My Girl

by Jacquie Biggar

  “Were you born this happy or did you have to work at it?” Trish asked under her breath. “Look,” she said louder, “I’m sure if we exert some effort, we can make this barn shine, and help your sister who is doing way too much for a pregnant lady. It’s only three days, come on, what do you say?”

  Maybe it was selfish, but somewhere in the midst of her spiel, she’d come to the realization that she wanted time with him. After this weekend, they would only see each other every other holiday when Aaron took Madeline—that is if he agreed to shared custody, they hadn’t even gotten around to talking about that yet—while she sat at home wishing things could have been different.

  Her heart needed this chance to heal.

  “I can spare a couple of guys; we’ll start on the roof today and tackle that floor tomorrow. I hope you’re ready to pull some long hours, it’s going to be tight.” He reclaimed his coffee and took a drink, his breath fogging in the crisp morning air. “What are you thinking?”

  That you aren’t the tough guy you want people to believe you are. Outwardly, she smiled. “I’m thinking we need more coffee.” Before she gave into the urge to rest her head on his shoulder and enjoy the sunrise together, she strode into the barn and began to share her ideas to the four walls—they were probably the only ones listening.

  12

  Aaron stopped to wipe sweat off his brow and survey the surrounding countryside from the roof of the old barn. The promise of this morning’s sunrise had carried into the afternoon with above normal temperatures, though the trees were showing their fall colors like elegant women at a tea party. It wouldn’t be long now until winter cradled the hill country in her chilly hands.

  The agricultural corporation had finally gotten back to him. They were going to take his proposal under consideration and let him know their final assessment before spring. So, it wasn’t a no, but it was far from a yes, too. A bit early to celebrate, though he’d been tempted to break into the booze after their call. He’d never been a patient man and this indecision was driving him crazy. He knew his idea was a sound solution to the droughts created by climate change, but without their financial backing he didn’t see how he was going to get it off the ground. He’d come close last year with Trish’s brother, Andy—his funding in exchange for a piece of Balmoral. Except Matt wouldn’t sign off on it and the deal had fallen through. That and his non-relationship with Trish Sylvester.

  His gaze moved to the shadowy recesses of the barn. Now that the floors had been refinished, Trish had Rico up a ladder hanging strings of lights from beam to beam while another man unloaded square hay bales from a trailer parked outside the doors. She had him setting them up in a haphazard arrangement that gave the large room an open, boho design. Paired with comfortable seating areas draped with Mexican blankets, throw pillows in a wide array of materials and colors, farmhouse side tables painted in shades of white, blue, and yellow, and the candles—hundreds of candles in varying containers and sizes, the whole thing should have looked like a train wreck, but he had to admit he liked it. She laughed at something Rico said, her face turned up to him in amusement. Were they here to flirt or get some work done? Rico must have sensed his razor-eyed glare. He glanced at the roof, caught Aaron’s scowl and refocused on the task at hand.

  Aaron flung the last board into place and pounded the nails into the wood before gathering his tools and heading for the ladder. If Trish wanted a distraction, he’d give her one, by damn.

  He strode to the barn doors and called, “I need to ride out to Hidden Valley, you coming?”

  The cheerful smile disappeared, but she nodded. After a quiet word to Rico, who kept his thoughts to himself, smart man, she joined him at the entrance. “What do you think? It’s coming along better than I expected. Hopefully, your sister will like it.”

  He’d never thought of Trish as insecure, but her fingers were white where they gripped the tablet she always seemed to carry, almost like a security blanket, and she refused to look him in the eye, her gaze flitting anywhere but his face. His jealousy evaporated under an overwhelming need to reassure this woman who’d once meant the world to him. The mother of his child.

  He gently pried the computer from her hands and set it on a nearby hay bale before taking her shoulders and spinning her to face the room, her back to his front having a predictable effect on his body. “Look, Trish. Really look. You’ve taken a beaten down old behemoth of a building and turned it into a sanctuary. Sophia is going to love it, trust me.”

  She twisted in his grasp, her beautiful green eyes glowing. “Really? I wasn’t sure if it would all meld together like it had in my head—always a scary place.” She laughed and he found himself grinning for no good reason. God, you’re beautiful.

  He reluctantly loosened his arms and took a step back. “We’d better get going if we want to return in time for the dance.” He’d thought long and hard and had come to the decision that he wanted his daughter in his life. Even if Trish was married to another guy, it didn’t mean they couldn’t work out an arrangement that would suit everyone. He’d never figured himself for a satellite father, but there it was.

  “Are you sure we can’t do this later? I’d like to be around if Sophia needs me.” Back to the nervous non-stare. What was she up to?

  “It’s only an hour’s ride. Come on, city girl, you can handle it.”

  Left with no choice, she led the way out of the barn, stopping in surprise when she noticed Dickens and a bay mare standing under the maple tree. She flicked him an ironic glance. “That sure of me, were you?”

  Maybe once, not anymore. “I ordered an extra horse saddled on the off-chance,” he said, unwilling to argue. “Don’t worry, Nelly is a sweetheart.”

  “It’s not the horse that concerns me,” she muttered, reaching for the saddle horn.

  She should have looked comical in her stylish leggings and thigh-length white men’s dress shirt—sleeves rolled up and buttons from throat to cleavage undone—instead his pulse stuttered, his hands as sweaty as if he were a gangly teen on his first date. She stumbled, long, long leg extended while the other sneaker-clad foot tried to catch up to the stirrup. Aaron caught her around the waist before she fell and hoisted her into the saddle, his fingers lingering until she met his gaze. “You look good on the back of a horse,” he said and meant every word. Her posture was straight, hands gentle on the reins. Long blond hair swirled around her shoulders and her skin had taken on a peachy glow he’d like to think was at least partially caused by his touch.

  “Thanks,” she murmured. “Though I think you’re just being kind.”

  Nope. He wasn’t feeling kind at the moment. Hot and bothered, yes. Frustrated, hell, yeah. Confused about his feelings, definitely.

  He made sure her stirrups were the right length before mounting Dickens. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” She gripped the reins and clucked at her horse. “Okay, Nelly, giddy-up.”

  Aaron kept his smile in check and led out, heading west across the ten-acre pasture that connected Hidden Valley to the main homestead. The breeze played with the last hay crop of the season, creating a golden sea of motion.

  Trish rode up beside him. “This is stunning, Aaron. So different from the suburban landscape I’m used to—your family is lucky.”

  Yeah, he guessed she was right. For him the ranch was home. It was refreshing to see it through her eyes. “It’s been Shaughnessy land for over a century. Hard for most folks to imagine these days.”

  Her smile was tinged with melancholy. “I don’t think I’ve lived in one place for longer than five years. My parents are wanderers.”

  Aaron thought of his young daughter, Madeline. That wasn’t the life he wanted for her—or for Trish. “Maybe, now that you’re getting married,” the word soured on his tongue, “you can change that. Start a new tradition.”

  “I’d like that,” she replied. Then added so softly he barely heard her, “If only things were different.”

  What was
he supposed to make from that? Was she sorry for walking away from him? He stiffened. Was her fiancé abusive?

  He nudged Dickens closer to Nelly so he could make a grab for the reins, drawing both horses to a dust-churning standstill.

  “What are you doing?’ Trish cried, her expression startled.

  Aaron tipped his hat back and stared her down. “Care to explain what you meant with that statement a moment ago?” If Lane was hurting her, he’d pay—so help him God.

  “You’re crazy, you know that?” She swatted his hands and retrieved her horse’s reins. “You could have gotten us killed.”

  Unexpectedly, he laughed. “Killed, huh? I’m surprised you agreed to come out with me, then.”

  She huffed out a sigh, then grinned. “A little over the top, maybe?”

  Her hair rivaled the sun for beauty. Aaron ached to bury his hand in those golden threads and kiss her until she admitted they should be together. The old chemistry was there, he could see the same awareness in her eyes that he was feeling. This was ridiculous. Why was she marrying a guy she didn’t even love?

  “Aaron? You’re staring.” She fidgeted with those damn three buttons he’d been fantasizing about all day.

  He jerked his head to the hills behind him. “The valley is over there. Let’s table our differences until then, okay?”

  She hesitated and glanced back towards the safety of the ranch—smart girl—before nodding. “I’ll go with you, but only because we need to decide what to do about Maddie. I don’t want this to turn into an argument though, agreed?”

  Hell, no. He wasn’t agreeing to anything right now. He didn’t trust the Sylvester clan as far as he could throw them, and that included Trish. Which made this attraction damn painful to bear.

  13

  Sophia sat in front of her desktop computer and sighed. So much to do, so little time, and if that wasn’t bad enough, little Egbert here—she patted her slight baby bump—wasn’t the politest of guests. Her hormones were running wild with morning sickness, morphing into afternoon sleepiness and evening weepfests. Poor Tony. He tried so hard to keep her happy, but this baby thing was as new to him as it was to her and she had to wonder if he regretted it. Annnnnd, cue the tears. She loved her baby, they both did. It’s just with the pressure of opening the guest house, maybe this wasn’t the best time to be pregnant. Understatement of the year.

  She kept the books. She knew how bad off the ranch was; how close they were to losing everything. Her family needed her to succeed. She wiped her wet cheeks with trembling fingers before clicking the mouse to the Balmoral Guest Ranch website. Thanks to her history in advertising she’d managed to make a professional-looking, welcoming site, and with the pictures they would add from this weekend’s Harvest Dance, the reservations should roll in.

  She hoped.

  Maybe it had been a mistake to invite Trish and her family to the opening. The Sylvesters were big fish in the investment corporation field, and though Matthew had turned down their offer to buy a portion of the ranch, Trish had approached her with a plan to invest in the venture. And if Sophia could manage to throw Trish and her pig-headed brother, Aaron, together often enough, maybe they would see they were meant for each other.

  She prayed.

  More than anything, she wanted to see her brothers happy. After their parents died, the boys made a pact to protect her, and she planned to return the favor. If only these stupid tears would quit falling so she could get some work done. She was just reaching for a tissue when Matthew strolled into the office, Pippa on his hip.

  “Oh, ho,” he said, brows peaking. “Aunty has a boo-boo.” He hugged his daughter before setting her in the corner with her toys. He made sure Pippa was settled, giving Sophia the time she needed to regain her composure, then sat on one of two leather-tufted chairs across from her desk. “Hormones, or is there something else I need to know about?”

  That was Matt. He faced his problems head-on. And family issues were a part of the package. She gave him a wobbly smile and rose to get her aunty hugs from Pippa. “How’s Aunty’s girl? Are you being good for Daddy?” Pippa was about the cutest child she’d ever seen. Big blue eyes and soft blond curls combined with a light dusting of freckles across the nose and one deep dimple in her right cheek when she giggled. Oh, and that girl’s giggles; if Sophia could find a way to bottle them up, the world would be a brighter place.

  “She’s always good for Daddy, aren’t you Pumpkin?” Matthew grinned and Pippa grinned back, revealing that angel’s kiss dimple.

  She placed a slightly sticky, pudgy palm on Sophia’s cheek and stared deep into her eyes. “Daddy says I gets a pet if I’m good. I’m good, right Aunty?”

  The little minx stopped just short of a conspiratorial wink. She definitely knew the power she held over the Shaughnessy adults.

  Sophia planted a kiss on her cherubic nose. “If Daddy doesn’t get you a pet, you come and see me and I’ll talk to him, but only if you do as he says. Deal?” She waited for the munchkin’s solemn nod before setting her back amongst her toys.

  “She’s been after Cassandra and me for a pet even though we already have Chewy and Pumpkin in the house. It’s hard enough keeping those two under control,” Matt said as Sophia moved to her chair.

  It was true, Matt’s little hairless chihuahua ruled the household and hadn’t appreciated Sophia’s cat, Pumpkin, when they moved home, at all. But surely there was room for one more. She decided to table the conversation for now and revisit it closer to Pippa’s birthday when he might be feeling more generous.

  “What brings you into work, isn’t it your day off?” She surreptitiously moved her mouse to place her computer to sleep.

  “Yes, but no changing the subject. Why were you crying when we arrived?” He crossed his arms and gave her that don’t-feed-me-no-bull look he’d perfected as a young teen forced to grow up too fast.

  Sophia toyed with using her pregnancy as an excuse, but she’d turned to him for advice so many times over the years, the truth came out instead. “I’m scared I’ve failed you. The reservations aren’t coming in like I expected. Aaron’s angry because I invited Trish and her family, and I feel horrible that I’ve let you down,” she said, reaching for a fresh tissue.

  Matt uncurled his arms and leaned forward, the intensity in his gaze stopping her tears in their tracks. “You could never disappoint me.” He reached across and clasped her hand. “Sophia Mackenzie Morrison, you have Shaughnessy blood and fire flowing through your veins. We don’t quit.” He gave her fingers a squeeze before letting them go. “We’ve been through plenty of hard times, and I’m sure there’ll be more, but it doesn’t matter—do you know why?”

  She looked at Pippa playing in the corner, as she’d done herself as a child, at the hundred-year-old map on the wall depicting the ranch and its boundaries, the photo of Matt’s prize Andalusian stallion, and the painting Grandma Maddie had commissioned of their parents before the accident. The ties that bind.

  “Because we are fam-i-ly,” she sang, then sent him a watery smile. “You’re a pretty terrific big brother, do you know that?”

  He shrugged and grimaced. “I’m also deaf after your singing.” He laughed when she threw an eraser at him. Pippa ran over to see what the commotion was about, and her dad swung her into the air and swooped like an airplane. She shrieked with joy and grabbed his hair. He lowered her down and did a raspberry on her belly, reducing her to fits of giggles.

  Best. Sound. Ever.

  Sophia met his amused gaze over Pippa’s tousled head and smiled. They were going to be just fine.

  14

  Trish followed Aaron through a narrow canyon, the red rock walls close enough to touch, and marveled at the vista opening out before them. A faint game trail led down to a verdant valley filled with lush grass, wildflowers, and even a gentle stream. No wonder the Shaughnessys kept this place a secret.

  “It’s stunning,” she said in all sincerity. Though it paled in comparison to the proud
cowboy sitting his horse a few steps ahead of her, the late afternoon sun glinting like gold in his hair.

  He glanced back and smiled. A real smile. It stole her breath. “Growing up, this was our playground,” he said, waving an arm to encompass the valley. “Whenever we got on Mom’s nerves—which was often,” he grinned, “Dad would bring us out here to blow off steam. We even stayed in the cabin a few times.”

  Now that he mentioned it, she could see the dark brown roof of a log shack nestled under a giant cottonwood, the leaves a bright yellow gold. “It’s breathtaking.” And so different from the concrete jungle she’d grown up in.

  “Come on.” He clucked to his horse and the animal began to make its sure-footed way down the steep grade.

  Trish’s horse followed suit, not giving her time to get scared. She grasped the pommel with both hands, glued her gaze to Aaron’s broad back, and prayed. It was like going downhill on a roller coaster, but without seatbelts and a good deal slower—thank goodness. Pebbles rolled beneath the horses’ hooves, sending little puffs of dust floating into the air like signal beacons. Aaron controlled his mount with the slightest of hand movements, glancing back now and again to make sure she hadn’t fallen off, she guessed. No chance of that; he was going to have to pry her fingers loose when they got to the bottom.

  Then they reached the valley, and she was struck by the peaceful setting. Birds flitted here and there, lark sparrows and Golden-cheeked Warblers, while a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher perched on a fallen log watching them with inquisitive eyes. Bees buzzed, gathering the last of the year’s nectar, and a busy squirrel dashed across the trail, cheeks full of his fall harvest. Everywhere she looked, there was movement, and yet she felt a deep calmness settle over her—as though this was a place out of time; a healing ground.

  “Stupid really,” she murmured, “but I feel as though I’ve been here before. Maybe in my dreams?” She smiled to lighten the moment. “Was the cabin here when your family bought the land?”