The Cowboy's Family Plan

by Duarte, Judy

  When they reached the end of Hawthorne Lane, they turned on to Third Avenue. Other than the sound of their boots tapping on the sidewalk, they remained silent.

  Finally, Selena asked, “Do you like country music?”

  “I practically grew up on it,” he said. “I like the beat, the words, the stories the lyrics tell. How about you?”

  “I’ve never been a big fan. I’ve always preferred jazz or soft rock.”

  “You may change your mind after tonight.”

  Something told her tonight was going to change a lot of things.

  Ten minutes later, they arrived at the Stagecoach Inn, which sat along the county road. Just as Alex had predicted, the parking lot was busting out at the seams.

  “You were right,” she said. “The place is really hopping. Is it always like this on a Friday night?”

  “It’s usually busy every weekend, but the line dancing competition is a special event.”

  As they crossed the graveled parking lot to the entrance, their boots crunched on the dirt.

  Selena was looking forward to her first peek inside a real honky-tonk. She’d passed the Stagecoach Inn many times and had always been curious about the cowboy bar as well as its patrons. So once they entered, she found herself studying the interior, the scuffed and scarred hardwood floor, the antique red-and-chrome jukebox, the Old West-style bar that stretched the length of the building.

  “Come on,” Alex said. “I see a table. We’d better snag it before someone else does.”

  They made their way to the back of the room, not far from an orange neon sign pointing the way to the restrooms, and took a seat near a couple of cowboys who’d been drinking all afternoon, if the empty beer bottles on the table were a clue. They weren’t dressed as nicely as Alex, but not many men stood out in a crowd like he did.

  A couple of minutes after Alex and Selena had claimed their seat, a blonde, harried waitress stopped by and asked, “Can I get y’all a drink?”

  Selena was just about to ask for a glass of red wine, when the waitress noticed Alex and recognition splashed across her face. “Well, I’ll be darned. Look what the cat finally dragged in. It’s been a long time, Alex.”

  “It sure has.”

  The bleached blonde studied him a couple of beats longer than usual. All the while, Alex seemed to be doing the same thing to her.

  Had Selena been wrong when she’d assumed he hadn’t gotten involved with another woman, that he hadn’t had sex since his wife died?

  Her stomach clenched at the thought, and she couldn’t help wondering what kind of connection the two of them had.

  “It’s good to see you out and about,” the waitress told him.

  “Thanks, Trina. I figured it was time. How’ve you been?”

  “All right.” The waitress he knew by name turned to Selena, but instead of asking for her drink order, she studied her for a moment. Assessing her, it seemed.

  Why was that? Jealousy? Or just run-of-the-mill curiosity?

  “Selena,” Alex said, “this is Trina Shepherd. She’s an old friend.”

  Oh, yeah? How old? Where had they met?

  The fact that having answers to her growing number of questions mattered more than she’d like it to was a little unsettling, but she shook it off and extended her hand for the customary greeting. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Trina,” Alex said, “This is Dr. Selena Ramirez. She’s an obstetrician in town.”

  “Oh, really?” Trina tucked a stringy strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you the same Dr. Ramirez who took over Dr. Avery’s practice?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  The woman brightened, shedding a couple of unearned years from her face. “I’ve been meaning to make an appointment to see you. Dr. Avery was my obstetrician, and it seems I’ll need one again.”

  She was pregnant?

  The cocktail waitress sighed, then glanced at Alex and clicked her tongue. “I swear, my mother was right. I never learn from my mistakes.”

  Selena, who would love to have an unexpected pregnancy, couldn’t help a momentary twinge of envy. But she shrugged it off as quickly as it came. It wouldn’t do to dwell on her misfortune, especially when she had a practice full of expectant mothers.

  “How far along are you?” Selena asked.

  “Eight weeks and six days, to be exact.” Trina blew out a sigh. “I won’t need an ultrasound to figure that out.”

  Still, the sooner Trina saw a doctor, the better. She needed an exam as well as some prenatal vitamins. Pregnancy was going to take a lot out of her, and she already appeared to be tired, and maybe even undernourished.

  “If you call in on Monday,” Selena said, “ask for Maryanne, who sets my appointments. Tell her we met this weekend, and that I said I’d squeeze you in—even if it’s during the lunch hour.”

  “Thanks. That’s really nice of you. As soon as I get the kids off to school, I’ll make that call.” Trina glanced down at her notepad, then at Alex. “So what would y’all like to drink?”

  Selena asked for a glass of merlot, and Alex ordered a Corona with lime.

  “You got it.” Trina scratched out their requests on the pad, then headed to the bar.

  When she was out of hearing range, Alex said, “Thanks for offering to squeeze her in as a favor. Trina doesn’t get many breaks.”

  It didn’t seem like it. Selena leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Something tells me she’s not happy about being pregnant.”

  “I’m sure she isn’t. She already has her hands full raising two kids without any help from her ex-husband—financial or otherwise.”

  Apparently, she’d gotten involved with men who were neither supportive nor loyal. But then again, some women made the mistake of falling for a man who would never return the love she deserved.

  Selena certainly had, so she was in no position to pass judgment. But that didn’t quell her curiosity. “So where did you meet Trina?”

  “She was a friend of Mary’s.”

  At the mention of Alex’s late wife’s name, Selena’s stomach clenched again. But he didn’t seem to give it more than a passing thought, which she hoped was a good sign that he was moving on, that his love for his late wife would soon be a memory.

  At a table next to theirs, a man who’d been drinking something amber-colored, like whiskey or scotch, threw back his head and laughed. Then he got to his feet, taking his glass with him.

  “Tell Trina to bring us another round,” he told his friend. “I’m going to make a pit stop, then I’ll give Darla a call and ask her to come on down here and get us. We’re going to need a ride home.”

  Still chuckling, the happy drunk started toward the bathroom. When he passed by Alex’s chair, he swayed on his feet. In an effort to regain his balance, he flung out both arms. As he tried to prevent a tumble, the drink slipped out of his hands, splattering on Selena’s shoulder before hitting the floor and shattering.

  “Oh, damn,” the drunk said to Selena. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I... Aw, hell. Would you look what I did?”

  A bit annoyed, Selena studied her wet T-shirt, wondering if the brown liquid would leave a stain. “Maybe I’d better go to the ladies’ room and wash this out.” Then she got to her feet.

  “I’m sorry,” Alex said.

  Selena gave a little shrug. “You didn’t spill the drink on me.”

  No, he didn’t, but he’d brought her to a honky-tonk, where this sort of thing could happen. And a beautiful, classy and professional woman like her might not appreciate close encounters with inebriated cowboys.

  “I’m really sorry about spilling my drink,” the sloppy but remorseful drunk said to Alex. “I’d be happy to buy your lady a new shirt if that stain don’t come out.”

  Alex might have made an issu
e about the spill if the guy had been a jerk about it. As it was, he shrugged. “Those things happen.” He just wished it wouldn’t have happened to Selena.

  About that time, Trina arrived with a plastic tub and a damp rag.

  The cowboy went down on one knee, prepared to help her clean up the mess on the floor.

  “Daryl,” Trina said to the drunk, “please get out of the way and let me clean up that spill and the broken glass before someone slips or gets cut.”

  “Sorry about that, Trina.” The man got to his feet and took a step back. “I didn’t mean to cause all this trouble.”

  “I know you didn’t.” Trina set the tub on the floor, then began picking up the biggest glass shards. “But the last thing I need is for a customer to get hurt. Bob’s on his way with a mop to help me. You go on back to your friend.”

  When Daryl took off toward the restrooms, Alex said, “You shouldn’t be doing that in your condition.”

  She glanced up. “Doing what?”

  “Picking up broken glass and mopping spills.”

  Trina chuffed. “This is all in a day’s work, whether I’m at home or here. Don’t worry about me.”

  Alex did worry. Trina hadn’t just been a friend of Mary’s; she’d been his friend, too. After Mary’s accident, he’d spent a couple of evenings at the Stagecoach Inn, trying to drown his grief and guilt. And Trina had made sure that he’d gotten home safely both times. She’d also reminded him that Mary wouldn’t have wanted him to go off the deep end like that, and she’d been right.

  When a man with a mop approached Trina, he asked, “What have we got here?”

  “Just another day in cowboy paradise,” Trina said, as she got to her feet. “I’ve already picked up the biggest pieces of glass.”

  “All righty. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Thanks, Bob.” Trina turned to Alex. “I’m sorry for the disturbance.”

  “No problem. Things happen.”

  “Yeah, they do.” Trina glanced at the chair Selena had just vacated. “She’s a pretty lady, and obviously smart and successful. Are you two dating?”

  Mary and Trina had been friends as teenagers, so it felt a little weird to be out with another woman, even if it had been two years since Mary’s death. But the question called for an answer, even if he wasn’t quite sure he could say they were actually “dating.”

  “This is our first official date,” Alex admitted. “But after tonight, she might realize she doesn’t like my idea of a fun evening.”

  “I suppose you’ll find out if she’s a good sport or not when she returns from the restroom.”

  That was probably true.

  “Either way,” Trina added, “it’s nice to know you’re finally getting out and living again. Mary wouldn’t have wanted you to hole up at home.”

  Alex hadn’t been in town all that much, but that didn’t mean he’d been hiding out and avoiding people. He’d just found that hard work and staying busy had helped. And there was always plenty to do on a ranch.

  “So how’s it really going?” Alex asked her, trying to steer the conversation off him and Mary.

  Trina shrugged. “Same old, same old.”

  He was sorry to hear that. Life hadn’t been easy for her, and not all of her trouble had been of her own making.

  She was only thirty-six, although she appeared to be a lot older. At one time, a lot of men would have found her pretty. But that was before she’d made a few bad choices.

  And before life had kicked her while she’d been down.

  Now she was pregnant again, which was too bad. The last Alex had heard, she’d finally gotten a divorce from an abusive husband she’d held on to for too damn long.

  “It seems that I can’t pick a nice guy if my life depended upon it,” she said. “So I’m going to swear off romance once and for all. It’s pretty clear that I’m not good at weeding out the jerks from the keepers.”

  Before Alex could respond, Selena returned, sporting a big wet spot that had soaked through one sleeve and the shoulder of her T-shirt.

  But at least she wasn’t frowning. Did that mean she actually was a good sport?

  Somewhere in the midst of all the background noise and the hoots of laughter, the old red-and-chrome jukebox jumped to life, thanks to someone’s desire to hear a little music before the band had set up for the evening’s competition. Over the din, Alex heard Patsy Cline singing “Crazy,” one of her biggest hits.

  Call him crazy, but he was going to take a gamble on Selena being a good sport—and more. So he pushed back his chair and stood, then he reached out his hand to her. “Come on. I really like this song. Let’s dance.”

  The suggestion seemed to take her aback for a moment, and she glanced at her wet T-shirt. He thought she was going to decline. Instead, she smiled and let him draw her to her feet.

  Alex led Selena through the throng of Friday night revelers to a dance floor, where a few other couples had already gathered.

  Then he opened his arms, and she slipped into his embrace. As they slowly moved to the music, he savored the floral scent of her shampoo, the silky strands of her hair.

  It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed holding a woman close—and it had been forever since he’d held one quite like Selena. Without a conscious thought, he drew her close and placed his cheek against hers.

  As Patsy sang about a love gone wrong, Alex couldn’t help thinking about one that was going right. And he found himself lost in the music, completely under the spell of the woman in his arms.

  It was magic, all right. Even with the other couples beside them.

  He’d never really liked getting out on the dance floor and preferred to watch this sort of thing as a bystander. In fact, that’s why the line dancing competition had interested him.

  But that no longer seemed to be true, at least not when he held Selena. Not when he wanted to nuzzle her neck, to kiss her senseless, to take her to bed.

  As they swayed to the music, it was easy to pretend that they were an actual couple and not just skating around a relationship.

  And maybe they weren’t skating. Maybe they both knew where they’d wind up this evening.

  He certainly did.

  Chapter Nine

  Spending Friday evening at the Stagecoach Inn had been more fun than Selena had imagined, and she was glad that she’d gone.

  The whole honky-tonk experience had been a blast, but more than that, being with Alex had made it a night to remember. And it wasn’t over yet. Not while they were taking a slow, leisurely walk home under a scattering of bright stars and a nearly full moon.

  “You were right,” Selena said, as their arms brushed against each other. “I enjoyed the dance competition, but what I found even more interesting was watching all the people who’d come to hang out at the Stagecoach.”

  “The cowboy crowd can be pretty entertaining,” he said.

  “That’s for sure.” She’d also liked slow dancing with Alex, his arms wrapped around her, his cheek pressed against hers, his woodsy cologne snaking around her senses, holding her captive.

  “I’m glad you had a good time. When that cowboy spilled his drink on you, I thought you were history.”

  A smile teased her lips. “I couldn’t get angry at a guy who fell all over himself trying to apologize and to clean up his mess. Besides, he was respectful. He was also responsible. When it happened, he’d been on his way to call his girlfriend to pick him up, rather than drive himself home.”

  “She was a pretty good sport about it,” Alex said.

  Selena had thought the same thing when she’d first seen the woman who’d come to take him home within ten minutes of his call. She’d crossed her arms and appeared to be scolding him, but there’d been affection in her eyes.

  He
’d called her his darlin’ Darla, and in a way, their relationship had seemed...sweet. And loving.

  Strangely enough, it was easy to be a bit envious of them and what they’d apparently found together. She wondered if Alex had noticed it, too.

  “I could be wrong,” Selena said, “but they seemed to have a good relationship.”

  “That’s possible, but she might have given him hell when she got him home.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Alex didn’t respond, and they continued to walk in silence, their steps echoing in the night.

  They’d be home soon—in just a few short blocks.

  Would he try to kiss her again? She certainly hoped he would. If he didn’t, she might have to take the bull by the horns and be bolder than she’d ever been before, at least in a budding romance.

  Their arms brushed again, and this time Alex reached for her hand, curling his fingers around hers, warming her from head to toe with a single touch.

  Yes, he was going to kiss her goodnight. She was sure of it. But did she want him to stop at that?

  As they turned down Hawthorne Lane toward her house, she imagined them a couple, with no concerns in the world. But she had plenty to worry about. What if she did the unthinkable? What if she fell head over heels in love with a man whose heart would always belong to another woman?

  She knew firsthand how badly a situation like that would turn out. But the possibility of heartbreak in the future didn’t seem to matter right now.

  In spite of the need to protect herself from being hurt, she couldn’t let Alex walk away tonight without giving him a chance to prove her wrong. So she lowered her guard and chose to ignore her apprehension.

  By the time they reached her house, her heartbeat was soaring in anticipation. Just how far would they go tonight?

  As far as he was willing, she decided.

  He walked her to the front door, then waited for her to reach into her purse for her key.

  “Would you like to come in?” she asked. “I can make some coffee or tea for us. I also have wine....”

  “You decide. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”