She took a step closer. Had he been drinking? “Johnny, you can’t spend the rest of your life on my front porch.”
She hadn’t seen him in a month, was aching for his touch, and they were talking about her porch?
Jackson wriggled on her hip and she set him down. He knew not to wander far, but she didn’t have to worry. He went straight for the porch steps.
Johnny was watching as Jackson took hold of the rail and put one foot and then the other on the first step. He could make it up just fine, but Tabitha moved behind him anyway. She was still at the fear-of-something-happening-to-him stage.
If Johnny had come by to spend the night with her, she was going to let him. No questions asked. He couldn’t help that he came from a different world, just like she couldn’t help loving him. So if she was the woman on the wrong side of the tracks he had to visit on the sly, she’d accept what he could give her.
She’d even been thinking about calling him and offering him the opportunity. But only if he wasn’t involved with someone else. She wouldn’t be the other woman.
Not that she thought Johnny was the type of guy who’d want that, anyway.
He’d taught her that she didn’t want to be alone anymore.
And that if she was alone, she had only herself to blame.
Of course, he could just be there to offer her another job. She could be his charity case.
Jackson had made it up three steps. Had one more to go. Johnny seemed fascinated with his progress. One step behind her son, Tabitha could smell Johnny’s cologne. Was surprised to find that it hadn’t changed. He smelled the same as he had the entire time she’d known him.
Jackson got to the porch and stood there, staring up at Johnny. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi.” Johnny smiled down at him. And then looked at her, also on the porch now, just behind her son. “Hello, Tabitha,” he said to her in an entirely different tone. He didn’t smile, but his gaze bathed her in warmth.
“Hi,” she said back, smiling up at him. “It’s really, really good to see you, Johnny. You want to come in? Can you stay for dinner? Or at least a cup of coffee?” He wasn’t her Johnny anymore. Didn’t have all day.
Was probably eating every meal from fine china these days.
“Jackson wants hot dogs,” she added.
“I’d like to come in.”
Pulling her keys out of her purse, she unlocked the front door, ushered her son inside and let Johnny follow.
Jackson went immediately to his high chair. “Mama, I eat,” he said, patting the seat.
She looked at Johnny and hated that they were wasting what minutes they had together. “Hold on just a sec,” she told him, already reaching for the toddler cookies she kept for emergencies, putting them on Jackson’s tray, along with a sippy cup filled with milk, and strapping him in.
Then she turned to Johnny. “You want a cup of coffee?” She hoped he’d stay that long.
He shook his head. Came toward her. “I want you, Tabitha.”
She wanted that, too. More than she could have imagined. But she had a son to think about, and a quickie wasn’t going to do it after a month away from him...
“I want to marry you.”
She stood there looking at him. “Have you been drinking?” She’d wondered about that earlier.
“I’ve never been more sober in my life. I found my passion, Tabitha, the thing that pushes everything else into second place. The one thing I can’t live without. It’s you. You’re my passion.”
“Johnny, I already decided I want to make love with you. I was going to call and beg you to come visit. You don’t have to ask me to marry you.” Was he forgetting that he came from an entirely different world? That he no longer lived next door?
It occurred to her then that the car she’d seen was probably his. Because he still owned the house?
“You don’t get it, do you?” He came closer. Wrapped his arms around her. “You are my life quest, Tabitha, and I need my partner.”
“But...”
Fear clogged her throat. Froze the blood in her veins. If they were partners for life and she lost him...
“You have to believe to see,” he said softly. “Believe that no matter what, even if death parts us, we will always be together, Tabitha. My strength is your strength. And yours is mine. That’s what partnership is all about.”
She couldn’t let him do it.
“But...you live in an entirely different world. I won’t fit in. I’m not even sure I want to fit in. Your family certainly isn’t going to approve of the fact that I’m not like you. I don’t know how to behave in your world.” The more obstacles she listed, the safer she felt. “And...isn’t it too soon after Angel’s death? You just got back, aren’t used to living your real life without her. Without a wife. And there’s Jackson. Do you even like kids?” She had more to say, but he’d put his lips on hers.
Tabitha wanted to pull away. Knew she should. But had to kiss him just for a second. Had to allow herself that bliss...
“Mo! Mama, mo!” Jackson’s demand for more food brought her back to the present. To reality.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed.
She got another couple of cookies. Enough to get her through the next few minutes. Put them on his tray.
“There are a lot of reasons this could fail, Tabitha,” Johnny said, shrugging out of his coat and throwing it over the back of a chair. He moved further into the kitchen. Opened her refrigerator. Took stock and then started taking things out.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t cooked there before.
“I could make you a list of all the reasons if you’d like,” he said when she remained mute. She just plain didn’t know what to do.
“But, instead, I’ll give you the one reason it won’t fail.”
Okay. She needed that.
Leaving eggs and bread on the counter, he walked over to her. Took her in his arms. “If you hate living in my wing of the family home, we’ll get our own place,” he told her. “We can knock down the two houses we already own and put up a bigger house right here for all I care. If you don’t like socializing, we’ll only go to the events we absolutely can’t miss. If you hate the people, we’ll spend most of our time alone. We know that works for us. And even if it’s a struggle for both of us, adjusting and all, it can’t be as bad as living without you.”
“Why won’t it fail, Johnny?” She needed a damned good reason.
“Because you only fail when you quit trying and I am never, ever going to stop.”
Tears sprang to her eyes again. She’d cried so many of them in her lifetime. Most of them alone. Behind closed doors.
Maybe it was time to open her doors...
Could she do it?
In the past, she’d had no choice other than to go on alone. But she had a choice now. Dared she risk leaving what she knew, what she clung to, to have a chance at so much more?
She had Jackson back in her life. She had all she’d thought she wanted or needed. But she’d been so lonely. Missing Johnny every minute of every day.
“Will you marry me, Tabitha Jones?”
Shaking, petrified, she tried to say yes. Her throat was dry.
The word wouldn’t come out. She tried, but she just couldn’t get it out.
So she nodded.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from High Country Cowgirl by Joanna Sims.
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High Country Cowgirl
by Joanna Sims
Chapter One
Rancher Gabe Brand would never forget the day he first saw Bonita Delafuente.
It was a typical cloudless summer day in Montana: warm enough to make a man sweat but not so hot that he couldn’t get some work done at high noon. He’d finally gotten around to cleaning his two-horse trailer, something he’d been putting off for weeks. Gabe had already sweated through his shirt, so he’d taken it off and hung it on a nearby fence post. With Johnny Cash playing on the phone in his back pocket, Gabe was pouring more gas into his pressure washer when he heard the faint sound of Tater, his dog, barking from inside the house. Tater, who was geriatric at this point, preferred sleep above all activities and only made the effort to bark when someone came up the drive.
Gabe put down the gas can and walked toward the front of the house. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but that didn’t mean much. People often landed in his driveway hunting for the main entrance to his family’s ranch, Sugar Creek.
“Hello, young man. We’re looking for Gabe Brand.”
An older gentleman with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair and a bit of a beer gut rounded the corner of Gabe’s cabin. Walking beside the older man was a younger woman wearing English riding clothes. It was unusual to see someone wearing that kind of riding gear—most folks he knew rode Western.
“For better or worse, you found him.” Gabe reached for his shirt and shrugged it on.
“I’m hoping for the better,” the man said.
The minute Gabe got a good look at the woman’s face, he was smitten.
“George Delafuente.” The older man offered his hand. “And, this is my daughter, Bonita.”
George had a firm handshake and carried himself like a man who had made his own way in the world. Gabe made note of the gold-and-diamond-encrusted Rolex his visitor was wearing. Yes, George had all of the trappings of a Montana native—jeans, cowboy boots and button-down striped shirt tucked in tight. Yet all the clothing was too clean, too new, too expensive-looking to be owned by a working rancher.
Gabe shook the man’s hand and then turned his attention to the daughter.
“Beautiful,” he said rather dumbly as he shook her hand.
Behind her mirrored designer sunglasses, Bonita looked at him in surprise. “I’m sorry?”
“Your name. It means beautiful in Spanish, doesn’t it? That’s about the only word, other than hola and adios, that I can seem to remember from high school Spanish.”
Bonita pulled her hand back, her full lips unsmiling. “Yes. My parents took a gamble on that one.”
No gamble at all, as far as Gabe could see. He had ranched all of his life and had made a good living training and transporting high-priced horses across the country. He’d met a lot of women along the way. None had been as lovely, to his eyes, as Bonita. Her sable-colored hair, wavy and worn loose down to her narrow waist, framed her oval face in the most lovely way; the light, occasional breeze sent tendrils of hair dusting across her tawny cheeks.
Gabe liked how slender her fingers looked as she tucked those wayward strands behind her ear. And he noted that she wasn’t wearing a wedding or engagement ring on her left hand. Her handshake had been firm and strong, belying how delicate her hand seemed to be. This was a woman confident in her own skin, who seemed unafraid to assert herself in a man’s world.
“Do you have a minute to talk some business?” George asked him.
Gabe caught Bonita glancing at his bare chest and stomach and fastened a couple of buttons to appear more suitable for mixed company. Everything about Bonita read class act—from her polished black riding boots to the well-tailored fawn-colored breeches that hugged her hips and shapely legs to the brilliant diamond stud earrings and matching diamond tennis bracelet.
He was sweaty and dirty and had no doubt that he’d made a less-than-sterling first impression with this woman.
“I’ve got a minute.” Gabe gave a nod. “Can I get you folks something to drink?”
“No. Thank you.” George checked his phone briefly before he continued. “We don’t want to impose on you.”
“No imposition.” They walked together to stand in the shade of one of the large ponderosa pine trees near his cabin. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m not sure you can do anything for us, actually,” Bonita said, her head turned away from him, her arms crossed in front of her body. Her body language wasn’t difficult to read—she wanted to leave.
George glanced at her before he said, “We’ve got a horse back East that we need brought to Montana. He’s a graduation present...” George smiled proudly at his daughter “...and your brother told me that you’re the best transporter in the business.”
“I don’t know about the best, but I know what it takes to get a horse home safe.” Gabe spoke to both of them, even though it seemed to him that Bonita had already made up her mind about him. “Which of my brothers has been bragging about me? My pop had a litter.”
George had an easy smile; his daughter, from Gabe’s brief experience, did not.
“Dr. Brand,” George said. “He was out at our place for my wife’s horse. Your brother is one of the most competent vets I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen my share.” The man pointed at him. “That’s why I’m inclined to believe him about you.”
“I’ve been hauling horses for the better part of my life.”
Bonita had been looking everywhere but at him. “This isn’t just any horse.” That’s when she looked at him. “Vested Interest is an Oldenburg. He’s seventeen hands tall.” She nodded her head toward his two-horse trailer. “That trailer is way too small.”
As pretty as this woman was, Gabe bristled at the condescension in her tone. It was coming across to him that she thought he was a dumb cowboy who didn’t know one horse from the next. He didn’t bother to tell her that he’d trained Oldenburgs along the way—what would be the point? Yes, he could always use the business, but he wasn’t going to grovel at the feet of the princess to get it.
Flatly, he said, “I don’t transport long-distance in that trailer.”
“You have your rig here?” George seemed to want to get the discussion back on track.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’d like to see it,” George said with a bit of resolve in his tone. “If that’s not too much trouble.”
“I’ve got a minute.”
Gabe loved his long-distance rig and loved to show it off. And his bruised ego made him want to prove to the princess that he wasn’t some ignorant yokel. It had taken him years to build his reputation; he didn’t need Bonita bad-mouthing him in the high-end horse community.
“Where’s the horse?”
“Northern Virginia,” George told him. “Ev
ery day we board him in Virginia is another dollar we burn.”
Bonita trailed behind them as they walked the short distance to an oversize garage.
“I hear that,” Gabe said with a nod. “Virginia’s pretty country.”
“Yes, it is,” George agreed. “But nothing like this land right here. This is God’s country.”
They reached the large garage Gabe had custom-built to house his trailer. “I can’t argue with you there.” He pushed the heavy door open and flipped on a light switch.
George whistled, long and appreciative. “Now, that’s a fine setup!”
“Thank you,” Gabe said. “She’s my pride and joy.”
It had taken him several years to save up enough money to put a down payment on this customized, midnight blue, luxury Equine Motorcoach. It had been his dream to own one, and it still felt a little surreal every time he took it out on the road.
George was sold—Gabe could see that. He’d earned the man’s business. But he couldn’t be sure of the daughter. While George set off toward the back of the long rig, Gabe was left with Bonita, who had been standing just inside of the garage in silence. He turned to face her, and that’s when he saw that the lovely woman had had a slight shift in opinion of him.
Bonita slipped her sunglasses to the top of her head. The expression on her face said it all: she was impressed. Their eyes met; Gabe was immediately drawn in to rich, mahogany brown.
“This is unexpected,” she told him in a blunt manner, her eyes back on the rig.
He decided not to be offended. After all, Little Sugar Creek was purposefully humble. The main house at Sugar Creek was a statement of the wealth his father had amassed, but Gabe didn’t need anything fancy. He just needed comfort, function and easy-to-care-for, because he spent a good deal of his time on the road.
“All right.” Bonita’s body language, her tone, as well as the expression on her face, had all softened, signaling to him that she had decided to give him a chance to earn her business. “I’d like a tour.”
* * *
“Hi, Mom.” Bonita smiled fondly at her mother on video chat. “How are you feeling today?”
Her Lost and Found Baby Page 19
