by Judy Duarte
As approaching footsteps sounded, her pulse throbbed harder and more intense with each tap of a cane. She turned away from the laptop screen, as if she’d been completely taken aback by Matt’s and her daughter’s entrance, and her eyes widened as if to say, Oh. It’s you.
“We’re back!” Emily’s dimpled grin, the bounce in her step and the swish of her ponytail suggested the tour had gone well. On the other hand, Matt’s expression was a little too solemn for a man who’d enjoyed his time outdoors with their daughter.
“Mom,” Emily said, “can I ride Oreo? I wanna show my dad how I can saddle and bridle her all by myself.”
Miranda arched a brow at Matt. “Are you okay with that?”
“Sure.” He made his way toward the kitchen table, his very presence sucking the air from the room.
He might have just agreed to go back out to the corral with Emily, but Miranda wasn’t convinced that he was actually okay with it. But then again, maybe his knee was bothering him. And if so, he’d probably appreciate having some time to sit down for a while and take the weight off his bad leg.
“All right,” Miranda told their eager daughter. “You can ride your pony, but not until you clean your room.”
“Aw, man.” Emily let out a dramatic pout that lasted all of two beats, then she turned to Matt. “Will you wait? It won’t take me very long.”
“I’ll be here.”
As the child dashed off, Matt took a seat across from her and leaned his cane against the wall.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“It went great.” He stretched out his bad leg, leaned back in his chair and zeroed in on her with a piercing gaze. “That is, until Emily told me that guy you were going to marry hit her and bloodied her nose.”
Wow. Nothing like cutting right to the chase. But Miranda couldn’t blame him. She’d been furious, shaken to the core, when she’d learned what Gavin had done. Not only had she been angry with him, she’d blamed herself for not seeing the signs sooner.
“I was appalled, too,” she said. “That’s why I left him.”
Silence stretched between them, slowly sucking the air from the room, until Matt said, “Dammit, Miranda. What’d you ever see in a guy who’d do something like that?”
“I’ve asked myself that a hundred times. But he was sweet at first. We met at the company Christmas party a year before last.”
“So he was a charmer, huh? Swept you off your feet?”
“In a way.” In truth, the only one who’d ever swept her off her feet had been Matt, when he’d been in his senior year and she’d transferred to his high school as a sophomore. The first time she’d spotted him, looked into those bright blue eyes and saw that sweet but cocky grin, she’d been moonstruck.
But there was no point in reminding him how they’d once felt about each other. Matt had clearly moved on, and so had she.
“It might surprise you,” she said, “to know that Gavin was wearing a Santa Claus suit that night and passing out candy canes.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Ho, ho, ho.”
She understood his anger, his frustration, his concern, but before she could respond, Emily returned to the kitchen, wearing a bright-eyed smile, as well as the new boots and child-size black cowboy hat George had surprised her with last week. But Miranda knew her daughter’s tricks when it came to having a higher priority than a tidy room.
“You know,” Miranda said, “I’m going to look in the closet and under the bed. So you might want to double check and make sure you did a good job picking up.”
Emily folded her arms across her chest and shifted her weight to one foot. “Can’t I do that after I ride Oreo?”
“I’m afraid not. And when you’re finished, please bring your hamper to the service porch so I can wash your clothes.”
Emily let out an exasperated sigh, then turned to Matt. “I’ll be back. It’ll just be a few more minutes.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
After Emily skipped out of the kitchen, Matt zeroed in on Miranda again, the intensity of his gaze threatening to undo her. “I hate bullies. Always have, always will. And if that guy was standing here right now, I’d be tempted to take a couple of swings at him for hitting a child.”
She’d watched him stand up for the underdog on quite a few occasions, one of which had landed him in detention. He’d been a real hero back then. Still was, she suspected.
Matt slowly shook his head. “I don’t understand, Miranda. There had to have been signs that he had a mean streak.”
“Not at first. But I have to admit a few red flags popped up during the last six weeks we were together.”
“Like what?”
She felt compelled to tell him it wasn’t any of his business, but then again, she wanted to assure him that she’d never willingly put her child in jeopardy. “Gavin began drinking more in the evenings and blamed it on stress at work. He’d always liked his scotch, but it became a nightly habit. And whenever he’d had too much, which seemed to be most nights, he’d snap at whoever he was talking to—a client on the telephone, me... Emily. It was then that I realized he had a temper, although I’d never realized he’d become physically violent.”
For the first time since Matt arrived on the Double G, his expression softened, and he began to remind her of the old Matt, the one who’d been her best friend.
“Then why didn’t you break up with him six weeks sooner?”
The real reason? She hated to admit it, but she hadn’t wanted to disappoint Gavin’s mother or her father. They’d both been over the moon about the marriage. Her dad considered it a business merger of sorts He’d tried for years to convince Gavin’s father to invest in a farming venture in Mexico, and their partnership was finally coming together. Then there was Gavin’s mom, who considered her only child’s wedding to be a huge social event, one she’d been dreaming of since the day he was born. And since the woman was recovering from a recent mastectomy, Miranda hadn’t wanted to disappoint her or create any additional stress on her health. But none of that mattered the day she learned Gavin had not only hit Emily, but that it hadn’t been the first time.
“I wish I had canceled the wedding sooner,” she said. “And for more reasons than one.”
Matt remained silent, his eyes holding judgment.
Miranda took in a deep, fortifying breath, then slowly let it out. “There were only about seventy-five people on the original invitation list, which was about all my dad’s backyard could hold. But before I could blink, that number quadrupled, and we needed a bigger venue. So my dad put down a huge non-refundable deposit so we could hold it at a country club.” And not just any club, but the nicest and most exclusive in San Antonio.
Matt leaned forward and rested his forearms—stronger, bulkier than she remembered—on the table. “Sounds like things got way out of hand.”
“To say the least.” Gavin’s mother had gotten so involved in planning the ceremony and reception that she’d hardly talked or thought about anything else. On the upside, it had taken her mind off her health issues and pulled her out of the resulting depression that followed her surgery.
Miranda didn’t dare mention the flowers they’d ordered from Europe or the designer gown that had been altered. And who knew what they’d done with the white doves Gavin’s mother had insisted would be a nice touch.
“I’ll admit that I should have put my foot down a lot sooner,” Miranda said, “but the closer it got to Valentine’s Day, the worse I felt about calling it off.”
“I’m glad you finally did.”
Was he? She tried to read into his words, his expression, then she shook it off. Her curiosity was sure to lead her down a path she had no business taking. Not after all this time.
She glanced down at the table, where her clasped hands rested, then she risked a glance at Matt. His gaze lo
cked on hers, and she spotted something other than anger in his eyes. Sympathy? Concern?
For a moment, he was the old Matt who’d swept her off her feet in high school. And while they’d never be lovers again, maybe, just maybe they could be friends.
“Did Gavin ever hit you?” he asked, as if nothing had changed, as if he still had her back. “Did he threaten you in any way?”
“No. He raised his voice a couple of times. But he never got physical with me.”
“But given time,” Matt said, “he probably would have. And he definitely would have hurt Emily again. Did you press charges against him?”
“I seriously thought about it, but my dad talked me out of it.”
The crease in Matt’s brow deepened, and any sign of sympathy faded from his eyes. “Are you kidding? Why in the hell would he talk you out of it? And worse, why would you let him?”
“When I told my dad why I’d broken our engagement, he completely understood. And he was angry at Gavin, too. But Gavin’s father is one of the investors in a joint farming venture, a big one, and my dad didn’t want to complicate matters. I would have argued with him, but I’d already broken our engagement, and since I’d left town, I knew Emily was safe.”
Matt flinched, and his eye twitched. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking—or feeling—but she reached out and placed her hand on his forearm, a bold move she hadn’t planned, one she wasn’t sure how to take back.
“Don’t worry, Matt. When I left Gavin, it was for good. And if he ever came around and tried to talk to me, I wouldn’t hesitate to file a restraining order or press charges.”
Concern swept across Matt’s brow once more, and she was tempted to stroke his arm rather than hold her hand in place. But she didn’t.
“Do you expect him to come after you?” he asked.
“Maybe.” She wouldn’t put it past him. He’d called several times after she left, and when his apologies and pleas became demands, she blocked his number. “But he’d have to find me first. And no one knows I’m here.”
The muscles in his forearm flexed, and she removed her hand, breaking the physical connection she had no right to make. She fingered the scarred surface of the antique kitchen table instead.
“No one?” His head tilted slightly.
She slowly shook her head. “Not even my dad. All I told him was that I needed to spend some time away from San Antonio and the office, but I didn’t tell him where I was staying.”
Matt rolled his eyes and let out a humph. “He’d burst an artery if he knew you were here.”
“Probably. At first. But he’d get over it.” Eventually, anyway.
“So what are you waiting for?”
“I don’t want to tell him until I have a solid plan for the future.” A future that now included Gavin’s baby, something else her father didn’t know. Yet. “But my plans are coming together.”
“So what’s your next move?”
“Finding a job and a place to live. I can’t stay on the Double G forever, and I don’t want to go back to my condo in San Antonio.” Only trouble was, she couldn’t put any of that into motion until after the baby was born.
She’d also have to level with her father and tell him where she was staying. She’d then have to tell him she was pregnant and that he was going to be a grandfather again, which would both set him off and please him. But she’d had enough confessions for one day. She’d call him tomorrow.
“So...” She took another deep breath and slowly let it out. “How did things go when you went outside with Emily? How are you feeling about...?”
“Instant fatherhood?” He shrugged. “That’s left to be seen. But Emily is a great kid. You’ve done a good job with her.”
“Thanks.”
His gaze locked on hers, stirring old memories, old feelings. “I wish I’d known her sooner.”
“Believe it or not, so do I.”
He studied her for a couple of beats, as if judging her sincerity. But she meant those words from the bottom of her heart. If she could go back in time and make other decisions, handle things differently than she had, she would. But other than telling Matt about Emily sooner, she would still make the same choices she’d made before. And for the same reasons.
“All done!” Emily called out, as she skipped into the kitchen.
Miranda’s hand slipped from the tabletop to her baby bump. She usually found comfort in caressing her little one, but it didn’t seem to help today. Instead, it only served to remind her that life went on.
And that there were no do-overs.
* * *
When Matt first entered the kitchen after his tour of Emily’s barnyard menagerie, he’d been angry and resentful, along with a few other emotions he couldn’t put his finger on, all of them equally negative. But after confronting Miranda, after gazing into her pretty brown eyes and feeling her gentle touch, he’d begun to sympathize. In fact, he’d begun to soften so much toward her that he was thankful for an interruption, even if it was the pitter-patter of little cowboy boots.
Matt turned away from Miranda, breaking whatever fragile tie they’d just had, and focused on their daughter. With her olive complexion, dark brown hair and hazel eyes, Emily looked a lot like her mother.
Lucky kid. Miranda had been a beautiful teenager, and she was even more so now. The years had been damn good to her. Or maybe he’d just forgotten how attractive she was.
Emily took after him, too, he supposed—the shape of her nose, the dimples in her cheeks. Not to mention the occasional mischievous spark that lit her eyes.
“I’ve got my room all cleaned up now,” Emily said, as she entered the kitchen carrying a laundry basket. “Even the closet. And there’s nothing under the bed anymore. So now can me and Matt—I mean, my dad—go outside?”
“Yes, you can. But please take that basket to the service porch and leave it next to the washer.” Miranda blessed the girl with a dazzling smile, a heart-strumming display Matt hadn’t seen in a long time, one he’d never expected to see again. A smile that threatened to turn him inside out like it once had.
He reached for his cane and got to his feet. “All right then. Looks like it’s time to cowgirl up.”
“Yes! Finally. Let’s go.” Emily led the way to the service porch, where she deposited the laundry basket. On the way out the back door, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “I like the way you rodeo talk, because I want to be a barrel racer when I get a little older and my mom lets me get a bigger horse.”
“If it’s okay with your mom, I’d be happy to work with you while I’m here.” Matt stole one last glance at Miranda, who nodded her approval.
Apparently, she had faith in him, which was a relief. But it wasn’t his horsemanship that worried him. He could do that in his sleep. On the other hand, he hadn’t planned to be a father. And a relationship like that was going to take a bit more work.
His gaze dropped to Miranda’s lap, where one hand rested and the other caressed her rounded stomach. At first, he’d noticed what he’d thought was a paunch, the lingering evidence of childbirth. But then he’d realized the bulge didn’t appear to be soft or flabby.
He’d wondered if she was pregnant, but there wasn’t any doubt about it now. That was definitely a baby bump.
Did Gavin know? Was that the real reason she was hiding out at the Double G? Was she afraid for the baby?
If so, she’d be safe here. Especially while Matt was around. Bum knee or not, that bully wouldn’t stand a chance.
Then again, Uncle George had never had a problem pulling his shotgun off the rack over the fireplace and chasing off an uninvited guest. He’d give that jerk a run for his money, too.
“Are you coming?” Emily called out from the open back door. “I’m letting in flies, and Uncle George is going to get mad. And he’s already in a bad mood because he can’t find the
keys to his truck.”
“I’d never want to set off Uncle George.” Matt followed his daughter outside.
Okay, cowboy. Now it’s time to Daddy up.
* * *
Miranda watched Matt and Emily leave the house until they shut the back door behind them. Should she join them this time? If Emily was going to ride Oreo, Matt’s attention would be focused on her. So it’s not like Miranda would be intruding on their conversation.
She’d give them a few minutes alone, then go out and check on them. She’d no more than made that decision when Uncle George entered the kitchen, grumbling as he passed her and made his way to the service porch, where he searched the key rack near the door, only to come up empty-handed.
“Looking for something?” she asked.
“I can’t find the blasted keys to my truck. I could have sworn I left them hanging right here. Dammit.” He slapped his gnarly hands on his hips and then brightened. “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” He reached into his pocket. “Here they are.”
Miranda bit back a chuckle. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve gotta run a couple of errands in town.”
“If you’re going anywhere near the post office, we’re going to need another roll of stamps. I’d like to mail out the monthly bills tomorrow.”
“You got it.”
“Will you be home for lunch?” she asked. Not that she planned on making anything other than sandwiches.
“Yeah, I’ll be back. But don’t bother fixing anything to eat. I’ll pick up a couple pizzas. Better yet, I’ll get something from that new restaurant near the Night Owl Motel. I ordered the hot wings last time I was there, and that was the best cluckin’ chicken I ever ate.”
This time, Miranda let the laughter flow. Uncle George wasn’t just a hoot, he was special. One of a kind. How could a man be sweet and gruff, soft and tough, all at the same time?
“If you don’t mind,” she said, “I think I’ll watch Emily ride Oreo for a while, then I’ll finish the office work.”
