Parker grinned. “I thought you responded quite nicely.”
“Really?” She laughed. “Parker, it wasn’t just about the sex. It was more. I felt it, and I know you did too. But it scared me. It wasn’t part of my plan.
“You see when my husband, Jack, got sick, he made me promise him something. I promised him that I would pursue my dreams. I cared for him for so long, and I put him first every single day to make his last days on earth as pleasant and comfortable as possible. It was all I did for over two years. And he knew it and appreciated it. So, he made me promise that when he was gone, I would spend time just on me. And that is what I set out to do here in Montana.”
Parker understood. “And you never expected for some cowboy to come along and interrupt your plans.”
“It never dawned on me.”
He grinned. “I’m glad I interrupted your plans.”
One corner of her mouth drew up. “Me too. But Parker, I’m afraid that we’ve done something that is going to totally interrupt all of our plans. Mine and yours.”
He scooted forward and grasped her hands. “Reba, whatever we need to work through, we will. I know I was upset when Callie told me all of those things about who you are and the death of your husband. It was a lot to handle, on top of everything else going on in my life. I overreacted and freaked out a little. I don’t like the limelight, and here you are a celebrity.”
“Sort of,” she added. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. To you and to others. And dammit, it’s not me, so I should have stayed out of it. What I should have done is be happy for you, told you I supported you in whatever you wanted to pursue. But the thing that worried me the most was that you weren’t ready for a relationship—that I wished I had known you were a recent widow—because I would have behaved myself a bit more and respected where you are right now at this point in your life.”
Reba narrowed her gaze. “Parker, I practically seduced you. I was ready for you and wanted you. I didn’t want you to know about Jack because I was afraid you would do exactly what you said—pull away and give me space—and that was the last thing I wanted or needed. So I deliberately kept that information from you.”
“You wench.”
“Yep. I am. And you might think me more of a wench once you hear what I have to say next.”
For some reason, his heart clutched in his chest. “Reba, you’ve been trying to say something for a while now. What is it?”
She closed her eyes and bit her lip. “Parker,” she said softly, “I’m pregnant. You and I? We’re going to have a baby.”
****
Reba watched his eyes grow wide and then glance off. He dropped her hands and sat up straight.
“Pregnant?”
Her next words rushed forward. “I’m thirty-nine years old, Parker. I am as shocked as you. I was told years ago, when I never got pregnant with Jack, that I couldn’t. I wasn’t worried about birth control because I knew I couldn’t get pregnant. But I was wrong. I had a blood test two days ago.”
“We’re having a baby?”
She sighed, unsure of where this was heading. It could be good, or it could be bad.
Parker jumped down and paced, right then left, in front of her.
“Say something, please.”
He looked at her.
“We’re going to have a baby.”
“Yep. I’d say block out the month of March on your calendar. We’re going to be busy.”
She could see the wheels spinning in his head. Then all of a sudden, Parker threw back his head and let loose with one helluva cowboy yell. “Wooohee!” Then he tossed his hat into the air.
I might cry. He narrowed his gaze at her then and moved toward her. She scooted to the edge of the tailgate and took his hands in hers, drawing him closer, and wrapping her legs around his waist.
“I love you, Parker McKenna,” she whispered.
Parker gazed into her eyes and cradled her face in his big hands. “I love you more, Reba Morris. Marry me.”
Reba blinked. “Marry you?”
“Yes. Marry me. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
“Can we do that?”
“We sure as hell can.”
Fireworks went up behind him and Reba watched the fire in his eyes rival the colors in the sky.
“Yes.”
He grinned and gently pushed her back onto the blanket. He lay beside her, turning her body to face him. Reba absorbed the power of their attraction, chest to chest, heart to heart.
Parker placed a hand on her tummy. “We’re having a baby.”
“Yes, Parker McKenna, we are.”
He trailed a hand down her tummy to her hip and dragged a forefinger along her thigh. “We won’t hurt the baby if we….”
Reba put a finger to his lip. “No. In fact, I think it’s good for us. Happy mama, happy baby…”
“Happy daddy.” He lifted her chin and peered deep into her eyes. “Are you happy, Reba Morris?”
Reba leaned in and touched his lips with hers. “Ecstatically happy, Mr. McKenna.”
A second round of fireworks lit the sky over their heads.
Parker leaned in and claimed her lips. Her heart. Her life.
Epilogue
Blog Post, July 5th
Bekah’s Cottage Blog
Written by Reba McKenna, aka Bekah
Hi, folks! I have some exciting news to share with you today. I’m going to be taking a little time off from blogging in order to get a jump start on my new life and to prepare for some next steps in my business world!
Yes, Bekah has been a little naughty, and guess what, she’s landed herself a cowboy! Now, in case you are offended by the naughty part, don’t be. I don’t mean to offend anyone. It’s just that I can’t stop kissing my hunky cowboy husband, and I need some time away from the cottage for a while.
Yes, you heard that right. I said “hunky cowboy husband.” I got married!
I know you don’t know anything about my private life because I’ve purposely kept it that way, but once I am back in the blogging saddle—in about a month or so—I’ll be opening up my life a little more to share with you.
Now, Hottie Hubby Cowboy wants to remain semi-anonymous—meaning he does not want to be the center of attention. You know how guys are sometimes, so I will definitely honor his wishes. But that doesn’t mean I might not sneak a pic of his lovely backside to post once in a while—we just won’t tell him.
But, there are a couple more reasons why I need some time away from the blog. One, I have landed a new book deal, and you will be hearing more about that later. And two, there is also going to be a cable television show! And yes, more information coming soon. But most importantly, Hottie Hubby Cowboy and I need to join our households and make some plans for the future.
You see, he already has a big ranch house (but it’s really time for an update—and you know me, how can I resist?) And I already owned my own small cabin, which I had recently renovated through and through, and I am dying to show you. That cabin now will be my new cottage, and the place where I will host my television show, prep for my blogs, etc. Essentially, it’s my workplace, and my getaway. Hottie Hubby Cowboy has his own little cabin getaway too, so why not me?
Well, more on that in the future.
And then there is the family dynamic. I’ll be totally honest, we’re not spring chickens, but we are still young enough to procreate, and we want a family. So…
Lots to do, lots to do.
In the meantime, please rest assured this blog is not going to be neglected! I have plenty of blog posts already written and recipes galore that you have not seen yet, so my new assistant—my sister-in-law Callie—is going to be taking over for me while I’m gone. She’s awesome, and you will love her.
Seriously. You. Will. Love. Her.
Be nice, okay? And I’ll see you in a month.
Love, Bekah, aka Reba McKenna
> THE END
THE MONTANA MCKENNAS
The Long Road Home
Brody by Jan Scarbrough
Callie by Maddie James
Parker by Maddie James
Mercer by Jan Scarbrough
Meet Brody, Callie, Mercer and Parker—the four siblings in the clan of James McKenna, a Montana rancher. Growing up on the ranch was a great life, until Callie and Parker’s mother passed away, leaving James a widower. It wasn’t long, though, before he remarried, bringing stepmother Liz into their lives, along with her son, Brody. Not long after, James and Liz added a new McKenna to the family, when daughter Mercer was born.
Brothers and sisters are prone to disagreements and this Brady Bunch family of step, half, and full siblings is no exception. As they grew up and became adults, their lives scattered to some extent, but there is one thing that will bring them all back together again—to home, hearth, family, and possibly even, love. Their father’s last wish.
****
If you like your cowboys with a little more heat, you might be interested in The Montana Heat series by Maddie James writing as Bella Masters. The McKenna cousins on the Parker side of the family have a whole lot to learn about falling in love….
Now available:
Corporate Cowboy by Bella Masters
About Maddie James
Whether writing traditional contemporary romance or building paranormal worlds, bestselling romance author Maddie James pens stories that frequently cross a variety of romantic subgenres. Sweet or spicy, suspense or comedy, western or time-travel, her heroes and heroines always chase one thing—the happily-ever-after. Whether they realize it or not.
Maddie is a Food Network junkie, a wannabe gardener, a by-the-seat-of-her-pants cook, and a closet hermit. She works/writes every day in her converted sunroom office and wouldn’t have it any other way. She frequently rescues stray pets and plants and an occasional antique wicker table. All of these quirky topics, and more, make their way into her books.
Visit Maddie’s website: www.maddiejames.com
Connect on:
Twitter
Facebook or MJNovelist
Goodreads
SPRING CHICKENS
Margaret Ethridge
You don’t have to be a spring chicken to fall in love
Bram Hatchett thought he buried his heart with his wife, but when a big city beauty blows into town to dispose of the family farm, she captures everyone’s attention. Particularly his.
Lynne Prescott’s former marriage was marked by her husband’s infidelities and doomed by the secrets and lies he left in his wake. Disillusioned and adrift, she seeks refuge in the simplicity of small-town life.
There are few secrets in Heartsfield, Arkansas, but when a few loose boards on a rickety old porch bring them together, not even the combined forces of nosy neighbors, disapproving children and a disturbing decrease in the poultry population can stymie the attraction between the handsome widower and the intriguing divorcee.
But Lynne and Bram are both old enough to know there are no guarantees in life.
Can they set the fears of their pasts aside and learn to trust their hearts just one more time?
Chapter One
“Hello, Mama.” Bram Hatchett strolled into the feed store his family had owned for three generations as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to have a care. Nor was he meant to hang around Hatchett’s Hatchery. In truth, the carefree life of semi-retirement was beginning to grate on his nerves. Today was one of those days he needed to emphasize the semi in front of the R-word. There are only so many hours a day a man can spend communing with a piece of wood. Leaning over the counter, he kissed his mother’s soft cheek. “Good day?”
Ada Hatchett reached up to cup his jaw. “Lose your razor?”
He smirked. Last April, on her seventy-fifth birthday, his mother decided she would take the role of family matriarch more seriously. Since then, she dropped what little filter she once had and felt free to carry on about everyone and everything she loved. She also reclaimed her place at the hatchery’s counter.
He scraped his nails over the bristly whiskers. “No, ma’am. I was feeling lazy.”
“You look like a hobo.”
“Then maybe I’ll hop a train. Hopefully it’ll carry me far from cranky old women.”
She barked a laugh. “You’re one to talk. I swear, I don’t know how a man can be so handsome and so prickly all at the same time.”
“All he has to do is stop shaving.”
“You need to get out more, Abram.”
He ducked behind the counter, avoiding her laser-beam stare by scanning the day’s receipts. “Feed shipment come in okay?”
His mother snatched the invoices from his hand. “Came in like it does every week.”
Bram mustered up his best glower but knew it would be no match for hers. “I still own half of this business.”
“And I own the other half. You have other business now. Go tend to it.”
“Not in the mood,” he grumbled.
Ada snickered. “Sometimes you act like you’re still five. If you aren’t in the mood to whittle and spit, then why don’t you clean yourself up, go into town, and visit that new supper club Maisie Wilkins was tellin’ me about.”
“I’m a grown man. I don’t need my mother telling me to troll meat markets.”
She turned to him. Spindly fingers clutched the sleeve of his shirt. “You’re not a man who was meant to be alone, sweetheart.”
He carefully disentangled himself from his mother’s grasp. “I’m gonna check with Abe on the walnut I ordered, then I’m heading over to Walters’ to measure some shelving.” The wounded glance she shot him prickled his heart. Softening, he pecked another kiss to her cheek and gave her hand a little squeeze. “Stop worrying, Mama. I have plenty to keep me occupied.”
Bram made a beeline for the storeroom where he spotted his son and an all-too-familiar jab of pain punched him in the gut. Abe was the spitting image of his late wife, Susan. He tamped down on the pang and crept up behind his boy, keeping one eye on the huge stacks of bagged feed to be certain no corners were being cut.
As Abe hefted another sack, Bram grinned and asked in a low voice, “Got wood?”
The young man whirled, chuckling when his father ducked to dodge the fifty-pound bag. “Aren’t you a little old to get such a kick outta jokes like that?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “What? I’m just askin’ if the walnut I ordered came in.”
“By the dock.” Abe gestured to the loading dock at the back of the building. “You got more orders?”
“I need to make your sister take that damn website down. It’s getting to the point where I can’t keep up.”
“Good. The longer you make ’em wait, the more they’ll want them.” Abe grunted as he dumped the sack onto the pallet and nudged it into place with the toe of his boot. “Plus it keeps you outta my hair and away from the places where Anna Albertson lays in wait for you.”
Bram’s snarky retort was cut off by a gleeful cry. “Grandpa!”
His grandson, A.J., hit him with all the force an eight-year-old could muster. He gave a manly oof and patted the boy’s skinny shoulder. “Hey, bud,” he murmured. “Keep at it and you’ll be playing left tackle for the Razorbacks.”
A.J.’s eyes twinkled as he shot his grandfather a sly smile. “I like LSU better.”
Pressing his hand to his heart, he staggered back. “Are you trying to kill the old man? This here is Arkansas, boy.”
“He’s a rebel,” Abe commented, reaching for another bag.
“The Rebels are Ole Miss, Dad,” A.J. said derisively.
Abe rolled his eyes. “I know.” He nodded to the opposite side of the storeroom. “Why don’t you go check the critters, Tiger?”
A.J. scampered off and Bram turned back to his son. “You’re encouraging that?”
“Hell no. I’m just gonn
a call him ‘Tiger’ until he thinks I’m okay with this LSU obsession. He’ll be a Razorback fan again by fall.”
“You always were a bright boy.” He pulled the keys to his truck from his pocket. “Okay. I’ll load up and get out of your hair.” He knocked the ball cap from Abe’s head and ruffled the dark hair. “Make sure you rotate the fertilizer stock.”
He waved to his mother and pushed through the front door of the store. Loading up and heading back to his empty house was the last thing he wanted to do, so he was glad to help his daughter at the general store. At least Willene always seemed happy to have him around. Squinting into the watery spring sunlight, he spotted his father and the old man’s best crony parked in the rocking chairs in front of Walters’ Mercantile and picked up his pace.
Having lived in the small town of Heartsfield, Arkansas for almost five decades, Bram had seen a lot of strange things. Most of the time, he didn’t give them a second thought. Russell Moyers’ horse, Chauncey, tied to a parking meter in front of the market, placidly cropped any available blade of grass. Nothing new there. A huge yellow tractor droned down the asphalt tarmac, something that occurred at least a couple times a day. The impatient roar of a diesel engine urged the tractor’s driver to get a move on. Bram chuckled at the truck driver’s optimism. These sights and sounds were all normal.
But it wasn’t every day a guy saw a shiny, foreign-made SUV wedged into a spot at the curb between Rusty Hartman’s battered half-ton and the Barrett kid’s clunker.
In strident contrast to the usual symphony of screeching steel hinges and blaring country music, the purr of a well-tuned motor cut out. Stopping in his tracks, Bram’s brow wrinkled when he spotted the silver letters that spelled P-O-R-S-C-H-E across the SUV’s lift gate.
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 29
