The Maverick's Baby-In-Waiting (Montana Mavericks: The Lonelyhearts Ranch Book 2)

by Melissa Senate

  “So how’d you get him to sell?” his father asked, taking a sip of his scotch.

  “I didn’t try to get him to do anything. In fact, I told him that when I decided on a new location for the center, I’d like to name it after his little girl. And then he told me I could have his land if I truly would name the center after his daughter. We shook hands and that was that.”

  His father took another long sip of his drink and glanced out the window. He was quiet for a moment, then said, “That does sound like something Davison would have done. He always put people before business. Old fool.” Anger etched into the lines on his face, his father seemed lost in thought, but then his expression softened into what Jensen was pretty sure was sorrow.

  Here it was. The opening Jensen had been waiting for for years now. “Dad, what happened between you and Davison?”

  His father sat down in a wing chair by the window with a heavy sigh. “He told me how to live my life and I told him where he could shove it.”

  “What was his advice?”

  Walker the Second lifted his chin. “Some nonsense about putting my kids first or I’d lose them all.”

  Ah. Now Jensen was beginning to understand. The prophecy had stung because it both felt possible and had come true.

  “He kept at it and I got sick of hearing it,” his father said, his voice tinged with anger. “We had one hell of an argument, the kind where you say things you can’t take back.” He got a faraway look in his eyes and turned his attention toward the window again. “I told him to leave me the hell alone and stormed off. That was the last time I spoke to him.”

  “Oh, Dad. You must have been heartsick.”

  His father stared at Jensen, the famous pointer finger jabbing in his direction once again. “No one tells me how to live or raise my boys.” He glanced at Jensen, and if Jensen wasn’t mistaken, his eyes were glistening. “But he was right, wasn’t he? I’ve lost my sons one by one. Now you. I’m sure Gideon is next.”

  Jensen walked over to his father’s chair and knelt beside it. “Dad, you haven’t lost any of us. We’ve all been trying so hard to make you understand that Walker, Hudson and Autry are happy. They’ve settled down, found their life’s partners. They’re happy, Dad. That should be all you need to know.”

  “And you?” he asked. “You don’t seem happy to me. Maybe this pregnant woman isn’t the one.”

  “No one is,” Jensen said, standing up and crossing his arms against his chest. “I’m not meant to settle down. No wife, no kids. I make deals. That’s what I do.”

  “So you don’t love this Mikayla woman?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Jensen said. “I’m not cut out for parenthood. She’s about to have a baby.”

  “Who told you you weren’t cut out for parenthood?” his dad asked.

  “I just know I’m not.” Because I’m your son. You raised me this way. And I’ve taken the reins and run with them.

  “Well, Jensen, you’re dead wrong. I think you’d make a great father.”

  Jensen whirled around. “What?”

  “You’re one of the best men I know,” he added. “Like I said, you’ve got a tenderness in you—kids like that. You’re kindhearted. Patient. You tell good jokes. You’re smart. And you’re loyal and give a thousand percent of yourself to whatever you do. Sounds like the makings of a good father to me.”

  Jensen thought his legs might give out—that was how surprised he was.

  “I’d like to help out with the crisis distribution center,” Walker the Second said. “Maybe I can donate funding for a certain aspect. And perhaps we can commemorate a bridge to Davison.”

  A bridge. Yes. Davison would love that. And so would Jensen.

  His father stood up. “You do whatever feels right to you about Mikayla, Jensen. If you love that woman, go get her. If not, then I’ll see you on the plane tomorrow morning. But I’m sorry I’ve been so controlling. I’m going to apologize to your brothers now. And their wives. And then I’m going to give your mother her anniversary present.”

  Jensen might have passed out from shock if he wasn’t so interested in knowing what his father had bought his mother. “What is it?”

  “A gold heart locket with five tiny picture frames that flip open. She can put photos of her boys in there. I know she’d like that. I have you to thank for making me realize I should buy her something. If you hadn’t asked what I’d gotten her on the phone a few weeks back, I probably wouldn’t have bought anything.” He shook his head. “I’m a real piece of work, aren’t I?”

  Jensen wrapped his dad in a bear hug. “Were. Sounds like you’re on your way to being a great husband and the dad we always wanted. Happy anniversary.”

  His father hugged back him—hard—and then Jensen watched him leave the room and go up to Walker, taking him aside. He saw the shock on his brother’s face when their father hugged him. Jensen smiled as his dad went to Hudson next.

  He glanced around the room until his gaze landed on Mikayla. She was sitting on the sofa, talking to his mom, Bella, Lindsay and Autry’s wife, Marissa. She was wearing her grow-with-me dress, he realized, remembering it from Las Vegas.

  Sounds like the makings of a good father to me. He recalled his father’s words.

  That was the thing. Jensen had known all along that he would probably be a great dad, because if he had a kid, being a good dad would be very important to him. His child would come first. He’d love that boy or girl with all his heart.

  And that was really the issue, Jensen knew now. Love. He didn’t want to do it. Didn’t want to feel it. Didn’t want it in his life. Because love meant losing. Heartache. And if he lost Mikayla, as he probably would to the usual troubles that split couples apart, he would lose everything. He’d never recover. And if anything happened to his child? That would be the end of him. Like Barnes out there in his falling-down house.

  But even Guthrie Barnes had come out of seclusion. Before Jensen had left him, the old man had said he was going to pay the pastor at his old church a visit, even though he complained that the pastor was young enough to be his grandson. He thought a talk and maybe one Sunday service would be an okay way to spend tomorrow afternoon, and Jensen had agreed, his heavy heart feeling a lot lighter for the old man’s prospects. He had a good hunch that Barnes would find a new lease on life.

  But Jensen had constant new leases—and that was how he liked it. New deals, sending him all over Oklahoma. Constant change, never requiring a long commitment of his time or energy. That was Jensen Jones.

  He’d planned on leaving tomorrow morning with his folks, and now that decision felt ironclad. He had accomplished what he’d set out to do. He’d given his parents an anniversary party. He’d had a heart-to-heart with his dad that had ended up bringing the entire family closer, including his parents. His dad had cracked wide-open when Jensen had only been expecting a jagged line.

  His heart had gone back to feeling all heavy and sludge-like, but he smiled at the thought of how things had worked out, particularly where Davison Parkwell was concerned. He knew the man was grinning down on him, giving him one of his famous pats on the shoulder.

  Now all that was left was spending a few more hours with Mikayla and then saying goodbye.

  * * *

  “Your dad apologized for what he said,” Mikayla told him a half hour later as she topped a cracker with a chunk of sharp cheddar at the buffet in Walker’s living room. “He told me he came to a lot of realizations tonight.”

  Jensen was so struck by Mikayla’s beauty, by how happy he was that she was standing just inches away from him, that he just drank her in for a moment. “We had one hell of a talk. I guess people can surprise you. I never would have seen that one coming, though.”

  “It’s funny—your brother Hudson used exactly that phrase the other day.”

  “I’m sure no one’s more shocked at m
y father’s turnaround than Hudson. Well, actually, that honor would go to my mother. She burst into tears when my dad presented her with her gift.”

  “I saw that. So sweet. And that locket was beautiful. I hope to buy something just like that and put a picture of my baby in it.”

  Jensen squeezed her hand. “You’re going to be such a great mom. Your baby is lucky to have you. I’d put my hand on your tummy, but after seeing all those strangers do that to you in Vegas, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  “Please don’t,” she whispered, taking both his hands and putting them on her belly. “You’re not a stranger. You’re my best friend.”

  He swallowed, so touched that he couldn’t speak for a second. “Your best friend?” That was certainly how he felt about her, but he was too choked up to say so.

  “Aren’t you? Best friend I’ve ever had.”

  He pulled Mikayla into a hug. “You, too, Mik. My best friend.”

  “I sure am going to miss you after tomorrow.”

  Now he really couldn’t speak. He waited a beat to catch his breath and get back his equilibrium. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

  His brothers and their wives wandered over then, heaping plates with the incredible buffet selections. Gideon and his parents were deep in conversation by the bar. Gideon didn’t know how lucky he was; an evolved father would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with.

  Because this was his final night with Mikayla, Jensen wanted her all to himself, but just when he was about to scoot over and sneak her into the library for some privacy, his sisters-in-law grabbed her away again.

  “You’re really leaving tomorrow?” Walker asked when it was just the two of them standing by the window.

  Jensen took a swig of his beer. “I am. My work here is done.”

  “Your work, yes. What about Mikayla?”

  “Mikayla and I are just friends,” he said. Best friends.

  But there was nothing just about it. And Jensen knew it. Still, he’d be on that plane tomorrow, going back where he belonged.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, Jensen pulled up in front of Sunshine Farm. He was going to miss coming over here. He loved that yellow barn and seeing Luke and his hands working on the property and Eva staring up at the house and thinking out loud about renovation plans. And he loved seeing Mikayla so happy here, so at peace, among good friends. He knew she was safe and settled in here, even if Sunshine Farm wouldn’t be a permanent home.

  The day was going to be a scorcher even by late August’s standards, but heat and humidity couldn’t keep him in his air-conditioned car and away from seeing Mikayla for another second.

  He grabbed the gift bag from the passenger seat, put the little box in his pocket and got out, the sun shining hot on his head and shoulders. He glanced up at Mikayla’s second-story bedroom window and could see her standing there, watching him. She wasn’t smiling.

  She held up a hand and waved, and he waved back, gripped by sadness. How could this be the last time he’d see her? Sure, he’d be back in town every now and then to check on the progress of the distribution center and to see his brothers. But every now and then wasn’t every day. Or every morning and night. You’re just getting sentimental, he told himself. Like Mikayla said—you’re best friends. Of course you’re going to miss her.

  He forced those thoughts away and sat on the porch steps, knowing Mikayla would come meet him outside. In a moment, the door opened and she came out, looking beautiful and glowing in her favorite sundress, the pale yellow one with the tiny blue bulldogs dotting the neckline and hem. She wore those crazy brown sandals that wrapped around her ankles. He’d miss those, too.

  “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked, his gaze on her belly, which looked even bigger today.

  “Like my best friend is flying far away,” she said, trying to sit down beside him. She stopped halfway in her attempt, pushed off the top step and got herself up. “As if I can just plop down on a step anymore. Who am I kidding?”

  He smiled and wrapped his arm around hers, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the gift box. “This is for you.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  She took off the lid, her eyes shining. “Oh, Jensen. It’s a heart locket.”

  He took it out of the little box and opened it. “With a tiny frame for a photo. You said you liked the one my dad gave my mom last night, so I wanted to get you one for your baby.”

  She put her arm around him and squeezed. “I will absolutely treasure this, Jensen. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Mikayla unclasped it and put it around her neck. She touched the heart against her chest. “Where on earth did you find this in Rust Creek Falls on a Sunday morning?”

  “I called a jewelry shop in Kalispell and bribed the owner to open before ten. I said it was an emergency.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Of course you did.”

  He could sit here forever, Mikayla beside him. He didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to drive away, didn’t want to leave her. But sitting here in this moment, in this world that wasn’t his, was easy. There were no worries here. No commitments. No ties. Of course he felt like he could sit here forever. This wasn’t real.

  Time to go, Jones. “So I guess this is goodbye,” he said.

  She lifted her chin and looked out at the pastures. “I guess it is.”

  “Oh, and one more thing. I might have called your bank and made a deposit into your account just so you’d have some security financially. As your best friend, I don’t expect you to give me a hard time about it. It’s a drop in the bucket to me, so just accept it. Got it?”

  He could see tears glistening in her eyes. “Got it.”

  “Oh, and I might have called Baby Bonanza and arranged for them to redeliver all the items from your layaway and wish list on Monday morning. I insist.”

  Her face crumpled, and tears dripped down her cheeks. “If you insist,” she whispered.

  He pulled her into a hug, breathing in the sunshine-and-flowers scent of her. He wished he could be the man Mikayla deserved, but Jensen was too far gone, too shut down. He was a man who could make deals, buy things, make things happen—but he couldn’t make himself into something he wasn’t. Someone willing to love.

  As he turned to go, he took one last look at Mikayla, then felt tears poking his own eyes.

  Why did he feel like he was breaking his own heart here?

  Was it supposed to work like that?

  * * *

  “I can’t believe he really left,” Eva said, shaking her head before she used the power drill in her hands to fasten the curtain rod hardware into the wall of the guest cabin.

  Amy moved the low bookshelf between the windows more to the left, then more to the right. “Me, either. I know you said you were just friends. But clearly you were—are—much more.”

  “He never lied about his intentions,” Mikayla said, picking up the package containing the shower curtain Eva had bought. She couldn’t do much to help get the cabin ready for Josselyn, the new tenant, but she could hang up a shower curtain.

  As she slipped the little silver hangers through the holes, she found herself daydreaming that she was decorating her own home—hers and Jensen’s, that he’d come through the door any minute and start making them another delicious comfort-food dinner, hiding a piece of garlic bread for himself because she was known for devouring entire loaves.

  Tears stung her eyes again, as they had all morning, and she blinked them back. He was gone, it was over, and she had to get over it. Focus on the baby, she told herself. Tomorrow you’ll be back at work and busy and each day will get a little easier.

  Eva and Amy appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. “You know what,” Eva said, “let’s finish
decorating later. I think a little sugar therapy is in order. Let’s go to Daisy’s and—”

  A pain, an intense tightening sensation, gripped her belly, and Mikayla grabbed her abdomen with one hand and clutched the towel rack with the other, grateful it was so well bolted into the wall. Another pain came fast and furious.

  Oh, God, that hurt. She tried to breathe over it.

  “Mikayla?” Eva said, alarm in her voice. “Are you okay?”

  Amy was staring down at the floor by Mikayla’s feet. “Oh, boy.”

  They all stared down—at the little puddle.

  “My water must have broken!” Mikayla said just as another pain gripped her. “But I’m only thirty-two weeks!”

  “Let’s get you to the clinic. I’ll call Dr. Strickland,” Amy said.

  Amy and Eva got on either side of Mikayla and ushered her to the door. As Amy helped Mikayla into the car, Eva rushed to the house to get their purses and the bag Mikayla had packed and ready for this moment.

  Eva came flying out of the house, jumped in the car and peeled out. “Clinic, here we come. Hold on, Mikayla!”

  “Ow, ow, ow,” Mikayla said, breathing out the way she’d learned in the online video she’d watched on Lamaze. She’d been planning on starting Lamaze this week after work.

  Too late.

  * * *

  Jensen’s bags were packed. The family jet was fueled up for the trip. He’d said all his goodbyes around town. The only thing left to do was leave.

  His chest tight, he loaded the car with his luggage and his parents’ overnight bag, then they headed to the airport.

  “I’ll tell you, Jensen, you always manage to surprise me,” his father said.

  Jensen looked in the rearview mirror and his eyes almost popped out of his head. Was his father holding hands with his mother? In a car? Anywhere?

  Holy Oklahoma, he was. His father and mother were holding hands.