Cowboy's Heart
Page 1
Table of Contents
Cover
Table of Contents
Look for these titles from Rhonda Laurel
Title Page
Copyright Warning
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About the Author
Also by Rhonda Laurel
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The Blake Boys Series
For the Love of the Game (Book One)
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Texas Heat (Book Four)
Love Notes and Football (Book Five)
The Perfect Storm (Book Six)
Slow Burn (Book Seven)
Cowboy’s Heart (Book Eight)
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Etopia Press
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Cowboy’s Heart
Copyright © 2015 by Rhonda Laurel
ISBN: 978-1-941692-67-7
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: March 2015
~ Dedication ~
To Tate and Isabelle: thanks for shining light in dark places.
CHAPTER ONE
As soon as the gates to the Twelve Horseshoes ranch opened, Tate McGill felt like a piece of himself had been restored. He drove through the gates and down the long drive to the cabin. A few days here would recharge his batteries, and then it was off to Las Vegas for the last leg of his tour. The event was even more special because the Blakes and Reeds—his fiancée’s family—were all getting together for the week. But for now, all he could think about was that Isabelle, the love of his life, would be here waiting for him. He hadn’t seen her in over a week, and it was driving him crazy. He was anxious to start planning their wedding after the tour was done.
He hopped out of the truck and headed for the house. Inside, everything was quiet.
“Izzy, baby, surprise, I’m home.” Candlelight bathed the dimly lit room, and soft jazz oozed out of the sound system. The coffee table had an assortment of finger foods sprawled about, and his favorite beer was chilling in an ice bucket. Tate dropped his bag and guitar case by the door and went in search of her.
He turned in time to catch her as she bounded down the stairs, jumped into his arms, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Hey, welcome back!”
Tate laced his fingers in her hair and kissed her hard. A week away from her felt more like a year.
“Hey yourself. Did I interrupt something?” He raised an eyebrow and looked around the room.
“I knew you were coming home. Although Rowdy may be disappointed tonight. He likes sleeping on your side of the bed when you’re not here.” The ranch pooch spent most of his time following Isabelle around.
“And how did you know I was coming home? I didn’t know myself until six hours ago.”
“I could hear it in your voice when we talked last night.” She rubbed her nose again his cheek.
“We have a routine already, and we aren’t even married yet?”
“I like knowing you’re predictable. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” Isabelle ran her hand through his curly locks.
“What has my beautiful fiancée been up to while I was away?”
“I helped Teri-Lyn work on the outfit she’s wearing to your concert.”
“Outfit?” His eyes widened.
“She has her very own Tate’s Angel T-shirt.” She laughed. “We glammed it up a bit. I don’t think there’s a rhinestone left in the state of Texas. It looks cute on her.”
Tate looked in the direction of the dining room table, which was littered with papers. “What’s that?”
Isabelle went over to the table and opened an old shoebox. “I went through some more of Lila’s things. I found these old letters and some note pads filled with unfinished songs. I organized everything so you could take a look.”
“Thank you, baby.” His mother had been a brilliant songwriter before she died. That’s where he’d gotten his rhythm and timing. Her lyrics were soulful yet had a simplicity that embodied what country music was all about. Somewhere coded into his DNA was the musical talent that she’d passed on to him. It made him hope that this connection between them could wipe out some of the bad memories of his past. Perhaps finishing some of the music she’d started could help him find closure.
“And I had my weekly music lesson with the kids. They’re playing at a museum benefit next month. If you’re not too tuckered out from touring I thought we could go and support them in person.”
He loved how giving she was of her time. She molded young minds who participated in Classic Music Rocks, a music program that raised money to supply instruments to underprivileged kids. She’d been recovering from a broken arm when they met, and after extensive physical therapy, giving music lessons to the kids was a way to both rehabilitate her arm and keep her connected to the music she loved.
“That sounds like a great idea. Maybe we can take them out to eat afterward. I know how much you miss seeing them in person instead of video conferencing.”
“I do. How was the plane ride?”
“Long.”
“I figured as much. I have a pot roast in the oven. It should be done in a half hour.”
“We can eat later.”
Isabelle smiled as Tate took her hands and led her upstairs to the bedroom. He didn’t waste any time undressing, and by the time she’d kicked off her shoes, he was completely naked. He gave her an appreciative look when he noticed she’d set the same soft lighting as downstairs and had placed rose petals on the bed and the floor.
“I think you hold the speed record for getting naked.” Isabelle giggled as he undid the buttons on her blouse.
“Only when I’m inspired.” He nipped at her bottom lip.
/> She wiggled out of her jeans and panties and tumbled into bed with him, ready to get hot and heavy. He grew still and gazed at her with those haunting, piercing blue eyes.
“You are so much more than I ever thought I deserved.”
“That’s not—”
Tate covered her mouth with his, drowning out her response. He deepened the kiss as he caressed her breasts with a feathery touch. She loved the feel of his strong calloused hands.
Isabelle ran her hands over the corded muscles in his arms and chest, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin. He was raw sex appeal, strength, warmth, and comfort wrapped up in a delectable package, but he was also a gruff, hardworking cowboy. There were so many layers to the man. It amazed her that he didn’t know how awesome he was and why she was grateful to be in his life.
She playfully stroked his rock hard erection, and he throbbed in her hand. He entwined his hands with hers, holding them above her head as he thrust inside her. The harder he pumped into her at that angle, the more he brushed her clit, creating a manic friction that drove her wild. She tightened her legs around his waist, hoping to pull him closer to her, if that were even possible. The low guttural growl he uttered was music to her ears. He increased the momentum until they were both primed for the ultimate release. He yelled out her name as their bodies brought the love they shared to completion.
* * *
Isabelle reached out for Tate the next morning, but his side of the bed was empty. She could hear him singing downstairs. The smell of bacon would normally send her scurrying down to the kitchen, but today it was as appealing as three-day-old fish that had been left out in the sun.
The chronic nausea she’d felt for the last couple of weeks wasn’t abating, and after taking eight pregnancy tests, it was time to end the denial. She was going to have a baby, and that was that.
Still, she thanked her lucky stars she had a man who loved to cook. And he liked to have fun with it. One day she got the surprise of a lifetime when she came home from shopping and he was at the stove, wearing nothing but an apron, his cowboy hat, and a smile.
She pulled the covers back and went into the bathroom, hoping the somersaults in her stomach would stop. She glanced at the sticky note attached to the mirror as she slathered cleanser over her face, and gasped. She’d been trying to pin down the number of days since her last period and had jotted it on the sticky. Had Tate seen it? She and Tate left notes all around the house, a hazard of being creative musical minds. Perhaps he didn’t pay it any attention. Surely Tate wouldn’t know what the number meant, but she still crumpled it up, threw it in the toilet, and flushed it.
She had to be out of the house in an hour if she was going to be on time for her appointment. She looked down when she felt something gooey on her hand. She’d squeezed half the toothpaste out of the tube.
She could hear Tate’s melodic voice coming up the stairs, so she cleaned up the mess, ran her toothbrush across her teeth a few times, and hopped back into bed.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” Tate came into the room and placed the tray in front of her. “One egg over hard, two pieces of bacon, and a slice of honeydew melon.”
She bit her lip hoping she’d disguised the wince. The melon was the safest bet on the plate, so she went for it. “What a nice surprise. What did I ever do to deserve this?”
He kissed her hand. “You’ve been loving me and being so patient about the tour. I promise the second I’m done we’ll set the date for our wedding.”
“I did it for purely selfish reasons. Once your tour is finished I get you all to myself for a while.” She leaned in for a kiss and nearly knocked over the tray. “Oops!”
“No worries.” Tate put the tray on the nightstand and pulled her into his arms.
“Oh, no you don’t. I have to be somewhere in an hour.” She moved away.
“Where?”
“I have some things to pick up for the trip, and I have a stop to make at the craft store.” She averted her eyes.
“But—”
“I promise to make it up to you tonight. I’ll wear that outfit you bought me for your birthday.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Tate’s eyes lit up, so she took the opportunity to scoot into the bathroom and get ready.
* * *
Isabelle scooted out the front door, got into her electric-blue Mini Cooper, turned on the radio, and pulled out of the driveway. After a short ride through the ranch, she made a right turn out of the gate and headed for the highway that would take her to Dallas. Soon she’d get the final confirmation: she was pregnant. She knew she was, but it was exciting and scary to think she was going to be a mother.
What worried her right now was Tate. How would he react to the news? They loved each other, but she knew his abusive father had left him wary about having kids, for fear he’d repeat the cycle of violence inflicted upon him. It was a ridiculous notion—Tate was the most gentle, patient man she’d ever known—but she knew it plagued him.
There was so much going on right now with the tour wrapping up and all the new material he was working on for the next CD, telling him they may be expecting a baby was liable to be an added stress he didn’t need right now. He was already nervous about meeting her parents, particularly her dad. The colonel, as they called him, always referred to Tate as “that cowboy.”
The mid-morning traffic wasn’t so bad, but still she hated highways, preferring the long country roads that surrounded the ranch. The ring of an incoming phone call cut off the song playing on the radio, jutting her out of her thoughts.
She looked at the display. It was her cousin Morgan calling. She hit the button on the mini touch controller. “Hey, Morgan. Are the boys napping?” Isabelle didn’t hear the usual ruckus of the kids in the background, which usually meant Morgan’s kids were sleeping.
“Why do you ask? Because you don’t hear the sounds of a country being invaded?” Morgan laughed.
“Well, yeah.” Isabelle giggled as she turned onto the highway, headed for Dallas.
“My babies are officially notorious.” Morgan sighed. “Actually the boys are spending the day with Tyler and Michelle. That would usually have me on edge, but Jake knows how to call home if anyone gets arrested. Seth is having lunch with a few of the guys from the team.”
“Wow. You’re home alone? Please tell me you’re doing absolutely nothing.”
“I wish. At Seth’s request, I’m sifting through these dreaded prison brochures. He wants to make a few appointments before the new season starts.”
“You mean you’re perusing school pamphlets, so you can select a great school for Jake to attend in the fall?” It was time for Jake to start school, and Morgan had run out of stall tactics.
“Same difference. Some of these private schools are nuts. Who makes a toddler wear a blazer and a polo shirt?”
“Aw, that sounds precious. And scary. Then precious again.”
“Never mind me, how are you? Did Operation Stork commence yet?”
“I’m on my way to the doctor now. I hated lying to Tate though. He thinks I’m going to the craft store.” She winced. She put on her blinker as her exit came into view. She was almost there.
“Well, we all know you can spend hours in there. But I don’t know why you don’t just tell him. He’s going to be over the moon when he finds out.”
“Is he?”
“Of course he is. Tate loves you. You know he loves kids. He’s crazy about the boys. You said he’d gotten a lot better dealing with his past, thanks to couples counseling.”
“He has. But he still…struggles with things.”
“But he’s made tremendous progress. He doesn’t cringe anymore when you ask him to look through Lila’s old boxes.”
“No, he doesn’t. But now is not the best time to tell him. He’s so busy with the tour, and his next CD… If I am pregnant, I want to tell him at the perfect time, not in one of those eye-of-the-hurricane moments. Meeting my dad qualifies as one of those moments.”
“I talked to my mom a couple of days ago. She’s so excited to meet Tate. I just wish some of that enthusiasm would spread to my dad. Were you able to find out anything from Sydney?”
If anyone could get the skinny on how her father was coming to terms with the relationship, it was Morgan’s feisty stepmother Sydney. She kept her ear to the family grape vine and talked to Isabelle’s mom regularly.
“She said whenever someone brings up Tate, he starts cleaning all his guns.”
“Great.” Isabelle pulled into the parking lot. “You didn’t say anything to Seth, did you? He’ll tell Tate for sure.”
“No, I didn’t, but I can’t wait too long. He knows something’s up and has been employing some pretty seductive tactics to get me to squeal.”
“Well, take a cue from your oldest son and be delightfully evasive.” It was clear, even at five years old, that Jake had the Blake charm down to a science.
“Izzy, you and Tate are going to be wonderful parents.”
“Thanks, Morgan.” She parked and took a deep breath, trying to settle the butterflies in her stomach—or were they 747s? “Well, I’m here. I’ll call you as soon as I leave.”
She disconnected the call and walked into the office building. Isabelle gave the nurse her name, then went over to the refreshment bar and poured herself a glass of lemon water. The assortment of pastries looked delicious, but she played it safe and nibbled on a biscotti.
She scrolled through the photo album on her phone and found a picture of Tate on his horse, Thunder. He looked so happy. The sadness she used to see in his eyes was fading. She hoped this news would bring him enough joy to make it disappear altogether.
“Ms. Reed, we’re ready for you now,” the nurse called out to her.
Isabelle smiled and followed the woman into an exam room. Morgan was right. The likelihood that eight pregnancy tests were incorrect was ridiculous. In a week the secrecy would be over, and she could share the news with Tate and the family. The Blakes would be elated, but she still wasn’t sure how her father would react.