Sophia tried to imagine her patrician mother on this ranch. She would see only dirt. Animals who would frighten her, fill her with distaste.
Anyway, she’d already put out feelers. Her mother had responded by offering to send a plane to bring her home.
I am home, Mother.
You aren’t. You will never be.
But Sophia didn’t want to hurt this noble man who couldn’t be faulted for the life he’d chosen. The land was him and he was the land. That simple.
She pressed her palm to his jaw. “That’s the dream me, the one who has a mother who would actually get her hands dirty,” she said to him. “I’m fine, it’s just that…”
“What?”
“What if I can’t be enough for him? My mother is…cold. I mean, I know she loves me, but…” She shook her head. “I want to be more. I want our baby to have all the love he could ever need.”
“He will.” Gordon’s tone rang with assurance. “Sophia, I could move back there with you, if that’s what you need.” That even a hint of shame at not being enough for her darkened his eyes made her furious. “I know that’s where you belong, the life you were born to live. If you need me to—”
She stopped his words with her fingers. “What I need is you. It’s all I’ll ever need, you and our babies.” It would be true. She’d make it true.
He might have spotted the doubts she couldn’t completely banish, but she changed the subject with a kiss.
It quickly turned to more as love once again rode to the rescue.
Her fingers tightened on the box, every inch of it built with love.
But love hadn’t rescued them. Love had not been enough. Hot tears rained down her cheeks as she opened the box and withdrew the locket, opened it with a tiny click.
Stared at the toddler’s round cheeks, his brown eyes the mirror of her own. Of his brother’s.
When Michael had been born, she’d given him Ian’s middle name as a small, private gesture to the firstborn she’d tried so hard to put out of her mind. But everything brought up memories. She’d put every bit of love she’d hoarded for Ian into caring for her second child.
But her heart never got over Ian…stubborn love, painful love, vengeful love. She’d buried the pain, but now it was all resurrected.
Oh, Ian… She closed her fingers around the locket and held it to her breast. Sank to the floor and hunched over it. She wanted to know her oldest son again, but from all reports, he loathed her.
As he should.
There was no coming back from such a blow. A mother should never, ever leave her child. Her own survival shouldn’t have mattered. She should have found a way.
Yet Michael would not exist if she hadn’t, and Michael had contributed much to the world.
You’ve made your bed. Live with what you did.
But even as she rose to replace the locket in the box, the memory of all the love and hopes she’d felt when her own belly had been rounded with child made her hesitate. Michael said that Ian’s Scarlett loved him deeply and eagerly awaited their child.
She deserved to have this locket. Sophia did not.
She closed the box and put everything back except the locket. Giving it away with the lock of Ian’s hair—all she had left of him—would sever a link she wasn’t sure she could live without. But it was the right thing to do.
Only…how?
Perhaps she could ask Michael to give it to his brother’s wife.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew that was wrong. She couldn’t put Michael in that position. He was trying to forge a relationship with his brother, and interjecting Ian’s faithless mother would do them no good.
Gordon doesn’t blame you.
Gordon. She would send it to him and let him decide if the locket would be cherished or scorned. She didn’t know this woman who loved her firstborn.
And she would never know the child they made together.
Her…grandchild. Abruptly her chest went tight with pictures of what could have been, Christmases and birthdays celebrated by three generations, watching the discoveries in a child’s eyes, being part of a history, a tradition…
Sophia looked around at the icy castle she inhabited, every inch tasteful perfection and cold comfort, a pitiful substitute for hugs and messy kisses, noise and laughter and wonder…all that she’d given up.
Because she hadn’t been strong enough.
Because she’d failed her firstborn, her beloved Ian, too deeply for even time to erase.
Gordon might forgive her, but she would never forgive herself.
Penelope Gallagher Calhoun was behind the grill at Ruby’s place, giving Scarlett the afternoon off while Pen juggled calls on her bluetooth and listened to Harley and Arnie’s broadcast.
Arnie was reading the next item. “We have here a trip for two to Hawaii as the prize for whoever will come clean out a garage at 422 Oak Street—” Arnie started chuckling, and Harley’s yelp could be heard in the background.
“Dang it, Melba, that’s not funny!” Harley spoke into his microphone. “I told you I’d get to it.”
Henry snickered at the prep table, and Jeanette hooted.
Pen shook her head and joined the laughter.
Then someone entered the cafe, a tall, slender woman with spiky black hair and designer clothes, down to a pair of Jimmy Choos Pen had nearly bought herself. The look was one Pen recognized only too well.
Not From Here.
“It’s like looking at you,” Brenda breathed.
Complete with bluetooth in her ear. “So true. Can we help you?” she called out while she admired the cut of the pencil skirt, the tailoring on the blouse so subtle it could only be a designer’s touch.
Pen fancied her own pencil skirts were getting tight and would soon have to be retired. She could only grin. Bridger, you big gorgeous hunk, you knocked me up good.
The woman halted and looked around as though she’d found herself in the wilds of Africa. “Are you Ruby?”
“Take over, will you?” Pen said to Henry.
“Sure thing.”
She emerged from the kitchen, untying her apron. “Aunt Ruby’s at the house right now.”
The woman’s gaze scanned her middle. “You’re not Scarlett. She’s very pregnant.”
“Nope. Neither of them reaches my shoulder. I’m Pen Calhoun.” She extended a hand.
The woman’s gaze scanned her attire. “That’s Tory Burch. I nearly bought that skirt.”
“I almost bought your shoes.” Pen was a smart woman and put the pieces together quickly. “You’re here for Michael.”
Immediately the woman stiffened and frowned. “You know Michael?”
“Everybody knows Michael. But I’m practically family. Scarlett is my cousin. I’m the COO of Enigma Games. Welcome to Sweetgrass.”
Fine dark brows flew high and green eyes widened. “But…you’re cooking in a diner.”
She was clearly off-balance. Pen took pity on her. “Brenda, bring us each a cup of coffee and a bowl of Ruby’s cobbler.”
“It’s Scarlett’s cobbler today,” Jeanette prompted, approaching. “I want to look at your blouse.”
“What?”
“Jeanette, when are you going to give up calling yourself a waitress? With your talents at clothing design, you are wasted here. Hasn’t Hayley convinced you to come to L.A. yet?”
“L.A.?” the stranger echoed.
“Your name…something unusual. Laken, that it?”
“You know my name?”
You’re the reason Michael’s been moping around, Pen started to say, but she wouldn’t give this woman the satisfaction. She knew women like her—shoot, she’d been a woman like her. “Shark lawyer. Proud of it, too?”
Laken’s eyes narrowed.
“Oh, don’t get your nose out of joint. I used to be you. Harvard Law. Long and Graves in D.C.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Besides helping my brother run his video game emp
ire and filling in so Scarlett will get off her feet for a while?” She found herself grinning. “You know, I think I get why everyone was so amused at me.”
Brenda set down the bowls and filled the mugs of coffee. “Do you want cream for your cobbler? Or ice cream? We make our own.”
“You can’t eat like this and look like that,” Laken said to Pen.
“Sure I can. I have a hot fire chief who helps me work it off. The works, Brenda—and thanks.” She turned back to the woman still eyeing her. “Oh, man, this is funny. You’re me a year ago.”
“You’re cooking in a diner in stilettos. With a bluetooth.”
Pen stuck out her foot. “Great stilettos.”
“Oh, yeah.” The reverent tone made up for the stick up the other woman’s butt. “But…why?”
“If Bridger wasn’t tied up with training, I’d show you the eye candy I live with. Thanks, Brenda.” She dealt each of them a big dollop of ice cream to top the steaming cherry cobbler. “Scarlett brings a Parisian note to country home cooking. Try it. You’ll die.” She took her own bite. Except first thing in the mornings, she ate like one of Rissa’s horses. “Oh, baby…” She closed her eyes reverently.
“Oh. My. God. I think I just had an orgasm,” Laken moaned.
“Maybe I’ll decide to like you, after all.”
They grinned at each other.
“You seriously can’t eat like this all the time.”
For the next eight months I plan to. But aloud she only said. “A good man will help you work it off. Michael’s a good man. Hot, too. Mmmm…”
Laken’s eyes narrowed.
“Gotcha,” Pen exulted. “Once we finish our religious experience, I’ll take you to see him.”
“Who says I’m here for him? I just want my dog back.”
“That darling puppy is yours?”
“Shared custody,” Laken sniffed.
“Hot guy and super-cute puppy. Girlfriend, what the hell are you waiting for?”
Laken tensed visibly. “I have a busy practice in Austin.”
Pen knew she’d better stop tweaking this woman who was so acutely uncomfortable before she screwed everything up for Michael. She sure wanted to laugh, though. Michael was this woman’s Bridger, whether she accepted it or not. Once Pen, too, had believed she could never leave the city or her high-flown career.
Thank her lucky stars she’d learned, if too slowly and nearly by losing him. She tapped her bluetooth and spoke. “Dial Rissa.”
Her sister answered.
“Hey, sis, is Michael still there?”
“No, he’s gone to Ian’s to look at a mare. He didn’t answer his phone?”
“I didn’t call. I have a surprise I think he’ll like a lot.”
Laken frowned at her.
“Oh? Come on, dish the details, Sissy.”
“Can’t right now. Thanks, Ris.” She disconnected. But later, ooh yeah. She would dish. “When you’re finished, I’ll take you to see Michael.”
“I said I’m not here for him.”
“Then you’re not as smart as you look.” Pen rose to go talk to Henry and make sure all the dinner prep was in order.
Chapter Seven
“She’s a stunner,” Michael said reverently.
“Cleopatra is my pride and joy.” Ian grinned, arms propped on the same fence railing. “So you agree she’s ready to breed?”
“Oh, yeah. You already got the stud selected?”
“Mackey has one he’s bringing in from his spread in California. Sixteen hands, excellent conformation, smart and strong.”
“Lungs and heart that won’t quit,” Mackey said. “Bravo cost me the earth, but he was worth every penny. I’m going to keep him here now. He’s had his fill of California, too.”
“Yeah, you and Rissa aren’t traveling as much lately, I’ve noticed.”
Mackey’s grin was sly. “Not gonna be either, not for at least seven months.” He cut them both a glare. “If you breathe a word, Rissa will have my head. Don’t know what the hell she’s waiting for. I’m ready to climb on rooftops.”
Ian laughed and socked him in the shoulder. “Congrats, Daddy.” He shook his head. “Who woulda thought it? Wiz has three kids, I’m on the way to my first and now that Wild Mackey Boy…what on earth has become of the Four Horsemen?”
Mackey laughed, then caught Michael’s confusion. “Folks around here seemed to think the three of us and our buddy David Butler were alternately the scourge of the Hill Country or some kind of superheroes.” He shrugged. “We might have gotten in a little trouble growing up.”
“Usually your idea,” Ian added.
“What can I say? I was an energetic kid.”
“And a damn fine athlete,” Ian supplied.
“We all were. Your bro here was the quarterback, with the sweetest hands this side of the NFL. Top recruiters wanted him bad, but Rancher Rick here went to Texas Tech instead.”
“Hey, great agribusiness program.”
“You wanted to travel the globe. You should have.”
“Couldn’t leave Dad. He needed my help.”
But Michael could see a trace of longing.
Before he could pose a question, however, Ian shook his head. “I wouldn’t be anywhere but right where I am. If I hadn’t been, there’d be no Scarlett McLaren in my life. Things work out as they should.”
Michael thought of the small boy and wondered if Ian really meant that.
“Looks like we got company,” said Ian’s dad Gordon, emerging from the barn. He shaded his eyes.
Ian tensed. “Penny. She’s supposed to be running the cafe for Scarlett. If Scarlett wakes up from her nap and sees Penny here—”
But just then the passenger door opened, and Michael’s heart thudded to a halt. “Laken…”
The dogs went racing, and she bent to scoop up a delirious Ajax, her laughter floating on the breeze.
“So that’s your vixen, son?” Gordon asked.
“That’s the one.”
“Think you might stop moping now?” Ian asked.
“Those are some mope-worthy legs,” Mackey observed. “Not that I noticed.”
Michael didn’t answer any of them. He was too busy drinking her in.
“Damn,” Ian said. “I think you’ve lost both your dogs, and mine looks pretty smitten, too.”
Michael couldn’t seem to make his feet work right, so he just watched as Penny turned a blinding smile his way.
And winked.
After accepting overjoyed puppy kisses, Laken ruffled Monroe’s fur and extended a hand toward a spotted dog with odd blue eyes squeezing in for his own petting. Finally, though she wanted to keep Ajax as a shield, she set the puppy down and rose to look at the line of men arrayed in front of the fence. “Wow.”
Pen turned. “Yeah. But the best one isn’t here right now. It gets better.”
“I don’t see how.”
The older man crossed to them first, a slight limp in his gait. “Well, don’t just leave your guest standing there, Penny. Welcome to the Double Bar M. I’m Gordon McLaren. I’m guessing you’re Laken.”
Ian’s father. The man Michael’s mother had abandoned. He seemed amazingly relaxed, given that evidence of his wife’s betrayal stood nearby.
“This is Laken Foster, Gordon. She’s a little bit overwhelmed by Sweetgrass, I think. She heard Harley and Arnie’s trading post first thing when she walked into Ruby’s.”
Laughter greeted her remarks.
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Foster. Don’t let Harley scare you off. Not everyone in Sweetgrass is eccentric.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” said a woman’s voice from the porch. “Everything okay at the cafe, Penny?”
“You’re supposed to be napping.” The tall man who was so clearly Michael’s brother strode to her side.
“Stop hovering, Ian.” But Laken noted how she leaned into him and how his body curved protectively.
“Everything is just fine. I’m only
here delivering Laken while things are quiet. Dinner prep is nearly done, and your new waitress showed up early.”
“Chrissy? She’s supposed to come tomorrow.”
“She said she wanted to work with Jeanette a little. They went over to Dreams to scope things out.”
“I should go—”
Before Scarlett could finish, Ian had swept her into his arms and was turning to head inside with her.
“Ian! Let me greet our guest, you big oaf.”
He turned halfway. “Hi, Laken, I’m Ian. This is Scarlett. Welcome to Sweetgrass. Scarlett will enjoy visiting once she’s had her nap.” Then he turned back and shouldered his way inside.
“Not that our boy is a little overprotective or anything. Hi, Laken, I’m Mackey. I’m married to Penny’s sister Rissa. Welcome to Sweetgrass.” He shook her hand, and Laken couldn’t help but think that most of the women she knew would sigh over the sheer mass of male perfection she’d run across in this tiny burg already. “Pleased to meet you.”
He held onto her hand. “My man Michael will recover his powers of speech anytime now, we’re hoping.” He grinned, and she swore women all over the world stifled a sigh.
Finally she let her attention rest on the man she’d traveled to see.
Their gazes locked, and memories swamped her.
“Michael, you’ll bring her to town, right? I need to get back,” Laken heard Pen say.
But all she could see was Michael, his brown eyes both warm and watchful.
“We’ll make it happen,” Mackey said when Michael still didn’t speak. “Gordon, you had a colt you wanted to show me?”
“What? Oh…yes. Hope to see you soon, Laken.” He clapped Michael on the shoulder as the two men walked away.
Leaving her alone with him.
“Hi. I, uh—” Ajax yipped and distracted her.
“Why are you here, Laken?”
“You stole my dog.”
“You don’t want a dog, remember?”
“Well, maybe I—” She exhaled. “Maybe I owed it to you to come see the place. You said just one weekend,” she reminded him.
The tiny spark of hope she’d seen quickly fled. Then the familiar easygoing Michael crowded to the fore. “Sure thing. Let me show you around.” He turned. “This is Ian’s place, as I imagine you—”
Texas Hope: Sweetgrass Springs Stories (Texas Heroes Book 16) Page 13
