by Judy Duarte
She straightened. “I know, but this seemed like the best way to let you know I’m sincere. And while I admit that I’m glad you agreed, I’ll respect your feelings about singing in public next time.”
“I’d appreciate that.” He took a whiff and broke into a broad smile. “I sure like the smell of your apologies. What’s on the menu tonight?”
She grinned. “Granny’s famous meat loaf, roasted red potatoes and buttered green beans with slivered almonds. I hope you’ll like it.”
“No doubt about that.”
As Carly led Ian through the living room and into the kitchen, he said, “You sure went all out. You’re even using Granny’s good dishes.”
“Like I said, I want to do this right.”
Minutes later, they were seated at the table, enjoying a meal that Ian said was a good as any Granny had ever made. Carly was thrilled with the compliment.
“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Ian said, “but you belong on the Leaning R.”
His words rang true. Granny had said the same thing to her, and at the time, she’d been right. But Carly had outgrown small-town life. And she wanted her child to have more opportunities than could be found on a ranch.
She took a sip of water from her goblet. “Maybe I did belong here once—when I was a kid. But not anymore.”
“I’m not talking about a permanent residence here, but you’re a part of this ranch, Carly. As much as or more than your great-grandmother was. And in case you haven’t figured it out, this is the place you always come home to.”
Carly wasn’t so sure about being a part of the ranch. It did feel like home, but it should. Her best times had been spent on the Leaning R with Granny. “I have a lot of good memories here, but this isn’t where my future lies.”
“I understand that.” He speared the last potato on his plate and put it in his mouth. Moments later, he added, “I take it that you’ve let Jason know you’ve agreed to the sale.”
She nodded. “Yes, I have. And truthfully, I’ll be sorry to see it go—especially to strangers. But it’s not feasible for us to keep it in the family.”
His lips parted as if he was going to say something—or maybe disagree—but he kept quiet.
“So what about you?” she asked. “Don’t you have a place you call home?”
“I did, but my granddad sold it a few years back. And even though he and my grandma moved to Florida and are living in a condominium now, it still feels like home when I visit them.”
“Really?” She found that hard to believe. “Why is that?”
“Because a home is more about the people who live there than the actual house itself.”
She thought about that for a while. Granny had been more of a mother to her than the one who’d given her birth. And maybe that’s why she always found herself returning to the Leaning R. Even now, after her great-grandmother’s passing, it was still the only place where Granny seemed to be. At least the memories of her were here.
“You mentioned growing up on your granddad’s ranch,” Carly said. “What about your parents? Where did they live?”
“I don’t remember my mom. She died in a car accident when I was three.”
Carly had never really talked to him about his past because it hadn’t seemed to matter. But for some reason, it mattered now.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “What about your dad?”
Ian studied his empty plate for the longest time, and for a while, she wondered if he was even going to answer the question.
“When I was three, my parents left me with my grandparents while they took off to celebrate their anniversary in town. Apparently, they got into a heated argument, which led to the crash. At least, that’s what it said in the police report. My father was sent to prison for vehicular manslaughter.”
Carly had no idea what to say, especially when another “I’m sorry” seemed inadequate.
“While my dad was in jail, I lived with my grandparents at their cattle ranch near Dallas.” Ian leaned back in his chair, his pose anything but relaxed. “When he was finally paroled, I moved to Fort Worth with him, but that didn’t last very long.”
She couldn’t believe that they’d once been lovers, yet he’d never revealed anything about his early years. He seemed to know a lot about hers, though. Some she’d shared with him, and other things he might have learned from Granny.
But what about Ian? Not that she hadn’t cared or been curious about his past before, but she’d been so convinced that they didn’t have a future together that she’d once thought it wasn’t any of her business. Yet now with the baby coming, learning more about him suddenly seemed important.
She leaned forward, her forearms resting on the table. “What do you mean? Why didn’t you stay with your father?”
“He was an alcoholic, and whenever he went on a binge, he would miss work and get fired. Or he’d get in fights at bars or wherever. Each time he was arrested, I’d end up back at the ranch with my grandparents.”
No wonder he was so close to them. “I’m sorry, Ian. I had no idea life was so difficult for you as a child.”
“It wasn’t so bad. At least, not at the ranch. I loved it there and learned how to rope and ride and work with cattle.”
“So when they sold it, that’s how you ended up here?”
He gave a simple shrug. “Actually, I was just passing through town and stopped at Caroline’s Diner for lunch. I mentioned to Margie, the waitress, that I was a cowhand looking for work, and she introduced me to Granny, who was having a piece of peanut butter pie with a friend.”
“Margie’s a real sweetheart,” Carly said, “but she has a way of asking questions and passing news along.”
Ian laughed. “Yeah, I learned that quickly. But she did me a favor that day. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have landed a job at the Leaning R. It was a win-win for Granny and me.”
“In what way?” Carly asked.
“She needed a son as badly as I needed a family, so we looked after each other.”
Carly was touched by his affection for her great-grandma, yet something niggled at her. “Why did you stick around, even after she passed away? I mean, I know my dad wasn’t the easiest guy to work for.”
“You’re right about that.” Ian took a chug of his iced tea. “No offense, Carly, but Charles Rayburn didn’t give a rip about ranching.”
Ian had that right. Her father had been put in charge of Granny’s estate for a year before she died, but he was too caught up in his own company and his own life to even visit. But then, he hadn’t ever had time for Carly, either. Why would it be any different for the woman who’d practically raised him?
“I guess you could say that I’m still looking out for Granny’s best interests,” Ian added.
Carly hadn’t expected him to say that—or to stick around after Granny had died. Apparently Ian wasn’t the tumbleweed she’d imagined him to be.
What else about him had she misread? It was going to take more than one intimate dinner for her to find out, she supposed.
“I appreciate all you’ve done around here,” she told him. “And the fact that you’re helping us sell a place you’ve considered a home.”
Ian studied her for a moment. A long moment.
Again, she thought he might be pondering a comment, but if he had something to say, he kept it to himself.
Finally, he spoke. “Believe it or not, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. And that’s why I plan to settle down in Brighton Valley for good.”
He’d made that clear early on, so she wasn’t surprised. But that was also the reason they’d never be happy together, at least not in the long run. Their dreams for the future were as different as their pasts.
Carly placed a hand on her baby bump, caressing it and wondering about the lit
tle one who grew there—and if he or she would inherit traits from both Ian and Carly.
Raising a baby together wasn’t going to be easy. She just hoped they would be able to put aside their differences in order to become a better mom and dad than the ones who’d birthed them.
* * *
Ian pushed back his chair, got up from the kitchen table and began to gather the dishes.
“Don’t worry about cleaning up,” Carly said. “I’ll do it after you go.”
“I don’t mind helping. Besides, this is my way of showing my appreciation for dinner.” Ian carried the stack of dishes to the counter. After reaching for the plastic bottle of soap from the cupboard under the sink, he turned on the hot water. “That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”
“It was no big deal,” Carly said. “I had fun cooking tonight.”
He didn’t doubt that for a minute. Carly was far more domestic than she realized. She also had a way of doing special little things for him—at least, she had when they’d been sleeping together.
One day, she’d picked wildflowers on her walk in the meadow. She’d brought them into his cabin and put them in water in the only vase she could find—a mason jar. Then she set them on the dinette table, brightening up his home as well as his day.
Another time, she’d purchased a cookie jar for him in town and filled it with candy because she knew he had a sweet tooth.
Was it any wonder he believed she had a domestic streak?
She’d insisted that she didn’t, though. And he suspected that was because she feared acknowledging it would encourage him—or maybe it would hamper her dream of becoming a star.
“Oh, no! Cheyenne, give me that! Look what you’ve done.”
Ian turned to see his rascally pup with Carly’s black dress shoe in her mouth. She’d done a real number on the black spiked heel, chomping at it until she’d left little bite marks up and down. “I’m sorry, Carly. I owe you a shopping trip and a new pair of heels.”
Carly, who now held the sexy shoe in her hand, slowly shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Something tells me I won’t be wearing these for a while anyway.”
She appeared to be resigned to the puppy’s mischief as well as the change in her immediate plans for the future.
Did that mean she intended to have the baby and not give it up—or worse? He sure hoped so. He didn’t want to lose another child before he had the opportunity to hold it, to love it. To protect it.
Ian shut off the water, dried his hands and crossed the room to where Cheyenne sat, perplexed that she’d lost her newfound toy. “I brought you to dinner, thinking that you’d remember your manners and stick close to me. You’re not supposed to roam the house, looking for trouble.”
“She was just being a puppy,” Carly said. “I’ll have to pick up some of those rawhide strips for her to chew on next time she comes to visit.”
So there would be a next time. He was glad to hear it.
His life had taken a nice turn when he’d stopped in Brighton Valley that day and met Granny. Then it had really looked up when he’d met Carly. But as amazing as their short-lived time together had been, Carly only had eyes for the fame and glory Ian had left behind.
And he wasn’t sure where that would leave him and their child.
* * *
Carly and Ian arrived early at the Founder’s Day Festival with Ian in the driver’s seat of his truck and his guitar resting between them. He lucked out when a car in front of Caroline’s Diner pulled out of a space, allowing him to park along the tree-shaded main drag of Brighton Valley.
“I really appreciate this,” Carly said again as she slid out the passenger door.
“I know. You’ve mentioned that a time or two.” He reached for his guitar, then locked the truck.
They seemed to have reached a truce and an understanding, which was good.
As they headed toward Town Square, Carly nudged him with her elbow. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” He stole a glance at her, then continued to set his sights on the route ahead.
“What are you afraid of?”
He shot her a second glance, this one sharp and pointed. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, I respect your wishes and all, and I’ll keep my promise to let you be. But what’s your real reason for not wanting to perform in front of an audience? You certainly don’t seem to be the least bit nervous.”
Nervous? No. But he was worried. Worried about being found out. He liked his peaceful existence and didn’t want to jeopardize it by having anyone—especially Felicia—find out who he was, where he was and what he was doing.
As the soles of their boots crunched along the dusty sidewalk, he said, “Maybe I’m just afraid you’ll try to drag me out on tour, and I’m happy here in Brighton Valley with the quiet life I’ve chosen.”
If he did tell Carly who he really was, would she be content to let it go? Or would she hang on to his identity like a hungry Rottweiler with a meaty bone?
Even though she thought he was just a simple cowboy, she’d nearly pestered him to death.
He supposed he’d have to tell her—one of these days. But now didn’t seem to be the time. If he knew Carly, she’d use her mother’s contacts to look up Felicia, who hadn’t had a platinum hit since Ian had written his last song for her.
“I don’t really understand your refusal,” Carly added, “but like I said, I’ll respect it.”
“Thanks.”
They continued several blocks until they reached Town Square, with its park-like grounds and big clock tower in the center of the lawn.
The townsfolk who’d already gathered to wait for the festivities to start stood in intimate clusters or sat at the various rented tables and chairs that had been set up in the shade.
Near the courthouse, The Barbecue Pit, a local restaurant that catered parties and special events, had already brought in their old-style chuck wagon with its portable grill, setting off the aroma of wood smoke and sizzling beef, pork and chicken. The cooks, in their black cowboy hats and white aprons, turned the meat and brushed a spicy sauce over the top.
A stage had been set up, and several bands had begun to gather already.
“What time are we supposed to perform?” Ian asked Carly.
“I’m not sure, but there’s the mayor.” She pointed to Stu Jeffries, who was talking to Arthur Bellows, one of the town councilmen.
The mayor, who was dressed in his finest Western wear, looked especially short and squat next to the tall, slender councilman. But he seemed to puff up a wee bit taller when he spotted Ian and Carly approaching him.
“Excuse me,” Stu told Arthur. Then he turned to welcome Carly with a broad smile and shake hands with Ian.
“You have no idea how happy I’ll be to introduce you two when you get on stage today,” he said. “Your performance at the Stagecoach Inn rocked the house. How long have you been singing together?”
“Not long,” Ian said.
The mayor hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his spankin’ new jeans. “Well, kids, I’m here to tell you that the two of you are going to go far. My wife and I think you have what it takes to be stars.”
Carly nudged Ian with her elbow. “What did I tell you?”
He arched a brow, reminding her of their agreement.
Whether Stu knew it or not, this performance, and the dance later at the Grange Hall, was their last hurrah. After tonight, Ian would go back to his life on the Leaning R.
“Did you see the posters we put up around the county?” Stu asked.
Ian stiffened. “What posters?”
“Advertisements for today’s event.” The short mayor seemed to rise up an inch or two taller. “My wife, Marcia, took a photo of you two when you were pl
aying at the Stagecoach Inn the other night. You looked so natural together, and the shot we had was so clear, we used it to promote the dance tonight.”
Ian flinched. His photo was being plastered all over the county?
He nearly took Carly aside and chewed her out for not telling him about the mayor’s PR plan. But how clear could the picture be? The mayor and his wife had been seated in one of the booths, and the honky-tonk had been dark.
His initial concern eased and he began to relax. Besides, what were the chances that Felicia would see it—or get wind of it—and come looking for him?
Chapter Eight
Ian and Carly’s performance in Town Square went without a hitch. And by the time they wrapped up with the love song Ian had written about him and Carly, the crowd went wild, giving them a standing ovation.
As they took a final bow, Ian didn’t dare glance Carly’s way. He knew what he’d see in her expression. She had to be walking on clouds at the obvious appreciation and community validation. But the two of them had made a deal, and he expected her to honor it.
As they stepped off the stage, several people in the crowd swarmed around them, praising them and asking where they would perform next.
“Do you guys play for parties?” one man asked. “My wife and I are celebrating our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary next month, and I’d like to hire you.”
“No, I’m afraid this is a onetime thing.” Ian sensed Carly’s disappointment, but he wasn’t about to give in to her again.
A buxom, big-haired brunette dressed in tight jeans and a red silky blouse pressed a business card into Ian’s hand. “I’m Molly Carmichael with Star-Studded Nights Entertainment. If you two are looking for a manager, I’d like to talk to you. Maybe we can step over to one of those tables and have a little chat.”
“I’d be interested in talking to you,” Carly said. “But Ian isn’t looking for a manager.”
“That’s a shame.” The attractive brunette focused her baby blues on Ian. “Are you already represented?”