Taming the Texas Playboy

by Crystal Green

  “Marco,” he said. “Do you think he was your last chance at having a family? And you’re taking matters into your own hands?”

  She just sat there for a second, and he began to doubt she would ever answer him.

  But then she said, “I’m optimistic enough to believe that there will be other chances. It’s just that I genuinely felt that there was a child out there now, somewhere. Someone who needs a home. This world is full of children who need. I should know, because I was adopted.”

  Something swelled in Jeremiah—the sense that, at one time, she’d been a little lost, too, just as he was now. The difference was that someone had taken her in.

  Her candor surprised him, and it must have done the same to her, because she sat straighter in her chair.

  “I’m not fooling myself though,” she said. “It’s not going to be easy. There’ll be more sacrifices for me than just withdrawing from the social scene. Even now, I’ve got a thousand things to contend with, like the home inspection and background checks that the state will be doing on me after the baby’s born.” She smiled. “Weird—you’d think that they’d be doing those before the adoption, but that’s how it goes with an independent service. I’ve been childproofing the house like mad for the visit.”

  Okay, now it seemed as if she was laying it on thick, as if she knew that the more he heard, the more uncomfortable he would get.

  “When are you officially going to be a mom?” he asked, despite the urge to leave.

  “Officially?” She got a dreamy smile on her face, and it grabbed Jeremiah. Right in the chest, too, where he felt pulled, captured by a tug that he couldn’t define.

  A tug he wanted to feel with his own family.

  “The birth mother’s due to have the baby pretty soon,” Ally said. “But as far as I’m concerned, I’m already a mom.” Her voice choked up. “To think—in just a short time, I’m going to have someone who really gives my life some meaning.”

  Warmth suffused him, and he wished it would stay beyond this moment while he sat here, watching as a happy glow captured her skin, her gaze. But a coldness—the reality—crept up on him. He was only getting a secondhand high from her own joy.

  It wasn’t his.

  Not knowing what to make of the emotions scrambling around inside of him, Jeremiah fetched his hat from the seat next to him.

  “Thanks for the drink,” he said, standing and gesturing to the iced tea. “And just so you know, I won’t just be leaving those roses there. I’ll make some calls and see that they get planted.”

  At the prospect of his departure, relief took over her expression. It bruised him in places that he’d never thought vulnerable.

  Best to get out of here. Best to find another distraction, one far less complex than Ally Gale and her upcoming family.

  “Jeremiah?” she said as he began to walk away, sliding his hat onto his head.

  He glanced at her, his gut wrenched by how the sunlight shone over her light hair, by the grace of her heart-shaped face and the clarity of her gaze.

  But the thing was, when they locked gazes, she looked just as affected as he was. He could’ve sworn it, especially when she glanced away, as if she didn’t want him to see.

  “I appreciate your housewarming gift,” she finally said. “It was thoughtful of you.”

  He paused, not wanting to leave—not after what he’d just witnessed in her.

  But then he remembered the baby, and that made the leaving easy.

  He took the long, white-fence-lined roads leading away from Ally’s property until he came to Highway 101, which overlooked the ocean on its way to destinations unknown.

  But, for some reason, Jeremiah didn’t take the on-ramp. No, instead he drove toward the first decent hotel he saw—a Victorian building with stained-glass windows in Pismo Beach, overlooking the ocean.

  He had no idea what he was doing, sticking around. Maybe because he really did want that Galveston property from Ally.

  Yet, he knew that the real estate had always just been an excuse to be near her.

  Either way, he checked into a room where he could hear the waves roar softly, accompanied by the cries of seabirds. The sunlit water reminded him of Ally’s eyes—the glow he’d seen in them as she’d talked about having a family.

  About finding something of value.

  He grabbed his phone from his jeans pocket and dialed his brother Tyler’s number. It was just the first of a few calls he should make—this one now, then to his assistant in the Barron Group’s office.

  When Tyler answered, Jeremiah could hear the sounds of a whinnying horse and activity in the background.

  “Busy?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Just in the stables.”

  He’d obviously caught his brother at work on his horse rescue operation, but it didn’t sound as if Ty was in any hurry to hang up.

  “I thought I should check in,” Jeremiah said, leaning on the balcony rail as a family walked past on the shore, barefooted, hand in hand as their youngest kid darted in and out of the waves.

  “Why? Where are you?”

  “Pismo Beach, California. Business errand.”

  “As usual.”

  Silence stretched while Jeremiah mentally beat around the bush, not wanting to ask about their father and wanting to at the same time.

  He finally gave in. “Should I be in any hurry to come back?”

  “If you’re asking about Dad, then I don’t know what to tell you. Chet and I have talked with each other until we’re blue in the face, and we still don’t know what to do about him.”

  Chet, their new brother.

  Just the mention of him was enough to resurrect the isolation that gaped inside Jeremiah. The petty half of him thought, Hell, let the new guy and Tyler handle this on their own since they’re so tight now.

  But the other half?

  It wanted to be in Texas, too, a part of the solution. Being with the others instead of looking in from the outside.

  Tyler added, “We’ve been talking about an intervention. I don’t know at what point a person becomes a real alcoholic, but Dad’s sure on his way, and he’s not going to go into a treatment facility on his own.”

  “You know how he’d react to that. He’d say we’re all ganging up on him and he’ll drink himself silly afterward, just to show us who’s boss.”

  “You’re right.”

  Frustration stiffened Jeremiah’s spine. Anger at a stubborn, egotistical, selfish father who expected so much out of his family—and who treated them like minor planets that merely orbited him.

  He watched the family on the beach walking away, their laughter growing fainter and fainter. “I’ll contact a few professionals I found on the internet, just so we can get good advice.”

  “Chet and I got those links you sent, and we followed up on them already.”

  Oh.

  Once again, a day late and a dollar short.

  “Jer,” Tyler said. “What you’ve already done was a big help, okay? Just get your business taken care of in California. We’ll be waiting for you here.”

  “All right.”

  And they said goodbye.

  Though Jeremiah had signed off, he felt as if he was being pulled toward Texas while he was still actually here, in a place where he’d seen something in Ally today—something that encouraged him, told him that he was missing clues that would lead to answers, and he could find them if he only looked hard enough.

  Something that told him he mattered more to her than she was letting on.

  He watched the water and let himself sink into the green and blue.

  Let himself drown in what he kept telling himself was only his latest distraction and nothing more than that.

  The morning sun peeked through the nursery window of Ally’s home, shining through the sheer pink curtains she was holding against the frame.

  “What do you think?” she asked Mrs. McCarter as the older woman sat in a chair, crocheting a christening cap. She was near
the pewter Venetian-style crib that had just been delivered—a decently priced piece of furniture that would be here when the baby became old enough to need it, although it would be a while. Until then, a matching cradle had been set up in Ally’s room, near her bed, where her baby would sleep near and dear to her.

  “Pink isn’t going to work if the child isn’t a girl,” the older woman said.

  Ally held up a swath of blue instead. “That’s why I’m prepared. But I suppose I can’t settle on a color until the baby is born since Cheryl didn’t want to know the sex.”

  Mrs. McCarter narrowed her eyes at the blue curtain as Ally tested it. “You can use a neutral decoration scheme…and pick a bunch of names from both sexes. Any decisions on that yet?”

  “I’m still working on it.” Ally toyed with a yellow curtain swatch. For a boy, she couldn’t decide between her father’s name, Robert, or something more fun, like Luke, as in Skywalker. She was a total closet Star Wars geek. That’s why she’d also been thinking of Leia for a girl. But Ally had told everyone, including Michele her facilitator, that if the baby was female she wanted Caroline, her mom’s name. Besides, she liked that old song “Sweet Caroline,” too.

  “Maybe,” Mrs. McCarter said, “you should ask around for name ideas. I think that Jeremiah fellow might have a few when he comes back to plant those roses.”

  Ally sent the evil eye to her friend. Mrs. McCarter had been bringing up his name every chance she got, teasing Ally mercilessly, even though Ally had tried to explain yet again that he was just here for business reasons. The roses had only been a way to ingratiate himself to them.

  Mrs. McCarter shrugged, her crocheting needle at a standstill. “I saw what I saw when I was watching you two from the kitchen window yesterday.”

  “You were supposed to be prepping lunch.”

  “It was far more entertaining to see you acting as if you don’t have a care in the world for him.”

  “Now, Mrs.—”

  Mrs. McCarter brooked no bull. “I’ve seen you grow up, Allison, and never before have I noticed that kind of flush on you when you’re around a man. I’m only wondering why you’re not giving him an opportunity to be nice to you.”

  “There’re so many reasons that I’m not even going to start.” Ally shoved the fabric samples into a bag on the floor. “Besides, if you knew anything about Jeremiah Barron, you’d realize that he’s not…”

  She was just about to say “daddy material.” But then she recalled her gut instinct when she’d seen him playing with those children on the Howards’ ranch. He’d been so natural around them—so much so that she’d pictured him with a family of his own someday, after he came around to recognizing he was capable of more than being a playboy.

  Ally couldn’t stand not to finish out her thought. “If you knew him, you’d realize his heart’s not into any kind of commitment outside of business. That’s not what I’m looking for in anybody I should happen to date in the future. If there’s going to be any man in my life, he’ll have to be good for the baby.”

  “He sure didn’t look at you like some fly-by-nighter, Ally.”

  “You’re just saying that because he charmed you silly. That’s what he does. He’s incredibly good at it, and you’re just his latest victim. Besides, he’s not coming back to plant those flowers.”

  Putting an end to the conversation, Ally went about combing through a book of wallpaper samples to see what she liked most for a nursery theme: bunnies? Balloons? Puppy dogs?

  But, sometime along the line, she heard noises outside—the sound of a truck, then digging.

  Obviously, Jeremiah had made good on his promise to get someone here to take care of the roses. And he’d given the landscaper some instructions so he could get started right away.

  Disappointment pinched her, although there was no reason for it. She’d known Jeremiah wouldn’t be back. She’d rattled him with her baby stories.

  Why should she care though?

  When Ally went to the patio door and peered out, intending to greet the landscaper, she took a step back. Then she looked out again, her mouth agape. Jeremiah was out there, digging away in her garden with a shovel, wearing a T-shirt and jeans that clung to his lean body in every libido-teasing place she could’ve named.

  She moved out of sight so he wouldn’t see her, but she couldn’t purge the vision of him in that white cotton shirt, already damp with sweat, showing the flushed hint of skin underneath, the firmness of broad shoulders, a muscled back, a trim waist.

  Low in her belly, she felt a twirl of lust that sent fantasy into motion: running her hands over that back and those arms. Resting her cheek against him, wrapping her arms around him so her fingers could travel the ripples of muscle over his stomach.

  Then Ally realized that she wasn’t breathing, and she drew in some air.

  She would have to get rid of him, before she did something stupid, before she lost her head and gave in to those tiny voices that said, “Why not just this once…?”

  Mrs. McCarter came into the living room, then went to the patio door while leaning on her cane. “Well, look at that.”

  “Not a word.”

  The older woman offered a sassy smile, then opened the door.

  Oh, brother.

  “Hello, there,” she said to Jeremiah.

  If you can’t beat them, Ally thought, join them. For now.

  She came out onto the patio, too, where the sun was shining in the sky, breaking through the coastal mist.

  Jeremiah had already tipped his hat to Mrs. McCarter, and when he saw Ally, he grinned.

  I’m ba-ack, his smile said.

  “Changed my mind,” he said. “I figured I could use the workout.”

  She tried not to look at his muscles again. He no doubt worked out plenty to get those biceps.

  Mrs. McCarter held a hand over her heart. “So nice.”

  Ally kept her tongue. Jeremiah saw the effort, too, because when he put his hat back on, he laughed a little.

  “Water?” Ally asked, thinking that it might put him at maximum efficiency.

  The sooner she got Jeremiah out of here, the better. He was like a rolling boulder that she couldn’t stop, so she would just let him finish without standing in his way and getting run over.

  “Water would be good,” he said.

  Mrs. McCarter chimed in. “We’ll fix some lunch, too, seeing as you weren’t able to stay yesterday.”

  “Even nicer,” he said.

  But Ally had already gone back into the house, heading for the kitchen. She would bring out the food, then leave him to it, only because she suspected that visiting with him would just encourage him to keep on dogging her.

  When she opened the fridge and started tossing out random things for lunch, Mrs. McCarter interrupted.

  “Let me take care of this. I’m the one who invited him.”

  Ally’s first instinct was to insist on helping, but Mrs. McCarter didn’t like being reminded that she used a cane. To her way of thinking, she moved just as well these days as she had before she’d slowed down.

  Letting her friend play hostess, Ally went to work in the nursery.

  Much later—hours and hours—she emerged after deciding on a bunny-rabbit motif and ordering what she would need online for delivery. She also managed to put together a diaper-changing stand by herself, too.

  By now, it wasn’t only past lunchtime, but the sky had darkened enough for dinner to be served.

  Surely he would be gone.

  But when she checked, Jeremiah was still working away under the lights of the citronella tiki torches that lined the patio. While Mrs. McCarter set the table with dinnerware and drinks, he stayed hip-deep in roses. He’d planted them in a way that allowed for gravel lanes, like a small maze.

  In spite of herself, Ally admired his work through the kitchen window, then pulled herself away. She would just send him a thank-you card.

  Mrs. McCarter must have seen her wandering around in the kitc
hen, and she came inside.

  “So,” she said, smiling at Ally. “What do you say to some cocktails and then we’ll talk about dinner? He’s worked hard out there.”

  “I know he has, but…”

  She was at her wits’ end, feeling as if her troops had deserted her for the dark side.

  “You know I’m not going to sit down with you,” Ally finally said. “If I do, he’ll never leave.”

  Mrs. McCarter sighed. “It’s up to you, Allison.”

  She went back out to the table and, boy, did Ally feel rude—and about ten years old, besides.

  But she had to stick to her guns.

  She grabbed a bag of carrots from the fridge, electing to go back to work in the nursery. By the time the sky had deepened to true darkness, curiosity got the better of Ally, and she went to the patio door yet again, seeing Jeremiah and Mrs. McCarter eating some kind of salad and laughing together, as usual.

  What—was he planning to move in?

  Ignoring him clearly wasn’t working, so she had to end this once and for all.

  When Ally came outside, Jeremiah and Mrs. McCarter looked at her.

  The older woman, as subtle as ever, reached up her arms, yawning. “My. What time is it?”

  Jeremiah didn’t move from his chair as Mrs. McCarter rose from her seat, fetching her cane, then passed Ally as she made her way inside.

  Ally folded her arms over her chest against the night air, which had grown cool. She saw the rose garden, so neat and tidy, with graveled paths amidst the burst of petals, and her defenses lowered a bit. He had put a lot of work into his gift. Not even Marco had made such a nice gesture to her in the months they’d been together….

  Jeremiah’s gaze was on the sky, his cowboy hat hanging on the next chair, leaving his hair in that endearing mess that always seemed to work its way into Ally’s heart.

  End this now, she thought. Get him out of here before…

  She thought of that kiss, and her skin came alive, caressed by memory, by the need for more.

  “Ally,” he said quietly.

  Too quietly. It was a tone she hadn’t heard Jeremiah use much, just during those moments when he seemed to drop the playboy act and reveal something underneath it all. Of course, he always returned to form.