by Judy Duarte
“Suit yourself. You’re the one balancing the books. I’m just glad I don’t have to do it anymore—or worry that someone is robbing me blind.”
“And I’m glad you let me and Emily stay here for the time being.”
George grimaced, then stroked his left arm from shoulder to elbow and back again.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Is your arm bothering you?”
“I slept on it wrong. It’s nothin’ that a couple of ibuprofen won’t take care of.” He nodded toward the door. “It’s burnin’ daylight. I gotta go.”
“If you give me a minute,” she said, “I can drive you.”
“Oh, hell’s bells. I might be old, but I’m not an invalid. And if you don’t stop fussin’ over me, the only place you’re going to drive me is crazy.” He punctuated his snarky tone with a wink, then he opened the back door and let himself out.
After stopping in the service porch, reaching into Emily’s laundry basket and placing a load of colors into the washer, Miranda went outside, too, where she found Matt leaning against the corral, his cane propped up next to him, as he watched Emily saddle her pony.
She took a minute to study the cowboy from a distance, the way his hat tilted just right. The way he cocked his head. The way the sun lit the blond streaks in his light brown hair. Broad shoulders, narrow hips. If he’d just turn a bit to the right, she’d catch sight of his profile, of his handsome face...
That’s enough of that, she told herself as she shook off her star-crossed attraction and headed toward him. When she reached his side, she lifted her hand to her forehead to shield the morning sun from her eyes.
“How’s she doing?” she asked.
“She’s a chip off the old block.”
Miranda’s heart swelled. She’d noticed so many of Matt’s mannerisms in Emily, and she was glad he’d spotted them, too. “You’re right. She really does take after you.”
Matt turned toward her, providing that glimpse of his gorgeous face, and tossed her a playful grin. “The old block I was referring to is Uncle George. Emily’s a feisty little thing when she doesn’t want help. But other than that, she’s doing just fine.”
After tightening the cinch, Emily turned to Matt, slapped her hands on her denim-clad hips and grinned. “See? I did it by myself.”
“I’m impressed.”
So was Miranda, but not so much at her daughter’s skill when it came to riding the pony, but at the way Matt and Emily seemed to have hit it off so quickly.
“Do you want me to give you a boost into the saddle?” Matt asked.
“Nope.” Emily stood as tall as her little girl stature would allow, brushed her hands together, then reached for the pony’s reins. “I can do that by myself, too. Just watch me.”
An easy grin tugged at Matt’s lips, and Miranda let out a soft sigh of relief. She knew better than to think that he’d forgiven her for keeping their daughter a secret from him for so long, but at least he didn’t seem nearly as angry as he’d been.
“See how stubborn and insistent she can be,” Matt said. “Maybe you should have named her Georgina, after our headstrong, favorite uncle.”
“She’s a little bullheaded. I’ll give you that.” But then again, so was her father.
Memories of that handsome young cowboy and days gone by popped up like spring flowers. First love, new life. Stolen kisses while frosting homemade cupcakes. Holding hands while watching TV and munching on popcorn.
What Miranda wouldn’t give to roll back the clock and return to that simpler time.
“So,” Matt said, drawing her back to the present. “When is your baby due?”
Miranda’s heart darn near stopped, and she could hardly take a breath, let alone form a single word. Instead, she continued to lean on the corral for support and turned to him in stunned silence.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s none of my business.”
No, she supposed it wasn’t. But that was another secret she couldn’t keep from him any longer. “I’m due on September second.”
He merely nodded.
“It’s a boy,” she added.
He glanced at Emily, who galloped her pony inside the corral. “Does she know she’s going to have a little brother?”
“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled, but I haven’t told anyone yet.” She expected Matt to address her confession, to offer an opinion, a judgment. Something. But his gaze remained on the child.
About the time she thought he’d dropped the subject completely, he asked, “So your father doesn’t know?”
“No, but I plan to call him tomorrow. I’ll tell him then.”
At that, Matt’s focus finally shifted, and he turned to face her, his elbow resting on the corral. His weight shifted to one hip, allowing him to take the burden off his bad knee. “Are you afraid to tell him?”
“No, I’m not.” She’d been more afraid to tell her dad that she was going to have Matt’s baby. Just as she’d expected, when he found out, he’d been more than a little upset. But he’d gotten over his initial anger when he realized he would be a grandfather. And once he’d seen Emily and held her in his arms, he’d made a complete about-face. So Miranda had no reason to expect a different reaction from him this time.
“So what are you waiting for?” Matt’s gaze drilled into her, but not in an accusatory or judgmental way. He seemed more curious than anything. And wanting answers.
But she couldn’t blame him for that. Her current situation could inspire a new reality TV show: The Pregnant Runaway Bride.
“Just to be clear,” she said, “I regret ever getting involved with Gavin, but I’m actually happy about having another baby. It’s not this little boy’s fault that his unexpected arrival has complicated my life. My dad’s, too.”
“How so?”
“Besides the obvious?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I play an active role in the family business.”
“It doesn’t look like you’re doing a very good job of that now.”
“You’re right. My dad had to hire an accountant from a temp agency to cover for me. From what he told me, things are getting done at the office, but the temporary setup is getting old, and he’d like me to come back.”
“He’s always had big plans for you,” Matt said. “Like graduating from high school as a valedictorian and attending an Ivy League college.”
“True.” Not to mention getting an accounting degree and eventually running the business he and his father started from the ground up.
“How long do you plan to stay with George on the Double G?” he asked.
“If your uncle doesn’t mind, I’d like to stay until after the baby is born. But eventually, I need to find a place of my own, something with some property. Not a ranch, but I’ll need room for all of Emily’s barnyard friends.”
“That’s for sure,” Matt said, a smile tilting his lips.
Miranda relished his upbeat mood for a couple of beats, wishing it was here to stay, then glanced into the corral, where her daughter—their daughter—and Oreo loped in a figure-eight pattern.
The kid was a natural. Was horsemanship genetic? In this case, it certainly seemed to be.
Over the years, Miranda had tried her best to forget her first—and only—love and move on, but she’d never been able to. How could she? Every time she looked at their daughter, she was reminded of the cowboy who’d stolen her heart when she was in high school.
And now, seeing the two of them together for the first time was surreal. And heartwarming.
Without a conscious thought, she risked another glance at Matt, and something stirred deep in her soul, something warm and...tender. Special.
Or was it more than that?
Not that Miranda was interested in rekindling an old flame. She knew better than to waste her thoughts on something crazy
like that.
Matt might be willing to step up and be a father to Emily. But she couldn’t expect him to want to take on a baby who wasn’t his.
Chapter Five
As a rumbling engine sounded outside, Miranda glanced out the office window and spotted George returning to the ranch in his old pickup.
As planned, she’d spent the rest of the morning paying the monthly bills and balancing the ledger, a task she’d just completed. So she gathered up the checks George needed to sign and placed them in a stack.
She’d no more than started down the hall, headed to the kitchen to greet him, when George called out, “Chicken’s on the table.”
Since Emily was probably still outside, Miranda would have to find her and tell her to wash up for lunch. As she entered the kitchen, she expected to see George laying food out on the table, but all she found were several heat-resistant boxes containing the meals he’d brought home.
She suspected he must have gone to tell Matt and Emily it was time to eat, so she proceeded to pull out napkins and paper plates from the pantry.
Her cell phone rang before she could take a step. She glanced at the lighted display. Spotting her father’s name, she let out a little sigh, then swiped her finger across the screen of her iPhone and answered. “Hey, Papa. What’s up?”
“Everything, it seems. From the moment I woke up, if something could go wrong, it did. I started out the day with a routine dental exam only to end up having a root canal. Then Diego Martinez called. That new farming venture in Mexico is going south, and I need to fly to Los Mochis later this afternoon to straighten things out.”
“That’s too bad. I’m sorry, but I guess some days are like that.”
He sucked in a deep breath and blew out a heavy sigh. “I know you wanted to distance yourself from Gavin. And I don’t blame you. But when are you coming home, mija? I could sure use someone in my corner right now.”
Miranda chewed her bottom lip. She’d planned to tell her father everything tomorrow, after she’d gotten her thoughts in order. Then again, she had him on the phone now.
Just get it over with and put it behind you.
She opened her mouth to speak, but a response shriveled up in her throat like a dried sponge, and her tongue couldn’t seem to find any words. The poor guy was having a bad day already, and her news would send him over the edge.
Boy, she could sure use a drink of water. Not to mention a believable excuse. So she crossed the room, cell phone pressed to her ear, and headed for the fridge. “I’m sorry I’m not there for you, Papa, but I’m not quite ready to come back yet.”
If truth be told, she wasn’t sure she wanted to return at all, other than to pack up her belongings and call a moving van.
“But it’s been three months, mija. I know you’re staying with a friend, but aren’t you afraid you’ll wear out your welcome?”
She cringed at the reminder of the excuse she’d given him when she’d first told him she needed time away. She was staying with a friend, but she’d led him to believe it was someone she’d met in college.
For a woman who’d always prided herself on being honest, she’d certainly pushed the limits on more than one occasion.
“Besides,” Papa said, “the office isn’t the same without you.”
“I miss you, too.” She removed a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator.
As she closed the door and turned away, she noticed a torn wadded-up piece of paper on the floor next to the metal trash can. She picked it up, realizing it had once been a small white bag with a red pharmacy logo, its contents—most likely medication—hastily removed. It hadn’t been there this morning. Had Uncle George gone into town to pick up a prescription? That was a little unusual, since she’d never seen him take anything.
“So how’re you doing?” her father asked. “And how’s Emily? I sure miss my girls.”
“We’re both having a good time. And Emily couldn’t be happier. She loves playing outdoors, especially with my friend’s dog, pony and other barnyard critters. I wouldn’t be surprised if she decided to become a veterinarian.”
“That’s great. It won’t hurt for her to start thinking about college. But you know I’m not a fan of homeschooling, so I hope that’s only going to be temporary, while you’re away. I think she’d do better in a regular classroom.”
“I agree.” That’s why Miranda had enrolled her in Brighton Valley Elementary, which was currently on spring break.
“When will you two be home? I don’t have anyone to spoil with glazed doughnuts on Sunday mornings.”
“I’ll bring Emily to see you in a week or two.” And she would. That would give her time to tell him about the baby and for him to get used to the idea. But that visit would be brief. She wasn’t going to stay in San Antonio any longer than she had to.
“By the way,” she asked, “is that accountant from the temp agency still working out?”
“He’s okay. He tries hard. But he’s not you, mija.”
Just then the backdoor creaked open. Emily entered the house first, followed by George.
“What kind of chicken did you bring us?” Emily asked.
Miranda’s heart slammed into her chest.
“Listen,” she said, “I have to hang up, Papa. I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.”
Then she disconnected the line before he overheard a name or recognized a voice that would unravel her secret before she had a chance to reveal it at a better time.
And in a much better way.
* * *
By the time four o’clock rolled around, Matt had built up a powerful thirst, so he went to the kitchen, where he found everyone had gathered. Emily and Miranda were working on a jigsaw puzzle at the table, while George was standing in front of the freezer, filling a glass with ice cubes. Even Sweetie Pie was seated on her haunches, tail thumping the floor, yet eyeing Matt as if she still wasn’t convinced he could be trusted.
“We finished off that chicken at lunch,” George said. “So how about chili beans for dinner? I’ve got a couple of cans in the pantry. There should be a box or two of that cornbread mix. But if not, I’m pretty sure we have saltines.”
Matt had survived his teen years eating simple fare that didn’t require much effort on the cook’s part, but canned chili had never sounded very good to him. Besides, he didn’t come to the Double G expecting someone to wait on him or to take care of all his needs. “It’s my turn, so I’ll get dinner tonight.”
“All right.” George took the jug of sweet tea from the fridge and filled his glass.
“I don’t mind cooking,” Miranda said. “I can make a run to the grocery store.”
“You can do that tomorrow,” Matt said, as he fixed himself a glass of tea. After taking a big swig, he made his way over to the table to check out the puzzle, a colorful scene with a fairy tale theme.
Emily looked up and gifted him with a dimpled grin. “Want to help us, Matt?”
He returned her smile. “No, I’ll just watch. You two seem to be fine without me.”
George took a sip of tea, then asked, “What do you have in mind for dinner, Matt? If you want to grill, there’s plenty of meat in the freezer, so it’ll need to be thawed. Or you’ll have to go to the market. And, come to think of it, we’re getting low on propane.”
“Let’s make this easy. I’ll drive into Brighton Valley and order something from Caroline’s Diner to go.”
“That’s a great idea. Simple, tasty and filling.” George reached into his back pocket. “And while you’re there, check out the desserts. I’ve got a hankerin’ for something sweet, especially if Caroline made it fresh today.”
When George withdrew the beat-up leather wallet that had molded to fit his backside, Matt raised the flat of his hand. “Put your money away. I’ve got it covered.”
“All right-y,�
� George said. “Then I won’t fight you.”
Matt felt a tug on his shirtsleeve and looked down at Emily.
“Can I go with you?” she asked, her soft brown eyes hopeful.
Matt didn’t mind taking her, but he glanced at Miranda, seeking her approval. “You’ll have to ask your mom.”
Miranda, who’d just removed a puzzle piece that had been placed in the wrong spot, looked up and caught his eye. She didn’t respond right away, so he figured she was uneasy about him taking Emily on his own. But why wouldn’t she be worried about that? Matt didn’t know squat about kids, especially little girls.
After a beat, she asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind taking her with you?”
“No,” he said, “not at all. You can even go with us. Unless you’ve got better things to do.”
She nodded toward the puzzle, then turned to him and laughed. “Are you kidding? This is the only project I have going on right now, but it can wait until we get back. Give me a minute, and I’ll meet you outside.”
Matt had learned that, most of the time, when a woman asked for a minute, she took much longer than that, but Miranda surprised him by actually making it quick.
As he opened the truck’s rear passenger door to let Emily into the backseat, Miranda came outside wearing a pretty pale green dress and a pair of boots. She’d brushed out her dark brown hair and let the curls tumble over her shoulders. And she’d freshened her lipstick. As she headed toward his pickup with a spring in her step and a breezy smile, she looked more like a woman who belonged on a ranch than a CPA who spent her days working in an office.
He hated to admit it, but he still found her stunningly attractive—with or without the baby bump.
“I haven’t been to Caroline’s Diner in years,” she said, as she climbed into his pickup, filling the cab with a hint of her perfume—something soft and alluring that reminded him of spring flowers. “Has it changed much?”
“Not that I know of,” Matt said. “Unless Caroline did some remodeling since I was there the winter before last.”
