“Yes,” Bridget answered.
“Well, I did, and now those boxes you left are sitting in my bedroom. They take up a lot of room, luv.” Some of his words were in Irish, some in English.
“And you don’t want your bedroom all junked up when you bring your ladies home, do you?” she asked.
“That’d be the honest-to-God truth, right there. I can’t keep them forever, so…”
“I’ll be home in no more than six weeks to get them out of your way,” she said.
“I’m holdin’ you to it,” Sean said. “But there’s this other thing. I kind of told your nana that I’d take care of you. I believe that she thought I meant as in marriage, and I let her believe I meant that so she could die easy. I hope she didn’t say anything like that to you.”
“She didn’t, and darlin’, you’re more like a little brother to me than a boyfriend,” she said.
“Thank God!” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t want you to come home with that on your mind. It will be years before I find a woman and settle down.”
“And when you do, all the women in Ireland will be sad,” she teased.
“I hope so.” He laughed. “I kind of thought maybe you had a thing for me at one time.”
“I love you, Sean, but like I said, only as a friend.”
“Praise the Lord!”
She could imagine him crossing himself, and then kissing his fingertips and blowing a kiss toward heaven.
“I have worried over this call for days. I love you, Bridget, but you and Deidre were like big sisters to me. I’m so glad we’ve got it settled,” he said.
“When you do fall in love, don’t get in a hurry. Let things go slow so you can be sure if it’s really love.” She shivered and glanced back at Laela, who was busy chewing on her teddy bear’s ear.
“This comin’ from the girl who went to bed with a Yank the night she met him without even knowing his last name. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when you figured out he was Iris Callahan’s grandson,” Sean argued.
“It’s comin’ from a woman who’s already walked a mile in a pair of shoes that hurt her feet. Be careful and don’t rush into anything. Maverick and I are barely friends, so don’t go getting your knickers in a bunch,” she said.
“Got to go, and, honey, I’m not wearing knickers so they can’t get in a bunch.” Sean laughed. “I’m taking a woman named Kelly for a picnic tomorrow down to the edge of the river. It’s my day off.”
“In the winter?” Bridget gasped. There was no way in hell that she would consent to a picnic in the weather she was looking at right then.
“Cold weather means snuggling up under the quilt in my car.” He chuckled.
“You need to burn that quilt,” Bridget told him.
“My sister gave me a brand-new one. I’ll retire the old one on the day I get married, but that will be years from now,” he said. “I’ll call again in a few days.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Bridget told him and ended the call. She looked over at Laela and said, “Let’s go home now. I mean to the ranch. Jesus, what’s the matter with me? A person can’t have two home countries any more than they can ride two horses with one arse.”
She drove even slower, now that the roads were getting a bit slick. There was no problem with getting home in time to make dinner for Maverick, even at the speed she was driving. She’d put a beef stew into the slow cooker early that morning, and there was a rising of bread on the countertop. In one hour, she could easily have a meal on the table, so it wasn’t necessary to go fast. She’d left the main road and was traveling on the farm road when a deer ran out in front of her. She stomped on the brakes, swerved to the right, and missed the animal, but she went into a spin and wound up with the truck nose down in a ditch. No matter how hard she tried to back out of it, the wheels just kept spinning.
“Well, bloody hell!” she fumed as she took out her phone and called Maverick.
Chapter Ten
Maverick had just unloaded the first bag of feed from the back of his truck when his phone rang. He saw that it was Bridget and answered with, “Knight-in-shining-armor service. What can I help you with?”
“If you’ll bring that white horse you talked about and a rope, you can pull this truck out of a ditch. I had to swerve to miss hitting a deer,” she said.
His heart almost jumped out of his chest. “Are you hurt? Is the baby all right?”
“We’re fine,” she answered. “I hit the brakes and the truck wound up in this bloody ditch. You’ll find us at the end of the lane leading up to the ranch.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes with the tractor. We can pull the truck out easier with it.” Maverick ended the call and ran to fire up the tractor. Paxton had done something like that in high school to avoid hitting a dog. While he was swerving all over the road two wheels had dropped into the ditch, and his truck was just about upside down. He’d driven the truck with a smashed fender until he had saved enough money to get it fixed.
Bridget had gotten out of the vehicle and was standing beside it. The cold wind whipped her hair across her face and it was evident by her expression that she was really pissed.
Maverick hopped down out of the tractor and yelled, “Knight-in-shining-armor truck towing is here to rescue you.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She shot a dirty look his way.
He’d seen her happy and sad, but damn, she was the cutest ever when she was thoroughly pissed. “But darlin’, if I don’t identify myself, how will you know that I’m the person you called to help you.”
“Do you want a burned dinner?” she threatened.
“No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “Seriously, are you and Laela really all right? No bumps, no bruises.”
“Just my pride,” she admitted. “And Laela giggled the whole time like she was on a carnival ride. I’d slowed down to make the turn and did a couple of loops on the slick road, then went nose down in the ditch. I hope I didn’t hurt the truck.”
“It doesn’t look like there’s even a dent. There’s mud on the back fenders, but a little water will take care of that in no time. The important thing is that you and Laela aren’t hurt,” he said. “Just get back in the truck while I hook up a chain and pull the truck out. You want me to drive you to the house then? I can always walk back down here and get the tractor after we have dinner.”
“You get me out of here, and I’ll drive to the house,” she protested.
He took a step back. “Get-back-on-the-horse philosophy, huh?”
“Something like that,” she told him.
“When I honk, put it in reverse and give it a little gas,” Maverick told Bridget. “Not too much. Just ease it out slow and let the tractor do most of the work.”
She did exactly what he told her to do, and in only a few minutes, the truck was back on the road. He jumped out of the tractor and found only mud and grass stuck to the front bumper. Other than that, it looked fine.
He knocked on the window, and she fumbled around until she found the button to roll it down. Laela was rubbing her little eyes in the backseat, and Bridget’s knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly.
“Sit still while I get the chain undone. I’ll honk when you can start toward the house, and I’ll follow along behind you,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Reckon this will get me that kiss you owe me?” he teased.
“Maybe.” She smiled as the window went up.
He whistled Blake Shelton’s “Honey Bee” all the way to the tractor. The whole ordeal must have scared her more than she was ready to admit because she drove up the lane at less than five miles an hour. Maverick parked the tractor right beside the truck. While she got the baby out, he gathered up the bags of groceries in the floor of the backseat and carried them inside the house.
Bridget had set the baby on the floor, but she was whining and clinging to her mama’s leg. Maverick scooped her up into his arms and patted
her on the back.
“What’s the matter with the baby girl?”
Bridget threw a bibbed apron over her head, wrapped the strings round her waist, and tied them in the front, just like she’d done at the pub. “All of the above,” she answered for the baby. “She didn’t get her nap and she didn’t get her midmorning bottle of milk, so she’s tired and hungry. After we eat, I’ll try to get her down for a little afternoon nap to make up for it.”
“What can I do to help hurry things up?” Maverick asked.
“Holding her is a big help.” Bridget removed the lid from the slow cooker, and the delicious aroma of beef stew filled the kitchen. She filled a big crock bowl with it and set it in the middle of the table. Then she brought a loaf of homemade bread from the pantry and a round of sharp cheddar from the refrigerator. She cut thick slices of the bread and put them into a basket, then stuck a knife in the top of the cheese so they could serve themselves.
“That all looks good. What’s for dessert?” Maverick asked. “Not that I care if we have dessert with every meal, but if we don’t, then I think you should at least give me a sweet kiss.”
“Dream on, cowboy,” she said. “There is a nice banana pudding in the refrigerator. I made it this morning before I went to the rehab center.”
* * *
Cooking. Cleaning. Ranching. Taking care of a baby. Doing whatever Iris wanted her to do. Was this all there was to life? Bridget wondered. Now that she was a mother, did she never get to do anything exciting again?
“I was thinking…” Maverick danced around the floor with the baby.
“I remember when that kind of got us into…” she started.
He grabbed her by the waist with his free arm, pulled her to his side, and sang Josh Turner’s “Your Man” as he danced her and Laela around the room. The baby squealed with laughter, and Bridget couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. Maverick was such a fun-loving person, and even if they never got past the flirting and friendship stage, he was opening up a whole new adventure for her.
Maybe I’ll stay in Texas and get a job here, she thought, then shook her head. That’s the craziest notion I’ve ever had. Who’d be there to take care of Nana’s and Deidre’s graves? Ireland is my home and always will be.
“What were you going to say when my thinking kind of got us into trouble?” He spun her one more time, brought her around to face him, and brushed a kiss across her lips. “That’s not the kiss you owe me.”
“No, it’s not. When you get that one, steam will come out your ears,” she said.
“Like in Ireland?” His gaze bored into hers.
“Yes, cowboy, like in Ireland,” she said as she broke free and went to the refrigerator for ice.
Laela wiggled her head and shoulders for more. Maverick began to sing “The Drunk Scotsman.”
“Good God in heaven!” Bridget jerked the tea towel from the countertop and snapped it at his butt. “That is no song to be singing to my baby girl. Where’d you learn that song anyway?”
“From my grandpa.” Maverick laughed.
“So if your grandpa was Irish, why would he sing a Scottish song?” Bridget asked.
“He said it used to make Granny madder’n a wet hen after a tornado when he sang it, so when they had a fight, he’d sing it until she got in a good mood. She always argued that she wasn’t in a good mood, but that she pretended to be just so he would shut up.”
“I used to play that song on the jukebox at the pub when things got boring.” She smiled at some of the memories of those wild nights. “I don’t intend to tell Laela those stories, though.”
“Or the one about the night a cowboy came into your pub and…”
She put a finger over his lips. “That’s enough about that.”
Bridget dipped out some of the potatoes and carrots to cool for Laela, and then bowed her head. Maverick said grace and then ladled up stew in Bridget’s bowl before filling his own.
Maverick dug into his food, and Bridget fed Laela in between bites. She couldn’t get that silly notion about staying in Texas out of her mind. Maverick had said that Iris had contacts everywhere. Could Iris help her find a job and recommend a good baysitter? Was such a thing even a possibility? Or had the thought come to her because she’d been excited when Maverick had danced her around the kitchen floor? Was she just yearning for the past days of fun? Questions and more questions, but none of them had answers.
Everyone has to grow up someday. Excitement is just found in different ways. Those had been her grandmother’s words. Two years ago Nana had told Bridget that it was time for her to settle down. “You and Deidre have had your fun. If you don’t start a family soon, you’ll be raising kids when you have gray hair.”
“But where’s the excitement in being married? It’s the same thing every day,” Bridget had said. “I’m not ready to give up my good times.”
Today, I think I understand what you were talking about, Nana.
Chapter Eleven
Maverick had just nailed the last piece of sheet metal on the barn roof and climbed down the ladder to the ground. He pulled off his work gloves and shoved them into his hip pocket, and checked the time on his phone. He had thirty minutes to get cleaned up and make it to the rehab center or Granny would be fussing at them for being late. He hit the door in a run, spoke to Bridget and Laela as he passed by them, and went straight to the bathroom. He took the quickest shower he’d ever taken, ran a razor over his face, and slapped on some shaving lotion. His jeans needed to be ironed, but he didn’t have time to do that. He grabbed his coat on the way out the bedroom door and was putting it on when he reached the foyer.
Bridget pointed at the clock above the hall tree. “She doesn’t like for folks to be late.”
“Don’t I know it?” Maverick picked up the diaper bag with one hand and opened the door with the other. “You should have had to grow up in this house. I thought for sure the devil would pop up out of the earth and drag me straight to hell if I was ever late to anything, church or even just dinner.”
Bridget nodded knowingly. “Nana used to fuss about one of her friends who was always late to everything. She’d say that Birdie was going to be late to her own funeral. I wonder where that saying came from. I mean, how can someone be late to their own funeral?”
Maverick settled the baby into her car seat and then helped Bridget into the truck. “Well, if they are, maybe St. Peter won’t let them through the pearly gates.”
“That sounds like something Iris and Nana would threaten us with, for sure.” Bridget nodded.
They made it to the rehab center with a minute to spare. Iris was so happy to see them and the baby that she didn’t even point to the clock.
“Don’t you look all pretty?” Bridget smiled.
“I won’t gripe about these damned housecoats anymore, not after wearing hospital gowns that leave your whole backside naked,” Iris told her. “Give me that baby, and y’all sit down so we can visit. Tell me what all happened today.”
“I slid into a ditch on the way home from our last visit,” Bridget said.
“Were you or this baby hurt?” Iris began to check Laela for cuts or bruises.
“No, and the pickup is fine,” Maverick said. “I rescued her and the truck just needs a good washing. She went into the ditch at the same place Pax did when he was in high school.”
“Oh, Lawd!” Iris put her hands over her eyes. “You two boys like to have put me in the grave more than once.”
Maverick remembered being scared out of his mind when Paxton came walking into the house that night. He looked like he’d been mud wrestling. The memory was funny now, but that night he thought that Paxton might have to spend a few days out in the tack room until Granny cooled down.
“And your grandson sang ‘The Drunk Scotsman’ to Laela,” Bridget tattled.
“Don’t throw me under the bus to save your skin.” Maverick chuckled. “That ain’t no way to treat me after I dragged you out of that ditch and then da
nced around in the kitchen with you so you’d feel better.”
Bridget’s emerald-green eyes twinkled, reminding Maverick of the way they looked when he first met her in the pub. He’d dance with her more often if that’s what it took to put a little sparkle back in her eyes.
Iris shook her finger at him. “Mav Callahan, I should take a switch to your arse. That’s not a fit song for a lady’s ears, much less for a baby’s. If your grandpa was here, I’d give him a solid piece of my mind for ever teaching you boys that rowdy song.”
Maverick shot a dirty look toward Bridget. “Tattletale.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “That’s a horrible song.”
“Don’t you two start fighting,” Iris scolded. “I’ve been waiting all day for this visit. And besides, y’all know that I will find out everything anyway, so you might just as well tell me when something happens.”
Maverick just smiled. There was one thing she didn’t know, and he damn sure had no intentions of telling her about his last night in Ireland.
* * *
It wasn’t quite time for them to leave when Bridget noticed that Iris was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. Poor old darling was used to having her naps at home, and here they probably kept her in therapy most of the day.
Laela began to fret, and not even Maverick could make her happy.
“We should be going. Laela has been off her schedule all day,” Bridget said.
“Twice a week isn’t enough.” Iris yawned. “Next week you can come see me on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I’ll want to hear all about how the Christmas program is coming along.”
Bridget loved Christmas and everything about it, so she didn’t mind doing anything. “Just to be straight,” she said, “we’ve got Friday night at the church doing props this week, and Saturday we go to the nursing home here in town, and back to the church that evening.”
“Yep, you got it, and then to the Rockin’ B Ranch Christmas party after church on Sunday,” Iris said. “And you need to be sure to have plenty of Christmas cookies on hand. Alana will be helping on Friday and Saturday at the church, and she always brings snacks, so you can take cookies.” Bridget’s head was starting to spin with all the details.
Christmas with a Cowboy: Includes a bonus novella (Longhorn Canyon Book 5) Page 11