“Wait a minute,” Millie interjected. “Don’t drink so much that you get sick. I’m not sure about having to take a sick little boy along on our honeymoon.”
“How about if J.J. promises to drink just enough punch that he doesn’t get sick, then we all go on a familymoon?”
LeeAnn wrinkled her nose. “What’s that?”
Cooper opened the back door of the truck. “A familymoon will be our very own invention. To celebrate our wedding, I think we should all go somewhere fun.”
“The zoo?” J.J. suggested.
“Mount Vesuvius?” LeeAnn tossed out.
“How about Disney World?” Cooper said.
By unanimous decision, the Magic Kingdom was deemed the perfect spot to begin their magical new lives.
Epilogue
To celebrate her and Cooper’s first wedding anniversary, Millie had wanted to throw an elegant dinner party in the front yard. She’d dreamed of stringing romantic white lights in the trees and having hundreds of flickering candles.
What she got was a seat on a hard rodeo arena stand, sitting alongside a very pregnant Lynette.
J.J. and LeeAnn were off playing with friends, and Millie jiggled Cooper Junior on her knee. He was already a handful, but just like his father, he was so cute, she didn’t much mind.
Cooper’s business venture had gone better than even he’d imagined, and his SEAL strength-building and self-protection retreats were already booked into the next year.
“Think they’ll win?” Lynette asked when Cooper and Zane were in their respective chutes.
“I don’t know,” Millie said, “but they sure look good in those red shirts.”
While professional team calf ropers got the job done in as little as 3.5 seconds, it took their guys 6.7.
“Sorry we couldn’t pull out the win for you.” Cooper took his son, sweeping him high in the air.
Millie was next in line for his attention with a leisurely kiss. As handsome as he was, Cooper was a fan favorite on their local rodeo circuit, but Millie was proud to be the only recipient of his kisses.
Clint strode up to shake both men’s hands. He’d made a full recovery and had as much fun at rodeos as his son. “Fine ride, boys. You made me proud. You’ll pull out a win next time.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Cooper shifted the baby to his other arm. “Would you mind watching this guy for a minute?”
“Is it time?” Clint asked with an exaggerated wink.
“Time for what?” Millie asked.
“Thanks for keeping a secret, Dad.”
Clint grinned while jiggling his grandson. “We didn’t tell your momma a thing, did we?”
Cooper drew Millie off into the shadows. “Damn, you look hot.”
“Thanks, cowboy.” She gave him a kiss. “You’re looking mighty fine yourself.”
“I appreciate that, ma’am, but tonight, being our first anniversary, I wanted you to know how much I love you, and how this has pretty much been the best year of my life.”
“Aw...” Her husband’s sweet talk never failed to make her heart sing. “Thank you, honey. I love you, too.”
“Okay, so you know how we pretty much had a budget wedding?”
“I thought our day was beautiful. Marrying you under your mom’s rose trellis was the only place I’d have wanted it to be.”
“I’m glad,” he said, acting all fidgety, “but now that we’ve finally got a little extra money, I want you to have this. It’s high time you had something to really show you’re mine.”
From his shirt pocket, he withdrew a small, mangled paper sack, and handed it to her.
Hoping she was doing a good job of masking her confusion, she smiled. “Thanks?”
“Go ahead. Open it.” He grinned like a kid on Christmas morning.
She unrolled the paper to find a lopsided Oreo. “You got me a cookie?”
His smile only grew. “Eat it.”
“Okay?” She started to bite into it, then he drew her hand down. “Not like that. You’ve got to twist it apart, then lick the icing—only, be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Honey, you’re acting strange. Are you sure you didn’t get hurt during your run?”
Sighing, he said, “Would you go ahead and lick the damn cookie?”
She laughed. “Sorry. You don’t have to get all huffy.”
“Then lick, and I won’t have to.”
Finally doing his bidding, she twisted the top off her favorite treat then gasped. It wouldn’t even take one lick to see Cooper had hidden a diamond ring in the icing.
Squealing, she kissed him, licked the ring, gobbled part of the cookie, then kissed him again. “Put it on for me?”
He did. In the process, kissing her hand, then lips.
“This is beyond gorgeous,” she said, gazing at the square-cut diamond. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Want me to take it back?” he teased.
“Just try, and see what happens.”
“There you go again with that sass.” He drew her tight against him, bowing his head to kiss her good and thorough beneath his wide hat brim.
“Eeew!” J.J. came tearing around the corner with his friend Cayden in tow. “You guys are gross!”
LeeAnn and Kara followed.
LeeAnn asked, “Did you give Mom her ring and the trip?”
He conked his head. “I forgot the trip.”
Both kids laughed.
J.J. started jumping. “Show her! Show her!”
From his back pocket, he produced with a flourish a slip of paper. “Since our honeymoon got hijacked, and you’re always talking about how much you’d like to see the world, how about a second honeymoon to Machu Picchu?”
“You mean the ruins? In Peru?”
Grinning, he said, “Those would be the ones.”
That earned him another kiss!
Millie asked, “Did everyone know I was getting all of this, but me?”
“Pretty much.” Her daughter and friend laughed while admiring her bauble.
“Thank you,” she said to her husband once the kids had run off again. “Not just for the ring and trip, but for coming home—for staying home.”
“Mill...” He cupped her face with his hands. “Haven’t you figured it out? You and the kids are my home. You’re my everything.”
Millie rested her head on her husband’s shoulder while they sauntered hand in hand back into the crowd. What a great night. What a great life. Spying a shooting star, she thanked Jim for sending her his brother—her very own cowboy SEAL.
*
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE TEXAN'S SURPRISE SON by Cathy McDavid
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Chapter One
Only a fool would venture near eighteen hundred pounds of bucking bull crammed into a metal chute the size of a closet. Jacob Burke Baron not only went near the bull, he intended to ride the son of a gun. All the way to a win.
Eight seconds and a score better than eighty-three were all that stood between him and a gold buckle—first prize at the Louisiana State Fair Rodeo. He could do it and come one step closer to earning a championship title at the National Finals Rodeo in mid-December.
Also at stake today, beating his younger brother Daniel. After three rounds of bull riding over a long, tiring weekend, Daniel currently held the number one
spot. Stealing that from him would be icing on a very tasty cake.
“Steady,” Daniel said in a low, calming voice that might have been meant for the bull or Jacob. Hard to tell.
His brother straddled the side of the chute, acting as spotter for Jacob, who levered himself above the bull’s back, waiting for the exact right moment. When Daniel had taken his run earlier, Jacob spotted him. They might be fierce competitors, but they were also brothers. Close ones. The good and bad circumstances of their lives had created a bond nothing and no one could sever.
Gripping the sides of the chute, Jacob lowered himself one slow inch at a time. The bull, a heavily muscled brute named Gumption, sensed what was coming and kicked the chute wall with a hind leg. The loud bang reverberated in Jacob’s ears.
He ignored it. Once in the zone, nothing short of an earthquake would distract him.
Glancing down, he studied the bull and made mental notes. Which way was Gumption looking? Did he paw the ground with his right or left foot? How fast was his breathing?
Jacob had watched the bull perform with other riders during the first two days of the rodeo. Because of his diligence, he knew Gumption charged straight ahead when released. Jacob would incorporate that important detail into his strategy.
Bull riding, rodeoing in general, was a physical sport. No question of that. But there was also a mental aspect, and it could make the difference between a competitor’s leaving with a win or nothing more than a round of sympathetic applause from the audience.
With painstaking care, Jacob settled himself in position on Gumption’s back and grabbed the flat braided rope with his right hand. Only a rope. With a cowbell attached for weight. There were no saddles or bridles in bull riding. Letting the rope drop on the off side, he waited for Daniel to reach down and grab it. In addition to spotting, Daniel would “pull the rope” for Jacob, enabling his grip to be as tight as possible. It was a job for only the most trusted.
Gumption’s hide twitched as he grew accustomed to this new and unpleasant arrangement. Jacob maneuvered his hand inside the glove until he was satisfied. With his free hand, he pressed his cowboy hat more firmly onto his head.
“Watch him,” Daniel warned. “He’ll jump once before he starts bucking.
Jacob knew that, too. He didn’t answer his brother, however. He rarely spoke while in the zone.
Other faces appeared in his peripheral view. Cowboys hanging on to the railing. They’d pull Jacob off Gumption’s back in a heartbeat if the bull suddenly went berserk. It had been known to happen. Bulls were easily riled and unpredictable. That was what made the sport challenging and exciting.
Like the cowboys’ faces, the audience in the stands, the bullfighters in the arena, the wranglers manning the gates and the livestock handlers were all a blur. Jacob saw only one thing: the top of Gumption’s head.
He waited until the sixth sense that was ingrained in every good bull rider told him the time was right. Then, winging a silent prayer heavenward, he nodded his head, and the chute door flew open.
Gumption charged forward and jumped, as predicted. Because Jacob was ready, he compensated by shifting his weight. The bull came close to unseating him, but Jacob managed to hold on and regain his balance.
Then, the bucking started. The bull’s hind legs reached incredible heights. It was like being trapped inside a cement mixer rotating at top speed. There was a reason Gumption had earned a reputation for being one of the circuit’s top bulls. He gave a cowboy the ride of his life, and today was no exception.
Jacob didn’t think about the passing seconds. He concentrated on not being thrown and giving the judges a show worth watching. Part of his score depended on how well the bull bucked and how well Jacob rode him.
Gumption abruptly swerved left. Jacob leaned right, his grip on the rope tightening. Every bone in his body felt like it was being ripped loose from its joints. Another change in direction, and Jacob’s hat flew off as his head snapped back and forth. He dug his spurs into Gumption’s shoulders, urging the bull to buck even higher and earn them the best possible score. Gumption obliged.
Riding bulls never ceased to thrill Jacob. Controlling this kind of power for even a few seconds, facing his fears, was a kick like none other. Hard to believe he’d almost quit rodeoing last year.
Another head-snapping, gut-spinning twist, and the buzzer sounded. Jacob barely heard it. He was more aware of the bullfighters, in their clownlike costumes, diving in, waving their arms and shouting in order to distract the bull. This last part of a cowboy’s run could be more dangerous than the ride itself. Bulls sometimes turned on the rider or another bystander without warning.
Drawing a breath, he angled his body sideways and let go of the rope, executing a dismount that more resembled a somersault. By some minor miracle, he landed mostly on his feet and scrambled out from beneath Gumption’s thrashing hooves.
The bull gave a few more bucks and twists for good measure before settling down and trotting in circles. He knew his job and that it was over. Soon enough, he was herded to the far end of the arena where the waiting wranglers opened the exit gate for him.
The crowd cheered as one of the bullfighters came over to check on Jacob.
“Good ride, cowboy,” he said before performing an antic for the crowd intended to relieve the tension.
Jacob’s boots sank into the arena floor as he trudged over to where his hat had fallen. Slapping it against his thigh to dislodge the dirt, he straightened, his gaze automatically going to the scoreboard and the video replay screen. Damn, that was a good ride.
The numbers appeared in big red letters, along with his ranking: 84.5. Not his best score ever, but good enough to land him in first place. As the last rider to compete, the win was officially his.
A wide smile spread across his face. He was going to do it. Earn himself a national title in December. And when he did, Brock would finally give him the promotion at Baron Energies that Jacob deserved.
A hand gripped his shoulder as he exited the arena gate and squeezed.
“Congrats!” Jet Baron greeted him with an enthusiastic grin. “You did it, bro!”
Bro? Try as he might, Jacob couldn’t think of himself as Jet’s brother. He and Daniel were adopted. Members of the Baron family for nineteen years, yet not members. Their adoptive father, Brock, openly favored his biological children, Jet in particular. As such, Jacob had never really gotten close to Jet and his—their, he reminded himself—three sisters.
Rodeoing hadn’t helped. Like Daniel, Jacob was in competition with Jet. In fact, as the only licensed pilot in the family, Jet often flew the three of them to events in the family’s small Cessna. They’d driven this weekend, however. Shreveport, Louisiana, was only three hours from the family’s ranch outside of Dallas—and the ranch wasn’t far from Baron Energies headquarters.
“Thanks,” Jacob said, accepting a clap on his back from Jet.
By then, he was surrounded. Friends, rivals and Daniel, all eager to congratulate him.
“You didn’t do so bad yourself,” Jacob told Daniel. “Second place.”
“Yeah, but I whipped your ass in saddle bronc riding.”
He had. Jacob didn’t mind. He’d be taking home first place in two events today, bull riding and, thanks to the loan of a horse from a buddy, steer wrestling. Brock would be pleased.
The brothers hung around for the buckle ceremony at the end of the rodeo and an interview with a local TV station. After that, Jet was raring to head home. Jacob didn’t blame him. Jet had a new fiancée waiting for him. Jasmine Carter. An engineer with twin girls.
Another reason to hit the road, their sister Lizzie had recently given birth to the Baron family’s first grandchild, a daughter named Natalie Adele. Jacob felt a bit guilty about leaving town so soon afterward to rodeo. No need, he told himself. He’d made a visit to the hospital to see the baby before they left and brought flowers. In his opinion, the new parents, while elated, seemed frazzled and overwhelmed. They
probably didn’t need a bunch of relations hanging around and underfoot.
Jacob made a mental note to pick up something from one of the rodeo vendors for his new niece. What size T-shirt did a newborn wear?
“You working tomorrow?” Daniel asked.
“Bright and early.”
Jacob’s shift at the Eagle started at 6:00 a.m. and ended late, 6:00 p.m. He was the senior safety manager for Baron Energies’ largest producing oil well. The extended shifts allowed Jacob to have at least three days off on the weekends to rodeo.
It was a good job, and the flexible schedule a perk, but Jacob wanted more. Specifically, to be head of Baron Energies’ yet-to-be-formed alternative energy division.
Brock had flat out refused to consider anything not dealing with oil. Until now. With each gold buckle Jacob brought home, Brock’s resistance wavered. He claimed to see potential in Jacob previously hidden. A national title would, Jacob was convinced, break down Brock’s resistance entirely.
Thanks to a B-list country singer giving a post-rodeo concert, the arena stands remained packed, and the lines to the food vendors and merchant stalls blocked the midway. Jacob, Daniel and Jet wound their way through the throng of people, saying goodbye to their friends and promising to see their fellow competitors next weekend.
“Excuse me, Jacob Baron?”
At first, Jacob didn’t think anything of the unfamiliar voice calling to him. He and his brothers were often approached by female fans.
Then he turned to look at the woman and was immediately taken aback. She looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t recall where he’d seen her before.
“Jacob Baron?” she repeated.
“Yes.” He answered without thinking.
She started toward him, managing to cover the uneven ground gracefully despite her absurdly high heels that had no business being at a rodeo. Neither did the skintight black skirt and jacket she wore. “May I speak to you a moment?” Her glance darted briefly to his brothers before returning to him. “Privately.”
This was no fan.
Possibly a reporter, though he didn’t think so.
The Cowboy SEAL Page 18
