“Will you marry me, Ronnie Hartman, and be my Valentine, today and always?”
The room went completely silent, as if everyone there were holding their breath.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the twinkling heart-shaped solitaire nestled in the box. The last time she’d seen the ring, she’d turned down his proposal. And while things were fantastic with them, they weren’t quite ready to charge full steam ahead.
“We don’t have to set a date,” he coaxed. “Just say yes, and we’ll figure out the rest later.”
Ronnie gazed into the face she’d never stopped loving or longing for. Here was everything she’d ever wanted. Not a championship title but a wonderful man who’d proven beyond any doubt he loved her to distraction and would go the distance for her. For them. A man who would be a wonderful father one day when they finally did have a child, and an incredible nurse.
“What’s the hold up?” Theo shouted from the bar where he sat on his customary stool. “Put the poor man out of his misery, for crying out loud.”
Ronnie sighed. “If I say yes, does he come as part of the deal?”
“’Fraid so.” Nate’s grin widened, if that was possible. “I couldn’t shake him if I tried.”
“You’re lucky I have a soft spot where he’s concerned.”
Nate whooped and dropped the mike. Hauling her to him with his free arm, he planted a kiss on her lips as everyone in the Poco Dinero erupted in cheers and applause.
“Wait,” Ronnie protested when he finally released her, “I didn’t accept.”
No one heard her. No one cared. The next instant, Nate took her left hand in his and placed the ring on her finger. She thought she might cry. And then she did. Just for a moment. After that, she was too distracted by family and friends swarming her and Nate.
“Welcome to the family.” Ronnie’s father shook Nate’s hand. “Took you long enough.”
“The best things in life are worth waiting for,” he answered.
Yes, Ronnie thought, they were.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from COWBOY LULLABY by Sasha Summers.
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Cowboy Lullaby
by Sasha Summers
Chapter One
“Lynnie would be spitting nails if she knew everyone in town had been here with the house looking this way.” Tandy stood in the front parlor, surveying the room. Her massive dog, Banshee, sat at her side.
Most of the residents of Fort Kyle had already left, leaving casseroles, desserts and treats to cover Lynnie’s kitchen counters and tables. Not that there was anyone left to eat them. Still, it’s what folks did—bring food, visit, share memories that honored the recently deceased.
Tandy swallowed hard. It was difficult to accept Lynnie was gone. She’d been such a strong spirit, and Tandy couldn’t imagine life without her.
Walking into Lynnie Hale’s house was like stepping back in time. Any second now, she expected Lynnie to walk around the corner—wearing her favorite apron, with a welcoming smile on her face and stories to tell.
A wave of nostalgia rolled over Tandy. This had been the place she’d been happiest. Seeing it empty and quiet was plain wrong. She ran her fingers along the fine layer of dust on Lynnie’s upright piano, a sure sign the older woman hadn’t been home in some time. If she had, her piano would have stayed clean and neat. Lynnie Hale was—had been—fiercely and unapologetically house proud. To have the people of Fort Kyle here seeing her home and treasures in anything less than perfect condition would make Lynnie ashamed.
She hurried into the kitchen to find her cousins, Scarlett and Renata, covering food and storing it in the refrigerator.
“Anyone left?” Renata asked her.
“A few of her friends are still chatting in the living room. I think everyone else has cleared out,” she answered, offering them both a smile.
“Can we clean now?” Scarlett asked.
“Bothering you, too?” Tandy asked. “I kept imagining her, how mad she’d be.”
Renata nodded. “I only wish we could have set the place to rights before all of Fort Kyle came by.”
Tandy nodded. No point wishing what could have been. “We can fix it now,” she said, collecting a trash bag.
They cleared away the used dishes, stopping to chat with Lynnie’s closest friends now and then. When the dishes were gone, Tandy pulled out a duster, wood polish and an old rag and got to work. Banshee trailed after her, her constant shadow. Renata was sweeping, and Scarlett took the trash out.
Grief sat heavy on her chest, but Tandy fought it. Lynnie wouldn’t want tears or despair, she’d want laughter. Better to think about the dozens of homemade cookies, muffins, pies and breads they’d made in Lynnie’s kitchen, the sticky-sweet jams or veggies they’d canned, or the hours upon hours Tandy and her cousins had spent playing the piano and singing at the top of their lungs. Lynnie wasn’t kin, but she’d welcomed Tandy and her cousins into her home as if they were. Whenever they wandered onto her property—which was often—she’d gone out of her way to carve out time for them. So much love. And laughter. And music. Always music.
Lynnie’s place was comfort and love, laughter and songs, and family.
Tandy surveyed her work, satisfied.
She turned her attention to the framed photos decorating the wall behind the piano. She ran the feather duster around each frame, each image a familiar glimpse at the woman they’d lost. Lynnie, tall and thin, in a handful of committees and board photos. Lynnie with her prized preserves, judging livestock shows and riding drag rider at the rear of a cattle drive. There were pictures of those Lynnie loved there, too. Tandy’s picture was there, young and smiling, with Scarlett and Renata.
And Click. She studied his smile. Those blue-green eyes had made the world a better place. But that had been a long time ago.
Aaron “Click” Hale was part of her past. That’s where he needed to stay. Her cheeks grew hot, her chest heavy. He’d turn up soon. Of course he would. For Lynnie. They were kin, through thick and thin.
I can do this.
Tandy headed back into the kitchen to stow her cleaning supplies. Inside her well-organized pantry hung Lynnie’s collection of aprons. Some she’d made, some she’d bought and some were gifts. A rainbow of colors and shape
s. Some were practical, the ones Lynnie wore daily. Others were pure silliness—with ruffles and sparkles and silly sayings. Still, Lynnie had held on to them.
Lynnie’s favorite, blue calico and patched so many times the original fabric was suspect, hung aside. Tandy stroked the soft fabric, drawing in an unsteady breath. I will miss you so, Lynnie.
“Tandy?” Scarlett called out. “I’m putting on a pot of coffee for Widow Riley. Want some?”
Tandy closed the pantry, shutting away the memories and sadness that followed. “Sure.”
“Think she’d be satisfied?” Renata asked, hanging the broom on its hook by the back door. Her blue eyes scrutinized their hurried cleaning efforts.
Tandy giggled. “I can hear her now. ‘Dust is just a country accent.’ Wasn’t that it?”
Scarlett and Renata laughed. It was true. In West Texas, dust was part of the decorating. Best you could do was keep it to a minimum. They’d done that.
“Banshee,” she said to the Anatolian shepherd. “Go outside for now.” She rubbed him behind the ear as he passed, looking insulted by his banishment. “It won’t take long,” she promised.
Scarlett carried a tray with coffee into the dining room. Renata followed with a plate of cookies. If Lynnie’s friends needed to stay a bit longer, they’d do what they could to be hospitable. It’s what Lynnie would have wanted. They served coffee, cleared more plates and moved into the parlor.
“You should play something.” Scarlett nodded at the now dust-free instrument.
She stared at the piano. “I can’t,” she confessed. “I don’t want to embarrass her, crying on her keyboard.”
Scarlett draped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry this happened now. Not saying there’s a better time for...” She broke off and shook her head. “You just moved here, is all I mean. To lose Lynnie now, when you’re back, it’s not fair.”
Tandy nodded. Lynnie had played a huge part in her decision to move to Fort Kyle. She swallowed.
“Lynnie would be glad you were back, Tandy,” Renata said. “And glad we set the place to rights.”
Tandy nodded, her gaze sweeping the parlor and the small group of white-haired ladies chatting away. Lynnie didn’t have family to come and tidy up her place. Other than some second cousin in the city—which city had never been specified—Lynnie didn’t have much.
Except for Click.
Tandy swallowed the razor-sharp lump in her throat, painful all the way down. Her attention wandered, but there was still no sign of Lynnie’s great-nephew. He’d be hurting, too. Lynnie was his rock, the only family that treated him like he was more than a nuisance and mistake.
“How old were we?” Renata asked, studying the wall of pictures she’d dusted earlier.
She glanced at the photo of them. “Young.” That girl hadn’t imagined her future like this. That girl had believed in the promise of a future full of everything she’d never had.
“You okay?” Renata asked, nudging her.
“We don’t have to be here.” Scarlett took her hand.
“Of course we do,” Tandy argued. “We all loved Lynnie. He might not even be here—”
“He’s not,” Scarlett said. “Not yet. Dad’s been on the lookout for him.”
Tandy looked at her. “Why? If I remember correctly, Uncle Woodrow was never very fond of Click.”
Renata snorted. “Understatement of the year.”
“But, now that Lynnie’s gone, what will happen to her property?” Scarlett asked.
Tandy frowned. “The land?” She sighed. “Lynnie’s been gone, what, three days? Uncle Woodrow’s already worrying over her land?” Of course he was. That was the way he worked.
Scarlett wrinkled her nose. “If Mr. Wallace bought this place, Dad would have a heart attack.”
Knowing her uncle Woodrow, that was probably true. Woodrow Boone, Scarlett’s father, was...prickly. He excelled at voicing his opinion loudly and being contrary. Still, Tandy respected her uncle. What he lacked in charm he made up for with determination. If he was determined to keep Lynnie’s place from falling into Vic Wallace’s possession, nothing would get in his way.
Apparently, that was something that hadn’t changed in Fort Kyle: Woodrow Boone v. Vic Wallace feud. The patriarchs of the two largest West Texas ranching families kept things civil in public—barely. The two men disagreed on everything. From cattle—Wallace’s Angus versus Uncle Woodrow’s Hereford—to fences—Wallace’s stone versus Boone’s traditional wood and wire—if they could find a way to disagree, they did.
Tandy had always thought Lynnie’s place the prettiest in the region. The natural spring that bubbled up cold and clean was a huge bonus in the dry, arid landscape. But there was more to it than access to water. Lynnie’s property was wedged between the Boones’ and Wallaces’—a hot and arid Texas Switzerland between two warring families. And since Lynnie had outlived three husbands with no children to pass the land on to—
“Click will inherit,” Tandy whispered, that realization making the tight grip on her control slip.
“Poor Click,” Renata whispered.
“That’s what Dad’s waiting on.” Scarlett shrugged.
Tandy leaned against the piano. Would he sell or stay? This place had been special to them all once, but now...
Renata glanced at Tandy with unfiltered sympathy. “I guess Click selling is what we want? I’d think having him around would be challenging.”
Renata’s words cut her deep. “I want him to be happy.” That hadn’t changed. But, yes, having him around would be challenging. Especially since she’d planned on making Fort Kyle home for a while.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Scarlett asked. “If he shows up, I mean?”
Tandy forced a smile. “I’m fine. Completely and totally.” Which was a complete and total lie. Neither of them knew the extent of the damage between her and Click, and she intended to keep it that way. No point dragging that nightmare out into the open for everyone to suffer through.
“As long as you’re sure.” But Scarlett didn’t look convinced.
“We’re here for Lynnie.” Tandy looked at them both, hoping her voice didn’t give away just how hard it was to say his name. “Click is your friend. I don’t want that to change because of me. He’ll need friends right now, so you should be there for him.” She meant it.
She saw the doubtful look Scarlett and Renata exchanged.
“Tandy, Lynnie loved my pineapple upside-down cake,” Miss Francis, Lynnie’s dearest friend, said. “Had to bring some. You mind cutting some old ladies a piece?”
Tandy smiled, leading Miss Francis into the kitchen. “Not at all. Not that I see any old ladies around.”
“Don’t know what we’ll do without her. She knew how to keep things organized—and the menfolk in line.” The woman sniffed, pressing a hankie to her nose.
“She had plenty of practice with that,” a deep voice said from the doorway. “Keeping the menfolk in line.”
Tandy didn’t have to look to know who was talking. She knew. Her reaction to him was the same. Her heart kicked into overdrive, and every inch of her seemed to tighten. Until the cold set in, soaking up everything until she was numb. It was easier that way.
“As I live and breathe, Click, look at you,” the woman gushed. “Does an old heart like mine good to see you here today.”
“Good to see you, too, Miss Francis.”
Tandy sliced into the pineapple upside-down cake, putting pieces on the flowered dessert plates she’d pulled from Lynnie’s china cabinet. Her hands were shaking, but there was nothing she could do about it. If she looked at him, it would be worse. So much worse. She wiped her palms on a kitchen towel and put the plates on a serving tray.
Any minute now he’d say something to her and she’d have to acknowledge him. She’d have to look at him, s
mile and act like seeing him didn’t drag her straight back into the hell she’d been living in for the last two years. The hell she’d only just managed to bottle up and bury deep inside.
The silence in the kitchen grew thick and heavy, pressing in until she almost bolted from the kitchen. No more running. She swallowed, picked up the tray of cake slices and headed for the door.
“Click,” she said, as close as she could come to a greeting. She slipped through the kitchen door, holding her breath when she brushed past him. Her lungs were aching by the time she reached the parlor and Lynnie’s waiting guests. Even as she said his name, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She was stronger now, but not that strong.
* * *
CLICK WANTED TO punch something. Over and over. Until the pain in his hand overshadowed the pain in his chest. Which would never happen. He wasn’t sure he could do this. Hell, he’d arrived here feeling that way, barely treading water. That was before he’d known Tandy was here.
Now...the odds were stacked against him.
Her scent hung in the kitchen, the ripple of her skirt against his jeans waking his senses up. Every instinct told him to go after her. He wouldn’t. He’d no right. He couldn’t hurt her, hurt them, not again. He wouldn’t survive it this time.
Her hazel-green eyes never looked at him. He should be relieved. Instead, the hole in his chest ached. He blew out a deep, slow breath.
“Looks like you never outgrow some hurts,” Miss Francis said.
Click looked at the older woman, comforted by the presence of Lynnie’s favorite cohort. “Ma’am?”
“Click Hale, don’t you pretend you don’t remember. Lynnie was plum tore up over what happened between you two. I know you were young’uns, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t love each other.” Miss Francis shook her head. “Doesn’t look like Tandy’s forgotten either.”
No, he hadn’t forgotten their summer together. Those were cherished memories, long before the heartache of two years ago. He treasured each remembered smile, kiss and sigh. His heart had been whole and fearless, full of purpose and hope. He’d grown up since then.
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