave Texas.”
She didn’t say anything. She sat silently on the edge of her bed, not looking at him.
He frowned. “Clove, I sincerely believe something good could happen between us if you’ll let it. I know I’m willing to try.”
When she didn’t move, retort or flinch, he went over and bent down in front of her. “Clove?” She seemed suddenly so pale. Brushing her hair behind one of her ears, he stroked her cheek. “Just because you’re silent doesn’t mean you’ve suddenly decided to agree with me, does it?”
She met his gaze. What he saw there frightened him.
“I have cramps,” she said.
“I think…cramps.” Sweat broke out along her upper lip.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.” Archer dabbed away the sweat and felt her palm. Cold. She was frightened. “Do you want to lie down?”
“I don’t think so.” Her eyes widened as she gazed at him. “I’m scared.”
“Okay. Let’s put in a call to the doc.” Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he said, “You know the doc, right? Pretty little thing? Makes no time for us Jeffersons except medically speaking,” he babbled. “Hello, Doctor,” he said, running a hand over Clove’s shoulders to comfort her. “You’ve been seeing Clove… Great Scott, did you tell me your last name, AussieClove?” he asked.
“Clove Penmire,” she reminded him.
“Clove Penmire, soon to be Jefferson,” he said, drawing a groan from Clove. “But we’ll take care of the particulars later,” he said hastily. “Clove mentioned she’s cramping in her tummy. I don’t think she’s eaten much today, maybe a cookie or two, and we’ve been bickering a bit, though I don’t think I upset her bad enough to cramp…oh, all right. We’ll be right there.”
He hung up. “Clove, the doctor says for you to come on, sweetie. Those were her words, not mine. I mean, she was saying it to you, not me—”
“You’re rambling,” Clove said. “Do you always do this when you get nervous? From your e-mail correspondence, you never struck me as excitable. I always thought you sounded so brave and devil-may-care.”
“Well, whatever gave you that impression was wrong. I am brave, but right now, as the father of these triplets, I am exercising my right to ramble. Let’s take these stairs slowly, sweetie.”
“I wouldn’t want you to lose your footing,” she told him.
“No, you wouldn’t. It would be an ugly sight, me rolling down the stairs, boots over head.” He was rattling, and it was helping him feel better. Cramps! That didn’t sound good. He didn’t want anything to happen to Clove—or the pregnancy she’d come so far to conceive. “Maybe my sperm weren’t as robust as I thought they were,” he muttered.