Texas Bride

by Kate Thomas

  “Whoever this is, you’d better have a real good reason for calling so early,” Marletta warned his ear.

  Josh chuckled. “Don’t dis me, woman—I happen to know you leave for church in thirty minutes.”

  Laughter with a Georgia accent flowed through the receiver.

  “So, do I owe you some extra vacation?” he asked.

  “You shore do!” Marletta claimed to be one-quarter Cherokee and mostly African-American—with a couple of Welsh immigrants thrown in just for fun. Her skin was the color of café latte, her temper as hot as a habañero pepper, but her accent was pure Southern drawl.

  She was also sharper than a steel razor, a black belt busybody and the world’s biggest marshmallow beneath her bristly exterior. She’d been with Josh since he opened his practice, laid rightful claim to half the credit for his success and was probably the closest thing he had to a friend.

  “You got everything?” Josh glanced at his watch impatiently. He wanted to channel-hop with his baby for a couple of minutes before joining Dam at the diner.

  “Your credit card company loves you, Walker.” Marietta assured him dryly. “I tried my best to buy one of everything Baby City sells. From crib to playpen to changing table—right on down to the Mommy’s Listening Post intercom deal and a windup bunny mobile. Oh, and a rocking chair. So when do I get to meet the reason for this frenzied shopping spree?”

  Josh leaned over to press a kiss on his baby’s soft fuzzy head. “His mother won’t let him out of her sight for more than a few minutes just yet.”

  “She’s the one I want to meet, you dingdong.”

  “Well, uh, she...she’s pretty wiped out” When she’s not wiping the floor with me. One of these days, when he could reason coolly around the little angel hellion with the Texas accent, he intended to revisit that forgiveness, crap and show her the holes in her argument, but—“I don’t think she’s up for visitors, yet, Marletta.”

  “She’s not suffering postpartum depression, is she?”

  Please, no. He’d be worse than useless trying to cope with rampaging female emotions. “Uh, how would I tell if she’s got that?” he asked cautiously.

  “Well, is she teary-like? Uninterested in the baby?”

  “Dani?” Josh gave his heart permission to start beating again. “Nah, she’s devoted to Michael.” He looked over at the little miracle whose entrance into this world he’d witnessed. “Marletta, do you know how incredible babies are?” he asked, astonished again. In love again.

  “And how much work they are! Now, listen. No matter how much she loves her baby, your Dani’s bound to be feeling overwhelmed right now. She needs emotional support and you’re elected.” That was Marletta. As subtle as a pickax.

  “The lady doesn’t need anything from me.”

  At least, nothing I could give her. I admire her courage and devotion. And I sure as hell lust for her body. But that’s the most I can offer a woman.

  Because it is about forgiveness. Isn’t it?

  “A cheerful little bouquet wouldn’t kill you,” Marletta snapped.

  Josh reverted to a safer subject. “Well, thanks for maxing out the plastic, Marletta,” he said. “I’ll call ya when we’re back in the ’hood,” he added with a smirk.

  “Check it out, kiddo,” he said a moment later, mashing the remote with one hand as he scooped clothes from various surfaces with the other. “Television.” After stuffing garments and toiletries haphazardly into the shopping bag he was using as a suitcase, he snagged the carrier and headed for the diner. “Hey, when we get home, we’ll surf the Net together.”

  Home. Almost there.

  Not that the town house was a mansion or anything, but it was a hell of an improvement over that pathetic cabin Dani had been living in when she’d fished him out of that flash flood.

  And given him another chance.

  Okay. He still blamed Carrie, but... After last night’s frank discussion, the fire of his anger didn’t burn quite as hot today. And he had Dani to thank for it.

  What the hell, maybe he’d buy her some damned flowers, after all.

  Josh crossed the last few feet of graveled parking lot with two brisk strides. Yanked open the diner’s door. Hit a wall of sound and smell. Clattering cutlery, clinking china and loud country music. Cigarette smoke, fried eggs, strong coffee.

  Standing near the door, Josh scanned the counter, the tables scattered across the black-and-white linoleum floor, then the booths to his right. No Dani. He looked to the left.

  A mountainous trucker with a greasy ponytail sat in the first booth, his mile-wide back blocking the view of the booths along that side of the diner.

  Holding Michael steady, Josh started to move past the mountain.

  “N-no thanks. I’m waiting for someone.” The familiar voice sounded calm. Stoic, even. But her green eyes were dark with shadows.

  “Come on, baby.” The big trucker reached across the table. Dani shrank away from him. “It ain’t gonna hurt ya to be a little friendly like.”

  Josh gripped the baby carrier’s handle hard enough to pulverize it. “Get your hands off her,” he snarled as a red, unreasoning haze exploded around him. She’s mine—my woman! “Now!”

  The trucker didn’t bother to look up. “In the first place, I ain’t touched her,” he said in a rough, aggressive voice. “An’ in the second place, why don’t you just mind yore own business, buddy?”

  “I am,” Josh said through gritted teeth. “The lady’s with met.”

  Time slowed to a crawl: nothing happened right away. Then with a grunt, the trucker placed ham-size hands flat on the tabletop and began extracting himself from the booth. Eventually, he clawed his way free and stood.

  For the second time in a week, Josh found himself facing death.

  This time, it stood six-eight. Weighed a solid two-seventy, two-eighty. And its name was Bubba.

  Chapter Five

  At least, that’s what the name patch on the shirt said.

  Not that Josh gave a damn. “The lady’s with me,” he repeated, setting Michael’s carrier carefully on the booth bench next to Dani as the primitive red haze pulsated around him like a nuclear blast wave.

  Vaguely, in the background, he heard tables being pushed aside as people scrambled out of the way. The steel guitar wailing from the jukebox fell silent in mid-twang.

  Great. An audience.

  Bubba shuffled a step closer, forcing Josh to look upward in order to meet the big jerk’s stare.

  Brilliant, Walker. First fight since high school and you pick Paul Bunyan as your opponent

  Didn’t matter. As long as he could stand, crawl or move, no man was going to bother his...Dani.

  Josh braced himself, feet spread, weight balanced.

  “I don’t see no ring says so,” the giant declared, running a huge paw over his head and out to the end of his ponytail. “An’ I don’t like your attitude,” he added, raising both hands and forming fists in front of his acre-wide chest. Scarred-knuckle, softball-size fists.

  Dani cleared her throat. “Now, Josh. And, er, Bubba. I’m sure ther—”

  “Get out of the booth, Dani,” Josh commanded in a deep voice without taking his gaze from the mammoth trucker.

  Automatically, she picked up Michael, scooted to the end of the bench, and scrambled to her feet. The two males ignored her. Too busy glaring at each other.

  “You want to try changing it?” Josh asked, baring his teeth at his opponent.

  Bubba snarled back.

  Dani chewed on her lip as the two men squared off—at dawn in a Virginia truck stop, for heaven’s sake. Why, one punch from Bubba could put Josh right into intensive care.

  She had to do something, but what?

  Anything, silly. Just don’t let that monster hurt Josh.

  As she devised and discarded schemes a new knot formed in her stomach.

  How could she teach a boy to be a man? Dani wondered while Josh and Bubba traded more glares.

  C
ould she teach her son this—unhesitating courage to put himself at risk in defense of those weaker?

  Well, plenty of single women did a perfectly adequate job of raising sons, she reminded herself.

  “Take Michael and wait outside,” Josh rasped.

  No way. Courage is one thing, senseless sacrifice to mayhem is another. “Come on, guys. There’s no need to—”

  Both men growled her to a halt, then proceeded with their male posturing as if they’d never been interrupted.

  “I just might decide to,” Bubba informed Josh.

  “You’re welcome to try,” Josh retorted.

  They were toe-to-toe now. Josh, a granite-jawed Viking looking for someplace to pillage. Bubba, a gargantuan wrestling maniac. The only things missing were makeup and tights.

  “Look, buddy, why’nt ya ask the lady what—”

  “I don’t need to ask the lady anything,” Josh snapped.

  That made Dani growl!

  The two men started circling each other, bobbing their shoulders, shuffling their feet, waving their fists in tight, menacing little circles.

  Oh, this is ridiculous. Dani pushed her way between the two idiots. As she hoped, her unexpected action seemed to snap the macho morons out of their testosterone trance for a second.

  Now, keep them off balance long enough for their brains to start working again. If either one of them had any functional cells left between his ears.

  Mentally crossing her fingers, Dani took a deep breath, pictured one of those girls who give out auto racing trophies and...giggled.

  Josh and the mountainous trucker froze.

  “Now, honey, I’m sure the man didn’t mean any harm,” she said, forcing out another giggle and swatting Josh’s arm playfully. “Besides—you know you shouldn’t tussle with civilians.”

  Turning to Bubba with a bimbo-ish smile, she confided, “‘Cuz it just wouldn’t be fair, see? Why, my Josh can kill a man half a dozen ways—” she snapped her fingers “—with nothin’ more than his hands.”

  Ha. Beneath his multihued tattoos, Bubba went pale. His eyes began shifting, looking for escape. With a quick, silent prayer, Dani showed him the exit sign.

  “Really. Don’t pay him any mind,” she advised the colossal trucker in a heart-o’-Texas drawl. “He’s just testy these. days because—” Flashing another sassy smile, she lifted the carrier to show off Michael. “I had the baby a week ago and he’s not...well, you know...gettin’ any...”

  And then, by God, she winked at the behemoth. Winked! Josh felt his mouth fall open.

  Slowly the trucker looked from Dani to Josh, who remained balanced on the balls of his feet, red haze still simmering behind his eyeballs.

  Like a dolt. Dani didn’t need his protection.

  Hell, she was going to get both of them out of this. Without a mark on us.

  Which, he decided wryly, was fine with him. Otherwise, his could have been the shortest second chance in history.

  As his adrenaline rush slowed to a trickle and the last of the crazed fury that had possessed him the second he’d seen fear shadowing Dani’s eyes drained away, Josh let his fists drop to his sides.

  Bubba’s lips quivered, then his mouth split open—and a guffaw emerged. A ham of a hand slapped Josh’s shoulder, practically sending him sailing across the diner.

  “Well, ol’ buddy,” he boomed in a jovial voice, antagonism instantly exchanged for male solidarity. “I ken see why you’re on edge. But cheer up,” he advised. “Ya gotta a fine-lookin’ kid there, an’ yore ol’ lady won’t be outta commission forever.” He guffawed again. Slapped Josh’s shoulder again.

  “Josh.”

  Lordy, the way she caressed his name—he lost all interest in Bubba.

  Then the darned woman handed him Michael. Well, hell. Checkmate. She knew he couldn’t fight the giant one-handed....

  “Come on, honey,” Dani said, her green eyes pleading. Heat radiated from her fingers touching his arm. The warmth spread through him, seeking—and arousing—every masculine cell he had. “Let’s go.”

  “Okay,” he conceded, then swore under his breath when Bubba guffawed again.

  Two could play this game, Josh decided, sliding his free hand under Dani’s braid. “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he murmured, then pulled her into a skintight embrace. Kissed her swiftly. Hotly. Thoroughly.

  He staggered a little when he let her go.

  But so did she, he noted with a certain grim satisfaction.

  Then Josh gave Bubba a comradely nod and guided Dani out of the diner with a proprietary hand on the small of her back. Hustled her across the parking lot, the street and right to the car.

  Without a word.

  Well, he was busy reeling. Again.

  And revising his game plan. Again. Because discretion was the better part of valor, after all. Dani Caldwell’s kisses rocked him from one end of his manhood to the other. They made him tremble with need.

  Dammit, right now, right here, he burned to thrust his fingers deep into that glorious hair, pull her close and kiss the living daylights out of her again, then slide his hands along the smooth curve of her hips, up over her rib cage and around to claim her full breasts. Until—when she was trembling with need, too, he’d take her into one of those motel rooms they’d so recently occupied—

  With Michael. Week-old Michael.

  Dammit! What was wrong with him?

  He had to stop thinking that Dani wasn’t like other women. Had to stop kissing her. Wanting her. All the time. In any position. Especially with her on top, her hair loose and falling like silk over his—

  He’d learned the hard way the dangers of giving a woman access to his heart, so how could he go all possessive over one he’d only known a week?

  He couldn’t He wouldn’t.

  He just had.

  Temporary insanity. That was the only explanation.

  Josh jerked his hand from her back. Clamped it on the door handle and yanked.

  He didn’t trust himself to say anything, so he didn’t. Just motioned her into the car. Fastened Michael carefully in the back seat.

  And drove out of that godforsaken little town as if the wisps of morning mist were angry ghosts hell-bent on pursuing him.

  They’d made a bargain, dammit. Six weeks of sanctuary for her; six weeks of Michael for him. He had to shake this feverish desire for Dani or he was no better than Bubba.

  So, he’d take her and Michael home and get them settled, then barricade himself in the office for a week or two. Slide back into his routine. His safe, sterile, empty routine.

  It wasn’t much of a life change for a man with a second chance.

  But he wasn’t putting any more shadows in those green eyes.

  And by the time he got a grip on his rampant desire, maybe Michael would be more fun, too. See? Win-win. Except that he felt more lost than ever, dammit.

  A Walker keeps his promises. Josh tightened his hands on the steering wheel, pressed the accelerator—and kept driving.

  Dani stared through the car window as they passed neatly plowed fields tucked in narrow valleys, climbed through wooded hills toward the rocky outcroppings that lay like spines along their crests. She studied the dogwood trees whose blooms floated like pink and white clouds of butterflies through the forests.

  Virginia looked like East Texas, only more beautiful. She’d feel comfortable here, if only...

  She glanced over at Josh, who drove competently, but silently. Nursing his bruised male ego, probably, because she stepped in before he could punch somebody silly.

  Against her will, her gaze dropped to his strong hands wrapped around the steering wheel. They’d formed fists ready to defend and protect her, yet they could hold Michael as gently as a snowflake.

  She wondered how they’d touch a woman. Tenderly? Hungrily?

  Demanding passion and giving it at the same, incredible time?

  A tremor of longing swept through her. She’d never known that kind of touch. In the b
eginning Jimmy had been sweet, but urgent and fumbling. In the last two years, at increasingly longer intervals, he’d simply gone through the motions. Distracted. Disinterested.

  Somehow, Dani didn’t think Josh Walker let anything distract him when he made love to a woman.

  Memories of that exquisite kiss moments ago led to fantasies of that golden head bent over her, those firm lips searching, exploring...those hands caressing—

  Oh, stop dreaming! You’re not the kind of woman Josh would be interested in. You’re just a kid from Lufkin, Dani reminded herself as she shifted on the seat. A kid with a kid.

  As if to say amen to that, Josh growled.

  She glanced sideways at her scowling companion.

  Automatically, her gaze slid to Michael. Her son—who would surely benefit from having a father. Unfortunately, she didn’t know how to supply one without ending up with a husband.

  Dani chewed on her lip. She’d always wanted a home and a big, loving family, but after the disillusionment of her marriage, she wasn’t sure she wanted another husband.

  Unless he has honey-gold hair and turquoise eyes, unflinching courage and a kind heart hidden beneath that gruff exterior.

  This particular model also has a big old chip of guilt and resentment on his shoulder, Dani reminded herself with a sigh, wishing there was some way she could help him let go of his past. But what could she say? How could she convince him to open his heart when she was afraid to do so herself?

  Would demonstration prove more effective than speeches? Her insides shivered with anxiety—and sudden anticipation.

  Josh growled again and Dani gladly abandoned future difficulty for present certainty. “Huh,” she said, crossing her arms under her breasts. “I thought so. You are angry.”

  “What?”

  “Look—I’m sorry,” she exclaimed, spreading her hands, palms up. “I didn’t know what else to do. If he hadn’t been the size of Vermont, I would have stayed out of it, I swear.”

  After a moment of granite-jawed silence, Josh chuckled.

  A sound as rich as butterscotch. It ought to be illegal, Dani thought wryly, wishing she could hear it more often—until she remembered that her wishes should be saved for Michael.