“Those times we made love.”
“Yes. I wouldn’t have been there, making love with you, if I didn’t care. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t admit this then, either, but I already loved you.”
Sudden moisture made her eyes blur. But how could he talk about loving her and still look so unhappy? She clamped one hand on the arm of the couch to keep from crossing the room to him.
“I love you, Jane. I love my kids, too. They’re my life. And I can’t knowingly put them through what happened when Marina first left.”
“I realize how hard it must have been—”
“No,” he said heavily, “you don’t. I’ve never told you the worst of it. Never told anyone. Only Sharon knows the truth, and only because she was there to witness it.” He ran his hand through his hair and stared at the closed door. “When Marina walked out, Eric stopped sleeping, stopped taking his bottle, cried for hours on end. Colic, some doctors said. Milk allergies, other doctors said. And maybe those were the answers. I don’t know.”
He looked down at the floor.
Quickly, she brushed at her eyes.
When he spoke again, his voice was low and rough and unsteady. “All I do know is, whenever I held Eric to feed him, I would offer him his bottle and he’d turn his head away. He didn’t want what I was trying to give him. He wanted what he knew. Not formula, but his mother’s milk. And his mother wasn’t there anymore.”
Her breath caught. She raised her hand to her mouth, holding back a sob.
When he looked up at her again, unshed tears filled his eyes.
She stood, wanting to go to him, but he held up his hand. Not in anger the way he had weeks ago, she could see that, but because he was fighting for control.
“Rachel went back to sucking her thumb and wetting the bed at night.” He shook his head. “I was watching my daughter become a baby again and my son nearly waste away. All because their mama put her career above them.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks now, and she couldn’t stay away. She crossed the room to him, pressed her forehead against his shoulder, felt his arms go around her. He was the one reliving the memories, yet he was comforting her.
Or maybe he just needed someone to hang on to.
She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.
How long they stood together like that, Pete couldn’t say. His heart had broken at seeing Jane’s compassion, at knowing how he felt about her. At realizing what he had to do.
He lifted her chin, rested his fingers against her soft cheek and looked into her tear-swollen eyes.
“I love you,” she said, her voice trembling.
“I love you. More than you’ll ever know. But you see now?” He sighed.
“I understand what you went through,” she said slowly. “And I see love’s not worth a lot if it’s not built on a solid relationship. But even if it is, there’s still risk and faith involved.”
“I’ve got the faith. I know we’d be good together. As for risk...well, not too long ago, I was afraid to risk telling you I love you.”
“It didn’t go so badly today.”
“No. Not at all.” He stroked her cheek. “But after what my kids went through... Jane, that’s one risk I can’t take. I can’t bring someone into their lives who isn’t going to stick around. And I can’t ask you to give up your career for us.”
“I already have.”
He froze.
“Grandpa didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“I’m on the ranch to stay. I’ve still got some outstanding commitments to keep, but the assignments I’ll take in the future will be much different. Including the show your dad helped me line up at a gallery in Santa Fe.”
“I owe that man a big thank-you.”
She smiled. “I’ll plan to be there when you tell him that. And I’ll make sure all my future assignments are close to home. Which, from now on, is the Hitching Post Hotel.”
He stared, still unable to believe what he was hearing.
She touched his face. “I love you, Pete. I can’t promise you I’ll be an overnight success as a mom, but I can promise you I’ll try.”
“That’s something I can ask of the woman I love.” He smiled. “And if you need the extra practice, we can always have a few more kids.”
“I’d love that. As long as you’ll be there to help.”
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “there’s nowhere else this cowboy wants to go.”
Epilogue
Two weeks later
Jed Garland was a satisfied man.
All three of his granddaughters and every one of his great-grandkids had graced the breakfast table in his dining room that morning. Pete and Sharon and the kids had come for the meal, too, to complete the family gathering.
He and Paz sat at that table having a last cup of coffee.
At the sound of running feet approaching the dining room, they both looked toward the door.
Rachel ran into the room. “Grandpa Jed! Paz! Hurry up, please. We have to get ready for the picture.”
“What picture?” Jed teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, you know. The picture for my first day of school!”
“Well, then, we’d better hurry along.”
“Yes. As soon as Jane takes the picture, Daddy and Jane have to drive me to school.”
Paz quickly untied her apron, and the three of them went through the hotel and outside to the front porch.
At the bottom of the steps, Jane was setting up her camera on a tripod. Her assistant stood very close at hand.
“I have to go help Jane and Daddy,” Rachel said. She ran down the porch steps.
For a moment, Jed and Paz stood alone at the hotel’s front entrance.
“Such a wonderful day, boss,” Paz said.
“That it is. You know, Paz, I’m mighty pleased at our progress. The hotel renovations are moving right along. We’ve lined up our first guest wedding. We’ve got one granddaughter hitched. And just look at this, will you.” He nudged her with his elbow and tilted his head to direct her attention to the family photographer. “Seeing the way Jane’s kissing on that ranch manager of ours, I’m expecting we’ll hear more good news at any time.”
Yep, he surely was one satisfied man.
At least, for now...
* * * * *
Grandpa Jed has one single granddaughter left!
Be sure to look for Andi’s story,
the next book in Barbara White Daille’s
THE HITCHING POST HOTEL series,
available in December 2015
wherever Harlequin books are sold.
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE COWBOY SEAL’S TRIPLETS by Tina Leonard.
http://www.harlequin.com/harlequinexperience
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The Cowboy SEAL’s Triplets
by Tina Leonard
Chapter One
John Lopez “Squint” Mathison came roaring into town with Daisy Donovan on the back of his motorcycle, making all the good citizens of Bride
smaids Creek, Texas, buzz like bees in a beehive. The five men who were in love with Daisy—her gang, consisting of Carson Dare, Gabriel Conyers, Clint Shanahan, Red Holmes and Dig Bailey—followed behind them in a truck, with Daisy’s infamous motorcycle secured in the truck bed.
It was a very strange sight not to see Daisy riding her own bike. No one could remember ever seeing her on the back of someone else’s, and the gossip flew fast and thick.
Squint was ready to see the last of Daisy’s gang. And maybe even Daisy herself, despite the fact that she’d once possessed his heart and his romantic dreams.
What he’d been thinking, he wasn’t certain.
She was completely wild, as everyone in Bridesmaids Creek had always tried to warn him.
The trouble was, he’d made love to Daisy Donovan while they were in Montana, in a weak moment when he shouldn’t have let his stupid heart outstrip his good sense.
Making love to Daisy had been even more mind-bending than he could have ever imagined. Then the five Romeos had blown into Montana to retrieve their small-town wild child princess, and Squint had seen that they were—himself included—all dopes dangling after a prize they couldn’t win.
At that moment, he’d decided to come back to Bridesmaids Creek, check in on his buddies and shift off to the rodeo. After the rodeo, if his heart was still bleeding, he thought maybe he’d get a job teaching ROTC or something, somewhere far away. He’d make those decisions as soon as Valentine’s Day was past, although he couldn’t have said why Cupid’s Big Day was his marker for a quiet exit.
Daisy hopped off the bike as soon as he came to a stop in front of the main house at the Hanging H Ranch. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem.”
“It was great seeing the country from a motorcycle. No windows to block the view.” She shook her long, dark locks out of her helmet. “But it’s wonderful to be home.”
He nodded and headed into the kitchen to find his friends—the men that he could always count on to talk sense into him. Daisy followed, which was a surprise. Wherever Daisy went, so did her love-struck gang, so they came, too.
“I’m so glad to be back in BC,” Daisy said, and Squint started. “Montana is beautiful, but after a while, I began craving the comforts of small-town life.”
This was news to him. Squint wished he hadn’t fallen head, heels and heart for Daisy, and had put plenty of distance between him and her gang perching at the kitchen island. The gang gathered around the kitchen island, which had over the years become the communal gathering place and feed bag summit. No one ever knocked on the back door of the Hanging H; they just let themselves in.
If you weren’t family or friend, you rang the front doorbell—not a good sign in a small town where everyone knew everybody else, and their business. Ringing the front bell meant you were an outsider.
Robert Donovan, Daisy’s father, always rang the doorbell. Somehow his daughter had managed it so that she considered herself part of the backdoor squad. Very recently, indeed—and Squint wasn’t sure why his poor mushy heart suddenly wished he had his own back door that she could make herself at home through anytime she liked.
But he’d never been one for settling down, never had a “real” home that wasn’t on wheels, so he shoved that thought out of his brain, a useless organ that did little to assist him with rational thinking where Daisy was concerned. Out of habit, he shifted the Saint Michael medal he wore, trying to figure out his next move.
“I wonder where Mackenzie and Suz are?” Squint peered into the living room for the house’s owners and their husbands, Justin Morant and Cisco Grant—Frog to his friends, though his wife, Suz, had let everyone know that she wasn’t kissing a Frog, hence the Cisco. Squint was a nickname, too, given to him for his shooting skills, which were far better than Cupid’s as far as he was concerned. Maybe it was time for him, too, to change his moniker back to his real name. Was it more likely that Daisy would fall for “John” rather than “Squint”?
Suz had not been easy for Cisco to catch, but catch her he had, and they’d celebrated that love for a second time last Christmas Eve. This was February—and who would have thought that only two months after Cisco’s wedding, John would have made love to Daisy Donovan, the woman who drove everybody absolutely nuts in Bridesmaids Creek. And he hadn’t just done it once—she’d sneaked into his bed many times, all under cover of night.
He had been completely aware she wasn’t about to let a sign of their new relationship hit the public domain, especially not since she’d mooned after Cisco for months and months. John was aware that Daisy felt as if she was settling by making love to him, and not as in settling down—just settling. Making do.
He was done with that. He’d tried to “win” her fair and square, by Bridesmaids Creek standards, which meant either running the Best Man’s Fork, or swimming the Bridesmaids Creek swim in order to win the love of your life. This was a no-fail charm, according to BC legend. But Daisy’d had three chances at the magic, and no time had he ever won her. Apparently the magic didn’t work so well for him. A man had to push forward, even if his dreams were in ruins. He’d learned the hard way when he’d served in Afghanistan with Sam and Cisco that with life you have to keep going.
And he would keep going now. In fact, to make certain there were no more loose moments, he was making sure Daisy was parked here for good—then he was leaving town for the rodeo circuit. It was the only way. The second option would be to just cut out his heart and throw it to the wolves somewhere—that would end the pain of knowing that Daisy was only making time with him, even though she’d admitted that she’d never loved Cisco in the slightest. She’d only been after him to keep him from Suz.
Which hadn’t worked. Suz and Cisco now had darling twin girls, and the magic of Bridesmaids Creek had cast its happy spell on them.
“Ah, cookies,” Dig Bailey said. “It’s great to be home.”
John took that in without comment. The Hanging H had never been Dig’s home, and never would be.
I should have taken Daisy to her house, and left her and her gang behind. Then I could start to forget the colossal mistake I made when I fell into her sexy brown eyes the day I met her.
“I missed the cocoa,” Carson Dare said, helping himself to some that was staying warm in a heated pitcher.
John could barely think about cocoa. He tried hard not to watch Daisy settle her delicately shaped, feminine assets on a stool at the island. It was terribly difficult to keep his eyes off her.
The first time he’d ever seen Daisy Donovan—at times known as the Diva of Destruction of Bridesmaids Creek—he’d been captivated by her long dark hair spilling from her motorcycle helmet, her heart-shaped lips, big expresso eyes that practically bewitched his soul, never mind the short black leather skirt that swung when she walked. She’d been wearing black combat boots and her shapely legs had transfixed him, making his brain a pile of ham salad.
Life hadn’t changed a whole lot since then.
“Chocolate chip cake,” Clint Shanahan said, sighing happily as he helped himself to a piece.
Red Holmes joined him and cut a slice for himself. “There’s no place like home, just like Dorothy said.”
“Listen, you fellows should probably follow the yellow brick road right on out of here,” John said sourly. “I didn’t see a kitchen’s open sign on the back door.”
They all stared at him.
“We’re from this town,” Gabriel Conyers said. “We know when we’re welcome. Do you?”
Point well taken. John was the outsider, though employed at the Hanging H for the past three years.
“Besides which, you just want to get Daisy alone,” Carson said, “and we’ve determined amongst ourselves that we’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“True,” Dig agreed. “She may not choose us, but we’re n
ot letting you weasel her, either.”
Too late, fellows, the weasel’s already been to the henhouse. Several times.
“I’m going to the bunkhouse.” Since Justin and Cisco weren’t here, it was highly likely they were there. Although John was a bit surprised that Suz and Mackenzie weren’t around with their plethora of babies. Between them, they had six now at the Hanging H—all girls destined to break young men’s hearts.
Something he knew too well about. John shoved his hat on his head, glared at Daisy’s gang, and without bothering to look at Daisy, went out the back door. Unable to stop himself, he went around to the front, his boots crunching through the snow piled around the front porch. He wanted just a moment to take in the house, maybe even take a photo on his phone—because he was about to leave forever. There was no point in waiting until V-Day, because Cupid’s Arrow Delivery Service wasn’t going to bring him an arrow with Daisy’s name on it. This was the only real home he’d ever known. Permanent home, to be more precise. When you’d grown up in a beat-up trailer following the rodeo from town to town, home didn’t feel as if it had a stationary place. His parents had raised three children that way, and they’d grown up fine.
He supposed he and Daisy, the daughter of the richest man in Bridesmaids Creek, didn’t have a whole lot of common ground, anyway—which was why she’d never particularly gone for him, except under cover of darkness. John’s father and his grandfather and his father before him had been clowns and barrel men, with the occasional bullfighter gig thrown into the mix. His mother was a cowboy preacher, her three boys sitting in the front pews without fail.
Maybe that was why the Hanging H meant so much to him. It was permanent. Well, it had almost not been permanent, thanks to Daisy and her greedy father, Robert. John raised his phone, snapping a photo of the snow-laden house. It was tall and white in Victorian splendor, its heavy gingerbread detail charming and old-world. Four tall turrets stretched to the sky, and the upstairs mullioned windows sparkled in the sunshine. The wide wraparound porch was painted sky blue, and a white wicker sofa with blue cushions beckoned visitors to sit and enjoy the view. A collection of wrought-iron roosters sat nearby in a welcoming clutch, and the bristly doormat with a big burgundy H announced the Hawthorne name, which Suz and Mackenzie had been before their marriages. Their parents had built this farm up years ago, as well as the business they’d started here—the Haunted H, a popular carnival and play place for families.
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