Home on the Ranch: Texas Wedding

by Sasha Summers

  Not real?

  Meaning she didn’t love him. Whatever he thought or felt didn’t matter. She wouldn’t marry without love—it wasn’t enough that he loved her.

  She left him standing in the nursery, numb and desperate and scrambling for some way to make this better. All the way back to town, he was sifting through her words—needing something to hold on to, some glimmer of hope that he, and his heart, still had a chance with her.

  “Thanks for the adventure.” She smiled into the back seat before sliding from the truck cab and hurrying inside the City Offices.

  He sat, staring at the door, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. That was it? She’d said what she needed to say and that was that? That wasn’t how this was going to work. He didn’t think through what he’d say or do before he mumbled, “Be back,” and followed her inside.

  He nodded at Irma and headed straight to Renata’s office, closing the door behind them before she could argue.

  “Ash?” She sniffed, her attempt to shrug out of her coat frozen as she stared at him.

  The sight of her tear-filled eyes had him crossing the floor, the numbness giving way to something sharp and cutting. “I don’t get a say in any of this?”

  She shook her head, wiping her eyes.

  “No?” he bit out, searching her face, stepping closer. The words were there—all he had to do was say them. But she’d made it clear she wouldn’t believe him. How could he love her after a couple of weeks? How could he know he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her? All he knew was he did. Even if she didn’t feel the same way. “How’s that fair?”

  “None of this is fair, Ash.” Her gaze fell to his lips. “None of it. But you know I’m right.”

  A hard, short snort escaped, frustration and anger kicking in. She wasn’t willing to love him, to let him love her, but she wanted him. And, dammit, he ached for her. To be close to her. To touch her. He’d take what he could get. “I know you want me to kiss you.”

  She was still staring at his mouth, her cheeks flushing. “I’ll get over it.”

  It hurt to breathe. “And I want to kiss you.” He cradled her cheek.

  Her eyes met his, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she leaned into his palm. “This is the last time—”

  He pressed her against the wall, hands cradling her face as his mouth lowered to hers. It was a long and slow kiss, his lips sealing with hers and breathing her in—searing her scent and taste and feel into his fingertips and tongue.

  She clung, swaying into him as her arms wound around his neck and her fingers slid through his hair. Her hunger rolled over him, giving him permission to deepen the kiss for a moment longer. Didn’t she feel this? Know that this wasn’t just attraction but something more. Something real.

  With a groan, he tore his mouth from hers and stared down at her. How he managed to let her go, to step back, and have the icy void slide between them, he didn’t know. But he had to leave before he said or did something he’d regret. “You might get over wanting this. I’m not so sure I will.”

  He could have stayed there, lost in her blue eyes—hoping she’d change her mind. But loving her meant wanting her happiness and that meant leaving. Every step away from her was a struggle.

  Chapter 13

  “Next we have the Stonewall Crossing Trail Riders.” Quinton Sheehan spoke into the microphone.

  “This group will be making a trip to the Rocky Mountains this summer for a competitive trail riding competition,” Lola chimed in. “They’re looking for sponsors to make this trip a reality.”

  “Well, I’ll be.” Quinton nudged Renata, hard. “Tell us how the fine folk can help?”

  Renata blinked. “Right.” She stared at the words on the white index card. “It says here that each horse has two battery packs wired into the wreath it’s wearing.”

  Lola and Quinton were staring at her.

  “Pregnancy brain,” he whispered.

  Lola chuckled.

  She ignored them. “And...did you know braiding a mane can take a couple of hours?”

  Quinton spoke into his mic. “Why, no, Renata, I didn’t know that.”

  Lola covered her microphone. “He asked about sponsorship information, sweetie.”

  Renata forced a smile. “If you’re interested in sponsoring this wonderful group of young people, touch base with George Rios or Monica Castillo.” She read off the rest of the card and eyed the remaining stack of cards. The parade had barely started and she was already wishing it was over.

  So far, her co-commentators had landed a good dozen pregnancy and/or engagement digs, and they’d only been sitting on the stage for forty minutes.

  “Let’s all give this fine group a wave.” Lola spoke. “Oh my, next up is Dr. Farriday’s Christmas float. Look at that.”

  Renata glanced up. There, pulled behind a diesel pickup, was Dr. Farriday’s float. A massive baby cradle made of papier-mâché, pink and blue streamers, and lights rocked—yes, rocked—on the flatbed trailer where it rested.

  “Isn’t that the sweetest thing?” Lola asked, reaching over Quinton to pat her arm. “This time next year, you’ll be rocking your own cradles, Renata.”

  There were more than a few laughs from the crowd.

  “Two cradles,” Quinton sounded off. “You’ll have your hands full.”

  Renata cut them off, reading the neatly printed information off the card she held.

  “Dr. Farriday and her staff wish you all a very happy and healthy holiday,” Quinton added. “And we want to thank her for being one of tonight’s sponsors.”

  “Next up, we have a team from Boone Lodge pulling a festive hayride,” Lola said, waving.

  A hayride she wished she was a part of.

  Still, she was proud of her father, sitting tall in the driver’s seat of his prized wagon. And in the back? Her nieces and nephews all but overflowed the wagon, waving and blowing kisses her way as they made their way down the parade route and past the stage.

  “How many grandchildren do you have now, Teddy?” Quinton called out.

  “Not near enough,” her father called back, tipping his hat and shooting her a wink.

  Quinton laughed, and so did Lola—but she winced, waiting.

  “Well, you’ll have two more before you know it.” Lola shot her a look. “First things first, when’s that boy going to propose?”

  “Can’t blame him for being gun-shy. We all know what happened last time he tried.” Quinton was chuckling.

  That chuckle was beginning to wear on her nerves. Nerves that had been shot since Ash had kissed her in her office.

  “Renata?” Lola prodded.

  “Yes?” she asked, glancing at the older woman all decked out like Mrs. Claus.

  “I asked who was next, dear.” She gave her a sympathetic click.

  “Next we have the Stonewall Crossing Quilting Guild.” She read the card with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. There was no way they could tie this float into her pregnancy or nonengagement.

  “We’ll have to see about getting them to work on a wedding-ring quilt for you and Dr. Carmichael.” Lola waved. “What do you think, ladies?”

  “Already started,” Nancy Guerra called back. “And Tiffy’s started working on quilts for the twins, too.”

  Renata slumped forward. This was torture. It couldn’t get any worse—

  “Next up, we have riders from the University of East Texas Veterinary Teaching Hospital’s large animal clinic,” Quinton boomed. “Why, look there, if it isn’t your beau in the saddle.”

  Of course it was. Renata didn’t want to look. She really didn’t. But, somehow, her gaze found him.

  Eventually, she’d see him and her heart wouldn’t seize up like this. He’d always be handsome, there was no way around that. But her feelings would fade. This horr
ible pain would fade. She had to believe that.

  His gaze bounced her way. The instant tightening of his jaw wreaked havoc on her pulse.

  “Why, Dr. Carmichael, I bet Teddy Boone has his shotgun loaded and ready.” Lola was teasing—and the crowd loved it. “Should we expect a Christmas wedding?”

  Renata wasn’t sure what was worse, the sweat breaking out on her brow and upper lip or the sudden churning of her stomach.

  “No, ma’am.” Quinton shook his head. “I’m guessing you’re planning something big?” He looked at her.

  She sipped her water, hoping it would settle her stomach. “No.”

  Lola and Quinton both looked her way.

  “No?” Lola asked. “Something smaller? Well, that makes sense. Considering.”

  Renata ran a hand over her face, willing her stomach to behave. Now was the perfect time to set everyone—everyone—straight. She glanced up, only to realize Ash had reined his horse in and sat directly in front of the stage.

  “Well, well, Dr. Carmichael looks like he has something to say.” Lola’s excitement was tangible.

  In fact, a ripple of excitement seemed to spill out over the crowd.

  But Renata had never seen that look before. Ash was...angry. Really angry.

  “Um, Lola.” Quinton must have picked up on Ash’s mood.

  “Hush now, Quinton, this is the most excitement this parade’s ever had.” She clapped her hands together.

  Ash looked about ready to explode.

  Renata stood. “No one’s proposing tonight. At least, not here. No one’s getting married. And, even though you all have very particular opinions on my personal life, I’d like to put this matter to rest. Ash has asked me to marry him. But I said no. Now, how about we get back to what matters and greet the next group...” She ignored Ash and Lola and Quinton and glanced at her card. “A dance troupe all the way from Austin. Clogging, I believe that’s what it’s called?”

  It took the other two a minute to pick back up where they’d left off, but once they did she handed the mic to Quinton and left the stage.

  * * *

  Ash wasn’t mad. He was furious. He didn’t give a damn about how the town of Stonewall Crossing felt about him—not after that little display. But Renata? That they’d publicly humiliate her that way?

  He fumed for the rest of the parade, did his best not to snap while getting the horses loaded for their ride back to Archer’s place and tried to smile for Curtis when Santa rode into town on the last float of the night.

  “You look like a thundercloud,” his mother whispered as they drove the long road back to the Lodge.

  “Feel like one,” he answered.

  “Can’t say that I blame you.” She patted his arm. “I’ve never... Well, I’ve never.”

  He nodded.

  “What are you going to do?”

  He glanced at his mother. “Check on her. See what she needs.”

  She studied him. “You going to tell her you love her, Ash?”

  He shook his head. “If I thought she’d believe me. Right now, she’s too wary of another obligatory proposal.”

  “Maybe if she heard it, often and regularly, she would.” She sat back against the leather passenger seat.

  “She said she needed space.” He cleared his throat. “Said this couldn’t end well between us.”

  She sighed. “You young people make everything so hard. All these rules and expectations just get in the way. Betty and I were talking to Clara—”

  “Oh, here we go.” He chuckled. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

  “Shush now.” She placed a hand on his arm. “We’re old, yes, because we have more experience. And all that experience might just mean we have, occasionally, some words of wisdom to impart.”

  “I’m all ears.” He and his mother had been a team long before Shanna came into his life. She was the only other constant in his world and she deserved his respect—even if he didn’t always agree with her advice.

  “If those babies weren’t coming, would you be courting her?” She waited, arms crossed over her chest.

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t have to think that through much.” His mother sounded delighted.

  “Nope.” He glanced her way. “I’m not saying I’d be proposing already but...eventually, yeah.”

  “Then tell her that.” She smiled. “Start there.”

  If only it were that easy. But he nodded, parking in front of the Lodge and turning off the engine.

  “Better make it quick, Ash.” His mother’s voice was tight.

  He looked out the passenger window to see Renata’s yellow truck, the doors open and the toolbox wide—a suitcase on the ground beside it. She was leaving. Again.

  “Dammit,” he ground out.

  “You can hardly blame her.” His mother patted his arm. “You go on. I’ll get Curtis. Just remember, this is hard on her, too.”

  He nodded before climbing from the truck, all the carefully planned words he’d come up with on the drive here evaporating the closer he got to her vehicle.

  The gravel crunched under his boots, alerting her to his arrival. He didn’t miss the way she ran her hand over her long braid or the deep breath she took before she faced him.

  “I’m not in the mood, Ash. I’m leaving in the morning,” she snapped, avoiding his gaze. “No lecture needed.”

  “No lecture.” He leaned against the truck, watching her.

  Her eyes met his, brows rising in question.

  The cold had the tip of her nose and her cheeks bright red. And he’d never seen a prettier sight. “Worried is more like it,” he admitted.

  Her gaze fell, her tone brittle. “They meant well.”

  “Renata.” He tapped his fingers along the truck bed. “I’ve been reeling since yesterday. Trying to figure out what to say and how to say it.”

  “After tonight, no one will say a thing about us getting married.” She shrugged, dismissive. If it wasn’t for the irritation rolling off her, he might have bought it.

  But he was irritated, too. “I don’t give a shit about what these people say or think, not after tonight.”

  He had her attention then. Those eyes were fixed on him. The hint of a smile on her lips. And damn, she was beautiful. “There’s nothing left to say.” Beautiful and stubborn.

  “Wrong.” He stepped closer. “I have plenty to say.”

  She stood her ground, a hint of defiance in the tilt of her chin. “I need a break, Ash.” Her gaze fell to his mouth, briefly.

  “Space.” He ground the word out. “I know. I’m trying.” Even if it was the last thing he wanted.

  “Really?” She crossed her arms over her chest, tucking her hands against her sides. “Try harder.”

  “You don’t own gloves?” he asked, spying her bare hands. “It’s below freezing, Renata.”

  “Stop it.” Her calm vanished. “Stop pretending you care about me. I’m not your responsibility.”

  He froze, her words a shock. “I didn’t mean it that way—”

  “I’m not going to risk these babies, ever. They’re mine. I love them. And they will love me—” Her voice broke.

  “I know that.” He spoke softly. He would love her if she’d let him—if she’d listen. “I need to tell you something, okay? Can you—”

  “Wh-why won’t you leave me alone?” Her voice rose.

  “How can I leave you alone and be here for our family? I can’t. I won’t. I’m not going anywhere. When you get back, I’ll be here, waiting.”

  She was shaking her head. “Great. Wonderful.” She slammed her truck door. “Just, please, leave me alone now. Let me have time to get over you—over this—so it doesn’t hurt to see you. You’re always there... Always. Is that asking too much? For you to stop being there when I turn around?”
/>
  Each word crashed into him. Over him. Hurt to see him... Words that caused her pain and gave him hope. Had she just said what he hoped she’d said? He reached for her then. “Renata—”

  “No, Ash.” She stepped back, hands out in front of her.

  “You realize you’re yelling?” Fisher called from the front porch. “And our guests are complaining.”

  “Perfect.” She spun, her braid flying. “Don’t even think about following me.”

  He’d let her go, for now. And he wouldn’t smile. Not now, when she was so upset. But dammit, he couldn’t stop himself.

  Chapter 14

  “You got everything you need?” her father asked, tipping his hat back.

  She nodded. “You don’t need to drive me, Dad.”

  “I want to, long as you don’t mind the detour?”

  She shook her head. Fisher said a neighbor had called about a downed gate. Since they were closest, they’d check it out, let Fisher know and hit the road.

  “Don’t like the idea of you making the drive on your own. Awful lot of highway. I know you’re anxious to see your cousins, but you said Tandy and Click are coming home for New Year’s so they can bring you back.” He glanced at her. “You are coming back?”

  She swallowed. “I am.”

  “Promise?” His voice was soft, unsteady.

  “I promise, Dad.” She nodded.

  “Sure wish you were waiting till after the holidays to go, Renata. This is the first Christmas without you.”

  She bit into her lower lip to hide the tremor.

  “Last night was bad, I’m not going to lie,” he grumbled. “And I gave Lola a talking-to—I don’t care how bowed up her husband got. That woman needs to learn that she doesn’t have to say every thought that goes through her brain.”

  She smiled. “She can’t help it.”

  “She needs to try,” he barked, reaching across the seat to take her hand. “That Sheehan fella should thank his stars Ash stopped Fisher from throwing a punch.”

  “He did?”

  He nodded. “Good damn thing, too, or the fool would have ended up in the hospital—and your brother would probably be locked in a cell.”