Lone Star Nights

by Delores Fossen

  He nodded. “She hugged me afterward.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted. “Good. She needs to know the world isn’t filled with assholes.”

  She did. But there were other assholes out there. Too many of them, and Lucky wouldn’t be around to protect her from them. Nor would Cassie. Since that made the knot in his stomach even tighter, Lucky got out of the truck. Cassie, too, but they hadn’t even reached the front door to Bernie’s office when someone called out her name. It was a sweaty-faced, middle-aged man getting out of a car parked just up the street.

  Cassie groaned. “That’s Simon Salvetti, my agent. What the heck are you doing here?” she asked as the man approached them.

  He took her phone from her hand, made a show of pointing to it. “This is an amazing talking device, but when it makes a ringing sound, dings or plays a song, that means you should answer it because someone likely wants to communicate with you.”

  “I didn’t want to communicate with you. Or anybody else from LA. I knew the newspaper photos would get around. I knew what that would do to my career, and I didn’t want to hear a lecture from you.”

  “No lecture. What I was calling to tell you is that my talking device has been ringing nonstop with TV and radio shows who want to book you. Those pictures are freakin’ gold, Cassie. You’ve got work lined up for the next two years.” His attention finally landed on Lucky. “And this is the cowboy who made that possible.”

  Lucky sure hadn’t kissed her to help her career. It had been for a more basic reason than that—lust. But he was glad it hadn’t hurt her career, though work lined up for the next two years no doubt meant he wouldn’t be seeing that much of Cassie after today.

  That knot in his stomach was tightening like a vise.

  “Anyway, since I wasn’t able to talk to you,” the man went on, “I hurried through one of the contracts and brought it with me for you to sign.” He handed her a folder. And a pen.

  Cassie glanced at the folder, Simon, then Lucky. She frowned. “Look, uh, Simon, there’s a lot going on today—”

  “Yes, the wedding and the reading of your aunt’s will. I was out at the McCord Ranch, and the housekeeper told me about it, told me you’d be here. It won’t take long for you to sign them, and then I can be on the next flight out.”

  She made another glance at the folder. Another glance at Lucky. As if she were trying to make up her mind about something. Was she thinking about turning down the jobs? Because Lucky certainly couldn’t offer her anything better.

  “Simon, I can’t do this now,” she finally said. “I’ll take a look at the contract after I’m finished here.”

  Her agent opened his mouth as if to argue, but Cassie gave him a stern look, and with the folder clutched to her chest, she went inside the office.

  “You’re not trying to convince her to stay here, are you?” the guy asked Lucky.

  “No.” It was the truth. A truth that made Lucky want to do something really unmanly, like puke.

  Simon tried to tell Lucky why it would be a bad idea for Cassie to stay, but Lucky tuned him out and went into the office. Thankfully, Simon didn’t follow.

  Wilhelmina was there behind her desk, and her feathers were no longer ruffled. She was back to batting her eyelashes at Lucky.

  The puking feeling eased up a little when he saw Mia in the waiting room. She was hugging Cassie. Even though the wedding was still hours away, Mia was wearing a pale pink fairy-princess dress, complete with tiara, and she had a huge basket of gold stars clutched in her hand.

  “Livvy’s doing,” Cassie said to him.

  Lucky nodded in approval and made a mental note to thank Livvy. He’d thank Alice again, too, for letting the girls stay for the wedding. And speaking of Alice, she was right there next to Mia, and she wasn’t in much of a festive mood. Her mouth was still tight. Her body, too. And she didn’t soften even a little when Mia rushed to hug Lucky.

  “I’m a star girl,” Mia proudly announced.

  “I can see that, and you look beautiful.” He kissed the top of her head and turned to Mackenzie to tell her the same thing, but Lucky nearly tripped over his tongue.

  Not his goth girl today, but rather a wedding girl. She was wearing a pink dress. Probably still too short. Of course, part of him wanted her to cover up from head to toe like a nun. And her hair wasn’t spiked and black. It was pink to match the dress. She looked thirteen instead of twenty. Something he’d take to the grave because he doubted any thirteen-year-old girl actually wanted to look her age.

  “I wanted to try something new,” Mackenzie mumbled, looking uncomfortable. Did she think she was selling out? Not a chance.

  “You look amazing,” Lucky told her, and he also gave her a kiss on the head. “But then, you looked amazing before, too.” Before, however, it’d just taken him a little longer to see through the makeup.

  “I understand the wedding is at two o’clock,” Alice said, standing. She had her purse in front of her like a shield. “The girls and I will be leaving immediately afterward so if you could please bring them outside to the car then, I’d appreciate it.”

  Talk about killing the mood. Or rather what little mood they had. Even Mia’s shoulders dropped. Too bad. Because seeing the joy on her face might be exactly what Lucky needed to get through the next few hours.

  “You can come to the wedding, too,” Lucky offered Alice.

  “No, thank you,” she jumped to say. “The girls and I are already packed to go.”

  Yes, she’d made that abundantly clear.

  “I told her we wanted to stay with you,” Mackenzie said, springing to their defense.

  “And I told Aunt Alice I’d give her my cat if we could stay,” Mia piped in.

  Those two sentences warmed Lucky’s heart. And crushed him. Because Alice wasn’t going to take those things into consideration. She had already made up her mind.

  But Lucky had been a master of mind swaying for years.

  Lucky looked at Wilhelmina. “Could you go ahead and take the girls back to Bernie’s office? I’d like to have a word with Alice.”

  Wilhelmina nodded, then ushered Mia and Mackenzie away, and Lucky made sure they were out of hearing range before he continued.

  “I’m either going to insult you,” he said to Alice, “or make your day. But I’m offering you a million bucks to sign over custody of the girls to Cassie and me.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. Obviously, his offer insulted her. “Cassie already offered me money.” She huffed. “Do you really think my nieces are for sale?”

  “Of course not,” Cassie and he answered in unison. It was Lucky who continued. “But you heard what they said. They want to stay here. I believe they’re happy at the ranch, and I think Spring Hill would be a good place for them to be raised.”

  “With Cassie, you and your family.” Alice made them sound like fungi.

  He wasn’t sure Cassie would be in that equation, but he hoped she knew she was welcome, too. Well, welcome as long as he didn’t have to deal with her hit-and-run I love you.

  “My family would be a good support system for the girls,” Lucky explained. “There’d be no need for a nanny since we have Della and Stella. My brother Riley and his soon-to-be wife live just minutes away—”

  “Cassie brought up all of this when she called me this morning,” Alice snapped. “But what both of you seem to be forgetting is that you’re not fit to be parents.”

  “Bullshit.” Lucky hadn’t meant to curse, but he didn’t take it back. “Cassie and I love the girls. We’re not lowlifes like their parents. And we want them. That makes us fit.”

  He was clearly losing this argument since Alice was making sounds like a riled rodeo bull. “This discussion is over.”

  Maybe, but Lucky wasn’t giving up. “Do you love the girls? And I don’
t mean the kind of love that happens just because they’re blood kin. Do you love them?”

  The bull sounds turned to more glaring and staring. “I’m sure I will once I get to know them.”

  Yeah, she would. But Lucky doubted she’d ever love them as much as he did.

  “Uh, Lucky and Cassie?” Wilhelmina said from the hall. “Bernie says you two should go on back for the reading.”

  Alice didn’t even ask to go with them, and while Lucky wouldn’t have refused her, he was glad to have a few more minutes with the girls away from her. Yeah, Alice was perfect all right, except for being pigheaded. Of course, Lucky wasn’t even sure it was right to blame her. He hated to admit it, but if their situations had been reversed, he’d be pigheaded, too, if doing so would protect Mia and Mackenzie.

  “Thanks for trying,” Cassie said, giving him a pat on the back.

  “Thanks for trying, too. How much did you offer Alice?”

  “Everything in my savings account. Not as much as you, though. You really have a million dollars?”

  He shrugged. “I think I do. I haven’t touched my trust fund. And yeah, I have a trust fund,” Lucky added almost defensively. “Never felt I deserved it so I didn’t touch it, but using it for this seemed the right thing to do.”

  She nodded, paused outside Bernie’s door. “I don’t suppose Alice would budge if we pooled our money?”

  Lucky had to shake his head. “I don’t think money will do it. Nor a pound of flesh.”

  But what would exactly?

  Obviously, Alice seemed to have the girls’ best interest at heart, so what would make her believe that Cassie and he would be the best thing for her nieces? A few ideas came to mind—contributing to her charity, vowing chastity, joining the priesthood.

  “We could get married,” Lucky threw out there. He wouldn’t dare tell Cassie that the notion had come in fourth—after chastity and the priesthood. “Then we could make our own petition for custody.”

  Cassie didn’t exactly jump at the offer—his first marriage proposal ever. And it wasn’t as if they were strangers. They’d had sex twice. Great sex, too. Then there was that part about her saying I love you.

  “Marry you?” she questioned.

  Since she had sort of a sneaky look in her eyes, Lucky just settled for a nod.

  She nodded back. It was sort of sneaky, as well. “If you want me to even consider marrying you, you have to do one thing.” And she reached for the doorknob to Bernie’s office.

  “Wait a minute. What one thing?”

  The sneaky look intensified. “When you figure it out, you can ask me again.”

  Well, hell. It was one of those riddles, and he hated riddles. When she reached for the door again, Lucky stopped her.

  “You want me to say I love you?” he tried. It was the only answer on his list of possible answers.

  But Cassie shook her head. “When you figure it out, just let me know,” she said and then opened the door despite his still trying to stop her.

  “Are you two getting married?” Mackenzie immediately asked.

  “Thin door,” Wilhelmina grumbled, and she walked past them as she headed back to reception.

  “And yes, your trust fund is worth more than a million,” Bernie said to Lucky. “If you want to know the exact amount, I can look it up for you.”

  Lucky shook his head.

  “Did you pay enough money for us?” Mia asked. “What one thing do you haveta do to marry Cassie?”

  “No, we’re not getting married,” Cassie answered Mackenzie.

  Lucky had to give the same no answer to Mia coupled with a “heck if I know” to her second question. And Lucky was glad everybody had read his thoughts in addition to hearing every word he’d uttered in the past five minutes. Hell, he was already flustered and frustrated, and the meeting hadn’t even started.

  And the meeting got even worse when he spotted Mason-Dixon.

  The man was sitting in the corner, literally as far away from the rest of them as he could get. Of course, it was his right to be there since Dixie Mae was his mother, but if Dixie Mae did come back as a ghost she might try to kick her son’s butt right out of the room.

  Cassie and Lucky took a seat next to the girls when they went into the office. Bernie was wearing jeans and a Beatles T-shirt today. Probably because he was planning to head to the Founder’s Day picnic later. Lucky would still have to make an appearance at that as well, something else that would no doubt be flustering and frustrating. Painful, too, because it would push his memory buttons about his mother.

  Well, maybe.

  After Claire had said how she felt guilty about the accident, Lucky was starting to see things in a slightly different light. Yeah, he was still responsible, but it had still been an accident.

  “You said there were surprises,” Lucky prompted Bernie when he just stood there, will in hand, and stared at them.

  Bernie took a deep breath. “For the record, I tried to talk Dixie Mae out of this.”

  Shit.

  This was going to be bad. Bernie began to read.

  “I, Dixie Mae Weatherall, revoke all previous wills made by me and declare this my last will. And we’re not even going to get into that monkey crap about me being of sound mind because all that’s somebody’s opinion. Just in case it’s brought up, though, especially by my so-called son, I’ve given Bernie a copy of a psych eval to prove I’m not crazy, just mean and opinionated.”

  Lucky concurred on all points. Sane, mean, opinionated.

  Bernie paused, looked at them. “I’m omitting some of the curse words, but they’re here in writing if anyone wants to see them for themselves.” He glanced at Mason-Dixon. “She called you a few choice names.”

  “I’ll bet,” he snarled. “Just tell me what the old bat left me.”

  Bernie took another deep breath and continued.

  “To Mia and Mackenzie Compton and my granddaughter, Cassandra Weatherall, I leave my half of Weatherall-McCord Stock Show and Rodeo Promotions, which will be divided into thirds among them. My partner, Austin McCord, will maintain majority percentage in the company and act as the trustee until the Compton minor children are each twenty-one. Also in accordance with my wishes, Cassandra, Mia and Mackenzie will remain in the state so they can better deal with the operation.”

  Judging from the way Cassie, Mia and Mackenzie stared at the lawyer, that was one of those surprises. But not to Lucky. This was exactly the sort of thing Dixie Mae would pull, and he wished that it was the magic bullet to keep them all here. But a will couldn’t force something like that, and he was betting Alice wouldn’t care a rat about Dixie Mae’s will or wishes.

  “What does it mean?” Mia asked, tugging on her sister’s arm.

  “It means we own part of a rodeo.”

  Mia grinned. “Do I get to own a bull?”

  “About 17 percent of each bull,” Bernie provided.

  Mia’s grin widened. “Cool. I want to own his leg. And Scooter’s clown nose.”

  Mackenzie gave an irritated shake of her head and an eye roll that only a big sister could have managed.

  “‘In addition to the part ownership of the business,’” Bernie read on, “‘I leave Mia and Mackenzie Compton the sum of two hundred thousand dollars each to be placed in a trust fund and used for their college educations.’”

  Lucky was glad Dixie Mae had obviously gotten so close to the girls and had provided something for them. Plus, the rodeo business would give them some solid income, too.

  “Keep reading,” Mason-Dixon snapped.

  Bernie smiled. The look on his face was too accommodating. It was sneaky like Cassie’s earlier one. “‘As for my residuary estate, all my money and personal items will go to the person who has ownership of my six cats.’”

 
Yeah, it was a sneaky smile all right. Lucky didn’t just smile, he laughed, and Cassie giggled right along with him.

  “What?” Mason-Dixon howled. “She left those cats to me.”

  “And you signed over ownership to Cassie.” Bernie held up a copy of the document. “Her ownership means she inherits the remainder of Dixie Mae’s estate, and it’s valued at...” Bernie paused, fighting back a new smile. “Nearly twenty million dollars.”

  Cassie stopped laughing. Perhaps because she was in shock at her grandmother being worth that much. But no. Her eyes watered, and Lucky knew that she would trade every penny to have Dixie Mae back.

  “What does that mean?” Mia asked.

  “It means Cassie’s rich,” Mackenzie explained.

  “It means you’re rich, too,” Cassie told Mia, “because I gave you one of the cats.”

  Mia thought about that a second. “Do I still get the bull leg, though? And the clown nose?”

  Mackenzie rolled her eyes again.

  “That hellhound can’t just write me out of her will!” Mason-Dixon yelled.

  “There’s more,” Bernie said, and he continued to read. “‘For my son, Mason-Dixon Weatherall, I bequeath him a truckload of merchandise that will be delivered to his place of business today.’”

  Bernie stopped and motioned for the three adults to join him at the desk so they could read the last line of the will for themselves. Mason-Dixon made it there ahead of them and tried to push Cassie aside. She held her ground. Then, she broke down in hysterical laughter when she read the last line.

  Lucky had to laugh again, too, and he blew a kiss up to Dixie Mae.

  “The merchandise consists of one thousand jumbo-size dildos,” Dixie Mae had written. “Which my son can then use to go fuck himself.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “UH, I’M NOT sure I can fit through the door,” Claire said, studying herself in the large mirror.

  Cassie wasn’t sure of that, either. The wedding dress was as wide as Claire was tall. It was beautiful, though, with yards and yards of pearl-white organza and netting, but Cassie wasn’t sure even the aisle of a cathedral would have been wide enough to accommodate it.