Luckiest Cowboy of All--Two full books for the price of one

by Carolyn Brown

  “So Natalie is into the older guys, is she?”

  “Yep, and they tried to fix me up with his friend Billy Smith, but it didn’t work,” Tilly said seriously. “I’m not ready to date just one boy.”

  “My God! You are eight, not eighteen,” Carlene sputtered.

  “Almost nine.” Tilly shot a look her way as a reminder. “Besides, Billy Smith is a sissy. I could beat him up with one hand tied behind my back. I’m way taller than he is and he wears his jeans way down on his butt so folks can see his underwear. I can say butt, can’t I?”

  “Yes, but fanny sounds better.” Carlene drove around the lot twice before she landed a decent parking spot.

  Tilly rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Girls have fannies. Boys have butts.”

  Carlene undid her seat belt. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, Mama, you got to keep up. Girls are pretty. Boys are sexy.”

  “But you said Jace was pretty,” Carlene argued.

  Tilly drew her eyebrows down. “That’s not the right word. Sexy is what Aunt Bee would say, but his eyelashes are so long that I guess that’s why I said pretty.” Her expression changed to a cute smile. “When can I have makeup?”

  “When you are twenty-one and only then if I think you are ready,” Carlene answered.

  “Mama!” Tilly groaned as she crawled out of the vehicle and tucked her hand into her mother’s.

  As soon as they got home and had the groceries unloaded, Tilly went right to her room to call Natalie. Carlene caught bits and pieces of the conversation as she told her all about Happy and the cowboy who went to school with her mama. And that the bank lady liked him but that Jace had a secret and Tilly was going to find out what it was.

  “They don’t miss a thing,” Carlene muttered as she slid a pan of brownies into the oven and got her briefcase ready for the next day.

  Every nerve ending in her body was on high alert and yet when she heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway at five minutes to seven, it was strangely calming. Jace had arrived. Now it was just a matter of convincing him to give her a few days to let Tilly settle into school before she told her. His hand was raised to knock when she swung open the door.

  “Come in, Jace. Can I get you something to drink? Water, sweet tea, beer, a shot of whiskey?”

  “Nothing, thank you,” he said.

  “Well, I’m having a shot.” She went to the cabinet and brought down a bottle, poured a double shot, and dropped a cube of ice into it from the refrigerator. “Take off your coat and hat and have a seat.”

  “Where’s Tilly?” he asked.

  “She’s watching a movie in her room. I thought we’d talk before I call her out to have brownies with us.”

  “So?” Jace removed his coat and hat and sat down in the recliner across the room from the sofa.

  Afraid to sit beside me, is he?

  “I want to buy a place. I have a small savings that I can put with what you gave Aunt Rosalie for this property and I don’t want to move twice. So tell me about any houses for sale right here in Happy.”

  He took a long breath. “There are a couple of nice places up for sale, but you know very well that I’m not here to talk about land or houses.”

  “I know you deserve an answer, and the only one I have to give you is that I didn’t want to ruin your life. Or mine. We were eighteen—way too young to be making any kind of lifetime decisions. You would have hated being tied down to changing diapers when all your friends were having fun at college.” Her voice was high and squeaky in her own ears.

  “I would have done the right thing no matter what,” Jace said coolly.

  “Yes, but would you have been happy?” she asked.

  He raked his fingers through his hair and his foot started to tap. “I had the right to know and to at least help with child support even if you didn’t want to marry me.”

  She eyed him carefully. “You aren’t sure how you feel about all this, are you?”

  “Truthfully, no. But you’ve dropped this on me out of the clear blue. I feel like I’m trying to walk on water in cement boots, but, Carlene, we might have made it through the tough times just fine.”

  “Of course you would have, but I would have always felt like I ruined your life and you would have thought you’d been roped into a marriage that you weren’t ready for. A marriage that I wasn’t ready for. I already had to take care of a baby. I couldn’t imagine trying to get used to a husband too,” she argued as she sat down on the end of the sofa.

  He stared at her for a full minute before he went on. “Maybe you are right, but we’ll never know now, will we?”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Hey, I only found out the day before we left town. Daddy’s new post came through a month earlier than we expected, so it was a rush move and I was still in shock. And it seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

  “Imagine how I feel after all these years,” he said.

  “So what kind of problem is this going to make for you?”

  “Everyone in town knew the minute they saw her, Carlene. My whole family wants to see her, and I want her to know that I’m not a deadbeat dad who skipped out on you.” He sighed. “I’m more than willing to pay child support, even back support. But truthfully, I’ve got to catch my breath here and figure things out.”

  “And Tilly has to get used to a brand-new school. Give us this week to get used to that, and I promise I’ll tell her over the weekend. We can all sit down and talk about it together after I tell her,” Carlene said.

  She wiggled around so the spring pushing its way up through the cushion would stop poking her on the left cheek of her fanny.

  Girls have fannies. Boys have butts. Tilly’s words came back to her.

  Jace was sitting on his butt, so she couldn’t see it but she knew it still looked amazing. When his eyes caught hers, she quickly blinked and dropped her gaze to his mouth.

  Dammit! Just looking at his lips made her want to kiss him and she should focus on the serious conversation they were having.

  “Fair enough. Will y’all come to supper tomorrow evening so we can meet her?”

  “That’s way too soon for something that big. Let us all get used to the idea for a few days. How about waiting until Sunday? Lila is planning a little memorial for Aunt Rosalie. Just a few of her favorite songs at church that morning and then Sunday dinner at the ranch. That will be a good time,” Carlene said.

  “You always were as stubborn as a…” He hesitated.

  “As a Dawson?” she finished for him, and scooted over to the middle of the sofa to get away from the spring that was poking her on the fanny.

  “I was going to say as a rebellious teenager.”

  “That’s not as bad as a Dawson. You set your mind and your heels and God couldn’t change it,” she snapped.

  She met his eyes.

  Not a wise thing.

  She quickly shifted her gaze and focused on his broad chest. His blue shirt stretched out over hard muscles that had known a lot of work in the fields, not in a gym or a health club.

  “I know about the memorial. Granny is real happy about it.”

  She couldn’t keep staring at his chest forever. Her eyes went to his big oval belt buckle with the Prairie Rose brand engraved on it. Heat started at her neck and traveled around to her cheeks as she thought about how many times she’d undone his belt. He said something but it was a buzz in her ears.

  “So?” he asked.

  “So what?” she asked, completely oblivious to whatever he’d asked before.

  “Can I drop by and see her before Sunday?”

  “Fine,” she said.

  “Fair enough. Now about those brownies?”

  “We should talk about rent,” she said as she got up and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Make me a plate of brownies or cookies and deliver them every Sunday and that should cover it.”

  “Sounds like a deal to me. For every Sunday that I live here, I will br
ing brownies to church on Sunday for you,” she said.

  Jace held out a hand. “Shake on it?”

  She braced herself for the vibes and wasn’t a bit disappointed when the simple touch of her hand in his created sparks. She pulled her hand free and fought the urge to take a step forward, put her arms around his neck, roll up on her toes, and kiss him.

  Footsteps in the hallway brought her back to reality with a jerk. Tilly came in wearing a big smile and carrying her stuffed gator in her arms. “What were y’all shakin’ hands for?”

  “A rent agreement until we can find a place,” Jace said quickly.

  Tilly followed her mother to the cabinet. “I’ll pour the milk, Mama, while you put the brownies on the table. You like a little kick in yours, Jace?”

  He followed behind them and frowned. “What?”

  Carlene giggled. “Her aunt Belinda takes a little kick of Irish whiskey in her coffee.”

  “And we take a little kick of chocolate in our milk,” Tilly explained. “Do you have a dog? I see you with a dog and not cats.”

  “Yes, I do have a dog but I like cats and, yes, I do want chocolate milk,” Jace answered.

  “What kind? Can I see it? Does it bite?”

  “My dog is a flop-eared, redbone hound and his name is Red and you can see him anytime your mama wants to bring you to my ranch, and Red doesn’t bite pretty little girls.” Jace turned on the charm.

  “When can we go, Mama? I want to see Red. Did you name him after that Blake Shelton song about a dog?”

  “Yes, I did. So you like country music, do you?” Jace asked. “We going to sit at the table or take this to the living room?”

  “At the table,” Tilly said. “That’s where the brownies are, and Mama put a pretty cloth on it and even lit a candle, so we’ll have our party in here. Is this a date?” She picked up the chocolate syrup. “One squirt or two?”

  “I think I’d like three,” he said.

  “That’s the way I like it too,” Tilly said.

  “Must be—”

  Carlene shot him a look.

  He coughed into his hand and started again. “Must be the right way to drink chocolate milk.”

  “Are we sitting at the table or taking this to the living room?”

  “At the table,” Tilly said. “That’s where the brownies are and Mama put a pretty cloth on it and even lit a candle so we’ll have our party in here. Is this a date?”

  “Depends.” Jace pulled out a chair for her.

  “On what?”

  “Whether I like the brownies,” he teased as he seated Carlene next.

  “Are you bat-crap crazy? Who doesn’t like brownies?”

  “Tilly!” Carlene scolded.

  “Well, I didn’t say the other word.” Tilly’s eyes twinkled. “And only someone who was that crazy wouldn’t like my mama’s brownies. They’re the best in the whole world.”

  Jace finally sat down across from Carlene. “Been a long time since I had them. She might have lost her touch.”

  “Boys!” Tilly rolled her eyes. “Why did God even make them?”

  “To drive little girls bat-crap crazy.” Jace chuckled.

  “Well, it worked.” Tilly took a brownie and pushed the platter toward him. “She puts caramel and nuts in them but that’s only part of her secret.”

  “What’s the rest?” Jace whispered.

  “She lets me kiss the spoon before she stirs them up.”

  Jace winked at Tilly. “This is even better than I remembered. Must be her new secret that makes them so good.”

  “Do you like any other country singers besides Blake?” Tilly asked.

  “Yes, I do.” Jace bit into the brownie and something stirred in his heart.

  “I like country music too,” Tilly told him. “Blake is my favorite. I listen to him all the time, don’t I, Mama?”

  Carlene picked up a brownie. “She also likes the old artists like George Jones and—”

  “George Strait,” Tilly butted in. “I decided I want a black-and-white cat and it’s supposed to have at least two white feet.”

  Jace took a couple gulps of the chocolate milk. “And you changed the subject. I remember when your mama did that.”

  “Did what?” Tilly asked.

  “Changed the subject in the middle of the conversation,” Jace answered. “I’ll check on those kittens.” Oh, yes, there was a definite flutter in his heart. She was funny and smart and so danged cute that it would be easy for her to wrap him tightly around her little finger.

  “Good.” She licked a brownie crumb from her fingertip. “You got my mama’s phone number? I’d give you mine, but Mama says I’m not old enough for my own phone. I have to wait until I’m thirteen and I can’t wear makeup until I’m twenty-one.”

  “You’ve got a smart mama,” Jace said.

  Tilly wiggled in her seat and then jumped up. “It might not be proper and all since we’re all on a date, but I got to go to the bathroom.” She pushed back her chair and was barely a blur as she left the kitchen.

  “Kids!” Carlene giggled.

  “And I want a black-and-white cat. Remember that, Jace!” Tilly yelled from the bathroom. “Huh-oh!”

  Carlene didn’t like the sound of that and was on her way across the room with Jace right behind her when Tilly called out again. “Water is runnin’ out over the top of the potty and gettin’ all over the floor.”

  “Can’t say it hasn’t been an interesting first date.” Jace grabbed the plunger. “And this just proves my point about this house.”

  “Don’t gloat.” Carlene slapped his arm. “Now I know why Aunt Rosalie keeps the mop in the bathroom. And this is absolutely not a date.”

  “But I really do like those brownies.” Jace winked at her and then went to work on the toilet until it flushed twice without a problem.

  “Man, this has been a fun night. Can we do it again?” Tilly said from the doorway.

  “Sure we can,” Jace answered. “But I should be going now. Tomorrow is your first day of school here in Happy and it’s probably getting close to your bedtime.” He picked up his coat and hat and opened the door.

  “Hey, Jace, thank you,” Carlene said.

  “Want me to come over when you…”

  She shook her head. “Let me do it my way.”

  Chapter Four

  The fifth-grade students were at their desks, feet on the floor and quiet for Carlene’s first day, which was a miracle after a long holiday. They all stared at her as if trying to figure out if she was going to be one of those tough teachers or if she’d let them get away with murder. That first day was the most important one of the whole year to set the tone.

  “Good morning. I’m Miss Varner and I’m very glad to be your new teacher. I know this is quite a transition for all of you. Losing a teacher in the middle of the year isn’t easy and I’m sure you all loved Mrs. Anderson. She taught school here for many years and even though I didn’t have the privilege of being in elementary school here, I do know her. I’ll need your help to get to know everyone and if we work together it won’t be any time at all until we have things running as well as they did for you and Mrs. Anderson,” she said.

  A hand went up near the back of the classroom.

  “Yes.” She checked the chart. “Melissa, what’s your question?”

  “Is Mrs. Anderson ever coming back?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Another hand.

  She ran her finger down the chart. “Yes, Thomas.”

  “We’ll see her in church on Sundays, so that’s okay, Melissa.”

  “Thank you for that, Thomas. Now let’s get out our history books,” Carlene said.

  “You goin’ to be as mean as Mrs. Anderson?” asked a kid from the back of the room without raising his hand.

  “Ten times worse,” Carlene said. “Any more questions before we get to work?”

  A couple of kids shook their heads. Most of them got busy getting out their books. One
smarty pants taken care of, Carlene thought as she started telling the children about the American Revolution. The morning went by fast and at noon she walked her children up the hall toward the cafeteria. She was near the door when she caught sight of Tilly heading outside with a little dark-haired girl. They were both talking at the same time, gesturing like crazy. Tilly looked across the room, pointed at Carlene, and waved. She looked happy, and Carlene breathed a long sigh of relief.

  She turned back to her own students just in time to see one of her boys put his hands on the back of the girl in front of him and give her a shove. Like a row of dominoes, the little girl fell forward into the boy in front of her, who hit the scrawny kid in front of him, and they all wound up on the floor. The little girl was the first one up with her hands knotted in fists and then suddenly the boy who’d been in front of her was on his feet in a boxing stance. Carlene took a step forward and got between them and gave them her meanest teacher glare.

  “What exactly happened here?” she asked.

  The blond-haired boy she’d fallen into said, “She pushed me, Miz Varner.”

  “Did not. Andy Bob shoved me and that made me fall into Slade,” the dark-haired girl declared. “They’re both mean boys.”

  “Gloria ain’t supposed to be in our grade. She’s a fourth grader,” Andy Bob argued.

  Carlene turned to face Andy Bob. “Young man, I will not abide bullying. I don’t care if Gloria is supposed to be in first grade or eighth grade. This is where she is and you’ll respect her. Do you understand me?”

  Andy Bob tucked his chin to his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She turned her gaze to Slade. “How about you? Were you going to really hit a girl?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “What about you, Gloria?”

  “I would’ve decked him if he’d hit me first. Andy Bob and Slade have been mean to me all year.”

  “Did you tell Mrs. Anderson?” Carlene asked.

  Gloria shook her head. “I’m not a rat, and besides Slade is a teacher’s pet. She wouldn’t believe me.”