Not My First Rodeo 2 Boxed Set

by Donna Alward

Epilogue

  Jules shifted April higher on her hip as she crossed the lawn toward the refreshment tent. She ought to care that April’s shoes were likely getting her dress dirty, but the family wedding photos were over and she’d actually gotten the little angel to smile. She had to bribe her with the promise of a cookie and her pearl bracelet, but the deed was done.

  As they made their way through the swirl of people, April gripped her tighter and tucked her tiny head under her chin. “Almost there, baby girl.”

  She swiped a cookie they were using as wedding favors from the basket at the end of the table and opened the plastic bag with her teeth. She’d never imagined she’d ever toss decorum aside so completely. But then she hadn’t been faced with a toddler who needed so much.

  “She looks just like you.” A voice said from beside her.

  “Thank you.” Jules smiled as April took the cookie with one hand, still holding onto her with the other. She didn’t recognize the older woman, and guessed she was one of Ray’s relatives. There was no point explaining family dynamics to someone who only meant to pay a compliment.

  “Did she get heavy during the ceremony?”

  “I’m used to it.” April had reached for her as she walked down the aisle with Slade. He’d tried to take her from where she sat with his in-laws, but she wasn’t having any of it. It had been easier to hold her than deal with her crying through the wedding.

  April started in on the frosted cookie. They’d both be covered in sugar in no time. She started toward the tables where she might be able to set her down, when a hand on her arm stopped her.

  She turned to see Amanda’s mother and her chest tightened. Not many people made her nervous, but the reverend’s wife always seemed to be watching her.

  The older woman reached out and tucked a stray curl into April’s bow. “Thank you for that.”

  “The outfit? It’s adorable, isn’t it?”

  She shook her head. “She’s adorable in anything. I meant for not saying you’re not her mother.”

  “Oh, well,” she tried to swallow but her throat had gone completely dry. “I didn’t think it was appropriate to explain.”

  “She does look like you.”

  Jules stood still though her heart galloped far and fast. “I’m not trying to replace her.”

  “But you are. And it’s what Amanda would want. We worried for a long time that Slade might find someone who only pretended to love the children.”

  She shook her head. “He wouldn’t have done that. They mean everything to him.”

  The older woman took her hand and squeezed. “I want to thank you for loving them. And to say that Jon and I, we will love all your children as our own. Because you don’t divide your heart, we won’t either.”

  She blinked at the tears threatening to fall, and bit her lip as it started to tremble. She wanted to speak, but there weren’t any words for that kind of generosity, that level of acceptance.

  “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” She stepped forward, and April joined in on the hug.

  “Oh, honey,” she said with her tiny voice.

  Both women laughed and grinned down at the cookie-smudged face.

  “What’s so funny?” Slade asked, his warm hand sliding around her waist.

  “Oh, honey,” April said, then started laughing.

  “Oh, honey,” he said back, then pulled her into his arms as she cracked up some more.

  “Careful,” Jules said as she swiped at her eyes. “Don’t let her get cookie on you.”

  He shrugged. “I have a spare shirt in the house. If she gets it on you, you’ll wind up in something of my mom’s.” He looked at his former mother-in-law. “She refuses to move in with us until after we’re married.”

  “I knew someone else like that.” She squeezed Jules’s hand again before returning to her circle of friends.

  “Sorry I couldn’t get here faster. I had to pawn Gus off on Nate. I hope it wasn’t too awkward.” Slade took her hand and they walked back to the hill where the rest of the family were waiting for the photographer to get all the right shots of the bride and groom. Gus had the best view in the place, sitting atop Nate’s shoulders.

  “Not at all. She’s actually kind of amazing.” Jules squeezed his hand, her engagement ring still feeling new.

  “Finally, we’re all together.” Carly held a tablet in one hand, the other on her hip. “Cocktail time is almost over. We’ll head in and then start with the first dance while people get settled. You all remember the order we dance in, right?”

  “I’m sure you’ll tell us.” Nate held on to Gus’s new black boots while the boy wiggled on his shoulders.

  “No.” Carly all but glared at him. “I’ll be dancing Ray’s dad off the dance floor. Come on, do I need to write it on your hand?”

  “We have it,” Jules said with a smile. Carly was determined everything went perfectly, and as funny as it would be next week, right now was not the time to tease. “Bride and groom, then Joanna and Ray’s dad come in, Carly dance’s Ray’s dad off and Ace steps in while Nate gets Joanna and Ray’s mom gets him. Then we invite all the mother and sons to dance. We got this, right guys?”

  The brothers nodded as Jacy and Ray joined the group, finally free of the photographer. As happy as they looked, Jules read it clearly that they wanted to be done with the wedding and be alone together. Maybe she and Slade should do something smaller, just a quick afternoon.

  “You’re not carrying me when we dance.” Gus announced, adjusting his blue bowtie. “I’m grown.”

  “Sure you are, cowboy.” Jules grinned up at him. She hadn’t been sure he’d want to dance with her, since at the rehearsal dinner he’d announced that cowboys don’t dance. He must have thought better of it after his dad and uncles set out to prove him wrong.

  “Who’s gonna dance with April?” Gus squirmed so much Nate set him down.

  “Daddy. And whoever else she wants.” Jules took his hand, relieved he’d kept his nails clean. It had to be a record.

  “She only likes us.” He squinted up at his sister. “Hey, I want a cookie too.” He started to pull her toward the tent.

  “After we dance, Gus.”

  He faked a groan. “Okay, but I’m just dancing with you. I don’t have time for all these other ladies.”

  Nate let out a laugh and ruffled Gus’s blonde head. “I’m with you kid. I dance with my mama, then I’m done.”

  “Yeah, then I get a cookie. Right mama?” His brown eyes widened, as if the word had shocked even him.

  “Right, kiddo.” She got the words out even though her throat had tightened with emotion, her eyes glassy. Slade squeezed her hand, and Jacy grinned and shot her a wink.

  Jules had never felt like she belonged anywhere. She’d always been in the way, an inconvenience, a little too much to fit in. But here, in this place she never imagined she’d want to be, the empty places in her soul were finally filled. She’d had places she slept, rooms that held her things, but never a home. Never a place to belong to. But here, even with her heels sinking into the lawn, here she would stay. Here she would build a family bigger and stronger than she ever imagined possible.

  About the Author

  Jenna Bayley-Burke is known for her fun, sexy romance novels, baking banana bread, and over-volunteering. She thinks she has the best jobs in the world—mother, wife, and author. When she’s not lost in her latest story, she can be found pursuing whatever hobby her characters are enamored with—photography, yoga, shoes, gardening, crafts, and cooking up a storm. Keep up with Jenna online at:

  Newsletter : Website : Facebook : Twitter : Pinterest : Blog

  Also by Jenna Bayley-Burke

  Compromising Positions

  The Billionaire’s Runaway Fiancée

  Discover more Entangled Select Contemporary titles…

  Love on Tap

  a Brewing Love novel by Meg Benjamin

  Wyatt Montgomery knows a barrel of legendary Zoria imperial stou
t will help his Denver gastropub stay on top, and when he hears the brewmaster has only one barrel left, he won’t stop until it’s his. When Wyatt rushes into Bec Dempsey’s small-town cooperative offering to buy the last barrel of her precious Zoria, she’s thrown for a loop. She’s been burned before, and she’ll be damned if she’ll let it happen again. But when things start heating up between them, Bec decides to make Wyatt a counteroffer. One she hopes he won’t refuse.

  Worth the Wait

  a Kingston Ale House novel by A. J. Pine

  What does a girl do when the man she thought loved her steals her life’s savings? She re-evaluates her life—and establishes a full-on cleanse to rid herself of toxins. No alcohol. No red meat. And certainly no—um—male parts. Jeremy Denning doesn’t do commitment. But he can’t stop thinking about the woman who’s sworn off men completely. He’s out to prove himself worthy of her love—without so much as a kiss—but in doing so, he may lose the one thing he’s vowed to never give up. His heart.

  Roping the Rancher

  Sarah M. Anderson

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Sarah M. Anderson. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Select Contemporary is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition June 2017

  Chapter One

  The drink hit Tommy Tucker square in the face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Stacy asked as she stood and grabbed her things.

  Well, for starters, he was now wearing an amaretto sour. “Baby,” Tommy started to say, but he wasn’t fast enough. Not that he was trying to be all that fast.

  Stacy was not that into him. A nine-dollar drink to the face made that pretty damned clear.

  “Don’t you ‘baby’ me, you ass.” Stacy threw her coat over her shoulders and shot him a mean look. “Why did you even want to be with me if you think you want to see other people? I didn’t say anything about seeing other people. I thought—”

  Oh God. Her lip quivered.

  “—I was what you wanted.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Tommy protested, but he was talking to nothing but air. Stacy was gone—just like all the others before her had gone, with a huff and a cutting look.

  For the life of him, Tommy didn’t even know why he’d brought up having an open relationship. He’d only been seeing Stacy for about five weeks—by some standards, that wasn’t even long enough to be exclusive in the first place.

  He’d brought her here tonight with the intention of telling her about his father’s upcoming wedding. But at the last second, he’d changed course. Almost without realizing what words were coming out of his mouth, he’d asked instead if it’d be okay if they slept with other people.

  That was a hell of a far cry from a wedding invitation.

  Stacy should have been perfect. She was hot and smart and…hot. She liked cowboys, and she loved riding reverse cowboy. What more did a guy need in college, right?

  But then she’d had to go and celebrate their first-month anniversary last week. She’d gotten him a rose, for crying out loud. Who the hell marked a one-month anniversary with flowers?

  He wiped the amaretto off his cheek. His shirt would never be the same. That was his own damn fault—he had to stop wearing white shirts on dates.

  “That didn’t look like it went so well.” A towel appeared in front of him. “You all right, hon?”

  Tommy wiped off his face and looked up at his savior. Carlene. He didn’t know her last name—Carlene was all her nametag said.

  He didn’t know much at all about the woman standing before him, only that she was a waitress here at Peachtree’s. She was older and she didn’t wear a ring. He didn’t know how much older, though. She wasn’t a college girl, that much was clear. She had a woman’s curves.

  Not that he’d noticed. He hadn’t. Not much, anyway.

  What he did know was that he had been bringing various dates to this Peachtree’s in Helena, Montana, throughout his senior year at the University of Montana and Carlene had been his waitress for all of them. She had served him dinner and brought him beer through three different girlfriends, Stacy included, four other dates that went nowhere, and once when he’d been stood up by a girl from his economics class.

  Actually, Tommy knew other things about Carlene. She wore tight, slim-cut pants—pants, not leggings or jeggings or whatever the hell the college girls were wearing. She wore actual pants, usually black, cut close to show off her ass. And she wore heels. Not comfort shoes and not trendy platforms. Not even boots, which during a crushing Montana winter, were everywhere. She usually had on black pumps with at least a four-inch heel.

  While the other servers in the restaurant wore Peachtree’s emblazoned polo tops, Carlene almost always had on a button-up shirt, usually white and usually unbuttoned to the point where he could almost glimpse the edge of her bra when she leaned forward to set his drinks on the table. Almost, but not quite.

  She liked sports. She frequently paused in the middle of her rounds, her eyes fastened on one of the seven screens that dotted the Peachtree’s bar as she watched a touchdown or three-pointer. If it was her team, she’d do this little shimmy in celebration that always made his mouth go dry. And if it wasn’t her team, she’d stomp her foot in frustration—all without ever spilling a drop of anything she was carrying. As far as Tommy could tell, she rooted for Denver and Seattle’s teams—football, basketball. He hadn’t been coming here long enough to know if she followed baseball.

  “Yeah, I’m all right.” He glanced up to see Carlene watching him closely. He wasn’t exactly upset that Stacy had bailed, but he wished he didn’t look like such a loser in front of Carlene. He tried to make a joke to cover his embarrassment. “Another wild Saturday night, I guess.”

  “Was that the second or third time one of those girls threw their drink in your face?” Carlene clucked at him. “I don’t know what you’re saying to them, but maybe you should try a different line.”

  His cheeks heated. Was she scolding him?

  But then her voice dropped as she said, “Here, you missed a spot.”

  Before Tommy knew what was happening, Carlene had taken her towel back from him. She found a drier corner and began to blot amaretto sour from his forehead.

  Tommy’s eyes fluttered at her touch, and he went more than a little bit hard in his jeans. Thank God for the table, because he’d hate to be busted sporting a hard-on in the middle of a family dining establishment.

  Something about this wasn’t right. He was twenty-two, for God’s sake. He should not be sitting in Peachtree’s, seconds after being justifiably dumped for being an asshole, and getting hard as an older woman cleaned his face.

  Carlene ran a manicured finger under his chin and lifted his face up. The tip of her nail scraped over his skin and he shivered. She felt it, too. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. A vision of her in bed, panting and moaning in satisfaction, made his mouth dry. “You keep coming in here,” she said in a much softer voice that sent shockwaves through him, “with all these pretty young things and it never seems to end well, does it?”

  This was madness. But what the hell.

  “Maybe I should try something else,” he said, gazing up at her. He hoped like hell he didn’t look like some lost puppy dog that needed to be taken home and fed a warm bowl of milk.

  If she was offended, she didn’t show it. Instead, Ca
rlene leaned down and ran the rough edge of the towel over his cheek as she said, “Maybe you should.”

  Half hard? More like rock hard. Her voice vibrated right through his chest, and the tension between them began to tighten, pulling him closer toward her. He had the overwhelming urge to do something—pull her into his lap, fall down at her knees—anything to show her that he wasn’t some novice who needed to be taken care of.

  He wanted to show her that he could take care of her.

  If only he knew how. But even he could see the folly in asking his waitress out mere minutes after being dumped. Nothing would reek of desperation more.

  Carlene’s eyes widened slightly, her pupils darkening. Hell, she was interested. But as he opened his mouth to say something, she straightened up, breaking the tension between them. “Keep the towel,” she said in her usual waitress voice. “I’ll bring you another beer—on the house.”

  “You’re a wonderful woman, Carlene,” Tommy called after her and he wasn’t even joking about it.

  She paused and shot him a look over her shoulder that made his blood run hot in a way Stacy’s looks never had. “Just figuring that out, are you?” And then she went to the bar.

  …

  He sat there for a long time—longer than he usually did when he brought his dates to her restaurant. Carly tried not to think about what happened between Tommy and his dates after they left together, arms slung around each other’s waists. It was none of her business.

  Or it hadn’t been, anyway.

  Saturday night was busy, and Carly had to manage the restaurant, but she kept an eye on the young cowboy. Men flirted with her all the time. It was one of those things that went with the job—a warm smile and prompt refills seem to be an invitation to some people and most of those people were men. Not always, but most.

  Not that Carly was a waitress. She wasn’t. She was the assistant manager of this restaurant and the weekend was her regular shift. But Saturday, it seemed, was prime time for someone to call in “sick” and it was easier for Carly to fill in than it was to call in someone else. Well, it’d been that way in the beginning.