Where she sat, thinking about her mother. Her sweet, doting mother who hadn’t done nearly as good a job at hiding her malcontent as she probably thought she had. Even though Katherine Blake had obviously loved Deanna’s father, Deanna guessed she’d never adjusted to life in a small New Mexican town, either.
The day was as brilliantly sunny as it was bitingly cold, the frosted mountain tops glittering against the cloudless, impossibly blue sky. The aspens and cottonwoods were bare now, of course, but as she drove back to the ranch it struck Deanna how simultaneously vulnerable and brave the skeletal branches were, stripped down to their essence.
As she approached the house, she spotted a tall male figure alongside the post and rail fence, clearly focused on the horses inside it, including the pregnant mare. Then the man turned and she recognized Sam Talbot, the boys’ father...and she sighed. Because truth be told, the appointment—not to mention all the musings it had provoked—had left Deanna feeling like a toddler in desperate need of a nap. Why on earth was he here?
Not stopping, however, would’ve been rude. So she pulled up alongside the fence, praying, as she got out of the truck, she didn’t look as much like a walrus as she felt.
His smile now splitting his face in two, Sam Talbot opened his arms as she approached, engulfing her in a brief, hard hug that almost brought tears to her eyes. Like most men around here he smelled of horse and earth, overlaid with an aftershave scent that would always remind her of her childhood. It wasn’t until he let go, however, that she realized the hulking man she remembered had lost probably half his weight since she’d last seen him. But while his size was diminished, the sparkle in eyes more silver than gray hadn’t dimmed in the least.
Except...
“Not sure I deserve that hug,” Deanna said, facing the pasture herself, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her own down vest. Which she hadn’t been able to zip for weeks.
“Because you want to sell the place, you mean?” When she snorted a laugh, Sam chuckled in return, then leaned his folded arms on the fence’s top rail. “You raise four kids, you get pretty good at cutting to the chase. Makes for much more efficient conversations.”
A frigid but surprisingly gentle breeze stirred the piñons bordering one side of the pasture before floating across the pale grass to soothe her hot face. “I know how much the ranch means to all of you—”
“Actually I’m not sure you do,” Sam said, not unkindly. “But if that’s the start of an apology, you can stop right now. You don’t want it, and it’s far more than Josh needs. Which I think deep down he knows. Whether he wants to admit that or not.” When she gawked at him, he chuckled. “Surprised?”
“You might say.”
Sam squinted out over the pasture, his hands knotting in front of him. Gearing up to say something Deanna guessed she didn’t want to hear, most likely. Although what that might be, she had no idea.
“What gets me, though,” Sam said, “is that Granville knew that, too. All of it.”
Frowning, Deanna turned to the older man. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, to be honest. Since a major reason Gran sent you away was to separate you and Josh—”
“Because he thought something was happening between us. I know.”
“You saying it wasn’t?”
Deanna picked at a splinter in the wood for a moment before shaking her head. “Josh and I were friends. Good friends, yes, but that’s all. I swear.”
Another soft laugh preceded, “Yeah, that’s what Josh said, too. Even so, your dad wasn’t taking any chances that things might change on that score. Since it was pretty obvious the two of you had completely different goals in life. Last thing he wanted was for you...” His mouth drawn in a tight line, Sam looked away again. “For you to end up as miserable as your mother was...”
Clearly the subject du jour. For whatever reason.
“...only somewhere along the line...” The older man’s gaze bored into hers. “He apparently changed his mind.”
Deanna’s head jerked around, her forehead pinched. “Wait. Are you saying my father left the place to both of us—”
“To bring you together. Yep.”
In a lame attempt to stop the world from spinning, Deanna grabbed the fence’s top rail. “He told you that?”
“More or less.”
“More or less?”
Sam released a breath that frosted around his mouth. “The last time I spoke with him, all he talked about was wanting to fix at least some of the mistakes he’d made.”
“And you somehow deduced from that he wanted Josh and me to get together.” Deanna barked out a laugh. “Seems a bit of a stretch, don’t you think? Especially considering—”
“I know, I know. But why else would he leave the ranch to both of you?”
A question she couldn’t answer. Or at least didn’t want to.
“I knew your father my entire life, remember. We both grew up here, on the ranch. And what I noticed, even when we were kids, was that while God knew Granville could be stubborn as all get-out when he latched on to an idea, he also had no trouble switching loyalties if what seemed like a better idea came along. Not that it happened often,” Sam said with a half smile, “but it did happen. So my guess is, as time went on, he regretted coming between you and Josh. Especially once Josh got over his wild oats phase after Austin came along, and your daddy could see what a responsible young man he’d turned into.” The man’s gentle gaze met hers again. “And I think he suspected you weren’t all that happy after you left. And for sure Josh wasn’t.”
Now it was Deanna’s turn to look away. She had no idea how her leaving had affected Josh, since they’d hardly discussed it. But she’d also never had another friend like him. Not even Emily, even though she loved her cousin to death.
None of which changed the fact that her father had, once again, obviously attempted to strong-arm events to his own ends. Or that she was in no position to do whatever her father had expected of Josh and her. Or, apparently, the man standing beside her. However, one meddling parent at a time...
“So Dad thought that by leaving the Vista to both of us we’d fall madly in love and get married and that way the ranch would stay in the family?”
“Stranger things have happened.” Sam’s voice softened. “Although I do think it was about more than the ranch. He really was trying to make amends, in his own way—”
“Or manipulate my happiness. My life.” She scoffed. “Except that’s what he’d tried to do all along, wasn’t it? And what if she—” she pointed to her belly “—had come with a daddy to throw a monkey wrench into his plans?”
“Since he didn’t know about that, not sure how that’s even part of the equation.”
God, she hated when people were logical. Still... “Wow,” she said again, then blew out a breath. “So how come Billie didn’t mention it?”
“We decided she’d handle the pregnancy. I’d handle this. Teamwork,” he said, and Deanna released a soft laugh. Then she sighed.
“I assume Josh has no idea.”
“Only what I told you. And that was maybe two or three days ago. So I take it he hasn’t said anything?”
She wagged her head. “But why even bring this up? Since we’ve already decided to sell. No, wait...let me guess—you wouldn’t mind seeing Josh and me together, either.”
That got a quiet chuckle. “Mind? Not at all. Except even I know that parents rarely get a say in these matters. One of the downsides to kids having minds of their own. So no expectations here, trust me. But...”
A sleek black mare plodded over to the fence to nudge at Sam’s chest. He obliged, fishing a piece of apple from his pocket. “But it occurs to me,” he said over the horse’s crunching, “there’s been too damn many secrets around here over the years. Too much truth-dodging.
Not that I’ve got a lot of room to talk when it comes to keeping the lines of communication open with my own boys. I’m not perfect. But...”
His eyes went soft. “It nearly killed Josh’s mother and me to watch the chasm grow between you and your father, after your mother died. But what could we do? It wasn’t our place to take his place. Or even your mother’s. That doesn’t mean we didn’t love you like one of our own.” His lips curved. “The daughter we never had.”
“Hence the not-minding thing about Josh and me getting together.”
Sam chuckled, then sobered. “Even more than that, though... I guess there’s nothing standing in our way now, to show how much we care. And always have.”
Deanna’s eyes filled. And this time it had nothing whatsoever to do with hormones. Of course she’d always felt a connection with the Talbots that went way beyond simply being the boss’s daughter. That whole thing about her falling asleep in their armchair, for example. But the thing was, she now realized she’d never fully let herself feel the connection with them she so desperately wanted to forge with her own father. Because yielding to what was obviously a natural pull would’ve felt way too much like giving up.
And yielding to it now would feel an awful lot like giving in. To what, she wasn’t entirely sure. But after a lifetime of being buffeted by external forces beyond her control, was it so wrong to want to claim at least some dominion over her destiny?
Although since Josh hadn’t brought up the subject she was probably worrying—if she could even call it that—over nothing. Then again, nobody knew better than she how dangerous assumptions could be.
“Well,” she said, pushing away from the fence. “Thanks, I guess? I mean, it’s not as if this changes anything—”
“Didn’t expect it to. Just thought you should know.”
Nodding, Deanna gave Josh’s father another short hug, then returned to the truck, wondering what, exactly, she was supposed to do with this information. Not to mention what Josh thought about all of it. So the question was...did she have the cojones to bring up the subject? Or the even bigger cojones not to? One thing she did know, however, which was that as much as she ached for her father, she was now even madder at him than she had been.
She slammed shut the truck’s door and revved the engine, hot tears biting at her eyes.
* * *
At the sound of the old Chevy’s tires crunching into the driveway, Josh glanced out the living room’s picture window to see Deanna bang back the door and clumsily disembark. Even from here, he could tell she was upset. And knowing she’d had an appointment with his mom, his heart bolted into his throat: was there something wrong with the baby? Or her? But then, wouldn’t his mother have said something when he talked with her a little while ago? Then again, maybe not—
“Dee looks mad,” Austin said beside him, practically lost in a sea of old, dusty Christmas garlands.
“It’s okay, buddy, ladies who are going to have babies sometimes get like that.”
A tiny, scrunched up face lifted to his. “How come?”
“I guess because it gets uncomfortable with the baby inside. Like when you eat way too much and your stomach feels all tight?”
“You mean like when it feels like you gotta poop only it’s not ready to come out yet?”
Josh nearly strangled on his laugh. “Maybe. But you probably shouldn’t say that to Dee, okay?”
“How come?”
“Because girls don’t generally like talking about stuff like that.”
“You mean poop?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Okay,” he said. Although with one of those grownups-are-just-weird faces that made more and more regular appearances these days. “But maybe this’ll make her feel better, huh?”
Josh glanced around at the chewed-up-looking bags and boxes scattered around the room, most of which Austin had already opened and pawed through. Now Josh wondered if that had been the best idea. Not because of Austin, but maybe it would’ve been better to let Dee have first crack at it, since it had been her idea—?
The front door opened; Dee actually jerked to a stop, her expression a millimeter away from thunderous. “What the he...ck?”
Grinning—and mercifully oblivious—Austin ran up to her, draped in fake pine garland. “We got out the Christmas stuff! Daddy said we could! There’s a lot!”
At that, some of the clouds dispersed. Maybe not enough to see the sun, but at least the immediate storm threat had apparently passed. “There certainly is, sweetie.” Shrugging off the vest that covered very little, actually, Dee dumped her purse on a table by the front door. Josh could have sworn her belly was twice as big now as it had been a couple of days ago, but no way was he pointing that out. How on earth women even walked when they were that pregnant was a mystery. At least horses could spread the load over four legs instead of two.
“So how’d the appointment go?” he asked, and her mouth twisted.
“Fine. More or less. What’s all this about?”
“You said you wanted to get a leg up on the decorations. So since the shower’s the day after tomorrow...” He shrugged.
Her eyes lifted to his. In which he saw questions. And not, he didn’t think, about the decorations. Or the shower. Especially since his father had given him a heads-up roughly thirty seconds ago about their little chat. Which probably explained the pissedness, being as his own reaction, when Dad told him his suspicions about Granville’s motives behind the will, had been pretty much the same. Although truth be told her venomous expression when she’d first walked in hadn’t done his ego any favors. And wasn’t that nuts? Because for damn sure the whole idea of them getting together was. For damn sure.
However, she then lifted those query-laden eyes to the rafters ten feet overhead, and he assumed the questions would wait. If they ever got voiced at all. Because no way was he bringing up the subject, nope.
“You don’t think it’s too early?”
“Just following your lead,” he said, and a few more of the clouds dispersed.
“I guess I could use some help,” she said—reluctantly, he thought—her hand going to her lower back. “Since your mother would kill me if I got on any ladders right now.”
“She’d have to go through me first,” Josh said, and something close to a laugh popped out of her mouth...the kind of laugh a smart man knew often preceded a meltdown. You know, a little too high-pitched, a smidgen too forced.
But she didn’t melt down, even if the gaze that now swung once more to his radiated with a sadness so deep it took his breath. A sadness that solidified the idea that had been shimmering in his thoughts ever since he’d talked to Mom from maybe to do it. Whether it would work out or not, of course, Josh had no idea. Dee’s lips curved up at the corners. Barely.
“Besides,” she said softly, “it’s your house, too.”
The words almost stuck at the base of his throat. “For the moment, anyway.”
“Yes. For the moment.”
A weird, sticky silence shuddered between them for a second before Josh said, “You know what you want to do about the tree? There’s that big fake thing in a box in the toolshed—”
“Oh, God, no.” She looked positively appalled. “Real, definitely. Later, though. Closer to the big party. So.” She smiled, trying so hard to make it look genuine Josh’s heart twanged. “Who wants hot chocolate?”
“Me!” Austin bellowed, his screechy little voice echoing off the rafters, ouch, and making Thor bark. Because clearly something was afoot the dog needed to stay on top of. Rubbing her belly, Deanna laughed, then cocked her head at Josh. “And yourself?”
“Sure. Then you can sit—” he pointed to the overstuffed chair closest to the ceiling-high fireplace “—and tell me where you want stuff to go.”
“You’re on,” she said, then s
huffled off down the hall to the kitchen...only to return a second later.
“Do you remember how my mother used to drape the garlands around the chandeliers?” She pointed up to the pair of huge black wrought iron chandeliers that Josh and she had decided, a million years ago, looked like giant prehistoric skeletons. Both the realtor and the designer had been adamant they stay. And since neither Josh nor Dee had really cared, there they were, looking all rustic and “authentic” and crap.
“Enough. That what you want?”
Her eyes squinched, slightly, when she looked up again. Then she shook her head. “Actually...no. I don’t. I trust you,” she said, then disappeared again.
Josh seriously doubted she had any idea how much those three words had just affected him. Hell, when was the last time a woman had said she trusted him? That’s right. Never.
However.
Whatever Deanna needed, he wasn’t it. Not any more now than he had been when they were kids. Less, probably, since they’d grown up. Or, more to the point, grown apart.
So. Decorations, he could put up, sure. A real tree, he could get her. A secret phone call, he could make. Anything more than that...
No.
Because the first time she’d left, at least it hadn’t been her choice. This time, however, it would.
And that was a hell he wasn’t about to put himself through again.
Chapter Seven
Even though Josh had outdone himself with the decorations—without even a hint of man-grousing, bless his heart—something had clearly shifted between them. Again. And it was probably not much of a stretch to pin that “something” on what they both obviously now knew about Dad’s will. Of course, they could get the whole thing out in the open and simply talk about it, like actual grownups. Then again, what would be the point—?
“Ohmigosh,” Val said from her perch by a garland-swagged window when Deanna pulled out an adorable, ruffled-bottom sleeper from one of the many, many gift bags stacked at her feet. “I’m hearby putting y’all on notice, if I have another girl, I want one of those. And no, I’m not pregnant, so you can lower the eyebrows already.”
The Rancher's Expectant Christmas Page 10