by Lori Wilde
“It’s not love. It’s just . . . she made me feel better.”
“You love her and she loves you.”
“She doesn’t love me.”
“Argh!” Ila threw her hands in the air. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever known. And dumb. And blind. You didn’t even realize that I’d had a crush on you since grade school.”
“You’re pretty much a dumbass,” Cordy called from across the room.
“Cordy helped me see how useless that crush was. But I had to let go of the idea of you before I could see the prize that was standing right in front of me.” She stopped to blow Cordy a kiss. “Just waiting for me to notice him the way I’d been standing around waiting for you to notice me. Cordy opened my eyes and now I’m here to open yours. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re in love with Mariah, and I think you might love her even more than you loved Becca, which is what’s really scaring the shit out of you. The thing you had for Becca was mostly sexual. Think about it, Joe. What was it you admired most about my sister?”
“She was beautiful.”
“Right. And exciting. But that was about sex too.”
Ila had a point.
“If you’d met her now, I doubt Becca would have caught your interest.”
She was right about that too.
“Mariah’s got something Becca never had. Something that you’re sorely lacking.”
“What’s that?”
“Balance. You’ve always been out of balance. Just like Becca, just like Dutch. It’s been all horses all the time. Horses are great, but dammit, Joe, they’re not everything. And when you were with Mariah, you were beginning to realize that. She got you out of yourself. If you let her get away, then you are the dumbest cowboy on the face of the earth. And it’s taken a lot for me to say this to you because not so very long ago, I would have stabbed her in the back if I thought it would get you to notice me.”
“Ila,” he said. “I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way.”
“You’re forgiven,” she said. “As long as you go get Mariah back.”
Mariah returned to Chicago, but she did not return to work for Destiny.
She’d been down that road. Knew all too well where it led. She’d had her own business once. She would have it again. And in the meantime, she had the money Joe had given her for the ranch as a cushion.
It had been ten miserable days since she’d left Jubilee. Ten days of trying to prop up her spirits and get her joy back. She’d been foolish to let down her guard with Joe. She’d known better. Had known what she was walking into, but she’d done it anyway.
Forget Joe. It’s over. Focus on the here and now.
She leafed through the jobs on CareerBuilder, scrolled down the page on her computer, noting the possibilities. She took a sip of her freshly brewed coffee. Her stomach immediately roiled, the way it had been doing for the last few days. Just her luck, she was probably coming down with something.
The phone rang. She glanced over to see it was her mother. Cassie had been calling her every day since she’d told her about moving back to Chicago.
“How are you today, sweetie?”
“I’m fine, Mom. You don’t have to keep calling me.”
“You don’t sound fine. Are you sure you’re well?”
“I am a little queasy,” she admitted. “But it’ll pass.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line and then Cassie said, “Could you be pregnant?”
“No, there’s no . . .” Mariah paused as she realized her period was late. Several days late. She’d been in such turmoil over Joe that time had slipped away from her.
“Is that a maybe?”
“I’m on the pill. Joe used protection. We used protection.”
Panic wrapped fingers around her throat. She couldn’t be pregnant. The thought of having a child, raising it without a daddy, was too unbearable to think about. She didn’t want a little one growing up without a father the way she had.
“Birth control isn’t infallible,” Cassie said.
“I’m not going to panic until there’s something to panic about.” That’s when she realized she couldn’t remember if they’d used a condom when they’d had sex after Clover’s funeral. They’d both been so caught up in grief they could very well have forgotten.
“Go out now, buy a pregnancy kit. Take the test. Call me back the minute you know something.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing but a stomach bug and my period is late because of stress and—”
“Pregnancy test. Now.”
“Okay.”
A half hour later, Mariah was in the bathroom willing the plastic stick not to turn pink. Pink meant pregnant. But at the same time she was praying not to be pregnant, another part of her was imagining a baby. Soft and sweet, with midnight black eyes just like Joe’s.
Stop it!
Emotions ripped at her. Hope and joy, sadness and fear, worry and regret. So much emotion. What was she going to do?
Mariah looked at her watch. It had been three minutes. Tentatively, she peered at the stick, and in the moment her spirits soared. Thank you, thank you, thank you. The joy in her heart overflowed.
No matter how she might wish it otherwise, Mariah was happy, happy, happy.
Picking up the plastic stick with the bright pink plus sign, Mariah turned to go call her mother.
After she found out about the baby, Mariah started listening to Midnight with Dr. Dana. She didn’t know why. It was torture really. Doing something that made her think of Joe. She still hadn’t made up her mind how she was going to break the news to him. She didn’t want him to be with her simply because she was pregnant with his baby.
She lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling, listening to the psychologist dish advice. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer and she picked up the phone to call in.
“Hello, you’re on Midnight with Dr. Dana. Who is this?”
“Sleepless in Chicago.” Okay, so she wasn’t terribly original.
“Hello, Sleepless.” Dr. Dana chuckled. “What’s your question?”
“You know, Dr. Dana, Sleepless in Seattle used to be my favorite movie.”
“I take it that it’s no longer your favorite movie.”
“That’s correct.”
“And why is that?”
“I was dating a man like Sam, the Tom Hanks character in Sleepless.”
“I’m guessing that it didn’t turn out so well.”
“That’s what’s wrong with Sleepless in Seattle. It never showed the actual relationship between Annie and Sam. It was all romantic hooey.”
“Ah, Sleepless, I see your problem. Tell me more about your Sam and maybe I can help you make sense of what happened in that relationship.”
On his way to DFW airport to take a redeye to O’Hare, Joe turned his satellite radio on with fumbling fingers, searching for the station Mariah had told him about. He found it, and the song that was playing punched him square in the gut.
It was “Hallelujah,” sung by Jeff Buckley, a song about a love affair gone wrong. He sat in the truck listening, his heart a gaping chest wound. The lyrics twined around him, haunting and inescapable. Life was filled with sorrow and loss. He dropped his forehead to the dashboard, fisted his hand, and spurred by the ballad, ate the anguish like poison.
He thought of all the things that had slipped through his fingers. Becca, bull riding, Dutch, Clover, Mariah . . .
Mariah.
“And now listeners, it’s Midnight with Dr. Dana.”
Someone called in. Asked Dr. Dana if she was stupid for breaking up with a great guy who hated her parakeet.
Joe rolled his eyes and let his mind wander to Mariah. He was listening to the station to feel closer to her. He imagined she was listening at the same time he was listening and if he could reach out through the airwaves, he could touch her.
Of course, he was also working up the courage to call in on the show just in case she was listening. He wa
s thinking there needed to be a really big, grand gesture to win her back, apologize for being such a stupid jackass.
“Hello, you’re on Midnight with Dr. Dana. Who is this?” Dr. Dana said.
“Sleepless in Chicago.”
When Joe heard Mariah’s voice, he almost ran right off the road. He had to call in. He pulled off the highway, stopped in a Taco Bell parking lot, dug out his cell phone. He could scarcely breathe.
Dr. Dana hung up with Mariah after telling her to think about giving the guy more time if he truly was the man for her.
Joe finally got the phone out and the number dialed. It took several more minutes before he was connected to the switchboard.
“Hello, caller, who is this?”
“This is Sleepless in Jubilee.”
“My, we have a lot of sleepless listeners tonight.”
“Well, you are on at midnight,” he couldn’t resist saying.
“And we are cranky from our lack of sleep, aren’t we?”
“Listen, I’m the guy.”
“What guy is that?”
“I’m Sam.”
“You’re Tom Hanks?”
“No, I’m Sleepless in Chicago’s Sam.”
“You’re the guy our previous caller was talking about? The one who lost his wife?”
“Yes, yes, that’s me.”
“Do you have something to say to our female Sleepless?”
“Yes. Don’t give up on me, Little Bit. I love you. I love you with all my heart and to prove it, I want to sweep you off your feet with romance. I’m on my way to Chicago. Meet me tomorrow at midnight in the only place a cowboy would feel like he belonged in Chicago. If you still want me, be there. If not, I’ll go back to Jubilee and never bother you again.”
“Oh my goodness,” Dr. Dana said. “We have our own Sleepless drama playing out tonight. “I hope you’re still listening, Sleepless in Chicago.”
Mariah was reaching over to turn off the knob on the radio when she heard Joe’s voice say, “Sleepless in Jubilee.”
She bolted upright in bed, turned the volume up, and sat there riveted. He was coming to Chicago and he wanted her to meet him tomorrow night. In a special place. Just as Annie had asked Sam to meet her at the Empire State Building.
“I’ll be there, Joe, I’ll be there.”
At midnight the following evening, Joe waited by the bronze cow on parade outside the Chicago Cultural Center, praying that his attempt at being romantic wouldn’t go horribly awry. The sky was crowded with clouds and it felt like at any moment rain would pour from the sky.
He paced back and forth, continually checking his watch. Chicago and Texas were on the same time zone, weren’t they? He had on his boots and his Stetson. The streets were almost empty. How stupid had he been asking her to come out in the middle of the night. Dumbass, dumbass, dumb—
A taxi drove up. The back door opened.
Mariah stepped out.
They stood there staring at each other on either side of the bronze bull. But then Joe saw she had on the leopard cowboy boots and black Stetson he’d bought for her.
They drew a simultaneous breath.
“Annie,” he said. “You came.”
“But of course, Sam. You grovel well.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart.” He went down on one knee right there in the street. “I’m your man, Mariah. I’m putting my heart on the line. I told myself I was letting you go because you deserved better than Jubilee. But I was just lying to myself. I let you walk away because I was afraid. Afraid to love again, afraid to lose you the way I’ve lost so much.”
“So you drew the gun and shot me before I had a chance to shoot you in a love duel?”
His eyes narrowed, his throat moved when he swallowed. “What can I say? I was a fool. A scared, lonely fool.”
“Not a fool,” she whispered, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “Human. I was stupid too. You were right. I wasn’t scared you would walk out on me. I was scared I didn’t have the staying power for a real relationship.”
Her touch dissolved him.
Everything about her was warm. From the hue of her honeyed hair to the softness of her velvety eyes. Her rounded chin had a competency to it when she was intent on her work, absorbed in a task that took all her attention.
“I love you,” he said. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
“Okay, okay, you can get up.” She laughed. “I love you too.”
He rose to his feet.
Lightning flashed. Thunder crashed. Lightning flashed again.
“Looks like lightning does strike twice,” he said.
“Unless you’re Cooter Johnston,” she said, and stepped into his arms just as the heavens opened up to soak them both with rain.
Laughing, they held hands and ran to hail another taxi.
Epilogue
Home is where you hang your Stetson.
—Dutch Callahan
The two naked cowboys in the claw-footed bathtub presented a conundrum.
Which one did she hug first? Her sexy husband who was bathing their son. Or her six-month-old little cowboy named Jonah.
Jonah, squirming and cooing at the sight of his mother, won out. He was smaller and slipperier. Mariah grabbed a towel and wrapped it around their gorgeous baby boy.
While her equally gorgeous husband stepped from the bathtub and leaned down to kiss her.
“Hey, you’re getting me wet.”
“When did that ever bother you?” He laughed and swatted her bottom.
She giggled and took the baby to the nursery. She diapered him, dressed him in a onesie, and put him in his crib to play with his stuffed horse while she got changed.
“What time is it?” Joe asked, slipping his arm around her and drawing her into their bedroom.
“Six. We need to get a move on. The dedication is at seven.”
They were dedicating the Dutch Callahan Equine Center for disadvantaged children, built on the site where the wedding chapel had once stood. Now there was a new chapel on a plot of land Joe had bought for her in Jubilee. All the cutters from the co-op would be there.
“Hmm, we have just enough time for some hanky-panky.” Joe nuzzled her neck.
“Honey, eight seconds might be a great score for a bull rider, but for a lover, not so hot.”
“Ha-ha.” He danced her to the bed.
“The babysitter will be here at any minute.”
“Too bad.” He started unbuttoning her blouse.
She giggled. How could she refuse her man anything when he made her happier than she’d ever been in her life? She kissed him. Felt his erection stiffen.
With Joe and Jubilee, the ambivalence she’d always felt about her life, about where she belonged, disappeared. She opened herself to him. Not just her mind and her body and her heart, but the very soul of her emotions. She stopped resisting. Stopped being scared. Anxious to show him how she felt, she reached out to take his hand and led him to bed.
He kissed her gently, grazing her mouth.
Their kisses quickly escalated, and soon they were in a fevered rhythm.
Heaven. He was in heaven. Joe sank into his dear sweet wife, wondering how he could ever have been afraid of loving her. He’d never been so happy, and everything they’d gone through to get here was worth it.
Mariah impishly squeezed him tight with her love muscles, working him over as only she could. Her soft moans drove him wilder. Then she came in soft, sweet gasps.
Joe’s body gave one last shudder and he lay gasping against the mattress. He raised his head, glanced over at Mariah. Her eyes were closed, an angelic smile on her smooth face.
“Little Bit of dynamite,” he murmured.
She trailed her fingers up his chest to his shoulder, and then turned her face into the side of his neck with a satisfied sigh. Only the sound of the ticking clock and their harsh breathing interrupted the silence.
He felt great. No, not great. Alive. Mariah
had breathed life back into him. Resurrected his soul. Mended his broken heart.
Joe ran his fingers across her cheek, slipping them through the silk of her hair. She’d given him such pleasure. Made him whole again.
“Miracle,” he whispered. “You’re the true miracle.”
Mariah leaned over, sassily nipped his bottom lip with her teeth, and whispered, “And don’t you ever forget it.”
Acknowledgments
I grew up in cowboy country, not far from Fort Worth. I live in the cutting-horse capital of the world, and Jubilee is loosely based on my hometown. I’ve been observing cowboys my whole life. So writing about them wasn’t much of a stretch. All I had to do was walk outside my front door and look around.
A big thank you to the folks at the Cutting Horse Association, who so graciously answered my questions. Also, many thanks to my brother-in-law, Michael Rountree, who is a true cowboy through and through. Stalwart, honest, brave, he epitomizes the cowboy spirit and is an example of what a real cowboy hero should be.
Keep reading for
a sneak peek at Lori Wilde’s next book
The Cowboy and the Princess
Coming in Summer 2012,
only from Avon Books
You might be a princess if . . . you have to ditch your bodyguards to get some “me” time.
Brady Talmadge had five unbreakable rules for leading an uncomplicated life.
One stormy June night in Texas, he broke them all. Starting with rule number five.
Never pick up a hitchhiker.
He’d honed the rules through twenty-nine years of trial and error, most of them compiled while towing his vagabond horse trailer from town to town, and as long as he stuck to his edicts, life flowed as smooth and simple as the Brazos River ambling to the Gulf.
In regard to the hitchhiker rule, he learned it the hard way. He had a permanent whup-notch on the back of his skull from a pistol-whipping meted out by a wiry, goat-faced thief who’d taken him for thirteen hundred dollars, his favorite belt buckle, and a pair of ostrich-skin cowboy boots. Never mind the four-day hospital stay that drained his savings account to zero because he’d had no health insurance.
