Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  “Hi, I’m Lexie Trevena. How can I help you?”

  The woman studied her for a long time before she spoke. “I’m Olivia Ramirez, your grandmother.” The last two words came out in a choked sob.

  “You’re Daniel Ramirez’s mother?” She hugged her elbows.

  “Yes. My son, your father, he never told me about you. Had I known, you would have grown up with family, my family. This is so hard.”

  Her words trailed away and she swayed. Lexie wasn’t ready for this, but she couldn’t ignore the pain in the woman’s expression either. She tightened her hold on Mac’s hand as he drew her back against him. She never had Mac’s kind of strength grounding her before. It gave her a foundation to stand on like none other.

  “Mrs. Ramirez, would you come in and sit?”

  She shook her head. “No, as much as I want a chance to get to know my only granddaughter, this visit isn’t about me.”

  Lexie didn’t know what to say to that so she said nothing.

  “There is someone else who wants to talk to you.”

  “I’m not ready yet to see my father. I’m sorry, but I …”

  “No, of course not. I don’t blame you either. Daniel has caused a world of hurt, and I will not be the bridge that brings you two together.”

  “Then who?”

  The woman held the door open and nodded to the car in the driveway. Four young boys peered at her from the backseat. Lexie’s legs almost gave out, and she actually stumbled back into Mac. He held out his arms and steadied her.

  “We tried to keep the news away from their young ears, but they heard about you and have been bugging me for the last week to meet you. I was trying to give you your space, but today, they set off on their own. Had I not found the bus schedule under their bed, I wouldn’t have had a clue where to look for them. They got off the bus about three miles from here.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Ramirez, I’m so sorry. I have a son and know what that did to you.”

  A smile graced the woman’s face. “As much as I want to take each of them by the ear and send them to their room for scaring me like that,” she paused and took a breath, “they just want to meet their sister. They don’t understand what’s going on except that they have a sister they never met who took a bullet for their father.”

  “The bullet just grazed my shoulder.”

  Stupid thing to say, but it was what came out. Lexie peered again at the car. One of the boys opened the door, and they all filed out. Unable to stop herself, she waved at them.

  “I want to meet them, too.” She eased out of Mac’s hold and met them outside on the sidewalk. She didn’t hear Mac follow but knew if she placed her hand behind her, he would be there.

  The oldest boy approached her and held out a hand. “I’m Daniel,” he said, turning toward his brothers. “This is Julian, David, and Ramon.”

  “I’m Lexie.” She stood there like an idiot. The next instant, the youngest boy wrapped his arms around her waist, saying, “Thanks for saving our dad.” The other boys followed suit and they all stood on the sidewalk holding each other as tears streamed openly down Lexie’s face. My brothers.

  She turned to her grandmother. “I would love it if you and the boys could stay.”

  Her grandmother pressed her hand. “You get to know your brothers. I’ll come back in an hour.” She placed a calling card in Lexie’s hand. “I would love to get to know you, too, but will wait until you are ready.”

  As they watched her drive away, Mac placed his arm around Lexie. “My brother is putting hamburgers on the grill. If you want one, you better go place your order.”

  The boys raced into the house as if it were their second home. She watched them until they were out of sight.

  “Eventful evening.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “You have such a quiet, peaceful life here.” She placed a hand at his waist and scanned the home in front of her. “I come with a lot of baggage.”

  “Family isn’t baggage, Lexie.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready for what I bring with me? Gabriel’s birth mother wants to meet me, too. I can’t even begin to imagine what kind of nightmare that’s going to bring into our lives. Then there’s my mother …”

  “You love me, right?”

  “Very much.”

  “And you want to become my wife, my family, right?”

  “Yes,” she replied in a breathless whisper.

  He interlocked their fingers. “You haven’t even met half the McNeils yet. I come with all kinds of weird crap I can’t even begin to explain. By marrying me, you become part of it.”

  “Are you trying to scare me away?”

  “Not at all.” He caressed the ring. “We’re family, and together, we’re strong enough to deal with anything our future holds, which includes Gabriel’s birth mother. If she files to get him back, she’ll be going up against the McNeils.”

  “Family. I love the sound of it.” She gave him a quick kiss. “We need to go in and get to know my brothers. When everyone leaves, and after Gabriel is asleep, you’re going to explain the weird crap.”

  “Ahh, no. When I finally have you to myself, we’re going to finish what we started a few minutes ago on that chaise lounge. After you have screamed my name a few times, if you’re still up to hearing about that weird crap, I’ll start with my oldest brother’s story and make my way down to Jason and Sarah.”

  Lexie couldn’t keep the laugh in. “God, how I love a man who has his priorities straight.”

  About the Author

  Nancy C. Weeks lives in suburban Maryland with her husband of more than thirty years. With her two grown children out of the nest, she loves spending her days on her deck writing as the local bird population keeps her company.

  Find Nancy at:

  Website: http://nancycweeks.com

  Blog: http://nancycweeksauthor.blogspot.com

  Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/NancyCWeeksAuthor,

  Twitter: @NancyCWeeks

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7009278.Nancy_C_Weeks

  Pinterest:http://www.pinterest.com/nancycweeks/

  One Last Letter

  Pema Donyo

  Avon, Massachusetts

  Copyright © 2014 by Pema Donyo.

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

  Published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

  www.crimsonromance.com

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-8447-8

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8447-3

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-8448-6

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8448-0

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © iStockphoto.com/croisy and 123RF/Fernando Gregory and 123RF/madllen.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  For my amazing sister, Kelsang. You’re endlessly supportive and encouraging, whether correcting my horrible sense of direction or responding, “Sure. Write a historical romance.”

  Acknowledgments

  Tara—thank you f
or believing in my book! And a HUGE thank you to my editor, Julie Sturgeon, for the hilarious edits: “Otherwise, we had men dancing with just dresses. Probably not the most graceful dancers they could find.”

  Thank you Mom, Dad, and all my friends who put up with me suddenly disappearing off the face of Earth to write another chapter.

  And, of course, to my readers. This one’s for you.

  CHAPTER ONE

  1869

  Dearest Eve,

  I hope this letter finds you. I’m praying you write back to this one, Eve, because Lord knows I’ve been spending way too much time writing to you and not enough time helping your father out. Spelling’s improved, though. I can say that much. You taught me well.

  Do you remember that, Eve? When the sun was down and I’d sneak out to your front porch and you would meet me there? Back when your dad didn’t have that big old guard dog, back when you taught me how to read and write by lantern behind your house?

  I hope you remember that. Memories of you are all I seem to have nowadays. I can’t ever forget your face, but I’m sure the years have changed it a bit. You could send a picture, you know. My address hasn’t changed.

  Or you could send a letter. I know you’re busy with school and all that, but I’m starting to feel like you’ve forgotten me.

  I’m still back here at Hamilton, Texas. I’m still waiting.

  Say something, Eve.

  —Jesse

  Jesse Greenwood looked up from the paper he was writing on to the blue sky in front of him. A year. A whole year since he’d seen her long black hair flying behind her as she raced across the field on the back of a horse, challenging her mount with verbal commands and physical kicks every chance she found. A whole year since she’d made him promise he would keep writing to her while she was away. A year since he’d spoken to her at all.

  Maybe she didn't receive his letters. The idea had dawned on him before, especially when he was all by himself out on the ranch. Maybe her father kept the letters from him. Maybe someone at that fancy school of hers burned them before they could reach her hands.

  He watched the herd of cattle graze on the pasture. The cattle were lazy, chewing cud all day and staring blankly at any lone cowboy who tried to herd them. They didn’t worry about not receiving letters.

  One letter out of—how many was it now? Thirty? Forty? Every spare moment he had ended up filled with writing to her. Maybe it was time to give up. He swallowed feelings of surrender. No, he’d promised to write.

  Jesse sighed. After putting away the paper, he headed back toward his horse. Promises sure were hard to keep when you didn’t know if the other person gave a damn. As he herded the cattle to head back to the ranch, the sun began to set. The fading light filled the sky with deep purple and orange hues. There was no way Eve could see that sunset off on the East Coast, where the sun probably never shined and children probably never learned how to race horses.

  “Hey, Greenwood!”

  He turned his head at the call of his name. Another one of the ranch hands, Preston, rode up next to him. The beginnings of a beard peppered Preston’s jawline, reminding Jesse that he hadn’t shaved in days. He didn’t really shave anymore, ever. There didn’t seem much incentive when Evelyn wasn’t around.

  As if reading his mind, Preston slapped Jesse’s back and whistled low. “Your girl’s coming home.”

  Jesse nearly dropped the folded letter in his hand. He tucked it into his pocket instead and tightened his hands on his reins for a better grip. “What did you just say?”

  Preston arched an eyebrow and grinned. “You heard me, all right. Evelyn Lancaster’s headed back to Hamilton.”

  While his eyes never strayed from the cattle he and Preston were taking back to the ranch, Jesse’s body was on autopilot. With the trail to the ranch memorized, his mind whirred, trying to process the information Preston had given him.

  Preston headed off in the opposite direction and took the cattle from the other side as another ranch hand opened up the gates. Jesse waited until Preston finished trotting around the extent of the corral. Either Preston’s daily check of the corral needed more time today, or he was just taunting Jesse. He stepped out of the stirrups and jumped to the ground, his hand drifting to his pocket where the letter lay in the process. When Preston finished, he finally let go of his reins and also dismounted.

  The two guided their horses back toward the stable. Jesse could feel Preston’s eyes studying his expression. “I ain’t lying. She’s back for good.”

  His throat felt dry. “How would you know that?”

  Preston chuckled. “Heard it from the big bug himself. ‘Make sure Blue Star is ready, Preston.’ That was when I asked. Boss said she’s come back to be married. Heard she’s become real pretty now, too.” Preston took off his beige hat as they stepped out of the stable. Once they reached the house, he stamped his feet on the mat in front of the porch door. A plume of dust flew up from the mat in a cloud, a tribute to the day’s work on the ranch. He brushed off the dirt from his clothes, taking extra care to appear presentable.

  Jesse raised an eyebrow.

  Preston shook his head. “Not trying to make myself look good for Evelyn—she’s your girl.”

  Jesse took off his black hat and stepped inside. “Not talking about her, Preston. I know who you’re trying to impress.” Preston Dean had been chasing Jesse’s baby sister for the last year, not that Jesse approved. He figured Preston’s interest in her would fade, the way the rest of his friend’s annual infatuations did. Thankfully, Loretta Greenwood hadn’t shown any interest in him, and Jesse planned to keep it that way.

  “She’s not too much younger than Eve was when you two got all lovey-dovey. If I wanted to do the same with your sister, then I—”

  Jesse shot his friend a warning look, but Preston smirked. “You just wait and see. Loretta will come around.”

  The two walked down the hallway of the bunkhouse Mr. Lancaster had provided for his ranch hands. Their heavy footsteps thudded against the wooden flooring. The hallway was empty, and Jesse guessed all the other cowboys were eating at the cookhouse.

  Beds lined the back of the bunkhouse, each one stacked a level on top of each other to conserve space. The boss hadn’t provided them with much, but a clean bed was all Jesse needed. It had been hard trying to find a job after his parents died; landing a place as a ranch hand had also meant Loretta could work in the kitchen and sleep in the big house, which seemed more than generous to him.

  He swallowed hard and pulled the letter from his pocket. The folds seemed to ruin it somehow, and he smoothed the paper with care on the nearest table. So she’d returned to be married. His heart knew who she wanted. She’d told him so; she didn’t want to marry anyone else.

  His heart beat faster, and he felt perspiration begin to gather in the base of his palms. Her father must have come around after all.

  There was a knock at the door from the back entrance. Too early for the other ranch hands to return from supper. Preston nearly darted forward to answer the door, but Jesse shot him a stern look. If it really was Loretta at the door, he certainly didn’t want Preston greeting her.

  He set his black hat on the table before he walked over to the doorway. What was she thinking? It really wasn’t proper for his sister to come to the bunkhouse at this time.

  He opened the door. “Loretta, I told you for the last time to stop encouraging Preston into believing that . . .”

  His voice trailed off once his eyes recognized the figure standing on the other side of the doorway. His eyes widened, and he felt his pulse racing.

  The girl at the door was definitely not Loretta.

  “Hello, Jesse.”

  • • •

  Evelyn Lancaster wanted to run away as fast as possible.

  It was a mistake. It was one colossal, gargantuan mistake. Worse than Athens ordering the death of Socrates. Worse than Persephone being kidnapped by Hades. What did she think she was going to do? Seconds tick
ed by as she found herself unable to say anything more. Her mouth felt dry. What was she supposed to say?

  He’d changed, more than she would have ever imagined possible. The boyish frame was filled out, and extra years working on the ranch had defined the muscles in his arms under his coarse brown shirt. He’d even grown taller—past six feet, she guessed. His shoulders were broader, and his cheekbones seemed more pronounced than before. His face carried even more of an aristocratic air, but his body seemed undeniably more masculine.

  Yet the expression was the same. Jesse Greenwood’s same reticent, admiring expression hadn’t changed as he continued to stare at her like she was hand-blown glass. His brown hair still flopped lightly in front of his eyes, causing him to brush it away.

  “Hey, Eve.”

  She winced. She hadn’t heard that nickname since she’d left Hamilton, Texas, for the female seminary in Massachusetts. No one at her women’s college ever called her Eve. During classes she’d been “Miss Evelyn” and “Miss Lancaster.”

  She cleared her throat. She’d anticipated the awkwardness but not the simple difficulty in forming words. “I returned home a few hours ago. I thought I should stop by and say hello. Is Preston here? Are any of the other ranch hands here?”

  Jesse blinked. He didn’t respond for a few seconds. The adoring expression morphed to one of disbelief. “Eve, did you get my letters?”

  She bit her lip. “I did.” Evelyn resisted the urge to embrace him. Doing so would only make it harder to answer his questions with a lie. Instead, she stood rooted to the spot. She wouldn’t move a muscle; there was too much she could regret. “They were nice letters. Thank you. But I burned them.”

  His eyes became cool steel, all traces of admiration in his eyes melting away. “Burned them? But you . . .” His jaw was set. “Eve, why didn’t you write me back?”

  “I was busy.” She tore her eyes away from Jesse’s searing gaze and tried to look behind his shoulder. The sinking feeling in her chest was surely no more than an echo of the past. She needed to leave before all rationality left her. “Just let all the other ranch hands know I stopped by.”