He rolled his forehead against hers, nodding. “We’ve got that covered. Keep going.”
“I want to photograph the ocean. I’ve never seen the ocean before.”
“I can make that happen, no problem. Whenever you’re ready.”
Then it hit her—none of the things she wanted mattered without Vaughn. What was the point of planting a field full of grass if she couldn’t stand in the middle of it with him and share that fresh alfalfa smell? What was the point of seeing the ocean if he wasn’t by her side to experience it with her? Her sisters were safe and happy and moving on with their own families. For the first time ever, it was Rachel’s turn to grab hold of what she wanted.
“I want . . .” Her throat constricted. She swallowed and inhaled deeply.
“Whatever it is, I’ll find a way to give it to you.”
She realized now that the world wouldn’t fall apart, and the universe wouldn’t punish her for trying to find happiness. She’d had the rug yanked out from under her enough times by her dad to understand it was going to take some practice to relearn how to lean on someone else without bracing for a fall. But she didn’t want to be the person who was too afraid to try. She wanted to be strong enough to trust, strong enough to face her fears and love out loud.
She felt it building up inside her like nothing she’d ever experienced, and it had to come out, all of it, right there in front of everybody they knew, like the words had a life of their own and the sheer power of them pried open the grip of fear around her heart and crumbled it into dust. “I don’t want to see the ocean without you. And I don’t care about alfalfa unless you’re there to smell it with me. I want to whistle with you and ride horses with you—everything. I can’t stand being without you. I love you like crazy. All I want is you. Only you. Forever.”
He must have let out a breath he’d been holding, because with his ragged exhale, his body melted into her. His shoulders relaxed. “Forever’s good. Forever is what I want too.”
He slid his fingers from her neck and gathered her face in his hands.
Then he kissed her. Long and slow and sweet. She opened her mouth, letting him in. Letting him have all of her. She threaded her arms around his neck, pressed her palms to his back, and met his tongue with her own. And it didn’t matter that her family and friends were watching, because nothing mattered except Vaughn.
Applause and cheers broke out, but Rachel couldn’t find it in her to care. She was too filled up with love for Vaughn, for the possibilities of their future together, and for the sense of peace that came with knowing she’d never be lost again.
He tore his lips away and held her tight against him. “I love you so much, Rachel. I’m going to give you everything you want and keep you in triple berry pies for the rest of your life—but I changed my mind about something. Forget proper courtship. Tell your farmhands they’re on their own in the morning and pack a bag. You’re coming home with me tonight.”
Epilogue
Rachel stared at Vaughn across the top of his truck cab, feeling as jumpy as a fly on a light bulb. “I’m not the best at making small talk. What if I can’t think of anything to say?”
Vaughn pinned her with a look of affectionate exasperation. “I’ve already told you, I’m not going to let you flounder. I’ll be right there next to you, moving the conversation along. But if you get stuck, talk about horses. My parents could talk about horses until the cows come home.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny.” Sure enough, he’d coaxed a smile from her and eased her nerves like there was nothing to it. That was some skill he had. One more reason she loved him.
“Well, I’m a funny guy.”
He came around her side of the cab and brushed a kiss across her lips. “You’re going to be fine. And you might as well get used to having dinner with my folks because neither you or I can cook worth a damn. With Amy moved in to Kellan’s place, leaving us to fend for ourselves, I’m pretty sure we’re going to get tired of sandwiches and take-out eventually.”
“Do you think your mom’s going to hold it against me that I can’t cook?”
Rolling his eyes, Vaughn filled her hands with a stack of boxes from the back of the cab. “Oh my God, woman. You need to relax. She’s going to love you.”
“I hope you’re right. I’ve never had to meet a man’s parents before.” She straightened the ribbon holding the boxes together. “This is a whole lot of fruit. Wouldn’t a basket have been enough?”
He fluffed the bow on top. “No, it needs the tower effect. Trust me on this. Is it too heavy? You want me to carry it?”
“No. I want to be the one to hand it to her.”
They started up the driveway. Vaughn placed his hand on the small of her back. “I do have to warn you, she’s going to ask about kids.”
Rachel stopped moving. “What?”
“She’s grandkid crazy, so she’s probably going to mention you and me having kids. I thought you should be ready for that.”
“Wait.We haven’t even talked about kids. Hell, we haven’t even talked about getting married.”
Vaughn stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “We could talk about it right now if you’d like.”
“I’m five steps away from meeting your parents for the first time. Do you really think it’s the best idea to discuss our future out here in front of their house?”
He shrugged. “That wasn’t part of my plan, but you seem concerned.”
Rachel strode toward the front door. “I don’t know if concerned is the right word, but I do think we should have our story straight before we have a casual chat about marriage and kids with your parents.”
“That’s a great point.”
When she reached the door, she whipped around to face him. “You’re acting strange.” The top box, filled with chocolate-covered strawberries, toppled off the tower. Vaughn dove for it.
Pushing up to his knees, he handed it to her.
“Nice catch.” She tucked it back inside the ribbon and leveled a worried gaze at him. Now that he’d mentioned it, she realized she didn’t know his take on marriage and kids. The past couple weeks, she’d been too wrapped up with being in love to think about the long-term details. “We are going to get married and have kids, right? I mean, you know, when you’re ready?”
The front door opened to reveal a short woman with curly black hair and a welcoming smile. She shared Vaughn’s nose and chin.
Rachel swallowed and her heart rate sped up. “Hello, Mrs. Cooper.”
“Hey, Ma,” Vaughn said, still kneeling. “We brought you a fruit tower. Would you take it from Rachel?”
Rachel made to move past him but Vaughn grabbed hold of her hand. “You stay right there. Ma, the fruit tower, please?”
“Oh.” She shuffled around Vaughn and eased the boxes from Rachel’s hands. “Goodness me. You remembered I wanted one of these. Thank you.”
“Of course I remembered. That’s why I’m your favorite son,” he said, his eyes still on Rachel, his solid hands holding hers.
“You rascal. You’re my only son.”
Vaughn smiled up at Rachel. “Did my mother just call me a rascal?”
He was still on his knees and the way he was looking at her, his eyes warm and confident, his smile tender, set butterflies of anticipation fluttering to life in her belly.
“Yes, she did,” she said breathlessly.
As if foggy glasses had suddenly been removed from her eyes, the colors and details of her surroundings popped out at her in stark relief. The hedges which had been trimmed flat along the house, the speckles of gray along the part in Vaughn’s hair, the smell of a beef roast wafting through the door blending with the heady smell of a fire. His father’s forge fire, no doubt.
“I hit my head on this front step when I was ten. Fifteen stitches,” Vaughn said quietly. “And I have pictures taken of me standing on this step before my first communion, senior prom, high school and college
graduations, and my graduation from the police academy. So I guess it’s as fine a spot as any to ask you to be my wife.”
Oh, wow. Her heart felt so full it was crowding her lungs, impeding her breath. Kneeling before her was the best man she knew, the man she loved and planned to keep on loving for the rest of her life. And he wanted to marry her.
He produced a small, black velvet box from his pocket at the same time his mom yelled, “Greg! Get over here now—and bring the camera!”
Vaughn angled his head around Rachel’s leg to grin at his mom. “Nice touch, Ma. Really adds to the romance of the moment.”
Rachel couldn’t help but laugh, he made her so impossibly happy.
He opened the box. Inside was a gold band, inlaid with a row of sparkling diamonds. The most beautiful piece of jewelry she’d ever seen.
“I was going to wait until dessert, but I didn’t want you going through the whole dinner worrying about my intentions. You wouldn’t have enjoyed Mom’s signature pot roast at all, and that would be a travesty.” He glanced at the ring. “I didn’t think a big diamond was your style, thought it might get in the way with your work. But we can exchange it if you don’t—”
“No, I love it. And I love you.” She pressed her lips together, fighting to contain her blossoming emotions.
“I love you too.” He kissed her hand. “Rachel, will you marry me?”
Pretty sure her legs were about to turn to noodles and wanting to get closer to Vaughn, she dropped to her knees. He swiped her tears away with his thumb. She turned her face in and kissed his wrist.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to be a cowboy lawman’s wife.”
His grin broadened. “Is that so? It was the badge that did it for you, eh?”
She smiled back. “Among other things. I like the way you whistle.”
He waved the box. “Are you going to give me an answer so I can put this ring on your finger, or would you like to continue going over all the ways you and I fit together so perfectly?”
She smoothed her fingertips along his jaw. “Of course I’ll marry you, Vaughn. Nothing else in the whole world makes me as happy as you.”
He slid the ring on her finger and admired her hand. “That’s more like it.” And then he gathered her close and kissed her. She could hear the squeals of joy from his parents, along with the clicking of a camera. She could hardly kiss Vaughn back, she was smiling so big.
For years, she’d fought what her heart was telling her to do. She’d let her mind convince her that happiness was out of her reach. And yet, she’d never stopped dreaming of a future with Vaughn, even when every other fiber of her being told her it was impossible. It turned out that her rebel heart knew what it was doing all along.
Keep reading for a special sneak preview of Jenna’s story in How to Rope a Real Man, coming in May 2014!
Chapter 1
Jenna Sorentino was nothing if not self-sufficient. That trait had served her well for twenty-four years, but it was a bitch of a problem tonight. Because Matt Roenick—hard-bodied, bright-smiling Matt—was only interested in people he could save. Try as she might, she couldn’t figure out a palatable way to land herself in that position.
She sat two seats down from the head of the table at the rehearsal dinner for her older sister Amy’s wedding, watching Matt cut up Tommy’s chicken strips like he was the daddy she wanted him to be, all the while trying to dream up a problem Matt could solve for her that wouldn’t make her feel helpless.
It wasn’t that Jenna didn’t have problems. Besides the problem of Matt never giving her more than the time of day in the eight months she’d known him, she had a category 5 hurricane brewing with her two sisters. But there wasn’t another person on earth who could save her from that storm except herself. Not even the noble and dashing Matt Roenick.
That particular problem would have to wait until after Amy’s wedding, though, because she hadn’t damn near killed herself to put on the best wedding in Catcher Creek history only to ruin it with the truth.
A loud, banjo-heavy song exploded from the dance floor speakers. Jenna sipped her diet cola and tried not to wince outwardly. “It’s too early for banjo,” she called to Matt over Tommy’s head.
He met her gaze and one corner of his lips curved into a smile, revealing the very same dimple that had made her go weak in the knees the first time she’d seen it so many months ago. “Is it ever the right time for banjo?”
She swirled the ice in her glass and gave him her best faux-scholarly expression. “There’s a banjo window, but it’s very narrow. Only nine to eleven at night.”
His brows pushed together. “Not eight or seven, but nine?”
“Eight’s too early. You have to get nice and relaxed before banjo sounds good.”
He rewarded her joke with a laugh. “That makes perfect sense to me, even though I’d never heard the banjo rule before tonight.”
She shook her hair away from her cheeks and smiled, trying to tell him without words how much she loved their easy camaraderie. “Yes, well, some things are so obvious, they don’t need to be said.”
His eyes glimmered, like he loved their conversations as much as she did. “I’ll bear that in mind if I ever get the chance to take you to a bluegrass concert.”
Her smile fell. To distract herself from the urge to point out that he had the chance any old time he wanted because Smithy’s Bar had a standing event every Saturday night and all he had to do was ask, she picked a couple pieces of sawdust out of Tommy’s hair that she’d apparently missed on his first brushing-off, then ruffled his dark blond locks.
Leave it to a five-year-old to get himself coated with sawdust in the scant minutes between the time they entered the Sarsaparilla Saloon and got seated at their table on the far side of the dance floor.
“Uh-oh, buddy,” Matt said, nudging Tommy with his elbow. “I hate to break it to you, but it looks like your head’s sprouting sawdust.”
Tommy giggled. “If our floor ever got this dirty, Mama would pitch a tent.”
Matt quirked an eyebrow at Jenna. “Translation please?”
Love for her earnest little boy roused a smile from her lips once more. “I think you meant pitch a fit, and you’re exactly right. You know Mama loves clean floors, but this is a saloon, so it’s supposed to be messy. It’s part of the ambiance.”
“Am-bee-ance,” Tommy repeated, as though committing it to memory. Ever since it dawned on him that he’d be starting kindergarten in the fall, he’d been obsessed with rattling off big words, so Jenna made sure their conversations were dense with them.
It’d been her idea to hold the rehearsal dinner here. Kellan, her soon-to-be brother-in-law, had requested someplace casual, with dancing and beer. As small a town as Catcher Creek was, nothing in its blink-and-you’ll-miss-it downtown district fit the bill. Good thing Jenna was intimately familiar with just about every bar with a dance floor in New Mexico between Albuquerque and the Texas state line.
A glance at Amy made her stomach drop. Amy’s eye twitched and she was using the steak knife that’d come with her top sirloin to dice the side of steamed vegetables into tiny cubes. A sure sign her wedding nerves were getting intense.
Kellan was the only person in the world who could talk Amy off the ledge when anxiety got the best of her, but he was deep in conversation about steer prices with Vaughn, Jenna’s other soon-to-be brother-in-law. As much as Jenna wasn’t going to let her own problems get in the way of Amy’s perfect wedding, she wasn’t about to stand by while Amy ruined it either.
“How’s your meal, Ames?”
“Fine.” Her voice was strained and she’d answered without meeting Jenna’s eyes, focusing instead on slicing into a baby carrot.
Oh, crap.
Jenna pushed up from the table, smoothing the skirt of her swishy cotton dress as she stood. She met Matt’s startled gaze. “Could you keep an eye on Tommy for a bit?”
“Of course.”
“Amy, I need to talk t
o you outside. Could you spare a minute?”
Amy’s knife and fork froze. She blinked at her plate for a couple beats before standing. “Okay, yes. Outside would be good.”
Their movement must’ve caught Rachel’s eye because she broke from her conversation with Kellan and Vaughn and stood. “Where’re you going?”
As the oldest sister, Rachel had always been the mother figure and rock of the family that Jenna had needed growing up, supporting her through the toughest of times. As close as two sisters could be, they had an understanding of each other that ran deep and didn’t need words. However . . . from Jenna’s first recollection of her sisters, Amy and Rachel had gotten on like two tomcats locked in a barn. There wasn’t a situation the good Lord could throw at one that the other couldn’t make worse without even trying.
With Amy looking like she was going to blow a gasket at any moment, the last thing she needed was Rachel getting involved before Jenna had a chance to run damage control.
Without relinquishing her hold on Amy’s shoulders, she pressed close to Rachel. In as low a tone as she could muster, she hissed, “Bring us three shots of tequila, STAT.”
“What? You don’t drink.”
But Jenna was already hustling Amy from the table. She twisted her neck and drilled Rachel with a don’t mess with me glare. “Tequila. Now!”
The fenced-in patio out back of the saloon was bathed in a soft yellow glow from the strings of twinkle lights crisscrossing the tin roof. As they stepped out, a weathered, older man was snuffing a cigarette in an ashtray. He tipped the brim of his hat to them, then made his way back inside. The door bounced a few times before sealing shut, dulling the music to a muffled rhythm of vibrations.
Jenna spun Amy to face her. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
Amy wrapped her arms around her middle. “Nothing. What makes you think something’s wrong?”
Jenna pinched the bridge of her nose and silently recited the alphabet, a mom trick she’d learned as a way to maintain patience when under duress. And it worked near about all the time. Well, sort of. If she didn’t count the fact she’d never once made it past N.
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