Fortune's Homecoming

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  Grayson rounded on his mother. “You told me you hadn’t seen him in Reno.”

  “She hadn’t.” Gerald put his hand on Deborah’s shoulder, which seemed to infuriate Grayson even more.

  Despite everything, Billie edged closer to him, touching his arm. “Grayson, why don’t you sit down?”

  “Dammit, Billie!” He shrugged her off. “This doesn’t concern you!”

  If he’d physically slapped her, it would have hurt less.

  She swallowed hard. “You’re right.” She’d known he would be the kind of man who could break her heart. And even knowing it, she’d still let it happen.

  She gave Deborah a painful smile and stepped around her and Gerald.

  The only thing she could concentrate on was escape.

  So that’s what she did.

  * * *

  “You’re making a huge mistake, son.”

  Grayson’s molars ground together. He looked from where Billie no longer was to his mother. “The mistake was thinking that you would never lie to us. But you did. First about us not having a father. Second about our last name. Third—” he gestured at Robinson, whose presence there was enough to make him want to choke “—about getting involved with him again!”

  “We’re not involved.” His mother’s voice was tight.

  “Really?” Grayson looked at Gerald’s face. “He know that?”

  “I know you’re angry, Grayson,” he said.

  At least the old man hadn’t called him son. “You think?” He threw the pitchfork aside and the sharp prongs dug into a wood post.

  “I never knew that your mother was pregnant with you. If I had—”

  Grayson cut him off. “And you never knew about all the other women you left pregnant, either, I bet.” He advanced on Gerald, moving unevenly because of the damned cast. “The women who started coming outta the woodwork as soon as your favored son, Ben, started looking for all of us poor slobs who got left out in the cold once everyone learned you weren’t who you said you were. Jerome.”

  “Grayson—”

  “Just because I never talk about it doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. You didn’t want to marry any of ’em except one. The fair Charlotte Prendergast Robinson who—after you’d already abandoned my mom—gave you eight legitimate little Robinsons. Or are they really Fortunes, since that’s who you really are? It’s a little hard to keep straight.” Grayson stopped when he got six inches from Gerald’s nose. Looked him straight in the eye. “Not my mom. Not Nash’s mom. Or Amersen’s. Or Chloe’s. How many others are there, Dad?”

  Deborah pushed between them. “Stop this right now! You don’t know the whole story, Grayson.”

  “I don’t need to know.” He looked at his mom. She’d been the linchpin of their family. Made of leather and steel. Jayden said she’d always had to be, raising three sons on her own in Texas the way she had. “You didn’t know he was in Reno. Fine. Did you know he was at Cowboy Country?”

  He didn’t need to hear the answer when he could see it in her eyes.

  “Yeah.” He shook his head. “That’s what I thought.”

  Then he, too, limped out of the barn.

  He intended to head to the house.

  Mend fences with Billie. If he could.

  But the second he left the barn, he knew he’d lost that chance, too.

  Because her big, old-lady luxury car was gone. And knowing the way she drove, she’d be outta the county in minutes.

  His leg ached and his balance wobbled. He threw out his arm, intending to grab the side of the barn.

  He got human instead of wood and he swore all over again.

  As soon as he’d steadied him, Gerald stepped away. “I didn’t intend for you to see me in Reno or Cowboy Country.”

  “Too freaking late.”

  The older man’s lips tightened. “I hope that wasn’t a factor in your accident.”

  “The only factor in my accident was thinking about a woman when I should’ve been thinking about the steer.”

  “The woman who just left?”

  “I’m not talking about Billie with you. I’m not talking about anything with you.”

  Gerald nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll just tell you one thing. I heard what you said. That you don’t want to be like your bastard father. Then don’t be like me. If you really love this girl, go after her. Or spend the rest of your life like I have, chasing a taste of happiness that, unfortunately, you’ll never find again.”

  “If that’s supposed to mean you loved my mother, sell it to the next guy. I’m not buying.”

  “You don’t have to buy it, Grayson.” Gerald looked to where Deborah had come out of the barn, as well. Her arms were folded across her chest and her expression said she wasn’t particularly pleased with either one of them. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  He saw Billie the second he walked into Twine.

  Hard not to, when she was in the middle of the dance floor, a blur of short white dress and flying dark hair as she jumped up and down to some song that he’d never heard before. Aside from the visceral appeal of watching her move the way she was, he pretty much hoped he’d never hear the song again. ’Cause it would just remind him of the leer on the face of the guy who was dancing with her.

  It had been only five days since she’d driven away from him and Paseo. Five days for him to sulk, as his mom had plainly put it. More like five days for him to get over the burning anger he felt every time he thought about his mother actually inviting the man who’d betrayed her to their house.

  At which point, Deborah promptly pointed out that the Paseo ranch was still her home and she had every right to invite whomever she wanted. Particularly when Grayson had a new home that he needed to be concerned with. Including the fact that, if he didn’t get over his almighty sulk where Billie’s leaving was concerned, he’d be living in it all alone.

  He waded into the fray of writhing dancers, cursing under his breath when someone gasped and grabbed his arm. “Ohmygod. You’re Grayson!” The someone was red-haired and dancing so frenetically her dress was practically falling off her shoulders. She shimmied even closer to him and he hastily sidled away, not moving as quickly as he wanted because of the stiff boot wrapped around his new half cast. He bumped into a tall guy who didn’t even seem to notice, then finally managed to make his way to Billie.

  She stopped dead in her tracks when he stepped between her and her dance partner.

  One glance and it was obvious that she’d been drinking. Not that it took much. He’d learned that the night they’d been at La Viña. Two glasses of wine was all it had taken and she’d been toast.

  “What’re you doing here?”

  “What do you think?”

  She turned up her nose and her back, and started dancing again. This time with the two women behind her.

  Once again, he stepped in her way.

  She glared and shoved her hair out of her face. It was loose and straight and slid silkily down her back, just waiting for his hands to tangle in it. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “Max.”

  That, at least, gave her pause. For about ten seconds. Then she turned her back once more and started dancing yet again.

  He sighed, wondering how long it would be before the song ended. Only to realize quickly enough that the song wasn’t going to end for the simple reason that the DJ spun straight into another hard-beating tune.

  Grayson had spent the morning with the orthopedist talking his way around to the walking boot. Then signing autographs at a Grayson Gear-Castleton Boots event where his manager, Jess, had decided it was a brilliant idea to have the newest up-and-comer, Max Vargas, also sign autographs. As a marketing ploy, Grayson could understand it.

  Out with the old. In with the new.

  But what he hadn’t been able to understand was Max willingly participating.

  That is, until he’d seen Bethany, looking way more pregnant than she had the last
time he’d seen her, standing in the wings. Then he’d remembered the message that Billie had relayed that last day in Paseo. That Bethany had decided he’d been right.

  The only thing he’d told her was that it wasn’t fair for a kid to never know his dad.

  Which meant Max, ready or not, was going to be a father.

  When Max had sat down at the table beside him, his apology had been begrudging. But Grayson had to at least give the kid credit for offering it.

  He wasn’t sure he’d have done the same in his position.

  When Grayson had finally peeled away from the event, he’d wished them both good luck. Bethany had kissed his cheek, still grateful for the job at the Grayson Gear office. Max had told him that Billie had taken to going out to Twine every night. Then he’d shoved his hands in his back pockets and told him that if Grayson hurt his cousin more than he already had, all bets were off.

  Billie was gyrating in front of him, her short dress barely skimming the backs of her smooth thighs. And he’d had enough.

  He wrapped his arm around her and flipped her up and over his shoulder.

  “What the hell!” She thumped his back. Hard. “Put me down.”

  He clamped his arm over her thighs, holding her sorry excuse of a dress down over her butt, and started working his way off the dance floor. One young woman looked startled, then handed him a tiny purse that he assumed—hoped—was Billie’s.

  The music screeched. Or maybe that was just the sounds the shocked people made as he passed them by.

  He didn’t know if he ought to be grateful or disgusted that nobody tried to stop him. But then, he thought about the last time he’d been in that very bar. The night before he’d gone out house-hunting with Billie that first time. The topless woman. The cops.

  Maybe his hauling Billie out the way she was wasn’t so shocking, after all.

  He’d seen her car parked in the lot, but he didn’t head toward it. Instead, he dumped her on the front seat of his pickup truck and tossed the tiny purse onto her lap.

  She crossed her arms and glared at him. “If you were trying to embarrass me in front of my friends, you did a smashing job of it.”

  “Some friends. They didn’t make a move to stop me. What’re you doing in a place like that, anyway? It’s a meat market.”

  “Maybe I was hungry!”

  “And maybe you should be a vegetarian after all.” Because he wasn’t sure that she’d do it for herself, he strapped the safety belt across her chest and clipped it in place. When he started to straighten, he hesitated, his mouth close to hers. She smelled like wine and temptation.

  He straightened and slammed the door shut. Rounded the truck and got behind the wheel.

  At least she hadn’t tried to bolt when she’d had the opportunity.

  “If you think I’m going to let you tuck me in,” she said when he started the engine, “you’ve got another think coming.”

  He ignored her and worked his way into the traffic surrounding the popular club. Instead of heading toward her apartment building, though, he headed to the highway.

  He knew she realized it when she stiffened. “I don’t know where you think you’re taking me, but you can just turn this truck around right now.”

  “We’re going home.”

  She snorted. “Your home? And do what? Sit down on the floor and drink tea from invisible cups?”

  He ignored that, too, picking up speed as the traffic thinned a little.

  She huffed and turned to look out the side window. They’d gone about ten miles when she finally spoke again. “You got a new cast.”

  “Yep.”

  “Suppose you’ll ruin that one, too, soon enough.”

  “Probably.”

  She fell silent again.

  His radio was turned off. The only sound was the lull of his steel-belted radials against the road.

  “You hear that hum?”

  Billie grunted. Not exactly an answer, but he decided to take it as one.

  “It’s a sound I’m comfortable with. The sound of most of my adult life, spent on the road, traveling from one rodeo to the next.” His thumb tapped nervously against the steering wheel. He glanced at Billie. At the faint gleam of the three earrings on the upper curve of her sexy ear. “And now I’m looking at changing all that.”

  She was still. Not responding.

  He could deal with that. Figured he more than deserved it, considering how he’d treated her in Paseo that last day. “I always thought my roots ran really deep in Paseo. But...” He shook his head. “They’re not. Not like they are for Jayden and Nate.” Just like when they’d both gone into the military the second they’d been able to, his course was taking a different route. A route that kept bringing him back to Billie.

  “I need to put down new roots,” he admitted. And even having rehearsed it more than once on the long drive from Paseo to Austin, he found his throat still felt tight around the words. “I’ve already got the lucky house. The only thing I need now is the reason it’s lucky at all. You.”

  She didn’t answer.

  He stifled an oath. “You’re gonna make me beg, aren’t you?” He’d reached the turnoff for the ranch and he slowed. “Fine. I’ll beg. But I’m not gonna apologize for not sleeping with you in Paseo. Sex has always been too easy for me. And whether you want to hear it or not, you started to mean more to me than that.”

  He parked in front of the house. “Dammit, Billie. Say something, even if it’s telling me to go to hell.” He touched her arm.

  She finally moved, her head turning his way.

  She was sound asleep.

  Snoring slightly, even.

  “Well. Hell.” Shows what he knew about women. Pouring his heart out while she quietly passed out on probably two glasses of wine.

  He turned off the engine and got out of the truck, leaving the headlights on to see his way up to the front door and unlock it.

  There wasn’t any furniture inside the house. But he always had his bedroll in the truck.

  When he checked Billie, she’d shucked off her seat belt and snuggled down in the seat, her cheek pressed against her clasped hands. Looking about sixteen, except for the long, shapely legs on display.

  He reminded himself that he wasn’t low enough to take advantage of an inebriated woman—even if he did love her—and grabbed the bedroll from the back seat. He carried it into the house, flipping on a couple lights as he made his way up to the master bedroom.

  There, he spread out the bedroll, right where their real bed would someday be, and went back out to the truck.

  She still hadn’t moved.

  His leg was aching from all the activity—just as the orthopedist had warned—but he ignored it and lifted Billie into his arms. No fireman’s hold this time.

  He cradled her against his chest and shoved the truck door closed with his shoulder. He didn’t worry about the headlights. They’d turn off automatically before long.

  He carried her inside the house, then up the stairs and to the bedroll. Lowering her onto it took some doing considering the immobility of his left leg in the boot. But he managed.

  Her long hair slid over his arms and she sighed, one hand slipping around his neck. “Where’re we?”

  He smiled slightly and kissed her forehead. Her nose. Her lips. “We’re home, sweetheart.”

  He hadn’t turned on a light in the bedroom, but there was enough moonlight shining through the big windows to see that her eyes were open. Dark and gleaming.

  He stretched out next to her and propped himself up on one arm. “Are you awake this time?”

  “This time?”

  He ran his fingers through her silky hair. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her triplet earrings. “How much did you have to drink?”

  “A glass and a half of wine, smart aleck.”

  “Smart aleck, nothin’. You’re the one who passed out on me in the truck. If I’m gonna pour my heart out to you, I’d like to know you’re conscious enough
to hear it.” He propped himself on his arm again.

  “You don’t pour your heart out to anyone. You flirt.”

  “I’m not flirting now.” He discarded the rehearsed speech and just pulled the ring out of his pocket. The ring he’d chosen that afternoon, after the orthopedist and before the autographing. “I love you, Billie Pemberton. Have pretty much loved you since that first day when you rescued me from cucumber-and-basil-poisoned water. And the deal was sealed for good when I woke up in the hospital with you crying by my side.”

  Her lashes dipped. He saw the gleam of a tear on her cheek and his chest tightened all over again as he gently thumbed it away. “If you marry me, I promise that I’ll love you harder than anyone else ever could. But you need to understand that you are the catch. Not me. I’m just an old bulldogger with no chance of another championship this year, if ever. I’ve got a chip on my shoulder when it comes to my...when it comes to Gerald. Or Jerome. Or whoever the hell he is. And even though I’ve got a business with an office, I can guarantee that there are gonna be days when I want to still be on the road. Listening to the hum of the tires, going from rodeo to rodeo. Whether I can compete or not. It’s just a part of who I am, sweetheart, and—”

  Her fingertips touched his lips. “You love me?”

  He caught her fingers in his hand and kissed them. And because she still hadn’t said yes, he simply pushed the diamond ring on her finger. She’d either let it stay there for the rest of her life or he’d spend the rest of his life talking her into it. Either way, he wasn’t taking it back. “I said so, didn’t I? Do you want me to say it again?”

  She nodded. “Again.” She lifted herself up and kissed him slowly. “And again.” Then she pushed on his shoulders until he rolled onto his back. She slid over him. “And again. Every morning.” She pulled her short dress up and over her head and let it fall from her fingertips with a soft slithering sound. Her creamy shoulders gleamed in the moonlight. “And every night.” She unclipped the wisp of lace that masqueraded as a bra and let that, too, fall to the side.

  Then she leaned forward, cupping his face between her hands. “Can you handle that, Grayson Fortune?”