The Texan's Future Bride

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  Quietly, they returned to the dream cabin. Not to dream, but to sleep. The new couple. In each other’s arms.

  Where they belonged.

  * * *

  A week later, Jenna, Tammy and Donna went into town, where they met with Roland Walker for an update. He told him exactly what he’d been doing to search Savannah, and even though he still didn’t have any news of her, he was convinced that he would locate her. Roland was a confident man.

  He was also a tad gruff, but Jenna liked him. She understood why Tex had hired him at one time, too. The P.I. was a good old boy, much like Tex had been.

  Jenna considered Tex and his sons. By now, Dad had apologized to Uncle William, and they were working on making amends. They’d even planned a fishing trip.

  She glanced over at Tammy. Her cousin was glad, of course, that their dads were trying to be brothers. Jenna was, too. But Donna hadn’t said much about it.

  After their meeting with Roland, they stopped by the local ice-cream parlor, shared a cafe table and ate dessert. Tammy got two scoops of vanilla, smothered in fruit toppings and colorful sprinkles, Jenna went for a banana split and Donna got frozen yogurt.

  Donna, always the odd girl out.

  Jenna and Tammy were both engaged and living at the Flying B, the future B and B, with their men. But Donna was busting her butt to get the heck out of Texas and return to New York, where she would continue to work day and night, trying to resume her city-girl career.

  It made Jenna feel guilty for being so happy, so settled. The marquee-cut diamond on her finger was dazzling, and she was elated to have it. Tammy had a gorgeous engagement ring, too.

  Again, Donna with nothing.

  “I have something I want to show you,” Jenna said to her sister. She reached into her purse and handed over her list.

  Donna began reading. “What in the world is this?”

  Jenna explained when she’d first written it, how she’d revised it to include the Flying B, how important it was to her, how J.D had called it her magic and finally, how J.D. turned out to have every single quality she’d imagined in a man.

  “That’s wonderful,” her sister said, “but I don’t see how this has anything to do with me.”

  “I wanted you to see it because I wanted you to be part of it somehow. But I was also hoping that it would inspire you. Not to find a husband, necessarily, but to find whatever it is you need to be joyful.”

  “Really? Oh.” Donna hugged the list close to her heart. “No one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

  “I should have said it a long time ago. You’re my sister, and I love you.”

  Was Donna holding back tears? She blinked her glamorous lashes, a bit too rapidly. “I love you, too.”

  Tammy smiled around her next bite. Then she said, “Can I get in on some of that love?”

  Jenna grinned and leaned toward her cousin. “Of course you can. Tex knew exactly what he was doing when he brought us together. We’re the best trio ever.”

  “We absolutely are.” Tammy ate more ice cream to celebrate.

  Jenna glanced at Donna. “You know, sis. It’s okay if you secretly want a husband.”

  Donna shook her head. She laughed a little laugh. “Seriously, Jenna. Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  “Most women want to get married someday.”

  “I’m not most women.”

  That was true, but still...

  “Well, whatever it is you want, I hope you attain it.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me. But all I want is to get my career back on track.”

  Following Tammy’s lead, Jenna attacked the ice cream in her dish. Then she said to Donna, “Since J.D. and I aren’t staying at the dream cabin anymore, you can sleep there now if you want.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “To have a life-altering dream.”

  “I think I’ll let nature take its course.” Donna returned the list. “Why did you move out of the cabin?”

  “It doesn’t make sense for us to horde it.” They were living in the main house while he was working on the plans for their custom home. In fact, he was going to hire Aidan and Nathan to build it. “We have everything we need.”

  “I’m happy for you,” Donna told her. She turned to Tammy. “And you, too.”

  Jenna tucked the paper back into her purse. Donna might not want a husband, but that was what Jenna wanted for her.

  Eventually.

  For now, a hot fling with a sinful playboy would do. She smiled to herself. Maybe after Caleb returned from his leave of absence, he would take Donna for a sexy spin. Then later, she could marry the right man, a polished New Yorker or whatever.

  “We better get back to the ranch soon,” Donna said. “I’ve got a slew of work to do.”

  Yep, Jenna thought, if anyone needed a little fun, it was my sister.

  A short while later Donna got her wish and they were back at the ranch, each going her own way.

  Jenna met up with J.D., where he’d just turned some horses out into the arena, and he rewarded her with a tender kiss. Although he was making great strides on his own, he was scheduled to begin his grief counseling soon. Determined, Jenna thought, to keep his fears at bay and live life to the fullest. She couldn’t be prouder.

  Luckily, the robbery was behind him, too. The police had arrested the offenders, discovering that they were part of a carjacking ring that had been committing similar crimes all over the country. J.D. had already pressed charges, and Jenna was glad it was over.

  In the quiet, they both turned toward the arena and watched the equine activity.

  Then J.D. said, “How would you feel if I went back to breeding horses? Not a full-time operation, but just enough to bring some of my expertise to the Flying B. After the B and B is underway and after our house is built.”

  “I think that’s a great idea.” She remembered the precious foals she’d seen in the dream at his previous farm. “Mares and their babies.”

  “To go with Mama Jenna and our babies.” He reached out and cradled her in his arms.

  She put her head against his shoulder, and they stood in the sun, a wondrous future unfolding before them.

  * * * * *

  Look for the final book in the

  Byrds of a Feather miniseries

  MADE IN TEXAS!

  By Crystal Green

  Coming in May 2013

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Her New Year’s Fortune by Allison Leigh.

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  Chapter One

  New Year’s Eve. A night of mystery.

  Just like she was mysterious. Beautiful. Exotic. And definitely mysterious.

  Dark, auburn hair spilled in waves down her back, kissing the golden spine revealed by the cut-down-to-there black cocktail dress that clung to her lithe figure. Her companion’s dark blue gaze was focused intently on her face...dropping to her lips as she took a small sip of her martini. Slightly dirty, just the way she’d ordered. She lowere
d the cocktail and leaned a little closer to him, feeling more than slightly naughty. Beneath the table, she slipped her foot out of her sinfully high black heels and subtly slid her toes along his ankle...

  “Excuse me, miss. Miss? Miss?”

  The fantasy spinning inside Sarah-Jane Early’s head popped like a bubble of spent soap and she focused on the tuxedo-clad man standing in front of the hostess station she was manning at Red, looking none too patient. She was there not to daydream, but to help see to the needs of every guest of the wedding reception that had commandeered the popular Mexican restaurant for the night, and she quickly smiled. “Yes, sir, how can I help you?”

  The man tugged at his skewed bow tie, casting a glance off to one side. “How do I get to the Red Rock Inn?” His question was hurried, and muttered half under his breath. She could have told him he needn’t have bothered trying to be so quiet. For the past three hours, the music from the reception had made conversations nearly impossible. She leaned a little closer to give him the directions to the hotel. He nodded, and took time to thank her before moving away to hold out his hand to the woman he’d obviously been waiting for.

  In seconds, they were hurrying out the front door of the restaurant, the man’s arm wrapped possessively around the woman’s hips. It was obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that the couple couldn’t wait to be alone.

  She knew there was no point in envying a couple in love...or even a couple in lust, or she’d be spending her life in a constant state of envy. Still, Sarah-Jane sighed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  Fantasizing about wearing killer heels was one thing. Actually doing it was another. She wished she’d have just worn a pair of shoes from her own closet. She had a pair of black pumps. Admittedly they were nearly ten years old, purchased by her mother who had insisted that Sarah-Jane needed to wear the modestly-heeled things for her high school graduation. But they were leather and having been worn only a few times since, were still in good condition.

  She glanced down at the shoes she was currently wearing. If she were honest, the only thing in common these shoes had with the old ones in her closet were that they were black. She twisted one foot this way and that, and sighed again, a little wistfully. The shoes that Maria Mendoza had insisted she wear were beautiful. The velvety suede was as black as midnight and certainly suited the clinging black cocktail dress she was wearing better than her sensible old pumps.

  Just thinking about the dress had Sarah-Jane’s fingertips twitching at the hem of it, as if she could eke out another few inches of cloth where there was none. The hem of the dress stayed midway down her thighs, where it had been since she’d donned the garment earlier that day. She couldn’t do anything about the hem anymore than she could do something about the diagonally-slashed cutout neckline that exposed much more of Sarah-Jane’s cleavage than she liked. If she weren’t positively devoted to Maria, who not only owned the restaurant along with her husband but also owned the knitting shop where Sarah-Jane really worked as an assistant manager, there’s no way she’d have worn something so unsuitable out in public. She was a lot more comfortable in the pullover shirts and khaki pants that she wore at The Stocking Stitch. She wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but at least she didn’t have to worry that people might think she believed she could carry off such a look.

  Her gaze drifted from the empty lobby area of the restaurant back toward the bar where many of the wedding guests had migrated. Most of the wedding party remained, though Emily Fortune and her brand-new husband, Max Allen, had already departed. As had many of the older guests, leaving the younger crowd to stay on and party into the night.

  There wasn’t an unsuitably-clad person in the bunch.

  What else would one expect when the bride was part of the wealthy Fortune family? To a one, every single person who’d entered the restaurant that evening had looked like they’d stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine.

  Her fingertips searched for her hem and tugged.

  “Sarah-Jane.”

  The sound of her name had her quickly straightening and she turned to find Marcos Mendoza gesturing from near the kitchen. He managed Red, but was also married to a Fortune of his own, and since that Fortune happened to be the little sister of the bride, he’d also been part of the wedding party. She left her post at the hostess station and hurried toward him. “Yes?”

  “I think it’s safe for you to clear out,” he offered. “There’s still a little New Year’s Eve left for you to enjoy.”

  She kept her smile in place. “I arranged to be here the entire evening, Marcos.” She certainly didn’t have anything more exciting waiting for her at home. Her roommate, Felicity, was at a party, and there had never been any handsome men in Sarah-Jane’s life who were anxious to ring in anything with her, much less a new year. At least by helping out Maria, she was doing something productive. “I know Maria wanted all of you to be able to enjoy the wedding as guests rather than staff. I can still help out in the kitchen or something.”

  He smiled wryly. “Well, I’m not about to turn down willing help. But you’d be a waste in the kitchen dressed like you are.” Off duty and wedding guest or not, he was still clearly in management mode. He quickly scanned the restaurant, then nodded with decision. “Cindy’s slammed at the bar; if you don’t mind grabbing a tray and starting to collect the empties—”

  “I don’t mind,” she assured, and was glad to head that way. Being busy was always preferable to standing around letting her wandering mind conjure up silly fantasies of a faceless man who had eyes only for her.

  Ignoring her aching feet, she headed toward the bar, crossing between the crowded tables. She would have had to have been blind not to notice the line of men bellied up to the bar as she rounded it, but she kept her gaze focused on the new task at hand. Cindy, the temporary bartender that Maria had hired for the evening, did look slammed, barely glancing at Sarah-Jane when she found the trays behind the bar. She retrieved one and quickly turned back around, heading to the tables once more. In minutes, she’d filled the tray with abandoned glasses, and she aimed toward the swinging door leading to the kitchen. She had to pass by the line of men at the bar again on the way, and as she did, one of them stuck out his arm behind him.

  “Here you go, hon.” Even above the music, his voice was deep and filled with a Southern drawl. The man didn’t glance at her, and she automatically took the glass, looking away shyly when her gaze collided with the dark blond-haired man sitting next to him. “Wyatt, what the hell do you mean you’re not coming back to Atlanta?” she heard him demand.

  Not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping, she stacked the glass precariously inside another, and aimed for the kitchen again. The tray was too heavy to carry one handed, and she turned, using her hip to push through the swinging door.

  Her gaze couldn’t help glancing toward the men at the bar. She’d been the one to seat them at their assigned tables when they’d arrived, so she knew they were all related to the bride, though she wasn’t sure exactly how. There were five of them, all wearing similar black suits that looked as if they’d been born to them. And each one was better looking than the last. They’d arrived without women on their arms, but Sarah-Jane had a hard time believing that they’d all be leaving without one.

  At least she’d have plenty of details to give Felicity in the morning.

  As if he’d felt her attention, the blond-haired man at the end of the bar sitting next to the glass-giver looked her way. He’d pulled his silver tie loose around his throat and looked like he couldn’t wait to get out of it altogether.

  Her breath stopped up in her chest and the door that she’d just nudged open swung back again, bumping her square on her rump. She jumped, feeling her cheeks flush.

  But the man who’d seemed to be staring right into her eyes merely lifted the shot glass he was holding and tossed back the amber c
ontents, his focus turning again to his companions.

  He hadn’t noticed her at all.

  Feeling foolish, she backed through the swinging door and dumped off the empties with the kid manning the dishwasher. What was she thinking? Men like that didn’t give women like Sarah-Jane a second glance. Not a serious one, anyway.

  Never had. Never would.

  With that reminder firmly in her head, she took her empty tray and went out to fill it again.

  * * *

  “I mean there’s been a change of plans,” Wyatt repeated patiently, while his cousin Michael eyed him with clear impatience. “We’re staying here in Red Rock.” Wyatt looked past his cousin to his three brothers. First Asher, then Shane, then Sawyer. Willing them to nod. Back him up. They’d already made the decision, and just because his brothers had been drinking steadily since they’d hit the bar didn’t mean anything had changed.

  Not back in Atlanta, that was for damn sure.

  Asher finally nodded. Sawyer did, too. Shane’s nod was a little slower in coming. “That’s what we said,” he muttered, though he didn’t look any too happy about it.

  Wyatt loved his brothers. But if anyone was going to side with their father, it was going to be Shane.

  As if he’d heard Wyatt’s thoughts, his brother shot him a look, then gestured toward the pretty bartender with his glass. Without a word, the lanky blonde tipped the bottle of whiskey, pouring out another shot before she turned and filled several margarita glasses for a waiting cocktail waitress.

  “You’re telling me you’ve all just up and decided to take unscheduled vacations from JMF Financial?” Michael was still shaking his head, disbelief thinning his lips. “A month ago you were complaining because you didn’t know how to fit in a week to come out here for Emily’s wedding.”

  A month ago—hell, even less than that—Wyatt and his brothers had still had a rug firmly under their boots.