A Bride for the Texas Cowboy
Page 22
Shane Highwater, the police chief, barely stifled a laugh.
It was one more reminder of why Axel avoided social gatherings.
“I feel well, Axel. I have one of the handsomest men in Last Stand on my arm, and I’m chatting with another.”
Shane gallantly snagged three glasses of champagne from a waiter, handed one to Minna and another to Axel. He kept the third.
“A toast to you, Minna,” Axel said, not really wanting the champagne.
“To your health and happiness,” Shane added.
Axel cautiously swallowed a little of the effervescent golden liquid. The bubbles teased his nose and tickled his throat. He choked.
Shane laughed, the smug bastard, and didn’t even take a sip.
“You can take the cowboy out of the barn but…” Shane trailed off with a glint in his eye.
Minna patted his arm. “Seriously, Axel, you need to work less. Ranch chores will always be there.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Axel said in a clipped voice, hoping Shane took the hint and led Minna outside to her guests, who judging from the merriment he could hear on the patio, were enjoying themselves, while he fought the urge to glance at his watch to see when he could politely leave.
“Life is meant to be lived. Come into town more. Find a nice girl. Take her dancing. Settle down. Have some kids. You’re wasting your youth.”
Axel shifted uncomfortably. Not this again. He’d been building the ranch up. It was stronger and more economically viable than it ever had been. His father had let it backslide into dangerous territory, but thanks to Axel bustin’ his butt, he and his family were now more than comfortable. And there were still a lot of things Axel wanted to do with the ranch. He wasn’t hiding away from anything. He was busy.
Shane finally shot him a sympathetic look. Axel seized the moment.
“Good to see you looking so well, Minna.” Axel tipped his hat. “And I’m happy to share your day with you. You must want to get to your other guests.”
He was seconds from lunging toward the closest escape route—the large open window behind the gift table—where he’d just placed her birthday card along with other offerings of cards, floral bouquets and some cheerful gift bags exploding with colorful tissue paper.
“Let’s join the others on the patio,” Shane suggested.
Minna shot Axel one last look, and then smiled up at Shane as he led her out to the restaurant’s decorated patio, where many of Minna’s guests munched on the Carriage House’s renowned appetizers and tossed back glasses of champagne, as well as pink, white and red wine. Axel spotted stacked cases of Verflucht in the corner.
So August hadn’t completely blown Minna off.
“Do you think August will make it?” Dr. Graham McBride, a doctor at the local hospital, asked, intercepting him. They’d gone to school together and Axel, still riled up from his encounter with Minna, relaxed a little…though he still wanted to ditch the champagne.
“He’s been busy,” Axel answered, nodding to the building across the street. “He and his crew have been working flat out to get his tasting—” he knew his lips twisted at the word; it sounded as pretentious as it felt “—room up and running before next week’s Bluebonnet Festival.”
“Still trying to impress his big brother?” Graham smiled.
Axel blew out a hard breath at that thought. August had been marching to the beat of his own drum and ignoring any family expectations since he’d emerged from his mother’s womb. Axel still remembered the day August was born. His mother had sat him down and explained the sacred duty of being an older brother.
It was something else he’d failed at. Just as he’d failed his mother. And his father.
“Enjoy!” Graham slapped him on the back before he, too, walked out to the patio. The early spring day was too perfect to miss.
Some of the champagne sloshed on the back of Axel’s hand.
For a moment, the sunlight streaming through the window caught the light gold of the effervescent liquid as it swished in the flute he held. The bubbles danced and winked, and Axel remembered the first time he’d tried champagne with her—Cruz Lopez. Even thinking of her name still hurt…which was dumb, considering how much time had passed.
Eight years ago, he’d won All-Around Cowboy at the Last Stand Rodeo, and Cruz, the barrel racer he’d wanted for nearly two years, but had put in the friend zone because of her age, had waylaid him outside his trailer with a smile. She’d popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and let the chilled golden bubbles trickle between the slightly swelling golden tanned valley of her breasts, which were temptingly exposed by the barely snapped red satin competition shirt she wore.
“Want a taste?” she’d offered.
He’d wanted so much more.
Too much, apparently.
He snapped back to the present. Thinking of Cruz still made him ache with regret. He’d been an idiot thinking they could make it work. She’d had big plans that had not included him. Medical school. While he—nearly four years older—had finally punched his ticket for the AEBR. He’d hoped to compete for four or five years before heading home to Last Stand to work full time at the ranch. Cruz was looking at eight years of school and residency ahead of her. And after that, she’d hoped to work at a big city hospital.
Still, Axel had been so confident they could make it work. Cruz had made him dream of more than the rodeo and the ranch.
He’d become arrogant thinking he could defy the odds, buck the family history of tragedy.
It was ironic as hell, really. He’d never thought he’d marry. Definitely never have kids. Cruz had kicked his fears and reservations far, far down the field and he’d started to think about an alternate future—one with her and a family in it. Then she’d walked.
He’d had no warning.
And now here he was, looking at the only relationship he’d ever had that had been more than a few casual hookups, in the rearview mirror. And once again, he was a confirmed bachelor. There’d be no wife, no children for him.
He was fine with that.
But he hated that he still thought about her. Hell, he still missed her. She’d made him laugh, and have fun. Not just be mired in work and duty. He hoped she was happy. He imagined she’d completed medical school and was well on her way to becoming a doctor. Perhaps she’d found a man who would love and cherish her and who didn’t come with the kind of baggage he had.
He wanted that for her, but the thought of her with someone else still made him a little sick. Stupid.
Conversation swirled around him. People laughed and greeted each other. He didn’t feel like a part of it, and yet, he knew pretty much everyone here. Had he always been like this? He couldn’t remember. Axel thought about drinking the champagne. Or ditching it on a tray. This celebration would be easier if he went and dragged August away from his tasting room for a while. August was more social. More civilized.
And it seemed like every year, Axel became less so.
Maybe Minna was right. He needed to get out more. Be a bit more like August and laugh in fate’s face.
Axel turned, intending to go out on the patio and at least make an effort when he heard a screech of brakes, the scrape of metal and rubber, and then something that sounded like an explosion. He couldn’t imagine what had happened, even though he saw a blue truck on its back, the wheels still spinning. And then he saw a flame, just as a small white tour bus swerved and careened through the front of August’s tasting room.
No. God no. Not August this time.
Find out what happens next…
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More books by Sinclair Jayne
The Wilder Brothers series
Book 1: Seducing the Bachelor
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Book 2: Want Me, Cowboy
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Book 3: The Christmas Challenge
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Book 4: Kane
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About the Author
Sinclair Jayne has loved reading romance novels since she discovered Barbara Cartland historical romances when she was in sixth grade. By seventh grade, she was haunting the library shelves looking to fall in love over and over again with the heroes born from the imaginations of her favorite authors. After teaching writing classes and workshops to adults and teens for many years in Seattle and Portland, she returned to her first love of reading romances and became an editor for Tule Publishing last year.
Sinclair lives in Oregon’s wine country where she and her family own a small vineyard of Pinot Noir and where she dreams of being able to write at a desk like Jane Austen instead of in parking lots waiting for her kids to finish one of their 12,000 extracurricular activities. …
Find her on Twitter @SinclairJayne1.
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