She could have had a limited partnership with Clint.
Without any more Double Creek blackberries.
Instead she had stubbornly demanded it all.
And look where that had gotten her.
Utterly alone...and heartbroken.
Again.
Aware Violet was still waiting for an explanation, Rose sighed. “He agreed because he knew it would benefit us both financially.” And at the end of the day, he was a businessperson, too. She had been counting on that fact from the very beginning.
Violet added a bunch of grapes to the fruit stash and carried it to the checkout counter. “Clint doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would do anything for money, either.”
“Which is perhaps why the whole endeavor rubbed him the wrong way,” Rose responded irritably. “Because he’d rather be true to himself and his own goals than toe someone else’s line.” Like mine.
Violet shrugged while Rose weighed and rang up the produce with mindless efficiency. “He looked pretty happy at the family barbecue. I heard the two of you were even caught making out behind the barn.”
Rose stopped in her tracks. “Dad said something?” she asked, blushing furiously.
“To Mom,” Violet confirmed with a nod. “Who in turn said something to me. She wanted to know how serious the two of you were.”
Rose turned away from her sister’s searching gaze. “Very, I thought at the time.”
Violet paid what she owed. Together they carried her stash out to the car. “So what changed?”
It all would have seemed so foolish now, had it not been a concrete sign that she and Clint were all wrong for each other, and always would be. “He decided to mow down the hundred acres of prime blackberries on the Double Creek.”
Violet lounged against her vehicle, arms folded in front of her. “Wasn’t that his plan all along?”
Yes. And that was what made her own involvement with Clint so ridiculously futile.
Rose scrambled for the sunglasses she had hooked in her Rose Hill Farm co-op T-shirt and slid them on just in time to hide the sudden onslaught of moisture in her eyes. “I thought he’d changed his mind, that he’d come to see the value in them. Instead—” she swallowed around the lump in her throat “—it was just like it was with Barry. All along, Clint was paying lip service to what I desired while keeping his reservations to himself. Until suddenly I found out we don’t want the same things after all.”
“Clint’s not interested in having kids and raising a family?”
The last thing she needed was her sister playing devil’s advocate. “You know he wants that more than anything,” Rose said, exasperated.
“Oh, then he doesn’t love your kids?”
Rose pushed away the poignant memory of the five of them playing Superheroes together, of Clint reading stories to them while she made dinner, of him happily taking on the challenge to entice them to eat veggies again. “Actually, he loves them,” she said thickly. And they all adored him, too.
“Then he doesn’t love you,” Violet presumed.
Wasn’t that the gist of it? Because if he had, he would have been more than willing to meet her halfway and negotiate a happy ending for both of them. Rose wiped at a tear spilling over her cheek. “I guess not.”
An awkward silence fell. “But you don’t know for sure.”
“How can I?” Lounging against the car next to her sister, Rose replied in a rush, “He never said he loved me.” He wanted her. She knew that. Just as she wanted him. But was wanting someone and making love the same as loving someone in that forever-and-ever way?
Violet laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Did you tell him how you felt?”
“He knows I enjoyed spending time with him.” Making love with him. “Working side by side with him...”
“Wow.” Her sister snorted. “That must have rocked his world. Had him all ready to propose.”
Rose glared at her, demanding, “Whose side are you on?”
Violet took her by the shoulders and forced her to listen. “Yours. And Clint’s. Listen to me, Rose.” This time, it was her voice that broke a little. “When I was with Sterling, I thought we had all the time in the world. I assumed he knew how much I cared about him by the way I looked at him and how passionately we made love. I mean, he had to know, right? So, for fear of sounding hokey or jinxing it in some way, I didn’t say all the things I felt in my heart.” Tears welling, she went on thickly, “And then the cancer got worse, he was fighting so hard for his life, and...I just never got the chance. Now I have to live with that regret every day, every moment of my life. You don’t.”
“But what if it was all just infatuation...and Clint really doesn’t love me back? Or he sort of does, but he still thinks we’re all wrong for each other?” She didn’t want to put him on the spot only to have it all blow up in her face again.
“Then at least you’ll know you tried.” Violet folded her in for a long, sisterly hug. “Love is all about taking risks, Rose.” She drew back to look into her eyes. “You’ve come this far. Why not go the rest of the way?”
* * *
“I THOUGHT YOU were going to mow the blackberry bushes down,” Gannon said.
Clint went back to the tractor he’d all but given up on but decided to resurrect. “Are you here to nag?” he muttered to his friend and neighbor. “’Cause if you are...”
“Grouchy, hmm?”
Clint scowled at him “So. Is there a reason for this visit?”
“Lily sent me to talk sense into you.”
Clint wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. “About what?” It wasn’t like Rose’s triplet to mind anyone else’s business but her own.
“What do you think, knucklehead? Rose.”
Clint removed the spark plug he’d just loosened. Like the others he had already removed, it looked fine. “We’re over.”
“Really? Because you still look like a lovesick calf.”
Clint moved around to the other side of the engine. “Funny.”
Gannon followed him lazily. “And Rose isn’t looking any better, in case you’re wondering.”
Clint glared. “That didn’t stop her from signing a contract with the tractor manufacturer.” Without him. “And negotiating my release from further duties and responsibilities.”
A small smile. “So you are keeping tabs on her.”
More than he wanted to admit. Clint shrugged. “It was in the Laramie newspaper.”
“Dallas, Austin and Houston papers, too. She also had a radio interview the other day that went particularly well. Did you hear it?”
He had, if only to savor the sound of her sweet, melodic voice. Clint went back to working on a particularly stubborn plug that was corroded to the base. “I’m happy for her.”
“Just not interested in making her happy?”
Clint tossed his tool into the box and headed for the ranch house. He stormed across the porch, through the front hall and into the kitchen. Plucked two beers from the fridge and handed one to his ornery visitor.
He twisted off the cap, lounged against the counter and took a long, thirsty drink. “I’m not interested in fame and fortune. I want to ranch, not farm, and I want a quiet, satisfying family life on the Double Creek.”
And he wasn’t negotiating that, period.
“So, basically, it could be any woman and any children filling the bill, as long as they don’t ask you to drive a berry picker.”
Clint flexed his jaw, trying to keep his temper in check. But the truth was...his days driving that damn thing, with Rose close by, helping out, had been among the happiest days of his life.
He took another drink. “Obviously, I’d need to be attracted to whoever I marry.”
“That’s it?”
Gannon asked with a lawyerly lift of his brow. “No love required.”
Clint knew that, as one of the state’s premier divorce attorneys, Gannon had seen his fair share of passionate relationships go bust. He had also witnessed families that had found a way to survive despite the odds.
Clint sobered. “Love would be great, if it happened.”
Gannon studied him. “But it might not.”
That wasn’t the point. Not here anyway. “Rose thrives on adventure and excitement,” he reminded the other man impatiently.
“All the McCabe women do. You can’t lasso one unless you’re willing to generate a few sparks.”
He and Rose had done that all right. He’d never made love with anyone that way, with all his heart and soul. Never had a woman given back to him so completely, either.
A pain that had nothing to do with the physical stabbed his chest, in the region of his heart. Sorrow tightened his middle. “If I thought that were enough—”
“Did you ask her if it was?”
“What was the point when I’d already let her down just by planning to turn the best acreage on my ranch back to pasture?” He raked a hand through his hair. “She wasn’t going to get past that, no matter what I did to try and lessen the impact.”
“You didn’t give her a chance to get past it.”
“Because at the end of the day, the common financial interest in the blackberry harvest—” and a staggering amount of passion “—was all that we had.”
He had hoped it was more. Rose’s reaction, simply accepting his dictum instead of trying to meet him halfway and negotiate a solution—the way she would have with anyone else—had showed him that it wasn’t more after all.
Gannon shook his head in exasperation. “If you think she wanted you only for what you could do for her professionally and financially, then you really are a fool. But the fact you still have yet to mow down even one of those berry bushes, even with a brand-new tractor sitting in the barn, tells me you know different—” he pointed to the center of Clint’s chest “—in here.” He paused to let his words sink in. “The real question is, what are you going to do about it?”
* * *
ROSE HAD JUST slid the strawberry-rhubarb cobbler into the oven to bake when the front screen door slammed open. “Mommy! Mr. Clint is here!” Scarlet shouted from the bungalow’s front porch.
Oh, no, Rose thought, grabbing a dish towel to dry her hands. Not now. Not yet! She wasn’t ready for her big mea culpa.
Stephen bustled in, his little chest puffed out. “He says he’s got somethin’ for you.”
“But he can’t give it to you until you come outside,” Sophia finished breathlessly.
Rose caught her reflection in the glass front of the microwave. In a pretty T-shirt and shorts, her hair and make-up done, she looked fine. It was just her heart that was ailing. Her vulnerability that made her want to stick to the best-laid plans, and not try to wing it again.
“Mommy,” Scarlet reminded her, bossy as ever, “Mr. Clint is waiting!”
“Yeah.” Stephen grabbed one of her hands.
Sophia held the other. “Let’s go see him!”
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Rose took a deep breath and let the children lead her out to the porch.
Clint was standing there, handsome as ever. Recently showered and shaven, he wore an older, snug-fitting pair of dark denim jeans, boots, and the lucky shirt the triplets had nearly ruined before she’d erased the stains and brought it back to life. A tan Stetson slanted across one brow. He cradled a beribboned seedling in his big, strong hands. He looked at once hopeful and wary.
Her tension building, Rose could only stare at him.
“I probably should have called first,” he said.
If their nearly two weeks apart had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t want them to stand on formality. Ever again. He’d made the first move. It was up to her to make the second—even if this wasn’t quite the way she had envisioned her apology to him.
Her heart pounding like a wild thing in her chest, she glided close enough to inhale the familiar leather and spice mixed with the masculine fragrance unique to him. Courage, she thought resolutely. If she could manage three kids on her own, she could certainly win Clint’s love.
She smiled, ignoring the growing knot of emotion in her throat. “You can drop by anytime. In fact, I’m glad you did. I have one last check to give you for the blackberry harvest. I was going to mail it, but then I thought I should probably deliver it in person.” Which was where the strawberry-rhubarb cobbler and babysitter she’d gotten for later came in.
He nodded, listening, oblivious to her plans. Not seeming to mind at all the way she was suddenly babbling.
He gave her another long, hesitant look, then hunkered down to the triplets. He held his arms out wide and encompassed them in a big, loving hug, which they returned with all their hearts. Finally they drew apart, and Clint gazed fondly down at them. “Listen, kiddos, do you think you-all could do something for me?”
The triplets nodded eagerly.
Like Rose, they were so lonesome for him, they were more than willing to comply with whatever he wanted.
“Could you-all go draw some pictures for me?”
They bounced up and down. “What kind?”
His grin widened affably. He gave them another brief, encouraging hug, then straightened with easy, masculine grace. “Anything you like.”
They beamed, so pleased to have been asked.
Talk about a good idea!
“I’d like it if you could all draw one for me, too,” Rose added, figuring that would give her and Clint at least ten minutes alone to talk and, ideally, make up. “Your crayons and paper are on the shelf in the family room.”
“’Kay, Mommy!” The triplets raced inside, slamming the door in their wake.
Aware it was her turn to take the lead, Rose took a deep, bracing breath and tilted her head up to his. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
Clint set down the planter. “If you don’t mind,” he interrupted huskily, “I’d like to say what I need to first.”
“Okay.” Aware her knees were shaking, she sat down on the wide porch steps and buried her hands in her apron.
He settled beside her, taking her hand in his, his expression serious and intent. “A lot of what happened has been my fault,” he confessed, looking deep into her eyes. “I knew you wanted me to keep the berry patch on the Double Creek, and that you thought I had changed my mind, even though I knew that I had no intention of doing that.”
The strength of his touch imbued her with warmth. She turned to face him, her bent knee nudging his thigh. “Then why didn’t you say something?”
Regret tightened the corners of his mouth. “Because I didn’t want to do anything that would mess up what was happening between us. And I was looking for a way to save the day without sacrificing what I wanted for my land and my ranch.” He lifted a hand. “You don’t have to say it. I know how selfish that was.”
His sober admission prompted a self-effacing one from her. “I was selfish, too. Wanting things only my way and no other.” She sighed.
“We both made mistakes,” he said, squeezing her palm.
They had.
He reached for the planter he had set aside. “Which is where this seedling comes in.”
Rose looked at it curiously. Without leaves, it was impossible to tell what it was. “I gather it’s some sort of apology...?”
“Actually, a lot more than that,” he murmured, placing it in her hands. “I’ve talked to Amy, and she is taking cuttings from all the blackberry bushes on my land. She’s going to grow and sell them in her nursery. She also gave me an estimate of what it would cost to plant ten acres—or more, however many you want�
�of the Double Creek berries at Rose Hill, on some of your currently unused farm land. She thinks the optimum time for this would be in late October or early November, and I’ve told her that I will foot the bill.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. But in the meantime, this plant is what will be, I hope, the beginning of the planting and growing of even more Double Creek blackberries than the ones currently on my ranch.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Throat clogged with tears, she realized he really did get it, that what was important to her was important to him, after all. She put the plant aside and turned to him, her hands outstretched.
His voice dropped a notch. “I also wanted to tell you I’ve changed my mind about doing the advertising campaign for the farm-equipment company. I agreed to keep the berry patch intact and let them film there next year, and every year after that, if they so desire.” He paused for a brief moment. “In return, they’ve agreed to give us the berry picker and reinstate the discount on any future farm equipment we purchase. They’ve rehired me to do appearances with you, as they originally envisioned, with the two of us playing off our remarkable chemistry.” He took her hands in his. “Of course, you’d have to agree to all of this.”
She squeezed his fingers. “I will. But only,” she kept her gaze locked with his and stipulated carefully, “on the condition we become friends again.” Because she couldn’t bear it if they weren’t. And they had to start somewhere, if they were ever to recoup what they had enjoyed—and lost.
He pulled her to her feet. “Actually, I’d like a little more than that, Rose.” His eyes twinkled with mirth. “And believe it or not, I’m even prepared to negotiate the conditions and parameters with you.”
Rose admired the masculine planes of his face, the determined slant of his lips. “We don’t have to strike a deal to be together, Clint. Especially since it was all my wheeling and dealing—” and her constant need to take both their businesses to the next level “—that helped break us up in the first place.”
Lone Star Daddy (McCabe Multiples) Page 19