by Tori Kayson
Beside him, Summer gasped and reached for Rachel. Chuckling, he scanned the items. A couple packs of his favorite mints. “Mmm. Thank you, sweetheart.” He popped one into his mouth.
Next, he waved a gift card in the air. His favorite coffee shop. “Awesome!”
“Ew!” Rachel wrinkled her nose when he unrolled a new pair of boxers.
He waggled his eyebrows and stuffed those back in the sock. “Hey. Everybody needs new unders.” He held up the next item. “And a toothbrush.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Guess we know what’ll be in ours, then.”
“What?” Rachel asked.
Laughter filled the bedroom. Summer patted the mattress and Logan joined them on the bed.
“It’s getting a little crowded in here,” Mav joked, but he loved their Saturday morning routine when the kids piled onto the bed.
“You just wait. It’s about to become even more…” Summer’s words faded as she turned away to brush wisps of Rachel’s blonde hair back from her face.
Even more…crowded? “Yeah. They get big fast, don’t they?” Too fast.
Summer nodded and bit her bottom lip. Blue eyes sparkled with humor and something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint. But he would. Tonight. When they were alone again, this time behind a locked door.
“Daddy! You missed this one.” Rachel handed him a plastic wand, tumbled off the bed, and then scampered down the hallway.
“Uh oh.” Who knew what trouble she’d get into unsupervised.
“I’ll get her,” Logan offered.
“Thanks, son.” Mav settled back against the headboard and held up the last gift. What was it?
He blinked and inspected it close up, but sleep deprivation still blurred his vision. He’d crawled into bed late and hadn’t resisted his wife’s warm body and welcoming arms.
“We’re about to do it all over again.” Summer cuddled against him, sliding a palm from his chest to his waist.
Desire rocketed to throb through his veins. “I’m up for it if you are, sweetheart,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. Oh yeah.
“Do what, mama?” Logan asked.
“And maybe not.” Sighing, Mav pulled back the comforter and slid his legs over the edge of the bed.
Rachel breezed into the bedroom, a plastic cup of juice in each hand. Orange liquid sloshed over the sides and dripped off her hands. “I bwot juice, guys.”
“Thank you, honey. That’s very thoughtful of you,” he said, relieving his daughter of her load.
“Good job, Rachel. Thank you.” Summer had walked around to his side of the bed, her face sparkling with amusement. She sipped the juice. Underneath her nightgown, her breasts swelled. Plump—
Last night, she’d been all soft one minute, then hungry the next, devouring…wait a minute!
We’re about to do it all over again.
He held up the stick again. Finally deciphered the lines. His jaw dropped. Wonder and joy exploded like fireworks in his chest. “We are?”
Summer’s smile widened. She nodded.
“Woo-hoo!” Mav embraced his wife and twirled her around the room.
“What’s going on?” Logan asked.
“We’re having another baby!” Mav said, smiling as he lowered Summer’s legs to the floor. He bent over and rubbed her belly, kissed it. “I can’t wait for you to meet your big brother and sister.”
Logan groaned and slapped his forehead.
Laughing, Mav stretched and refocused on his wife, all the love in his heart overflowing into his expression. He kissed her lips this time. “I love you, sweetheart. You couldn’t have made me happier. What a wonderful Christmas gift.”
“I love you, too, my part time cowboy.” Her husky tone tickled his jaw as she wound her arms around his neck, her sigh a contented sound.
“I thought I was your cowboy?” Logan asked.
Summer smiled, but never looked away from Mav’s face. “You’re both my cowboys.”
“Can I be a cowboy, too?” Rachel’s voice sounded far off.
Mav’s gaze jerked around the room. “Where’d she go?”
“I’m in here.”
The closet. Probably trying on his boots.
Summer’s eyes sparkled back at him. She patted her belly as if warning him.
“We’re going to need a bigger house with a privacy fence. A security system. And those special deadbolts I told you about…”
Enjoy a peek at Roping the Daddy
Coming later in 2016
1
“That went over well, don’t you think?”
Kierra Kester cringed at the sarcasm in her brother’s deep voice and peered into the house.
Crocodile skin boots disappeared onto the second floor landing. Sterling Winsome, editor for The Amazing West magazine, headed down the hall to his assigned room.
The man surely couldn’t have heard Fargo, could he? Kester Ranch needed the publicity.
The screen door slammed behind her as she stepped further onto the front porch. Fargo hadn’t been thrilled with their idea of turning the ranch into a special events venue, but the extra income boost from this venture had allowed them to make the last balloon payment. The one that had loomed large and ominous like an approaching winter storm since their father’s unexpected passing. They could all finally breathe easy again. For a few months, at least. Until the next one.
“Better than I expected, but sheesh, could you hold it down a little? Your voice carries.”
Her older brother’s lips flattened, but he must’ve picked up on the hint of venom in her tone because he nodded.
Nerves tightened and bunched in her belly. Fargo wasn’t the only Kester who had worked long hours to pull the ranch out of debt. Since opening, their mother had slaved over a hot oven, hunched over a mountain of dirty dishes, and loaded countless carts with groceries to feed their four hundred plus guests. Fargo might not approve of their idea to promote the ranch as a premier destination, but surely he wouldn’t sabotage this week? Not when they had so much invested. Time. Money. And a lifetime of her dreams hinged on the possibility of Sterling Winsome’s magazine feature.
“Sorry. It’s just that he seems…”
“Full of himself?” Kierra’s hand quivered as she clutched the tablet to her chest and hiked a leg over the slumbering Australian Koolie duo to settle on the swing. Black coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup to sting her hand. Wincing, she extended her arm to keep it from spilling on the tablet.
Fargo took the cup from her and held it until she situated herself. “You all right?”
She shouldn’t be so hard on him. He was only looking out for her, always the protective older brother. She nodded and dried her hand on her jeans. Set the mug on the side table. “I will be. Thanks.”
Worry etched twin furrows between Fargo’s brows. His marriage to Darby might have added a bounce to his steps, but as the eldest Kester sibling, he always worried about the ranch. As if it was his sole responsibility.
She touched his sleeve. “Relax, Fargo. We made the last payment, didn’t we?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. We’re all in this together. We’ll make this work. You’ll see.”
He grimaced but covered it with a flash of dimples. “I know we will because you’re the best events planner in Texas. But, Kierra, you and mom don’t need to—”
“It’s all right, Fargo. Really. I can deal with Winsome for a week.” Or longer, if necessary. He might be full of himself, but he wasn’t bad to look at. Even in the sports jacket and crazy expensive boots.
Fargo’s chin hitched, and he glared at the door. “Maybe, but he better not order you and Mom around like lackeys—”
“How about we go over the details?” She powered on the tablet, hoping to stave off her brother’s usual rant about the ranch overflowing with too many people…
People who have no business being here.
She didn’t mind the rant or the guests. But Fargo loathed the extra people
at the ranch. And he conveniently forgot that’s how he met his wife, Darby.
“—and he needs to ditch the jacket.”
“True.”
“And those ridiculous boots. He’ll be suing us the first time he steps in—”
“I sent everyone the list of what to pack. If he disregards, that’s his choice.”
Fargo arched a thick eyebrow.
The all-white feline stray she’d adopted a few years ago wandered up on the porch. One green and one blue eye took in a lazy sweep of the scene before Sassy hopped on Kierra’s lap.
Anticipating the move, Kierra lifted the tablet to her chest, but Fargo jerked back. “Man, that cat freaks me out.”
She chuckled. Probably why she liked the cat so much. For the entertainment factor.
“So, how many hands will be going with us?” she asked, moving the animal so she could make notes on the tablet. They spent the next few minutes hammering out details for the mock cattle round up and drive to promote the ranch.
“Oh. I forgot to mention that I hired a chopper cowboy.” Fargo scraped his whiskered jaw.
“Really? That’s awesome! A chopper will certainly help.” She tapped in more notes.
“I thought so too. The chopper can chase some of those stubborn calves out of the woods. And he’s especially valuable.”
“Why’s that?”
“Not just a pilot. He’s also an EMT and a cook.”
“A cook?” Her voice squeaked. How could her brother forget to tell her something so newsworthy?
“Figured you’d be happy about that.”
“Happy? Letting me off the hook feeding this crowd? I’m over-the-moon thrilled!” Smiling, she keyed in more notes. A cook and a cowboy on hand for emergencies? Wow!
“He’ll be staying in the shed tonight,” Fargo said.
“The shed?” Surprised, she lifted her head from the tablet, but her brother didn’t meet her gaze.
“Yeah. He can’t move into his new place until we get back. I figured he could stay there since Uncle Chips is out on the range right now and the house’ll be full.”
She chewed her lip. “Makes sense, I guess. But it’s kind of weird, somebody else staying in it.” The converted hen house had been Uncle Chips’s place since he moved here, homeless and broken when she’d been just a kid. Now their foreman, he’d really turned his life around, and she couldn’t imagine the ranch without him.
But then, a couple years ago, she never would’ve imagined the ranch without her father. Or life, in general.
A fresh wave of sorrow rose up, but she refused to give in to the painful sting in her eyes even for a minute. She had no time to flip through the old photo albums or rummage in the cedar box of Dad’s things. She could do that later. After the roundup. After they earned the bulk of the last balloon payment due on their loan.
Fargo scoffed. “Not any weirder than a bunch of people we don’t know staying in our house.”
“You keep forgetting you have your own house now.” Smiling, she shook her head and glanced at the enclosed pasture where Fargo’s horse munched fresh grass.
The October air was still and warm, almost stagnant. Sassy’s purr competed with the soft snores of the hounds and Fargo’s sudden loud gulp, as if he swallowed something huge. He tugged the hat off his head and rammed fingers through his short hair.
What was bothering him now? She studied her brother over the rim of the mug. Probably just nervous that the ranch would be inundated with people before sunset.
The coffee warmed her, nervousness and grief giving way to excitement. Looked like they had all their bases covered for the big event, and now this good news of a helicopter cowboy. Sterling would surely be impressed with such detail.
Goosebumps of pleasure prickled her skin. The magazine feature would lure even more people to the ranch, jamming their calendar with reservations for weddings, reunions, and corporate retreats. Their ranch would become known as a premiere destination.
Dreams did come true! She sighed, contentment bubbling from her belly.
“So Big Brother, how’d you nab a chopper cowboy, an EMT, and a cook? I thought we’d hired all of the available cowboys around Coldwater Ridge.” She grinned when Sassy wandered onto Fargo’s lap, but her brother immediately shooed the cat off the swing. “What’d you do? Call in a favor from your buddy in Montana?”
“Yeah, um. About that…” Fargo’s mouth kept moving but nothing came out. Finally, he cleared his throat and clamped his jaw, rubbed a stain on his jeans.
One of the dogs lifted his head, ears alert. The other barked and bounced up on all fours, legs scrambling to gain traction. Both dogs raced down the steps, paws thundering.
A chopper’s blades thwopped from over the crest, coming closer.
“That must be him now.” She tossed her tablet on the table and jumped up.
“Kierra…” Fargo’s voice stopped her at the top of the stairs.
“For doing such an awesome job snagging this cowboy, you’re moving awful slow. You coming?”
His mouth opened and closed again. Huffing, he slid his hat low over his face and hauled himself from the swing. “Yeah. I’m coming.” He muttered something she didn’t understand, but followed her to the middle of the yard.
She pressed a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the dirt and debris the chopper kicked up. It circled a couple times, and then lowered to land in a vacant spot near the barn. The rotors slowed then finally stopped spinning, and the chopper went silent.
“Kierra.” Fargo tugged at her arm. “About the new hand—”
She twisted to look at her brother, impatience moving her legs toward the chopper like a magnet. “It can wait, can’t it? I’d like to meet this cowboy. He’s an angel, sent to rescue me from cooking for this crowd.” Relief gushed through her limbs. She could handle her own in the kitchen, but out on the range? Another hand to help would certainly fill in the gaps. “This new hand better watch out. I’m so happy I just might kiss him!”
Alarm flashed across Fargo’s face. Comical.
Laughing, she turned around and caught sight of the pilot as he exited the chopper. Hair the color of freshly ground nutmeg. Cropped tight on the sides and longer on the top but flattened from the headgear. Heavy stubble shadowed firm jaws. Hawk?
No. It couldn’t be. Her belly clenched. She rammed a fist against her gaping mouth. No! Not when she’d finally gotten to a point in her life where a few days passed without thinking of her high school sweetheart. Of what he’d done. Where he was now.
If his son looked like him.
Stop it! Her mind was only playing tricks, right? Stiffening her shoulders, she braved another glance.
The cowboy sported a lean runner’s build, not an ounce of fat. Denims covered long, muscular legs. Real boots, the kind cowboys who knew their way around a ranch wore, dusty and scuffed and lived in, moved with easy grace across the grass. Sunglasses hid the silver eyes she suspected would be underneath.
No! No! NO!
“I’m sorry, Kierra,” Fargo said.
“Sorry?” It was her turn to gulp. Her legs turned to jelly and she lurched to a stop. Barely registered her brother’s fingers as they circled her arm, probably the only reason she still stood. Her jaw hung low, her heart pinching, aching. The smile contorted into a painful wince.
It couldn’t be!
“I tried to warn you.” Fargo’s breath heated her ear.
The cowboy looked their way, flicked his hat once in acknowledgement then hustled to help a passenger disembark.
Fury burned its way up her neck. How dare the man come back to Coldwater Ridge! And waltz onto their property no less! Her hands curled into fists. She stomped the ground.
Angel? Had she called this cowboy an angel?
Correction. The devil himself had just landed on their property.
****
So much for second chances.
Ouch. Hawk’s pulse tweaked at the horror on Kierra’s face. Had
n’t Fargo told her the news before now?
He stowed the headgear and shoved a hand through his hair. His huff lost in the engine’s shutdown, Hawk unbuckled and stepped from the cab.
Kierra. His high school sweetheart. The only woman who’d ever made him feel good about himself and where he’d come from. Who’d planted dreams of forever in his heart.
That’s all they’d been, though. Dreams. And for the last decade, that’s what he’d relegated her to…a dream.
Hawk Rowe stole another hasty look. That’s all it took to make out the shock that held her legs hostage and posture rigid. Was Fargo holding her up? Or holding her in place to prevent her from launching an all-out attack?
He jerked his gaze away. He deserved the attack. Maybe then, he could move on, leave her and all those fairytale delusions in the past.
Hawk forced his rebellious legs into submission. Slow at first, but he picked up speed as he rounded to the passenger side of the chopper. Maybe if she caught a glimpse of Cody, she wouldn’t be so quick to order them off the property. Wishful thinking. One look at his nine-year-old son and that nightmarish evening would be staring her right in the face. He’d suspected that Kierra wouldn’t be happy to see him, but his new boss could have at least warned her before Hawk descended on their ranch and forced himself back into her life.
“Wait for me, Cody.” Protection for his son? Or for himself?
“Sure, Dad.”
Hawk buried his head behind the seat, sifting through the belongings inside their packs. Stalling. All for another glance at the gal who’d never relinquished her iron grip on his heart.
Kierra hadn’t moved. Intensity brimmed from her face. If anything, she’d grown more beautiful, stunning actually. Petite and downright skinny before, a few extra pounds fit her like a glove. Her chest swelled, straining against a snowy white cotton shirt with every angry breath. Her tanned skin glowed, and thick, dark lashes framed coffee colored eyes. Expressive eyes that used to set his heart —and every other part of his body— on fire. But, he was long past that hormonal phase.
Becoming a teen parent kinda did that to a man. Made him wake up and realize what was important in life. What was lasting.