“I love you, Declan Brennan,” she said loudly enough for the whole church to hear.
The music changed. The Judds sang “Love Can Build a Bridge,” and every single word fit the day, the end of the feud, and the love that Declan and Betsy shared. Betsy took the bouquet from her mother, removed one rose, and she and Declan moved away from the podium to the front pew. She gave a rose to Naomi, kissed her on the cheek, and moved all the way to the other end where Mavis was sitting, pulled another rose out of her bouquet, and handed it to Mavis, along with a kiss on the cheek.
As she and Declan made their way to the bottom of the steps leading up to the stage, the lyrics of the song said love and only love can join the hearts of men and that the first step was to know that it all began with them.
Declan led her up the steps to stand in front of Kyle again, and together they waited for the music to end. They looked into each other’s eyes and sang with the recording, saying that when they stood together, they could do anything and that love could build a bridge between their hearts.
At the end of the song, Kyle cleared his throat and said, “I don’t know if I can preach this wedding with the lump that’s in my throat. I’ve never heard stranger song selections at a wedding or ones that were more fitting. So with that said and because Declan and Betsy have asked for a short ceremony, who gives this bride to this man to be married?”
“Her mother and I do. And remember, Declan, if you don’t treat her right, the whole Gallagher family will come down on you,” Henry said.
“Yes, sir. She’s owned my heart for years, and I promise I will love her forever,” Declan said.
Henry kissed Betsy on the cheek and said, “And you treat him right. I know all about your temper, so he’s got his job cut out for him.”
“I promise, Daddy, to do my best.” Betsy smiled.
Declan led Betsy onto the stage and Kyle went on, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here…”
“You are stunningly beautiful,” Declan whispered softly.
Betsy mouthed, And you are sexy as hell.
“I heard and saw that. Some things never change,” Kyle chuckled.
Vows were exchanged. Rings were exchanged and then Kyle told Declan that he could kiss the bride.
He bent her backward for a true Hollywood kiss and then scooped her up in his arms, train trailing behind them as he carried her down the aisle toward the back of the church while Blake Shelton sang “God Gave Me You.”
He set her down in the reception hall and drew her into his arms. “I never thought I’d see this day happen,” he whispered as he started two-stepping with her to the music still playing. “I love you so much, Betsy Brennan. Want to rename our ranch the Double B?”
“No, the Double L is fine. It can stand for a double dose of love. And this, darlin’, is nothing short of a Christmas miracle. Let’s get this reception done so we can go home to our ranch and I’ll show you how much I love you.”
“Imagine Lottie selling it to both of us because she said the contest was a tie.” He kissed her again.
“I think that’s what she had in mind the whole time. Let’s go to the reception. We’ve got Twinkies,” she said.
“You will never cease to amaze me.” He grinned.
“I hope not.” She rolled up on her toes and brought his lips to hers among the whoops and hollers of everyone crowding into the room for wedding cake.
Read on for an excerpt from Carolyn Brown’s next book
Luck of the Draw
Coming soon from Sourcebooks Casablanca
The gleam in the old cowboy’s blue eyes and the way he rubbed his chin was Adele’s first clue that he definitely had something up the sleeve of his faded, old work shirt. He glanced first at her and then over at Remington Luckadeau.
She bit back a groan. The good old boys’ club was about to raise its head. They’d argue that ranching took brawn and muscle and that a woman couldn’t run the Double Deuce all alone—that women were respected in the ranching business these days, but when it came right down to the wire, he would feel better selling to a man.
No, sir!
She did not hold out any hope that the old toot would sell the ranch to her.
“Well, now.” Walter Jones gave his freshly shaven chin one more rub. “I expect we’ve got us one of them dilemma things, don’t we?”
That sly smile on Remington’s face said that he already knew she would be going home empty-handed. With that mop of blond hair that kissed his shirt collar, those steely blue eyes, chiseled face, and wide shoulders—lord have mercy—any woman would roll over and play dead to give him what he wanted.
But not Adele.
She wanted the Double Deuce, and she’d do whatever it took to get it so she could have a place to raise her daughters. Remington Luckadeau could spit on his knuckles and get ready for a fierce battle.
The Double Deuce Ranch was absolutely perfect in every aspect. The two-storied, four-bedroom house couldn’t be better laid out for Adele and her two daughters, Jett and Bella. The acreage was big enough to make a living but small enough that she could manage it on her own for the most part. And it was close to her family, the O’Donnells over around Ringgold, Texas.
“You both want the ranch, but I can only sell to one of you. I talked to my lady friend, Vivien, about it. I talked to God about it before I went to sleep, and I talked to my old cow dog, Boss, about it this mornin’ before y’all got here.”
“And?” Adele asked.
“And not a one of them was a bit of help. I don’t know which one of you to sell to any more than I did yesterday after you’d both come and looked over the place and left me to think about it.”
Adele had known there was another person interested in the ranch. Walter had been up front about that, saying he’d talked with Remington Luckadeau that morning and he was ready to meet Walter’s asking price.
“We can’t both buy it, so I guess you’ll have to make a decision,” Adele said.
Remington nodded. “Looks like it’s up to you, Walter.”
* * *
Remington, known as Remy to his friends, slid down in the kitchen chair and studied the red-haired woman sitting in front of him. The hard Texas sunlight flowing through the kitchen window brought out every cute little freckle sprinkled across Adele’s nose. Faded jeans, a chambray shirt worn open over a bright-yellow tank top, and cowboy boots worn at the heels said that she was a no-nonsense rancher.
Those two feisty girls out on the porch were dressed pretty much the same way as their mother. Any other time, he might have tipped his hat and given her the option to buy the Double Deuce, but not today. The ranch was the perfect size for what he had in his bank account. It wasn’t far from his Luckadeau relatives in Ringgold and St. Jo, Texas. And the house would be just right for him and his two nephews, Leo and Nick, the boys he’d inherited when his brother and sister-in-law were killed in a freak car accident. Six months ago, Remy had been the resident bad boy of the Texas Panhandle. He’d spent his weekends in local bars, dancing and sweet talking the pretty girls into his bed. His whole life had turned around when his two nephews were tossed into his life.
So today, Adele O’Donnell was going to have to walk away disappointed. Too bad, because he’d always been attracted to redheads, and he’d have loved to see how she felt in his arms on the dance floor of the nearest honky-tonk.
“So.” Walter cleared his throat. “I’ve come to a decision.”
Remy straightened up in his chair.
“The Luckadeaus are my friends, but so are the O’Donnells. So I can’t sell this to you, Adele, or to you, Remy, on the basis of friendship. Vivien and I have planned a monthlong cruise, and we are leaving in one week. We fly out of Dallas on the last day of May and get back home on the last day of June.”
“I’ll raise your asking price,” Remy said quickly.
“It’s not got to do with money. Here’s what I am willin’ to do, though. You both move in here together on the morning that me and Vivien leave. Y’all take care of this ranch for me for a month. When I get back, whichever one of you is still here can have it. If you both still want it, we’ll draw straws or play poker for it. If you decide that you can’t work together or that the ranch ain’t what you want, you can call Chet to come take over for you. I’ve made arrangements with him so he’ll be ready if you both leave. Only rule I’ve got is that you’d best take good care of Boss. Boss has been a good cow dog, and he likes leftovers from the table, so cook a little extra at each meal. He’s not real picky. He’ll eat most anything a human will, but he doesn’t like pizza. And you have to take real good care of Jerry Lee too.”
“Who is Jerry Lee?” Adele asked.
“He’s my rooster. Pretty little thing, but he never has learned to crow in the morning. He’s a late riser, so he crows either in the middle of the day or about dinner time in the evening. I named him Jerry Lee because he’s got swagger and he sings real pretty, like Jerry Lee Lewis.”
“I’ll take good care of your dog and your rooster,” Adele said, shooting a defiant look right at Remy.
“So will I.” Remy nodded, coolly.
“Then it might come down to the luck of the draw.” Walter chuckled. “So you’ve got a week to decide.”
“What about the one who doesn’t win the luck of the draw?” Remy asked.
“Then that one gets a decent paycheck,” Walter said.
“I don’t need to think about it. I’m in,” Adele said quickly.
Remy nodded. “I don’t have to think about it either.”
Walter pushed back his chair and stood up. “Good, then I’ll look for you both to be here a week from today. You’ve seen the place. There’s four bedrooms upstairs, and the couch makes out into a bed in the living room. There’ll be hay to cut and haul, fields to plow, and planting to do, as well as the everyday chores with feeding and taking care of the cattle. I’ve made a list of what I want done before I get back, and I’ll leave it stuck to the refrigerator door.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work,” Adele said. “One question, though. How does Boss feel about cats?”
“Strange as it seems, he loves them. My wife, God rest her soul”—Walter rolled his eyes toward the ceiling—“used to have an old barn cat that had kittens real often. Boss thought he was their grandpa.”
“Then you don’t mind if we bring our cat?” she asked.
“Not a bit. You got a problem with that, Remy?” Walter asked.
Remy shook his head.
“Thank you,” Adele said softly.
Crap! Remy didn’t hate cats, and thank God the boys weren’t allergic to them, but that soft, sweet, southern voice could easily distract him from his mission. Remy would have to keep on his toes every day for the entire month of June.
Walter started toward the door. The meeting was over. “Just bring your personal things. When I sell this place, it goes lock, stock, and barrel. Furniture, equipment, everything but my own keepsakes,” he said. “Vivien and I are leaving at nine o’clock. If one of y’all ain’t here, then the other one will automatically get to buy the ranch.”
Adele pushed back her chair and, in one fluid motion, was on her feet. Remy had figured she was tall when he sat across from her and his long legs almost touched hers under the table. But when she stood, he got the full effect of the way her hips curved out from her small waist, and for a split second, he could feel her in his arms.
Remy shook the image from his head. He had a long, hot month ahead of him, and he needed to think of Adele as an adversary, not a potential date.
“Do we move?” Nick asked when he stepped outside onto the porch.
“Starting next week, we are moving onto the ranch to take care of it for Mr. Jones for a month,” Remy told his fourteen-year-old nephew. “If we do a good job, he might sell to us in time for the Fourth of July party we’re planning.”
“Mama?” The smaller of the two girls Adele had brought along with her looked at her questioningly.
“Same deal for us, girls. We’ll move here in a week to live for a month, then Mr. Jones will decide which of us gets to buy the ranch,” Adele answered.
“You”—the girl pointed at Leo and wiggled her head like a bobble doll—“are going down. You don’t know jack squat about a ranch, so you might as well give up before you even start.”
“Jett!” Adele chided.
“Well, it’s the truth. He don’t even want to live on a ranch. He’s a city boy who don’t even know who Billy Currington is. He’d hate living on this ranch,” Jett said.
“Just because you lived on a ranch don’t mean you are that smart. Uncle Remy can teach me everything about ranching in one afternoon. I’m a fast learner,” Nick smarted off.
“Me too.” Leo combed his carrot-red hair with his fingertips and tipped up his chin three notches.
“Okay, boys. It’s one thing to say something; it’s another to do it. Let’s get on home and get our things in order so we’ll be ready to move. There’s only four bedrooms, so you’ll have to share.”
Leo had already left the porch, and he kicked at the dirt.
“Uncle Remy, Nick gripes if I even leave a wrinkle in the bed. He’s so neat that he shoulda been a girl,” Leo complained.
“No!” Nick raised his voice. “He never picks up anything and—”
“Enough,” Remy said. “Into the truck. We’ve got a lot to do and a short time to get it done.”
Leo crawled into the big, black, dual-cab truck. Just before he slammed the door, he caught Jett’s eye and stuck out his tongue.
“Young man, you’re going to have to live in the same house and work with those girls,” Remy said sternly.
Leo rolled his eyes upward. “They are so bossy. Living in the country isn’t going to be easy, but living around those two prissy girls…” He sighed. “Do we really have to do this, Uncle Remy?”
“We’ll come out stronger men,” Remy assured him.
A picture of Adele’s full, kissable lips flashed through his mind. “Prissy” wasn’t a word he’d use to describe any of the O’Donnell women.
Nick groaned. “If we live through it.”
“We are Luckadeau men. We’ll take the bull by the horns, look him right in the eye, and dare him to charge at us.” Even as the words came out, Remy wondered if he was talking to his nephews or himself.
“I’d rather fight a bull,” Leo grumbled. “And they ain’t bulls. They’re girls, and we’re Luckadeaus.”
“Daddy used to tell us that when a Luckadeau sets their mind, it’s set forever,” Nick said.
“Your daddy was right.” Remy nodded.
Moving the boys from their house in the middle of Denton, Texas, to a ranch would be tough on them, but Remy could not live in town. He’d been fortunate enough to sell his brother’s house for enough to pay off the existing mortgage and put a little into savings for the boys’ college fund.
Remy had worked on a ranch out in the Texas Panhandle for the past fifteen years. He’d started as a hired hand and worked his way up to foreman. Today, he had enough money in his bank account to buy the Double Deuce, and it was the perfect place for the boys to have a brand-new start. It damn sure wouldn’t be easy to live in the same house with a woman like Adele and not flirt, but with the ranch as a prize at the end of the road, it was doable.
“So you boys going to help me make those women see that they don’t really want our ranch? Or are we going to let them win?” Remy asked.
“Ain’t no way I’m going to back down from them two,” Nick declared.
“Me either,” Leo chimed in.
* * *
“Let’s look at another ranch. I don’t want to live in the same h
ouse with those two obnoxious boys,” Bella said as they drove away.
Adele smiled. “You must really not like those boys to be pulling out your four-dollar words.”
“That tells you how much, Mama,” Bella said.
“We don’t have time to train them,” Jett chimed in.
Adele didn’t think they’d have to do much training. Not with a cowboy like Remy Luckadeau for an uncle. That man was comfortable in his skin, and there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he’d know the business every bit as well as she did. In any other circumstance, there could be chemistry between them. He was exactly what she’d always been attracted to—blond hair, blue eyes, and cowboy swagger—but he was also what she’d been running away from when she’d married Isaac Levy.
You see how that turned out, said that smart-ass voice in her head.
Yes, she did see how it turned out. Isaac was the only son of a family who had dealt in diamonds right in the middle of Dallas, Texas, for more than fifty years. When they’d married, he’d moved Adele into his penthouse apartment, and she’d lived the life she thought she wanted.
Right up until Bella was born, two years after the wedding. She’d started to yearn for her country roots. A child needed fresh air and sunshine, not parties and nannies. Isaac loved her enough to buy a small, two-hundred-acre ranch between McKinney and Blue Ridge. The commute wasn’t bad since he had a driver, but after Jett was born, he spent more and more of the weeknights at the penthouse.
“Why do we have to move from our ranch, anyway?” Jett folded her small arms over her chest.
“The same reason we had to change our last name to O’Donnell,” Bella answered. “Father has a new wife and a son, and we don’t matter anymore.”
Her daughter’s tone created a lump in Adele’s throat that she couldn’t swallow down. Tears welled in her eyes, but she kept them at bay. Bella had put it into the simplest language possible, but the story was far more complex than that.
“Your father will come to his senses some day,” she said softly.
“But it might be too late,” Bella declared. “He’s mean, making us move off the ranch.”
A Cowboy Christmas Miracle (Burnt Boot, Texas Book 4) Page 28
