by Tina Leonard
“What’s that?” Mimi demanded.
“It’s my baby,” Annabelle said hurriedly. “She suffers from colic and doesn’t sleep well at night. Excuse me.”
She ran off up the stairs, almost glad to be away from whatever unspoken conversation was going on downstairs. One thing she was certain of, Frisco didn’t want her there—and neither did Mimi.
“NICE OF YOU TO GIVE us a hand, Mimi.” Frisco tossed her a wry grin. “We’ll think about you listening to sweet baby tears all night.”
Mimi was about fit to be tied. She’d nearly not come in time! What if these over-eager Jefferson brothers had hired the attractive little blonde? Mason would be back in two weeks, after all, and the last thing she wanted him to find upon his arrival was a dainty housekeeper.
“I’ve never seen you jealous before, Mimi,” Frisco said lazily. “You sure do put on a good show.”
“Shush, Frisco.” Mimi rolled her eyes at him. “If you were only half as smart as you think you are, you’d still only be thinking on a third-grade level.”
“Mimi and Mason, sittin’ in a tree—” one of the brothers started.
She whirled around. “Cut it out, guys, or I leave the lady—and the baby—with you. And none of you will get a wink of sleep tonight, I’ll bet.”
It would be more because of Annabelle than the baby that they might not sleep tonight, but Mimi wasn’t going to let any of them know they’d scored with their baiting of her. She knew how to keep this group of bad boys in check.
It was Mason who threw her for a loop. And she wasn’t about to have him come home to a ready-made family scenario. She didn’t like the fact that her housekeeping scheme had nearly backfired on her.
“We’re just yanking your chain, Mimi.” Frisco grinned at her, eager to make peace.
“I’ll go help Annabelle pack up the baby,” she said with a long-suffering sigh.
A loud pounding sounded on the door, and this time, Fannin waited to see if it would burst open again, with someone else making themselves at home.
No one came in, so he got up and jerked the door open.
To Mimi’s horror, what looked like a sorority stood on the porch, before silently filing into the den. A middle-aged woman stepped forward.
“Annabelle didn’t get on the bus with us,” she announced with grave determination. “And we’re not leaving without her.”
Chapter Three
Desire to get all these women off his property swept over Frisco. “Annabelle and the baby are fine,” he said, somewhat annoyed that the spokeswoman seemed to think some type of transgression might be wrought upon his two short-time house guests.
“We have a right to be concerned. We don’t know you,” she replied.
“Yes, but did all of you have to come back for her? I paid for those bus tickets.” Good money, he could have added, but thought better of it.
“Busses aren’t running.”
Voices murmuring behind her told him that all the women were concurring with her statement. Shock began to spread through his tired brain. “They were running when I left.”
“Apparently, there’s ice on the roads out of Union Junction. Storm on the way in, too. They shut down the station and canceled all outgoing routes. Even Shoeshine Johnson’s school bus-taxi service was closed.”
“How’d you get here?” Bad luck seemed to swirl around him. If the busses weren’t running, he could wind up with a bunch of females—and a colicky baby. The thought was enough to chill his bones. He sent a belligerent glare Mimi’s way so that she’d know this was all her fault. And Mason’s.
“We hitched a ride with the driver of an eighteen-wheeler who loaded us into the back of his truck. He’d stopped across the highway at the truck stop.”
He stared at her, trying to imagine that.
“Twenty minutes in the truck wasn’t bad. Any further than that and we’d have had to spend the night in the bus station,” she admitted. “That would have been miserable. But Jerry made certain we were comfortable.”
Frisco blew out a breath as he looked around at all the women. He wouldn’t have wanted them spending the night in a bus station, especially not since they’d come to Union Junction to apply for a job at the ranch. There was some responsibility involved, he admitted to himself, if not chivalry.
“There’s plenty of room here,” he said begrudgingly. “We have three houses on the property that the twelve of us share. We’ll divide you up…” He hesitated at the black look in the spokeswoman’s eye. Clearly there’d be no dividing.
“On the other hand, Navarro’s house should sleep all of you just fine.”
Navarro straightened but wasn’t going to disagree with the pointed look Frisco shot him. “I’ll go pack.”
Three of his brothers went out the door with him, fairly peacefully for four men who’d just given up their home. Frisco was suspicious about the lack of protest. He watched Last shoot a smile toward the ladies and realized he had a bigger problem on his hand.
His brothers saw an advantage to all these women being stuck on the ranch for the night.
He’d have to keep a tight eye on them to make certain there were no shenanigans.
Navarro came back inside, escorting a stranger. “The truck driver was still outside.”
“Hey, Delilah, ladies,” he said to the spokeswoman and her companions, astonishing Frisco, who hadn’t even thought to ask her—or any of them—their names. There were simply too many women, and he’d never remember them all. Nor had he expected to see them again.
Delilah clapped a hand to her forehead. “I forgot all about you, Jerry! I’m so sorry! Come on into the kitchen, and I’ll fix you a nice cup of whatever Mr. Jefferson’s got on hand.”
“Miss, er—Ms. Delilah—” Frisco began.
She gave him a straightforward eyeing that said she didn’t think much of his manners. “It’s Ms. Honeycutt.”
At this unspoken verbal wall that was suddenly erected, all the ladies seemed to straighten their backs.
“Delilah,” Jerry said, taking off his cap, “these men haven’t done anything to offend you, have they?”
Frisco shook his head, realizing his brothers had already gained their feet. The females crossed their arms.
“I can take you right back into town. There’s bound to be a place where all of you can hole up. I was under the impression that this was where you wanted to be,” the stocky white-haired-and-bearded Jerry said.
“We merely wanted to come back and rescue our Annabelle and little Em,” Delilah said, her gaze on Frisco. “But we know when we’re not wanted.”
“Now, wait a minute—” Frisco began, then halted as he wondered why he was bothering to argue. He really didn’t want them here. But a look from his brothers hinted that his manners had somehow aggravated a delicate situation. “We were not expecting guests, that’s true, but there’s plenty of room for the girls here at the ranch.”
He was proud of his offer. Jerry gaped at him. “These are not girls, son,” he said sternly. “Haven’t you even made proper introductions with these fine ladies?”
Proper introductions before what? Frisco wanted to demand. He’d wanted them gone. What difference did the niceties make?
“This here’s Delilah Honeycutt,” Jerry said, undertaking the duty of explaining Frisco’s lack of manners to him. “And the rest—first names only, since you don’t seem too interested, and alphabetical, to make it easy for you—are Beatrice, Carly, Daisy, Dixie, Gretchen, Hannah, Jessica, Julie, Katy, Kiki, Lily, Marnie, Remy, Shasta, Tisha, Velvet, Violet. And you apparently already know Annabelle and baby Emmeline, or we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
His expression gave no doubt that he figured Frisco and his brothers were up to something heinous.
“How’d you do that?” Frisco demanded.
“Do what?”
“Memorize all their names so fast?”
Jerry looked at Delilah apologetically. “This may not be the bright
est light on the truck, Delilah. You might want to think over your options for the night.” He sighed. “I’m a truck driver, son. A good memory helps me when I’m driving transcoastal. And memory games keep me from being bored.”
“That boy appears to be the surly one of all these gentlemen,” Ms. Honeycutt said. “If you were my boy, you’d approach company with much better deportment. Come on, Jerry,” Delilah said, with a slight sniff Frisco’s way. “It’s time you were given a cup of cocoa.”
Frisco’s jaw dropped as the tougher-than-cow-hooves truck driver docilely followed her into his kitchen, some of the ladies following.
“Good going, big bro,” one of his brothers said, but he didn’t pay any attention to the snickers and general laughter. His brain felt short-wired.
For the short term, it appeared that life as he’d known it was going to be very different.
He needed a plan, and some organization. Glancing at Mimi, he saw her trying not to giggle. Well she might laugh, since this was yet another one of her schemes with combustible results.
Vowing not to let it bother him, Frisco realized there was only one thing he could do while he was playing host.
For the first time in his life, he was going to have to be a good sport.
ANNABELLE WAS GLAD her friends had returned, even though Frisco looked very grim about it. Frankly, she’d been afraid when she’d discovered she’d allowed herself to get left behind. Frisco didn’t want her here, and she’d been happy for Mimi’s invitation—even though she sensed Mimi’s invitation wasn’t because she was anxious to get her hands on a baby. There was something else going on with Mimi.
Yet as long as Annabelle had all her friends, she’d be fine. They’d been her support ever since Tom had left her.
Her friends were the reason she hadn’t hesitated to come out here, at the urging of Delilah and the other ladies of the Lonely Hearts Beauty Salon. Darn Dina at the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls Salon anyway.
But no, it was Tom who had left her, and that couldn’t be blamed on Dina. Annabelle knew she’d picked the wrong man to fall in love with, if he could be so faithless.
“I’ll never let that happen again,” she said against Emmeline’s soft head. “I always heard three strikes and you’re out. I only intend to strike out once.”
IN FORT WORTH, Mason had a lot of time to think. One of the things he couldn’t stop thinking about was Mimi. She’d been in his thoughts long before he’d told Frisco to call her to solve the minor problem that had cropped up at the ranch.
Mason wondered if he missed Mimi, hellion that she was. He’d as surely miss an ingrown toenail, right?
Fortunately, he had this unwelcome thought while he was sitting in a beer joint, listening to old country tunes on an out-of-whack jukebox. The proper antidote to thinking weird stuff like he was thinking was another beer and a two-step with a cute, obliging regular.
Otherwise, he’d have to start riding rodeo again to knock some sense into himself. He’d been alone way too long if he thought he was missing Mimi Cannady.
Of course, if he wanted to play devil’s advocate with himself, there was the night of the big storm. Remembering the feel of Mimi as she jumped into his arms made his chest spread with warmth. Shaking his head, he swallowed some more beer.
Mimi would drive him crazy sooner or later.
At least for now, things were under control at the ranch. He’d thank her for that later. And the cattle auction had gone better than he’d hoped. Another week, and he’d be home.
His blood picked up as Mimi’s face appeared in his memory. She was laughing at him, the way she always did.
Another beer, another dance, and then surely he’d be tired enough not to think about his nutty little neighbor.
“WE NEED A BATTLE PLAN here,” Frisco told his brothers as they conglomerated in the kitchen of the big house. “We gotta get these women out of here tomorrow.”
“Sh-h,” Laredo said. “They might hear you.”
They’d long since said good-night to the ladies and sent them down to the third house on the property—the one farthest from the other two and his brothers. Mimi had gone down to see to the ladies’ comfort—except for Annabelle, who was upstairs with Emmeline, sound asleep in his bed.
How that particular arrangement had passed Ms. Delilah Honeycutt’s military-style sensibilities, he wasn’t certain. For a moment, he’d thought she might stay herself, but then she’d apparently decided the other group of women needed her chaperonage more. But she’d given him a severe stare that had said, Don’t even think about it. If he’d been hot for Annabelle, the good Ms. Delilah and her icy stare should have cooled him off.
Annabelle and the baby, upstairs in his bed. Sleeping soundly, he hoped. She’d probably pulled off her blue jeans to sleep in…what, exactly? His mouth dried out. He’d never brought a woman home to sleep in his bed. The nice thing about willing women was that they were always willing to take him home to their houses. The upside to this was that he didn’t have to shoo anyone out of his house, didn’t have any messy reminders of the night before, such as makeup in the bathroom, earrings on the side table or perfume in his sheets.
There was a baby—and a woman—in his sheets now. He couldn’t figure what she might be wearing to bed. Something. Maybe nothing. He couldn’t identify the sudden surge of emotions he felt at that thought.
“Why?” Last asked. “Why do they have to go? What are they hurting?” The other brothers murmured, as well.
Frisco decided his brothers needed a cold bucket of water upside their heads. But then, they didn’t have a pile of diapers and a bottle on their bedside table. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, and if a storm is coming in, they need to get back to their families. They don’t want to stay here for a week until the back roads clear,” he said sternly, as much to be sharp with them as to clear his head from the realization that he heard water running upstairs. He held his breath, waiting for the water to shut off, but it didn’t.
Water running upstairs meant Annabelle had helped herself to his shower.
She was now definitely naked.
Chills ran all over him. “Don’t ask questions,” he snapped. “Just help me think how we’re going to transport them all back to where they came from!”
“They might be worth keeping,” Tex suggested. “Have you ever considered that?”
Frisco shook his head, ignoring the butterflies he suffered at the suggestion. “Out of the question.”
Suddenly, the sound of a baby crying drifted to the kitchen. Frisco stiffened.
“Sounds like Emmeline’s colic has started back up,” Ranger said. “That poor little baby doesn’t give her mother much of a break, does she?”
Frisco glanced at the stove clock. Annabelle had been naked for approximately three minutes. Showering for approximately three minutes, he amended.
“I’ll go see what’s going on,” he said.
ANNABELLE SIGHED, unable to remember the last time she’d been able to enjoy ten minutes to herself. Em was a wonderful baby and she loved her dearly, but the colic kept her so upset that it was hard to snatch a moment alone.
Even though Tom left me for a Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurl, I’ve still got Em, she thought.
It was worth it.
The pediatrician had said Em would grow out of her colic—these things just took time. She just needed a lot of love and comforting, and reassurance that she didn’t have to suffer alone.
Annabelle completely understood her daughter’s needs, because she felt the same way sometimes herself.
Anyway, Tom was, as Delilah called him, a louse. She had a family of women to rely on now, and she had Em. Life was so much better than it had ever been for her.
Turning around for an extra stolen moment of bliss, she let the hot water pour down her back. The truth was, she didn’t want Tom back.
He hadn’t wanted Em, and she’d never forgive him for that.
Never.
TO FRISCO’S SURPRIS
E, the baby had managed to worm a piece of blanket over her head as she flailed. “That’s easy enough to fix,” he said quietly to the infant, with a hurried look at the bathroom door. The shower was still running, so it was safe. Annabelle wouldn’t come out in a state of undress he was certain they’d both rather avoid.
He was pretty sure the petite blonde looked good in a towel, though.
“Hey, baby, don’t be so upset,” he said, reaching out to stroke the tiny back. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Baby Emmeline—had Annabelle called her Emmie?—seemed to hesitate in her wails, either at the sound of his voice or the human contact. “Hm. I barely know what to do with an angry woman, but maybe it’s something a man has to work up to. Starting small might be the way to go.” Gingerly he reached to cradle Em in his fingers, and then balanced her in his palms until he was certain he had her positioned properly. Then he lifted her to his chest, cradling her as he hummed.
The crying completely ceased.
“Like falling off a log,” he sang to her to the tune of a low country song. “A man never forgets how to make a woman feel good. At least not if he’s smart.”
She snuffled against him.
“You like my singing, huh? You’re the only one who likes it, then. My brothers show no respect for my vocal attributes.”
Em didn’t object, so he hummed to her and stood, about to leave the room in case Annabelle should put in a towel-clad appearance. “Since you’re obviously a lady who likes late-night excitement, let’s go watch some Classic Sports Channel. I bet if you learned young enough, you’d love football.”
But when he slid into his leather recliner and turned the TV on softly, he realized Em was asleep. “You just wanted to know you’re not alone,” he murmured. “We all feel like that sometimes, little baby.”
LAREDO AND TEX STOOD beside the recliner, staring down at Frisco. The chair was tipped back, his mouth was open, his boots were pointed tips to the ceiling, and there was a baby on his chest. The remote, which would usually lie where the baby was, had fallen to the carpet.
