by Rita Hestand
"Poor girl. Joel never grew up. I suppose I spoiled him. He was my only child. Another reason I don't want to be solely responsible for another child in my life."
"Joel was a grown man. He made his own choices, obviously," Emma commented wanting to comfort her somehow, knowing what it felt like to lose someone you loved.
"And what will you tell Sammie Jo of her real father?"
"That he was an exciting, handsome man, who took too many chances and finally lost." Emma said lowly. "She needn't know every detail."
"Thank you for that, Emma." Margaret heard Deke in the kitchen and glanced that way. "Is there a chance you might marry someday?"
Emma sighed heavily. "I doubt it. I'm just a simple cook, and housekeeper, with a baby."
"Well, it's late, and I'm tired. I want to rest up for tomorrow. We have a wonderful weekend ahead of us, and I don't want to miss a moment of it. At least our trip here has accomplished several things. It put both our minds to rest, yours and mine, and it's given us a part of Joel he can never take away."
"I'm glad," Emma smiled, and showed her to her room.
The light was still on in the kitchen, but Emma didn't go in. Instead she went to her room, kissed her baby goodnight, and slept for ages.
The weekend went by in a blur, with Mr. and Mrs. Collins meeting everyone on the ranch, touring it, and having a blowout barbeque the night before they left.
Deke drove them back to Sweetwater on Sunday afternoon where they picked up their car at the hotel.
It was Sunday night and all was quiet. Emma had fixed a giant supper, to thank the Travers men for their hospitality. Rusty had a date with Jennifer. Clint announced at supper that he was thinking of joining the Jr. Rodeo Association in Sweetwater. He thought maybe in his spare time he could teach the younger set how to rodeo. Deke tried not to act shocked, or too pleased, but realized Clint had finally decided to stay home. Jake announced he was applying for some home courses this next semester, so he'd be around too.
Cal took Sammie Jo out for a late evening ride around the back pasture. Sammie Jo was screaming with joy and anxious to show off her ability to sit the saddle.
Deke went out front on the porch.
Emma didn't know what tack to take with him. She didn't know if he expected her to leave, or apologize or just go on about her business and leave him alone. She felt uncomfortable with him, and hated feeling that way.
"I guess I owe you an explanation," she started as she joined him on the porch, drying her hands on a cup towel.
"Nope," he said dryly.
"Of course I do. Unless–unless you want us to leave?" She bit a nail and waited.
"Nope." his voice was low and husky.
She went to stand in front of him, facing him. Her hands wrung the cup towel. "I wanted to tell you everything from the beginning. But we–we sorta started out wrong. You jumped to a few conclusions, and I let you."
"You sure did," he firmed his lips together.
"I was afraid–of losing her. Afraid to trust anyone."
"Yeah, I gathered that much." He shook his head slowly, still not giving her the benefit of a glance in her direction.
"When I realized you set such store in honesty, it was too late to tell you. I was afraid you'd fire me."
"Uh-huh," he added, nodding and moving away.
"You would have fired me, wouldn't you?" She asked coming to stand in front of him again.
"Probably."
Something was wrong. Something about this whole conversation was wrong. He should be shouting at her about now. He should be firing her now!
"So why didn't you?" She challenged her hands going to her hips with exasperation.
"Beats me," he said casting her one last look over his shoulder and walking off.
Emma's mouth dropped open, but nothing came out.
For days she worried over what he said, and what he didn't say. She hated this not knowing. Yet what was it she wanted to know? He obviously wasn't mad enough to fire her. That was good, wasn't it? She still had a job, a roof over her head, and a way of earning a living for her baby.
Her baby! God the words sounded so nice. At last she could honestly call Sammie Jo her baby. With the freedom to love her and keep her with her always.
She needed time to enjoy it, to embrace it.
The time had come and gone for the courts to award Sammie Jo to her, all just a piece of paper.
But the tension that was mounting between her and Deke was so tight they couldn't be in the same room without a sizzle. Even Cal noticed it. No one seemed to want to be around them lately. Not even Sammie Jo.
"Why don't you two settle your differences, so the rest of us can relax?" Cal spouted one afternoon when Deke stormed out the door for the barn.
"What's to settle? What can I say?" Emma asked throwing her hands in the air in a gesture of helplessness.
"Don't know, but you'd better get to it, gal. He's steamin'."
"But–Cal?"
"Don't look at me, ask him." Cal pointed to the barn.
"You don't think I will, do ya?" Emma blurted, angry that everyone had suddenly turned against her in favor of Deke.
"Nope," Cal answered in that typically Travers' voice.
"Well I'll show you. Watch Sammie Jo for me. I'm going to settle this once and for all. I may be packing my bags when I come back, but at least I won't have to watch him storm about any longer."
"Go get 'em girl," Cal called after her with a chuckle.
Emma threw her apron in the air, letting it flow to the floor, straightened her jeans and blew a tendril of hair from her face as she marched with her head held high into the barn.
A dim light in one stall told Emma, Deke was still there.
She marched to the stall gate. "All right, Deke Travers. Let's have this out, here and now. I won't have you coming in every day and stomping about. What's wrong with you?"
"Shh-h." he raised his finger to his lips. "Josey times comin'."
"She's calving?"
"Tonight," he said getting to his feet, and moving the lantern toward her.
"Can I help?" She asked, momentarily distracted by the sight of the cow in labor.
"Not yet. Now what did you want to know?" He asked staring down into her face.
She'd never seen him look quite so handsome. The urges inside her nearly overtook good sense. She wished she could touch that clean shaven cheek, kiss that stern set mouth, hold that tensed up body.
"I–I can't work for you like this," She began, moving away from the railing.
"No, why not?"
"You look and act like a thunder cloud about to burst every time I'm around. What's wrong with you?"
"You haven't figured it out?" He growled with a frown.
"No–I," she began but he was approaching her now, with such purpose. She gulped, her hands began to sweat, her lips trembled and her heart lurched as he swung the railing aside and pushed her backward until she was up against the barn wall, and surrounded by him. Penned by his big arms, staying her there.
She wet her lips, her eyes searching his for answers.
"Emma," he barely whispered, his head bent, his lips hovering just above hers, his long finger caressing the side of her cheek. He smiled down into her face. "What's wrong is I can't keep my mind on my business anymore. I can't eat, think, tend to cows, or sleep without thinking about you. I want you–" his voice faltered like a hushed whisper, as his lips brushed slightly against hers, like a feather teasing her. "I want you by my side, working with me, laughing with me, encouraging me when I'm down, holding my hand when I'm sick," his lips dipped against hers once more, this time for longer, breath-taking moments, and long enough for her to melt against him, to feel absorbed by him. "I want you all the time. I want Sammie Jo too. I want her to have my name not just my love. I want us to sleep together, love together, and be with each other for the rest of our lives. I want to marry you Emma."
And then he did it. She totally fused against this po
werful man as he took full possession of her mouth and body. He left no doubt of his sincerity in his kisses as he enveloped her soul. Soul mates, she had heard the expression, never envisioning there could be someone out there for herself, like Deke. But all doubts fled from her mind when Deke swooped her up into his arms and carried her to the stall.
He looked into her eyes and smiled the warmest smile she'd ever seen. "I'm not going to make love to you here, Emma. But you're gonna want me to before the night is over. Because we'll sit and help ole Josey bring a new life into the world, and share the precious moment with her, we're gonna be dreamin' about the same things for ourselves. And I promise you the day will come when I make you mine."
"How can you forgive me for all the lies?" she asked between kisses.
"I had to, darlin'," he caressed her cheek again, drawing an imaginary line down her cheek. "You were only doin' what nature told you to do. Taking care of your young, defending, and protecting. A mother's instinct. And you didn't really lie, Emma. She is your daughter. Soon to be our daughter. And we'll have more, darlin'. I can guarantee that. And I only wish we could start on that tonight. But we've got work to do . . ."
"Oh Deke, I love you so," she whispered as they both reached to pet Josey.
"I know darlin'." He glanced at her surprised face. "I only wondered how long it would take you to realize it."
"Why Deke Travers, you conceited–," she laughed and pushed him into the hay, falling on top of him and he pulled her closer for another mind-boggling kiss. A kiss that went on and on forever and took her to places only dreamed of.
"Nope–convinced. You just convinced me. And if you don't get up, we aren't going to make it to the altar in white," he chuckled kissing her endlessly.
But Josey let out a loud moan and they rose up from the hay. "Okay Josey, we'll behave–for now . . . But later–me and the chief cook are gonna roll in the hay."
The End
Courting Abby
By Rita Hestand
Smashwords Edition
Courting Abby
Copyright© 2009-2013 Rita Hestand
All rights reserved
Dedication:
Courting Abby is dedicated to all the girls who have been in love with their best friends all their life and haven't told them yet. May you find that love you seek…
God Bless…Rita Hestand!
Courting Abby
(Book Two of the Travers Brothers Series)
By Rita Hestand
Chapter One
"What's wrong, Clint? You look like you've just seen a ghost," Sal Mathews said, slapping Clint Travers on the back, and jolting his attention to the people in the restaurant once more.
Clint glanced from the crowded mall to his friend.
Shaking himself, he defied the uneasy anticipation that ran up his spine as he smiled at his friends. "She was probably just a hallucination."
Sal nodded with a big grin on his ruggedly handsome face. "Clint, you better quit chasin' those skirts, and find you a steady gal. It's high time you were married, boy."
Without another word, Clint handed the baby in his arms to Sal's wife. Little Freddie, all of three months old didn't seem to want to leave the warmth of Clint's chest. Funny, but Clint didn't like giving him back, either. He was fond of children. Especially since his older brother Deke had married and had begun a family of his own. Fatherhood looked tempting. If only marriage didn't go with it. There was only one woman that could ever hold his heart, and she was strictly off limits. He'd decided many years ago that marriage was completely out of the question.
Little Freddie fussed as his mother reached to take him. For just a second, Clint imagined what it might be like, coming home to a little woman, and children, lots of children. He shrugged it off. It would never happen. Not now. Not after he'd messed up the one good thing in his life.
"Not me. Although I wouldn't mind having a little critter or two, myself."
Sal's wife Wendy shook her head, her large brown eyes narrowing on Clint with a serious frown. "It's a shame. You'd make a dandy father, Clint. Why, just look at you. You calmed little Freddie down just by picking him up. He likes you, and quite frankly, Little Freddie doesn't cater to many men. I swear, Clint, you are a living, breathing waste."
Clint gave Wendy a quick, sharp glance. That wasn't the first time he'd heard that, but it still stuck in his craw to hear it. "I'm a waste, just because I don't want to be saddled with a wife and white picket fence. Look, marriage is fine for some, but not me. I'm a rodeo bum, remember?"
"You don't have to be, you know. You chose to be." Wendy reminded.
While he was talking, his mind was on the apparition that he had probably imagined by the window of the restaurant. Through the throngs of Christmas shoppers, he had spotted her, or, at least, he thought he had. Yeah, like a dozen times before.
He had to get out of here. He had to know if that was Abby or not!
Abigail Martin had been his neighbor. His best friend--until he ruined it. He wasn't prepared to run into her, and yet, he had to know for sure. But one glance from those all-seeing blue eyes of hers, and his groin reacted with a jolt. It had to be her. No woman had ever affected him the way Abby had.
He suddenly stood and grabbed his black Stetson from the back of his chair. He grabbed his black leather jacket, and straightened his bolero tie. "Say, do you mind if I take a rain check on that drink at your place later?"
Sal reared back in his chair, and shot him a quizzical look. "Sure, Clint, any time. Only next time you’re in town, don't wait so long to call us."
"I won't. It's been wonderful, but I need to tie a few loose ends up before I head home, if you don't mind," Clint said, running a gentle hand over little Freddie's red fuzzy hair. He'd only been with Sal a couple of hours, and already he was wondering what it might be like to have a few little cowpokes of his own. He had to quit thinking along those lines; it would do no good. He didn't deserve that kind of happiness.
Apprehension shot through him as his mind continued to narrow on Abby.
"Congratulations, he looks like he's going to grow up to be one fine little cowboy."
"Cowboy?" Wendy frowned up at him, her familiarity with Clint allowing that frown to linger. "Not on your life, Clint. He's going to be a doctor."
Clint tried not to let that remark rankle, but for some reason, it bothered him when women frowned on one of the oldest western professions. What was so darned wrong with being a cowboy? Why did all women think so poorly of cowboys these days? He shrugged off the hurt and pecked Wendy on the cheek and tipped his hat to Sal. "Good seein' you, partner."
"Same here. Don't be a stranger."
Clint didn't understand his own urgency. Or did he? A couple of more rounds with Wendy about cowboys, and he'd be out of there, anyway. He was too much of a gentleman to argue with her, but the lady needed setting straight. Cowboys had been the good guys once; what had happened to that image? If he couldn't convince his own family, how did he expect to convince friends? Not that every one of the Travers men weren't some kind of cowboy, but a rodeo cowboy had a stigma attached.
He should feel guilty leaving his friends he'd purposely looked up after suffering extreme boredom at the Cattleman's Association meeting. He wasn't a speechmaker; he was a cowboy. A rodeo cowboy, at that. Why Deke had sent him instead of Jake, he wasn't sure. And if Deke hadn't been so tied up at the ranch, he wouldn't be here.
Maybe he hadn't seen Abby, after all. Maybe he just needed an excuse to get away from those tied down feelings that Wendy kept talking about. He already felt the tension leaving his body, being replaced by a new urgency.
Marriage! He didn't need it. Some women took your heart and broke it, and the other kind of women he didn't deserve, other women, like Abby. So, he'd learned a lesson the hard way, never again. One night with Abby proved that heaven really did exist, and made him ache to claim it. But there was an obstacle between his and Abby's happiness, and that obstacle was not one Clint tho
ught he could fight and win. Her father!
He quickened his steps.
Something deep down told him he had seen Abby, and he had to follow that hunch. It was time for some sort of apology, because the one thing he knew for sure was that he'd missed her. He missed her laughter, her understanding nature, her gentle ways.
He rushed out into the Christmas shopping delirium.
Seeing Abby renewed his sharp sense of guilt. He owed the woman, big-time. He'd be lucky if she'd speak to him. He deserved whatever he got, but he hoped she'd speak. He secretly hoped he could rekindle the friendship they had once shared.
He'd missed sharing things with Abby; all the times they'd sat all night in the barn, nursing some sick cow or the like, spilling their guts to each other. But then, no, that wasn't right, either, he had spilled his to her, but he hadn't listened to her that much and he knew it. Abby rarely laid any of her troubles on him. No, it was one-sided.
It didn't matter; they were friends. Good friends.
They knew everything about each other. He could talk to her like no other woman. At times, he nearly forgot she was a woman. And he hadn't been with a woman since that night; the night he’d realized he'd lost the best thing in his entire life--Abby.
Of course, it might not have been Abby he'd seen, he reasoned, just wishful thinking again. Maybe his damn imagination was overplaying again. It wouldn't be the first time. The chances of her being here at this particular time of evening were not very good. He really hadn’t gotten that good of a look at the woman hightailing it through the crowd. Maybe it was his conscience playing tricks on him. It wouldn't be the first time for that either. But deep down, Clint didn't think so though. No one had such an angelic face, with beautiful long, straight, blonde hair and flashing blue eyes as Abby. And although he couldn't have seen the color of her eyes, he certainly had seen the flash of them. Not that she could see him. The restaurant window was tinted, and he doubted she could have gotten as good a look at him.
