Be My Midnight Kiss

by Jean Brashear

  “Laken, get a grip. You’re barely pregnant, and you’re already in family court. You love Michael, right?” She huffed. “Why do I ask? You’re crackers crazy over the guy, and he’s so gone on you, little hearts and cupids practically swirl around his head when he looks at you. You’re not heading for a divorce.”

  “Because we’re not married yet,” Laken wailed.

  “Good grief. I’m not going to bitch-slap the pregnant lady,” Steph muttered. But somebody had to talk Laken off the ledge. She desperately wanted to call Laken’s closest friend, Ava Sinclair. Ava would know how to handle Laken.

  She just had to get Laken to book club, so Ava could take over. The five Book Babes had been friends for years.

  “Here.” She shoved a handful of tissues in front of Laken. “Go wash your face so we can rescue your car. Let’s swap it for mine, and I’ll drive.”

  “I don’t think I want to go,” Laken said from behind her tissue.

  Tough love was all Steph could figure out as a fix. Laken was generally exceedingly logical. If this was pregnancy, Steph could only thank her lucky stars she’d never caught the malady. “The alternative is that I call Michael.”

  Laken glared. “You suck.” There was little heat in the insult, though.

  Steph filled a glass with water and took it to her.

  Laken rolled her eyes and sighed. “You were supposed to pity me. And find me a way out.”

  “You don’t want a way out. You love that man to distraction. Anyway, you’d bite my head off if I tried to pity you.”

  “Once, sure. Maybe I’m different now.”

  Steph snorted. “Yeah. You’ve added self-pity to your badass repertoire. It doesn’t fit all that well, girlfriend. Do Sophia and Gordon know they’re about to be grandparents again?”

  “Nobody knows. It’s making Michael miserable not to be able to tell even his brother Ian. The two of them are thick as thieves now. Ian has taken to fatherhood like a duck to water, and Michael can’t wait to join him.”

  “Well, your secret’s out, and I’m not keeping it for you. You’re tougher than this, Laken. When’s the wedding?”

  Laken groaned. “Yesterday, if Michael had his way. I should have never gotten involved with a man who loves animals and babies,” she muttered.

  “I think that horse, as Ruby would say, is out of the barn.” Steph smirked because she knew Laken would take insult better than pity. “Now get off your soon-to-be-massive behind or we’ll be late.”

  Laken glared, her old spirit returning. “Have I told you lately that you stink as a girlfriend?”

  “Move it. Just because you’re knocked up is no excuse for being rude. Besides, this is great news.”

  “How can you say that?” For a second, Laken’s smile trembled.

  “Because.” Steph cast an evil grin on her friend. “I get your share of the wine for months and months and months.”

  “You’re a cold-hearted bitch, you know that?” But Laken was smiling again.

  “I know. That’s why you like me.” Steph ushered her friend out the door, breathing a sigh of relief that she would soon have reinforcements.

  “So have you met any hot guys we need to hear about?” Ava Sinclair asked Steph as the four of them present tonight got settled with wine. Two members were missing: Sylvie and her Gabe were in Europe scouting new talent for Sylvie’s art gallery and Luisa and her son Carlos were on a college-hunting trip.

  Only Laken didn’t have a glass. She’d used an early-morning conference call as an excuse, then glared at Steph to remain silent about the real reason.

  “I’m not in the market right now.” Steph responded after making a get-on-with-it face at Laken.

  Laken stared right back, and Steph stifled an eye-roll. She wished Laken would go ahead and tell them and take the heat off her, but…Laken would be Laken.

  “Why not?” Ava asked. “You’re single and gorgeous, newly moved from the back of beyond. Austin is full of eligible men, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t taken a vow of celibacy.”

  Ava would be surprised. Yes, Steph used to troll the waters, spending a fortune on clothes and stilettos to display her bombshell body, streaking her black hair with red for maximum impact, working out obsessively to keep her figure as she cut a swath through the men in her path and discarded them just as quickly.

  But that was the old Steph, the one who hadn’t nearly died. She wasn’t sure who the new Steph was.

  “Ava…” Ellie Preston, their hostess tonight, eased between them, a fresh wine bottle in hand. “Don’t badger Steph. You’ll hurt her feelings. More wine?”

  “Hard-nosed executives don’t have feelings, sweetie.” Ava grinned at Steph.

  Steph snickered.

  “Anyway, how are we old married ladies supposed to live vicariously through her if she plays her cards close to the vest?” Ava asked. “Don’t let us down, Steph.”

  “It’s her business,” Ellie protested, “and she doesn’t have to share the details of her sex life…unless she wants to?” Her eyebrows rose at the end of the sentence, along with her voice.

  Steph laughed and so did Laken. Even after five kids and a serious marital crisis, Earth Mother Ellie still possessed an innocent air that life couldn’t seem to erase. The room around them reflected her nurturing tendencies: bright splashes of color, soft cushions she’d upholstered, candles made by hand, needlework and thriving plants everywhere.

  “I’ve been settling in. I’ll get around to it.”

  Ava snorted. “Seriously? When you’re surrounded by all the eye candy?”

  Truth to tell, she’d barely noticed. She’d stayed in her loft and…worked. Read books. Worked some more. She was pathetic. Ava was right. She did need to get back on the horse.

  “I know someone you need to meet,” Ellie piped up. “There’s this amazing carpenter who works for Wyatt, Gavin O’Neill. He’s—”

  Steph flashed her palm. “Stop right there. Don’t even think about matchmaking.” She rested her head on one fist. “If only real men were like the ones you write in your romance novels, Ava.”

  “You’d never let them be the alpha male, girlfriend.”

  “Stop teasing her, Ava.” Ellie turned to Steph. “Gavin’s special. You’ll meet him at Thanksgiving.”

  “You’re going to Ellie’s gathering of lost souls at Thanksgiving?” Laken asked. “I’d hoped you’d join us. Ian and Scarlett and Ruby and Arnie are coming to our place this year.”

  And they’d be celebrating the baby. Plus a wedding. No thank you. “Jackson and Veronica invited me, too, but—”

  “We’ve got dibs on her, Laken. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Steph didn’t care if Laken did mind. She was happy to have an excuse not to be in Sweetgrass to compare the state of her life to all those around her. Even cranky Jeanette, the former waitress from Ruby’s café, had found her happily-ever-after with, of all people, country music superstar Walker Roundtree. She had an instant daughter in Walker’s orphaned niece Maisie, and she was already pregnant with his child. All that, and she’d started her own business on the town square, which was already doing very well.

  But Steph was not up for Ellie’s matchmaking. “Ellie, that’s not why I’m coming. I don’t want to be anyone’s blind date.”

  “It’s not a blind date, it’s a gathering of friends.”

  Lost souls, Laken mouthed, flashing an L sign with her hand. Losers like you.

  Watch it, or I’ll squeal, Steph mouthed back.

  Laken shut up.

  Steph returned her attention to Ellie. “Look, I know you mean well. I’m just not—that’s not what I want. I’m fine like I am.” She glanced desperately at Laken.

  Laken was only too aware that she had the perfect conversation-switcher. But she wasn’t ready to admit—

  What? Who was she fooling? She loved Michael with her last breath. The mere thought of life without him was unbearable.

  And having a baby with him was nea
rly as thrilling as it was terrifying.

  “Enough about Steph.” She cleared her throat. “I have news that tops anything of hers.”

  Steph looked like she wanted to hug her.

  “Oh?” Ava turned her attention from Steph.

  Ellie sat up straighter. “You and Michael are getting married!” She clapped her hands, then laughed. “Oh, dear. Should Sylvie get ready for the red and gold ruffles?” Once Laken had tormented their very stylish friend about making her attendants, especially the dignified Sylvie, wear flamenco dresses.

  Laken’s bravado faltered. “Maybe. Probably. I don’t know.”

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Ellie rose and started over.

  Laken held up a hand. “Don’t. Please. I—sympathy will only—” She looked at Steph. “I can’t say it. You tell them.”

  “Tell us what? Oh, no—is something wrong?”

  Steph smirked. “Only if you’re Laken. She has an amazing man crazy in love with her and she’s carrying his baby.”

  Ava laughed uproariously.

  Ellie shot Ava a glare. “Why on earth would you laugh?”

  Ava was shaking her head but still chuckling.

  Laken sighed. “Because she knows my goose is cooked. Michael is, as you can imagine, over the moon about the baby. And not about to let me stall any longer on getting married.”

  “Good for him.” Ellie nodded. “I have never been able to understand why you’ve dragged your feet.” Her brow wrinkled. “Are you unhappy about the baby, is that it?” Clearly the thought troubled her.

  “You mean because I’ll be the world’s worst mother?” Dread filled her. Tears burned her eyes. “What am I going to do?” she whispered. “I’ll be awful.”

  Ellie was by her side in an instant, an arm around her shoulders. “You will not. You’re wonderful with my kids.”

  “Because they’re not mine. I can’t ruin them. Anyway, we just play. There’s so much more than play to raising a child. Michael is this baby’s only hope. Maybe I’m doing him an injustice if I marry him.” Her faith in the institution of marriage was minimal at best. Her parents had delighted in making her the rope in their constant tug of war, and the best day of her life had been when they’d parted just before she turned eight. Not that they didn’t still use her as a weapon, but they’d moved to opposite coasts and now that she was grown, she could dodge them fairly easily most of the time.

  Some people were meant for the vine-covered cottage, the puppies and kittens and babies.

  She was not one of them.

  Other people got married because they couldn’t stand being alone. She had been fine on her own. She’d liked living on the edge, keeping her options open. Staying light on her feet.

  No shackles for her.

  Then along had come Michael Cavanaugh, with his big heart and strong shoulders—and the blasted man had made her love him. Made it so that she could never be happy again without him.

  Ellie patting her shoulder was well-meant but wasn’t helping. Steph looked completely out of her league.

  Laken looked across at Ava. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “Yeah. Stop being a drama queen.”

  Ellie gasped. “Ava!”

  At last Laken laughed. “Bitch. How come I like you so much?”

  “Because I’m the only one who calls you on your BS.” Ava grinned. “You think you’ll be finished with your pity party anytime soon?”

  “Maybe you should take my concerns seriously.” Laken pouted.

  Ava snorted. “Not a chance. Michael’s the best thing that ever happened to you, and you know it. You’ve been leading him on a merry dance and now you’re caught. What are you planning to do about it?”

  Laken stuck out her tongue. “Let Ellie pet me and make me feel better.”

  “Michael’s already pampering you too much. Get over yourself. That baby does deserve the best mother, so you’re going to have to get used to living in fear like the rest of us.”

  Laken frowned. “You’re never afraid. And Ellie is the perfect mom.”

  Ava and Ellie traded glances loaded with meaning.

  Then Ellie patted her shoulder and rose. “Motherhood is a constant rollercoaster of uncertainty, punctuated by terror, interrupted by brief moments of rapturous peace.” Her grin was filled with mischief. “Very brief.”

  “And you did this five times? On purpose?”

  Ellie’s smile was filled with joy. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. How about you, Ava?”

  Ava’s eyes went soft. “Mine are grown, but…yes. In a heartbeat.”

  Laken looked at Steph, who was shaking her head, mystified as Laken was.

  “You people are crazy. Anyone want to talk about the book?”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Nope. Time to plan a wedding. And a baby shower—yippee!” Ellie’s eyes glowed.

  Laken rolled her eyes but thanked her lucky stars for her friends.

  Gavin O’Neill rose with the chickens.

  Literally. His rooster was a walking alarm clock.

  The far East Austin neighborhood where he lived was an old one with large lots and a country feel to it. Plenty of room for his big garden, his chicken coop and the woodworking shop he’d made from a detached garage that had—like the house—been close to falling down when he’d bought the place for a song.

  And one day, room for a whole pack of children.

  His family still hoped he’d return to Tennessee, settle down with a nice country girl and raise a large family as most of his siblings were doing. He’d had the same intention once, that after he’d traveled the U.S. and satisfied his wanderlust, he’d return home only months after he’d left.

  That had been seven years ago. Instead he’d found Texas, a big, rowdy state that suited him like a second skin. He missed his family, yes, but he’d found home. Not The Woman yet, no, but that would come in time. He hadn’t finished the house in which he and she would raise babies, but he could picture her, nonetheless. She’d have curves, real ones, that gave a man whole handfuls of woman to love. She’d bake bread, sew, garden with him, appreciate the simple life and be a good partner to him. No, he wasn’t a throwback as some of his friends accused—he would appreciate and support her career if she had one, could teach her to bake bread if she didn’t know how or make it himself as he currently did. They would share values, however, and that would make all the difference—any rough edges could be smoothed out.

  He was looking for an Ellie, really. Wyatt Preston, the builder for whom he subcontracted trim carpentry, was married to the woman of Gavin’s dreams, the perfect mother and wife who had created a refuge where Wyatt could retreat at the end of a long day.

  Too bad she was taken, he thought, smiling. Ellie swore she was going to find the right woman for him, and he’d gladly accept her help. He believed in his heart the woman of his dreams was out there somewhere.

  He simply had to be patient.

  He was nothing if not a patient man.

  Michael Cavanaugh limped into the kitchen of the old farmhouse where his half-brother Ian’s great-grandparents had lived. The mare who’d been foaling in his brother’s barn tonight had taken issue with Michael’s hands being where she hadn’t wanted them, and he hadn’t moved quite quickly enough to escape the hoof she’d used to demonstrate her displeasure.

  It was hardly the first time he’d been injured on the job, and tonight he almost didn’t care that he’d have a bruise the size of a grapefruit on his right thigh.

  Because this foal belonged to him. He was still shaking his head over Ian’s announcement as they’d proudly watched the little guy get to his feet for the first time.

  “You can’t—” He’d been honestly dumbfounded.

  “Did you lie to me when you said you’d like to join me in the horse-breeding business?” Ian had asked.

  “No, but—”

  “Is this mare mine to do with as I please?”

  “Sure, but—”


  “Look, I know I was a total jerk to you when you first showed up, but we’re past that now. Ugly as you might be, I’m getting used to having a brother, and you being a built-in veterinarian for my stables—our stables—seems like a pretty good deal.”

  Michael snickered at the sibling abuse, then sobered. “You’ve built all this yourself.” Ian was a cattle rancher, but horses were his first love.

  “Ever since you came, you’ve refused to charge me for visits. I’d say that constitutes an investment.”

  “But—”

  “Do you want this or not?”

  Michael had never been an idiot. Well, except for his total inability to walk away from Laken Foster, troublesome as she was, resistant to the life he was determined to build with her. “Hell, yes, I want this. Ian—” He’d raked his fingers through his hair, then stuck out his hand. “I have some money saved up.”

  “Save it for your never-ending home improvement project. I’m telling you, you should have built from scratch like Scarlett and I did.” The couple had built their own home on Ian’s favorite spot on the Double Bar M Ranch, leaving the house where Ian had been raised for his father Gordon and their mother Sophia to have privacy, now that the two had been reunited so many years after Sophia had left Gordon and Ian behind.

  Michael could still recall his shock and fury that his mother had had a whole life before him, one that included this brother he’d never known about.

  But all that was water under the bridge now. The road to healing hadn’t been smooth, particularly for Ian and their mother, but Gordon’s insistence on taking the lion’s share of the blame for the long-ago parting had finally worn through Ian’s resistance like water on rock.

  The reconciliation had been aided and abetted by the deep love their mom bore for her first son. Her love had been shadowed by guilt and grief for so many years, but the birth of Ian’s first child, Georgia Sophia, had forged a link that grew stronger by the day.

  “I’ll get the house finished one of these days. If we’re going to be partners, I want to know I’ve contributed.”