Twins for the Texan

by Charlene Sands

  Not on this day, of all days. It was Madelyn’s birthday.

  Hell, it was the exact reason Johnny insisted on his getting off the ranch. Wyatt needed the distraction, the time away. Wyatt had been restless and pensive and even Henrietta, bless her soul, had insisted he needed time to clear his head and gain some perspective. He’d be leaving his kids in her care overnight. Something he’d never done before, so with Johnny on his back and Henrietta pushing him, he’d accepted the invitation.

  “What’s wrong?” Brooke asked.

  He turned to look into her pretty brown eyes. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

  “Because I know you so well,” she replied, grinning.

  He laughed. “Sorry, just deep in thought.”

  “No apologies necessary. Aha! Finally, I’m getting bars on my cell. We must be nearing civilization. Excuse me while I call a tow service for my car.”

  “No problem.” Wyatt listened to the deep, sensual lilt of her voice and tried to keep his eyes focused on the highway—not on Brooke Johnson, the engaging woman he’d picked up along the road.

  * * *

  As they drove through the intricate wrought iron gates of the venue, they entered a vibrant world of golf-course-green grass and tall swaying willows shading the lane leading up to the hotel. The Inn at Sweetwater was a plantation-style structure with palatial columns and snow-white shutters on every window. The gardens were ablaze with purple azaleas, pink peonies and stargazer lilies, and bluebonnets were interwoven among the stepping-stones. The paths all led to picturesque bridges arching over placid ponds. Off to the right fifty yards away, Sweetwater Lake sparkled in the late-afternoon sun.

  “It looks like something out of a painting,” Brooke said, hearing awe in her voice. She had an eye for creativity, and whoever landscaped these grounds knew how to set the mood. “Have you ever been here before?”

  “No,” Wyatt said. “But I’ve heard about it enough. It’s my mother’s favorite place. She’d have luncheons here with her friends.”

  “I can see why she’d like coming here.”

  Close to the lake’s bank, there was a flowered canopy with descending wisteria vines waiting for the bride and groom. Hundreds of chairs tied with delicate satin bows were lined up in rows. Most of the guests were already seated.

  Wyatt pulled the car up to a valet. And once they climbed out, he asked, “Want to make a run for it?”

  “I think we have to. The wedding is supposed to start any minute.”

  “Okay, after you,” he said, gesturing for her to take the lead.

  She trotted along on her high heels, not an easy task even though the lush grass was as thick as a carpet. But after a few strides her heel dug into the rich earth and got stuck. Her leg twisted and she tipped sideways, stumbling. “Oh!”

  Wyatt reached out and snagged her waist, catching her fall just in time.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, confidently. “You okay?”

  They were locked together now, and her sensitive skin prickled under his touch. She liked being in his arms, and he seemed reluctant to let her go. A few seconds ticked by before he did.

  “How many times are you going to save me today?” she asked breathlessly.

  “As many as it takes,” he offered, his blue eyes sparkling. She didn’t know what to make of her miracle cowboy who’d caused her body to heat up with just one playful look. Was he teasing or flirting?

  “I’ve got a solution to this problem,” she said, snapping out of her insanity.

  She slipped a finger into her shoes to pull at the straps and then wiggled out of them. Straightening, she came up holding her scarlet-red sandals between her fingers and nodded. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

  He blinked, grinned at her bare feet and then offered her his hand. They took off at a very brisk walk, making it to the last row of seats just seconds before the bridesmaids began their trek down the aisle.

  Brooke sighed in relief and sat back. A few minutes later, everyone in attendance rose to their feet as Heather glided down the aisle in an ivory satin wedding gown, her father walking beside her wearing a proud tearful smile. She held a gorgeous bouquet of new roses and fresh natural greenery that looked as though it had been handpicked just moments ago.

  She met her handsome groom under the canopy, love shining in her eyes. Brooke looked on, happy for her friend who’d found love here in Texas. She’d probably start a family soon. Brooke’s future wasn’t quite so rosy. She didn’t begrudge her friends, who’d already found happiness, but she’d always wondered what it was about her that seemed to repel any form of long-lasting relationship with a man. Being Dylan McKay’s younger sister was like a noose around her neck. Just hang me now, she’d say to herself, whenever a man she’d dated starting hinting at meeting her celebrity brother. Of course, then came the teeny favors they’d ask of her.

  Would your brother mind reading my script? I know it’s gonna be a blockbuster.

  I’m writing an autobiography and your brother would be perfect to star in the movie.

  I’m starting a new business venture. I’m sure Dylan would love to get in on the ground floor once you tell him about it.

  Riiiight.

  Brooke was fed up with men who used her for their own personal gain. Leaving LA when she did had been a necessity. After the debacle with Royce Brisbane, who’d kept his cards close to the vest, and only showed his hand once she’d fallen in love with him, she’d written off relationships for the extended future. She’d been convinced her Wall Street–type boyfriend didn’t give a lick about Dylan, until he handed her three scripts for her to show him. Three, for heaven’s sake!

  No man would ever use her that way again.

  And then there was Wyatt Brandt, the polite, mannerly cowboy whose presence beside her made her heart pound in her chest. She didn’t want to be Brooke McKay today, not while Wyatt Brandt was stealing glances at her when he didn’t think she was looking. But she’d noticed, and it boosted her deflated ego to have a gorgeous hunk of a man checking her out without an ulterior motive. And if the tingles she was experiencing now weren’t one-sided, this wedding could prove intriguing.

  The I do’s were said with a flourish, and Brooke teared up as she witnessed these two people in love speak vows of undying commitment to each other. She felt Wyatt’s eyes on her as a sole tear dripped down her cheek. Did he think her foolish for crying at a wedding? How cliché. Brooke wasn’t a traditional kind of girl, yet weddings always seemed to get to her.

  Wyatt gently placed a handkerchief in her hand. As she dabbed at her eyes, she sent him a silent nod of thanks. He gave her a brief smile.

  After the vows were spoken, the loving couple garnered a round of applause as they marched down the aisle hand in hand, newly married. Row upon row of guests made their way from their seats to head toward the tented area where the cocktail hour was about to begin.

  Brooke and Wyatt, seated in the back row, stood up and waited patiently for their turn. “It was a beautiful ceremony,” she said, handing him his handkerchief.

  “It was. But it made you cry.”

  She shrugged and slight embarrassment heated her skin. “I’m silly that way. Most people don’t think of me as the sentimental type, but I guess I am when it comes to weddings.”

  “Maybe that’s why you enjoy your business so much. You like seeing other people happy.”

  She stared into his eyes. Was he for real? How did he know that about her, after only meeting her two hours ago? Was he psychic after all? “You amaze me,” she blurted.

  “I do?” He rubbed at the scruffy dark blond hairs on his chin. “Well, now, it’s been a while since I’ve amazed a woman.”

  “Don’t stop on my account. It’s been too long since I’ve been amazed by a man.”

  The look in his eye
s suddenly grew dark and intense. “You flirting with me, Brooke Johnson?”

  Yes. It was hard not to.

  She glanced away for a second, making note of the two-hundred-plus guests milling about the large white wedding tent, and suddenly all she wanted was to be alone with Wyatt Brandt again.

  “Just stating a fact, Wyatt.”

  “C’mon,” he said, tamping down a smile and taking her arm gently. “Let’s see if Blake and Heather had the good sense to seat us together.”

  She liked the sound of that.

  A lot.

  Two

  Brooke wasn’t seated with Wyatt. She sat between two of Heather’s female cousins she’d met once or twice back in college. Two other male cousins and their wives rounded out the table. Everyone was pleasant. The ladies, dressed in florals and pastels appropriate for a late-afternoon wedding, were doing their best to make small talk. Brooke engaged in conversation with them and sipped white wine while giving the entire lakeside reception a cursory scan, keeping her eyes peeled for signs of Wyatt.

  During the cocktail hour, she’d spent time with him, munching on appetizers and enjoying Sweetwater Lake until dinner had been called and they’d had to go their separate ways. She sensed that Wyatt had been just as disappointed as she was to discover that not only weren’t they seated together, but their tables were separated by twenty others.

  She spotted Wyatt standing just outside the perimeter of the decorated tent, sipping whiskey from a tumbler as he spoke to the groom. The sight of Wyatt shouldn’t have made her heart race, and yet it was sprinting as if in an Olympic event. The two men shook hands and then Blake took off, most likely in search of his bride. Two women took Blake’s place, sidling up next to Wyatt with giddy smiles on their faces.

  She felt something possessive deep in her belly. He wasn’t her date, but he seemed to want to spend more time with her, and now it didn’t look as if that was going to happen.

  Brooke’s attention snapped back to her table when Connie, the younger of Heather’s cousins, asked her a question. “Yes, I’m enjoying my stay in Texas so far,” Brooke replied. “And I’m happy I was able to attend Heather’s wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony.”

  “Heather’s very happy with Blake. He’s one of the good guys.”

  “There are so few of those,” Brooke said, recognizing her tone was too cynical for a wedding.

  Luckily, Connie chuckled. “I know what you mean. My mama says if you find a good one, land him and never let him go.”

  “She’s a smart woman.”

  “She should know, she’s been married three times. She kicked two losers to the curb before marrying my daddy. They’ve been married twenty-eight years now.”

  “I like your mother more and more.”

  “What about your folks?” Connie asked.

  “Oh, my biological parents have issues. I don’t see them much, but I was raised by foster parents and they were awesome. Without them, my life wouldn’t be what it is today.”

  “So there’s hope out there. I shouldn’t be so skeptical—especially at my cousin’s wedding—but my boyfriend and I have just broken up and it still stings.”

  She caught sight of Wyatt finally taking his seat for dinner. “I get the stinging part, Connie. I’ve been there.” More than once. “It gets better, believe me. Just concentrate on what you enjoy doing most. That’s what I do.”

  “Heather said you could’ve put this wedding together without blinking an eye.”

  “Heather is too kind, but if I lived here, yes, I would’ve loved to work on this event. There’s so much natural beauty that only the fine points need accenting, and the event planner did a terrific job of not going overboard. I would’ve done the same.”

  “I guess that’s the reason the inn is perfect for a wedding. It doesn’t need too many added frills.”

  Dinner was served, toasts were given and the reception continued on smoothly. Brooke dug into her meal, enjoying the perfectly seasoned and cooked salmon, quinoa salad and freshly grilled veggies. The meal was light and tasty, and after she was finished and her plate was being cleared, a band began to make noises as they set up on a platform stage.

  “Excuse me,” she said to the guests at the table. She rose and walked over to the sweetheart table. This was the first chance she’d gotten to congratulate Heather and her new groom. After the ceremony, they’d been inundated by a swarm of well-meaning guests and Brooke hadn’t entered the fray, deciding to bide her time until she could have a quiet conversation with the newlyweds.

  “Heather, congratulations!” Brooke’s friend rose and they immediately embraced.

  “Brooke, my goodness, I’m so glad you were able to make it to our wedding. Blake,” she said, turning to him, “I’d like you to meet my friend from Los Angeles. We went to UCLA together, back in the day.”

  Blake stood up and took her hand. “Nice meeting you, Brooke, and thanks for being here.”

  “It’s a special day and I’m glad I could make it. Heather has been trying to get me to make a trip to Texas for years.”

  “Oh, yeah? I hope you’re getting a big Texas welcome.”

  “I am. Everyone’s been gracious and nice. I’m on vacation, staying with friends in Beckon, so I’ll be here for several more weeks.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Heather said. “Maybe we can get together when Blake and I get back from our honeymoon.”

  “I’m taking her on a cruise of the Mediterranean. We’ll be gone ten days.”

  “Sounds perfect. And I’d love to see you when you return. Heather, you look stunning and it’s not just the gown...you’re glowing. Blake must be doing something right,” Brooke said, giving him a wink.

  “You know it.” Blake took Heather’s hand. “I like your friend already.”

  “I told you you would,” Heather said.

  The master of ceremonies called for the newlyweds’ first dance. “Well, I guess you’re on, you two. Congratulations again. I’ll speak to you later.”

  A crowd formed around the parquet dance floor set up under the glorious white tent. Brooke took a position in the outer circle as the two lovebirds danced to a George Strait ballad. The lights were dimmed, and a sole spotlight shone on them like a halo. Heather really was glowing now.

  Once the dance was over, there was a round of applause, and the bandleader urged the guests to join the bride and groom on the dance floor. Brooke headed to her table. Before she reached her seat, a man approached. He was in his midforties, she guessed, his tie crooked, his entire body seemingly angled to the left, as if he’d fall over any second. “W-would...you like to d-dance?”

  His breath reeked of alcohol. “Uh, no thank you.”

  “Just one dance, missy, is all I’m asking.”

  “No, thank you,” Brooke said as politely as she could manage. She turned away from him and started for her table again. But he snagged her arm from behind, thick fingers digging deep into her skin. She whirled on him and yanked her arm free. “What part of no don’t you get?” she said quietly. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene at Heather’s wedding.

  “You’re a f-feisty little th-thing.” He reached for her again and it was easy to step out of his grasp.

  “And you’ve obviously had too much to drink.”

  “Is there a problem here?” Wyatt got between her and the pesky man, towering a good six inches above the guy. Wyatt’s glare made it clear he wasn’t one to mess with.

  The man leaned way over, nearly toppling, and Wyatt quickly caught him.

  “No p-problem. Nope. N-not a one,” he said, chuckling.

  “I think you need some air.” Wyatt held the man upright and turned to Brooke, his mouth twisting in a smirk. He winked at her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He escorted
—or rather supported—the guy out of the tent and Brooke returned to her seat. The man was probably harmless, but Brooke didn’t like being manhandled that way. She’d been ready to raise her voice and call security, which would’ve dampened the festive mood. Once again, Wyatt was there, stepping in to save the day.

  A quiet hum strummed through her body and she smiled.

  “That’s weird Uncle Hal,” Connie said into her ear as Brooke lowered down into the chair beside her. “I caught some of what happened out there and my whole family apologizes to you.” Connie made a face. “Hal likes to drink...when the liquor is free. Heather almost didn’t invite him to the wedding. She was afraid he’d cause a scene. But he seems to have been neutralized.”

  “Neutralized?”

  “Yeah, once he’s been set straight, he doesn’t cause any more trouble. He’ll probably come over to say he’s sorry.”

  “I hope not.” Brooke shivered.

  “Who was that hunk who took him outside?”

  “Oh, um, he’s a friend of the groom’s. I met him earlier today.”

  “Does he have a younger brother, if you know what I mean?”

  Brooke sighed. “Yeah, I do know what you mean. And honestly, I don’t know.”

  * * *

  “You’re three for three, Wyatt,” Brooke said.

  Wyatt held her at arm’s length as they danced to a light and breezy love song. His touch, though highly appropriate, thrilled her from head to toe. There was something steady and sturdy about him. He made her feel female, which seemed silly, but those deep blue eyes studied her with keen intent, as if she were a secret art treasure or a delicious hot fudge sundae. Either way, she was happy to be the object of his attention.

  “How’s that?” he asked.

  “You saved me thrice, my lord,” she said with a mock curtsy. “The last time with big Uncle Hal.”

  He laughed. “You were handling the situation just fine.”