Bidding on a Texan

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Did you get hold of Antoinette?” she asked him.

  “We don’t need to talk about her right now.” He took another look at Gina’s breezy white cocktail-length wedding dress.

  It was flat lace, a V-neck with spaghetti straps, a wide waistband and a full skirt that fluttered over her knees. Her bouquet was a ribbon-tied bunch of wildflowers picked just this morning on the ranch. She wore little white flats on her feet, great for walking on the lush lawn, while her hair was a casual low ponytail with a few waves and twists, just loose enough to frame her face.

  “I’m curious,” Gina said. “What did she say? How did she react?”

  “We had a long talk, and she accepted my apology.”

  Gina knew he would be relieved. “So that’s everyone?”

  After the blowout with Billy, Rusty had become determined to turn over a new leaf with his immediate family and also to make amends with his ex-wives and lovers, along with some other folks he’d wronged in the past.

  “That’s everyone. And this is your wedding. Today is all about you.”

  “All about me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then can we talk about the methane energy proposal?” she asked, judging that she had about one minute left before Anastasia arrived at the greenery-decorated archway and the music changed for the bridal procession.

  “No. I only have one daughter, and she’s only having one wedding, and we’re not talking business.”

  “You can’t say no to the bride, Dad.”

  “That’s why we’re not talking business today.”

  “Did you read the report?”

  The music changed, and everyone rose from their chairs.

  “It’s time,” he said.

  “Did you read the report?”

  “Yes, I read it.” He tucked her hand into his elbow. “Walking, Gina. We’re walking. You don’t want Rafe to think you’re having second thoughts.”

  She started to walk along the pool deck. “I’m not having second thoughts.”

  “I know. Rafe’s a good man.”

  “He made me write a prenup.”

  “I know that, too. He showed it to me. He was crystal clear on not taking any Edmond money.”

  “He signed it. I didn’t. I’m not going to.”

  Rusty smiled as they rounded the pool. “You are the chattiest bride in the world.”

  “Known a lot of brides, have you?” she asked slyly.

  Rafe came into view then, and she met his eyes, drinking in the depths of his dark gaze, watching his lips curve into a bright smile. His love seemed to reach out the length of the lawn, and she sent hers back to meet it.

  Rusty squeezed her hand as they walked between the two rows of their close family and friends.

  Gina smiled for everyone, but her focus was on Rafe, the man she loved, the man who was about to become her husband for better or worse, forever and ever.

  She made it to the archway where Rafe stood with Lorenzo and Matias.

  Rusty gave her a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, and then her groom took her hand.

  She passed her bouquet to Valencia to take Rafe’s other hand for the ceremony.

  Their vows flew by quickly, and soon they were exchanging rings. Then the preacher was pronouncing them husband and wife, and Rafe lifted her off the ground for a long, smoldering kiss.

  The guests cheered and tossed flower pedals, and they were immediately surrounded by well-wishers.

  Charlotte and JJ had joined in with Rafe’s parents to produce a backyard barbecue feast. Mrs. Yeoh had baked an amazing honey orange wedding cake with spicy chocolate ganache.

  Matias’s band set up their speakers, and the dinner quickly turned into a rollicking dance.

  When Gina finally sat down for a rest, Lila handed her a glass of refreshing iced tea and joined her at the table. “Did you hear the good news?”

  “That Rafe married me?” Gina joked, lifting her glass in a mock toast before taking a drink.

  Lila grinned and drank along with her. “I mean they got the money back. Well, most of it, anyway. Enough that none of the Royal businesses are at risk anymore.”

  “And Billy?” Gina asked, so happy to hear the news.

  He hadn’t been seen since the night at Mustang Point when his sports car slid off the road and into deep water during his escape.

  “No sign of him. Could be sharks, or he could be on a beach in the Maldives.”

  “I hope he’s on a beach.” Gina couldn’t bring herself to wish him any ill, especially now that they had the money back, and especially understanding that he’d been yet another victim of her father’s misadventures. Her gaze shifted to Rusty where he was down on the grass, tux and all, playing with his grandson, Ben.

  “Lani says someone sent Antoinette a million dollars,” Lila confided.

  “You think it was Billy?” Gina asked. It was oddly encouraging to think a man like Billy might finally be taking care of his mother after all this.

  “Or it could be Rusty,” Lila said.

  “Possibly.” Gina watched her father a minute longer, thinking it was like getting to know a whole new person.

  Valencia plunked down on a chair next to Gina, her feet bare against the grass, her sandals dangling from one hand. “You and Rafe thinking about babies?” she asked.

  The question took Gina by surprise. “We haven’t even finished the wedding cake.”

  “I see you looking.”

  “At?”

  “Ben. Adorable little guy, isn’t he?”

  “He is,” Gina agreed. “But I was looking at Rusty, thinking how much he’d changed.”

  “Oh.” Valencia seemed disappointed.

  Gina took in her expression. “Wait. Why are you asking...?”

  Valencia grinned and touched her hand to her stomach.

  “No way!” Gina laughed, delighted with the news. “Tito and Tita are going to be thrilled!” Gina knew Rafe’s parents would adore some grandchildren, the more the better as far as they were concerned.

  “Lorenzo can’t wait to tell them.”

  “Is it still a secret?” Gina whispered.

  A grinning Lila squeezed Valencia on the shoulder. “That’s fantastic!”

  “We wanted to wait until after your wedding. But now we’ll start telling people. You should think about it.”

  “Maybe,” Gina said. “Not tonight, though.”

  “Well, I’ll keep you company,” Lila said.

  Both Gina and Valencia swung their heads her way.

  “You are?” Valencia asked.

  “Mine is a secret,” Lila said. “It’s really early. I just told Zach a couple of days ago.”

  Gina and Valencia both mimed zipping their lips and tossing away the key.

  Rafe strode their way, his gaze drinking in Gina as he approached. “What are you all talking about?”

  “Babies,” Valencia said.

  He reached for Gina’s hand and drew her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist and giving her a quick kiss on the lips. “I’m in.” He looked at his watch. “Can we do it now?”

  “I like your attitude,” Valencia said on a laugh.

  Lorenzo joined them then, along with Zach.

  “Rafe wants to make a baby on their honeymoon,” Valencia told Lorenzo.

  His eyes lit up. “Did you tell them?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell them what?” Rafe asked.

  “Not Rafe, just the gals.”

  “Better congratulate me, little brother. It might be your wedding, but I’m going to be a daddy next summer.”

  “No way.” Rafe grinned in delight and gave Lorenzo a hug.

  Zach cleared his throat, and everyone looked his way. “Not to be outdone, Lorenzo.” He pointed to Lila
’s stomach. “You’re not the only one increasing the TCC junior membership next year.”

  “Congratulations, Lila.” Lorenzo reached out his arms to give her a hug.

  “I sense a challenge,” Rafe said.

  Gina held up her palms to slow things down, laughing at the same time. “We need to talk about this.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry, Princess,” Rafe rumbled in her ear, pulling her closer. “We most definitely will.”

  * * *

  Look for the first book in the next

  Texas Cattleman’s Club series,

  Fathers and Sons, available next month!

  An Heir of His Own

  by USA TODAY bestselling author

  Janice Maynard

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Christmas in Rose Bend by Naima Simone.

  Welcome back to Rose Bend for the next book in Naima Simone’s irresistible new series where a happy holidays could also mean a happily ever after for one woman.

  The holidays have never been ER nurse Nessa Hunt’s thing, but Christmas in Rose Bend has more than one surprise in store…including meeting a ruggedly handsome innkeeper

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  Christmas in Rose Bend

  by Naima Simone

  CHAPTER ONE

  Nessa Hunt didn’t do Christmas.

  As an ER nurse, she’d seen the worst humanity had to offer during the holiday season. Electrocution injuries from plugging one too many Christmas lights into a single outlet. Shoppers with broken noses and blackened eyes from Black Friday fights that erupted over the newest must-have toy. Dads with busted backs from attempting to mount inflatable Frosties and reindeer-drawn sleighs on porch roofs.

  And then there’d been that one memorable sex toy mishap—Santa had boldly gone where no Santa had gone before.

  So, no, she was not a fan of Christmas.

  Which meant the town of Rose Bend, Massachusetts, was her own personal version of hell.

  “It looks like Santa Claus just threw up all over this place!” her sister, Ivy, whispered from the passenger seat.

  Now, there was a nice visual. But slowing to a halt at a stoplight, Nessa had to admit the twelve-year-old had a point. Who knew that three hours north of Boston and tucked in the southern Berkshires existed a town straight out of a Thomas Kinkade painting? It seemed almost…unreal. If any place had that everybody-knows-your-name vibe, it was Rose Bend. Brick buildings housing drugstores, boutiques, a candy store, an ice cream parlor and diners lined the road. The long white steeple of a church towered in the distance. A colonial-style building stood in the center of town, the words Town Hall emblazoned above four columns. And everything was decorated with lights, garland, poinsettias, candy canes and big red bows. Even the stoplights sported huge wreaths decked out with miniature toys and elves—and the biggest pine cones she’d ever seen in her life.

  Mom would’ve lost her mind over all this.

  The thought snuck out of the steel door in her mind where she’d locked away all wayward, crippling memories of Evelyn Reed. A blazing pain stabbed Nessa in the chest, and she sucked in a breath. Briefly, she closed her eyes, blocking out the winter wonderland beyond her windshield.

  It had been eight long, lonely, bitter months since she’d lost her mother to uterine cancer. Since she’d last heard her mother’s pragmatic but affectionate voice that still held a faint Southern accent, even though she’d lived in Boston for over thirty years. Since she’d inhaled her mother’s comforting roses-and-fresh-laundry scent.

  Since her mother had rasped a devastating secret in a whisper thick with regret, edged with pain and slurred from morphine.

  Maybe the well-meaning friends who’d advised Nessa to see a grief counselor could also counsel her on how to stop being so goddamn angry with her mother for lying to Nessa for twenty-eight years. Maybe then Nessa could start to heal.

  ’Til then, she had patients to care for. Now she had a sister to raise.

  And secrets to keep.

  “Oh wow!” Ivy squealed, jabbing the window with a finger. “There’s a real town square and over there is the biggest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen! Can we get out and walk around? Please?”

  Nessa glanced in the direction Ivy pointed, taking in the square, and in the distance, a massive tree. The idea of strolling around in the freezing weather to stare at a Douglas fir wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. But when she’d agreed to make this trip with Ivy, Nessa had told herself to make an effort to connect. This was supposed to be about bonding with the sister she barely knew.

  Emptiness spread through her and the greasy slide of guilt and pain flooded into the hole. She glanced at Ivy, Nessa’s gaze lingering over the features they shared…but didn’t. The high cheekbones that dominated a face Ivy hadn’t yet grown into. The thin shoulders that had become even thinner in the last six weeks, since her father had died.

  A scream welled up inside Nessa, scraping her throat raw. Ivy’s father—Isaac Hunt—was the man who had raised Nessa until he and her mother divorced when she’d been about Ivy’s age, and then he’d been more out of her life than in it. He had named Nessa as his daughter’s guardian. He had trusted Nessa to care for Ivy, because she was his oldest daughter and Ivy’s half sister. And though she and Isaac hadn’t shared a close relationship when he’d been alive, she couldn’t let him down. And Ivy…

  Ivy had lost her mother as a baby, and now her father. Nessa knew what it was like to be alone. She couldn’t take Ivy’s sister away, too.

  Even if Ivy resented the hell out of Nessa and begrudged her guardianship with every breath she took.

  But God… Months of bearing a secret weighed on Nessa’s shoulders. And they ached. These last six weeks had been a special kind of hell.

  She was so damn tired.

  Inhaling a deep breath, Nessa forced herself to push past the soul-deep ache.

  She could do this.

  One of the first things she’d had to learn when entering the nursing field was how to compartmentalize hurt, grief and anger. Not allowing herself to be sucked down in a morass of emotion. If she hadn’t acquired that skill, she wouldn’t have been any good to her patients, their families, the doctors or herself. So what if some people called her Nurse Freeze behind her back? She got the job done. Besides, as she’d learned—first, when her father left the family; second, when her ex had traded their relationship for a job in Miami; and third, when her parents died—loving someone, caring for them, was a liability. Feelings were unreliable, untrustworthy. Parents, lovers, friends, patients—everyone always left. Only fools didn’t protect themselves.

  And her mother hadn’t raised a fool.

  “Let’s wait on that,” she said, answering Ivy. “We need to find Kinsale Inn first and get settled. Then maybe later we can come back and do the tourist thing.”

  “Right.” Ivy dropped against the passenger seat, arms crossed over her chest. The glance the preteen slid Nessa’s way could only be described as side-eye. Paired with the curl to the corner of her mouth, Ivy’s expression had gone from wide-eyed excitement to Eff you, big sister in three-point-five seconds flat. “In other words, no.”

  “Did I say no?” Nessa asked, striving for patience. She’s a grieving preteen. You can’t bounce her out of your car. CPS frowns on that. With the mantra running through her head, she tried again. “Check-in at the inn was at twelve, and it’s now one thirty.” She hadn’t expected to hit so much traffic leaving Boston. Or to take the wrong exit halfway to the Berkshires and have to retrace her route. “We need to make sure t
hey still know we’re arriving. The square and the tree will be there in a few hours.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ivy snorted. “And as soon as we get to the inn, you’ll find another excuse not to do anything. Especially with me. It’s not like you wanted to come here anyway.”

  “First off, kid, I’m not the kind of person who does anything she doesn’t want to do. Second, if I give you my word, I mean it. And third, what does ‘especially with me’ mean? Who else would I be up here with?”

  “Whatever,” Ivy muttered.

  Nessa breathed deep. Held it. Counted to ten. Released it. Then tried again. “Is this how the next month is going to be? You angry and me taking the brunt of it? Because I have to tell you, we could’ve done this dance back in Boston without carolers and hot chocolate stands.”

  “Don’t pretend like you did this for me. You don’t even like me. This is all for your guilt over Dad’s letter. Fine with me if we go back to Boston. I don’t care.”

  Nessa tightened her fingers around the steering wheel, not replying. Anything she said to Ivy at this moment would only end up in an argument. That’s all she and Ivy had seemed to do since the funeral. Nothing Nessa did could make Ivy happy.

  And as much as Nessa hated to admit it, there was some truth to Ivy’s accusation. Because a part of her—Jesus, she hated admitting it even to herself—didn’t like Ivy. Was jealous of her. For having more of Isaac’s love. For having him when Nessa hadn’t, even when she’d needed him.

  Even though Nessa had called Isaac Hunt Dad all her life, he was more or less a stranger to her…just like the silent, stiff twelve-year-old hunched on the seat next to her. He’d been an absentee parent since his divorce from her mother sixteen years ago, and Nessa had met her half sister maybe five times before their father died from pancreatic cancer. Hell, she hadn’t even known he’d been ill until the final time he’d ended up in the hospital. She hadn’t even had a chance to say…what? Goodbye? Where the hell have you been as a father for sixteen years? Why didn’t you love me as much as you loved your other daughter?