by Marin Thomas
No, thanks. “That’s all right. The tow-truck driver will take us to Junket.”
“Sheriff Sanders stops in after his shift around six.”
Six o’clock was two hours away. She glanced at the half-emptied wine glass. Her mother would be drunk by then.
Cassidy dug out her wallet and set a ten-dollar bill on the bar. “Refill her glass.” She slipped away and inserted three quarters into the pay phone. Dialed information and added another dollar’s worth of quarters for the operator to connect Cassidy to a towing service. The tow company took her credit card number over the phone and promised to have someone be at the bar within an hour.
“What’s the hangdog face for?” Joey asked when Cassidy slid onto a stool.
“It’s been a long day.” She was in no mood for a five-cent therapy session with a honky-tonk bartender.
“Git old like me and you’ll be wishin’ for long days.”
Oh, what the heck. “Car troubles are the least of my worries. The father of my baby proposed, but he doesn’t love me.”
Joey frowned. “Well, that’s a damn sight better than the father of your baby runnin’ off with another woman.”
“I love him.” Cassidy sighed. “But he’s afraid to love me.”
The bartender set a glass of water in front of Cassidy. “On the house.”
“Thanks.”
“Love’s a fickle thing,” Joey said.
“Any advice on how to help him overcome his fears?”
“Yeah, but it ain’t fittin’ for your mama’s ears.”
“Care to dance, ma’am?” An older man wearing leather biker chaps, black combat boots, a tie-dyed T-shirt and a bandana secured around his forehead stood behind Sonja’s stool.
Cassidy opened her mouth to decline the invitation, but her mother spoke first. “I’d love to dance.”
Biker man helped her mother from the stool and led her to the jukebox where they looked over the songs.
“Clarence is harmless,” Joey said. Then he asked, “Was the baby a surprise?”
“Yes.” Her cheeks warmed.
“One-night stand?”
Startled, she asked, “How’d you know?”
“Happens to the best of us.” Joey dug out his wallet and removed a photograph.
“She’s adorable.” The little blond girl wore a tiara and a pink ballet suit.
“Jenny was six in that picture. She’s fifteen now. Her and her mama live in Georgia.”
“Did you marry Jenny’s mother?”
“Nope.”
“But…”
“I should have.” He shrugged. “Cheryl wanted us to try and be a family, but I figured somethin’ better was waitin’ for me ’round the corner.”
“And was it?”
“Still waitin’.” Joey slipped the picture into his wallet.
There was no telling what the future would bring for Cassidy and their child. Bethany’s death had taught everyone that life was short and sometimes bad things happened to good people. If Cassidy didn’t take a chance on marrying Logan would she end up like Joey—still waitin’ with only regrets to keep her company?
LOGAN PICKED UP SPEED as he passed the city-limit sign for Junket. He prayed Cassidy had decided to spend the day in Midland shopping and that’s why she’d missed Mrs. Hildebrand’s hair appointment. His conscience refused to consider any other reason.
His stomach twisted with guilt. He’d been too caught up in his own emotional crisis that he’d forgotten Cassidy’s doctor visit this morning.
She could have reminded you.
No. If there was one thing he’d learned about Cassidy in the short time they’d been together it was that she possessed a boat full of pride. Shame rose like bile in Logan’s throat. He’d trampled Cassidy’s pride with his halfhearted marriage proposal.
Mrs. Wilson’s call replayed in his mind. He had clung to the past, afraid to let go of Bethany and the baby. Because if he did, he’d have to forgive himself for not driving his wife to the doctor’s appointment the day she’d been killed in a head-on collision.
A moment later he spotted a car on the side of the road—Cassidy’s red hatchback. She wasn’t sitting in the front seat or standing next to the vehicle. A cold chill washed through his body
This can’t be happening again.
He checked the rearview mirror, slowed the truck and swung across the oncoming lane, then parked on the shoulder in front of the hatchback.
The raised hood obviously meant engine trouble. He walked around the car, searching for damage that would indicate the vehicle had been involved in an accident. The absence of dings and dents failed to reassure him.
How long had Cassidy been stranded? Where was she now? Had someone stopped to help her? He shielded his eyes against the sun’s glare and scanned the area. “Cassidy!” he shouted. The wind hurled her name back in his face.
She either caught a lift from a passerby or walked somewhere for help. Sweat popped out across his forehead when he thought of the risks involved with both scenarios.
Where would she find help? He stared down the road, then remembered the bar around the bend. He got in his truck and sped down the highway. Less than a minute later he parked in front of Larry’s Lounge. Years ago he and Fletcher had stopped for a beer at Larry’s. The place hadn’t changed much since then—it was still a dive.
Logan entered the bar and immediately his ears winced at the ZZ Top song blasting from the jukebox. He scanned the clientele, his heart clenching when he spotted Cassidy—no worse for wear—chatting with the bartender. Relief swept Logan like a twister through the plains, scattering his emotions to smithereens.
What a fool he’d been to believe he could marry Cassidy and not fall in love with her. No matter how often he told himself that what he felt for her was not love…Right here. Right now. His heart said otherwise. Logan was in love with Cassidy Ortiz. She was his future. His destiny. His road to forgiveness.
The song ended. Heads turned in Logan’s direction. Eyes watched. Ears listened. Then Cassidy swiveled on the bar stool and their gazes connected. Damned if his feet wouldn’t budge. He opened his arms. Give me another chance, Cassidy.
She zigzagged between tables and chairs, then launched herself at him. Once he wrapped her tight in his embrace, Logan decided then and there to stop fighting his love for this woman.
“I’m sorry, Cassidy.” He nuzzled her hair. “Sorry for not remembering the doctor’s appointment today.”
“I should have called to remind you.”
He had so much more to say, but fear blocked the words from leaving his mouth.
“I called a tow,” she said. “The guy should be here in a few minutes. But it’s nice of you to try to rescue me.” She flashed a saucy smile.
Cassidy had it all wrong. She had rescued him. “We need to talk.”
“I know. Let me get Mom.”
“Your mother’s here?” He scanned the room and spotted Sonja drinking with an older man at a table in the corner.
“She’s having the time of her life.” Grasping his hand, Cassidy led Logan outside, away from prying eyes. “I want you to know that I understand—”
He pressed a finger against her lips. “I’ve been afraid to love you, Cassidy. Afraid something bad would happen to you like it did to Bethany and the baby. I’ve cared for you. Been attracted to you since this past September. But not until I saw your car stranded on the side of the road a few minutes ago with you nowhere in sight did I finally admit to myself that I’ve fallen in love with you.”
“Oh, Logan.”
“When I spotted the hatchback, I wasn’t thinking about the baby. Only you. It’s too late for me to save Bethany or the baby—”
“I don’t need to be saved, Logan.”
The muscle along his jaw pulsed, but he didn’t break eye contact. “You’re right. You don’t need saving. If there was ever a woman more capable of taking care of herself, her mother and a child that woman would be you.”
After sucking a deep breath he continued. “You might not need me, but I need you, Cassidy. I want to be your forever man. And I want us to raise our baby together and be a family.” He kissed her tenderly.
“I fell in love with you the night you strung Christmas lights on my trailer and bought that goofy inflatable snowman.” She put his hand on her stomach. “Your son and I can’t replace Bethany and the child you conceived together, but I promise we’ll love you just as much and we’ll be the family you always dreamed of having.”
“My son?”
She smiled. “We’re having a boy.”
Logan hugged her and their Christmas baby close. What he’d believed had been the worst mistake of his life—sleeping with Cassidy that fateful September night they’d met at Billie’s Roadhouse—had turned out to be his own personal Christmas miracle.
Maybe there really was a Santa Claus after all.
MARRY ME, COWBOY
Chapter One
“How come you never said anything about this date with MySpace Daisy when I helped you pull the bull out of the mud bog?” Logan Taylor’s voice echoed in Fletcher McFadden’s Bluetooth headset late Friday morning.
“Figured I’d end up canceling on her,” Fletcher said. In truth he was nervous as all get out. Online Daisy seemed like a nice woman, but what if she turned out to be a troll? “Dress slacks or jeans?” Fletcher studied the rows of shirts, jackets and pants hanging in his closet.
“Your divorce hasn’t been final a year,” Logan said. “Are you ready to date again?”
“We both know my marriage was doomed from the beginning, but I was…never mind.” A one-night stand had resulted in a pregnancy and Fletcher had taken responsibility for his actions by tying the knot with Sandi. Although they weren’t in love with each other he’d been determined to make the marriage work and he hated that he’d failed.
“Everyone’s entitled to a mistake.” There was an odd catch in his friend’s voice before he cleared his throat.
Oh, hell. What would Logan know about screwing up? The guy had married his high school sweetheart and they’d been happy until her death. At least his buddy had experienced true love. Fletcher had a rotten track record in that department.
Logan had been the first person Fletcher had confided in when he’d arrived home early from a business trip and had walked in on Sandi and her lover in the bedroom. What he hadn’t confessed to Logan was that his wife had been sleeping with the guy off and on during their entire seven-year marriage. Fletcher figured it was payback for having cheated on his teenage sweetheart.
He and Darla Baker had dated all through high school and the pressures of their senior year—deciding what college to go to, applying for scholarships and financial aid had stressed their relationship. They’d agreed to take a breather from each other until after final exams. He’d screwed up and had gotten caught—by Darla’s best friend Sissy—making out at the drive-in movie theater with another girl. That ended his relationship with Darla for good.
In hindsight he’d been a moron in his marriage also—the clues had been right in front of his nose. Sandi’s frequent overnight shopping excursions with so-called out-of-town friends. The time he’d discovered she’d continued taking her birth control pills after they’d agreed to have another baby. If there had been one thing in his miserable marriage to be grateful for it was that Sandi hadn’t contested the divorce. She’d agreed to a handsome settlement and Fletcher received sole custody of their son.
“This woman know you’re stinking rich?” Logan interrupted Fletcher’s stroll down memory lane.
“She thinks I’m a used-car salesman.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” Fletcher grinned at the mirror hanging on the closet door. “Pretty clever, eh?” He figured if Daisy discovered he and his father owned a successful bull-breeding business, she’d be all over the McFadden fortune and not Fletcher’s sweet ol’ self.
“Where are you and this Daisy hooking up?” Logan asked.
“Why all the questions? I called for wardrobe help.”
“I ought to charge you for my help. First, the bull and now I’m picking out your clothes.”
“We’re meeting at the drugstore in less than an hour.”
“Is Daisy from around here?”
“She lives in Midland.” Fletcher hoped he and Daisy would hit it off. He was in the market for a good-time-no-strings-attached affair. After screwing up with Darla, then marrying Sandi for all the wrong reasons, Fletcher was done with serious relationships. And he had Danny to consider. His son was having a hard time adjusting to Sandi’s absence and the last thing Fletcher wanted to do was cause him more trauma by bringing another woman into their lives. “Back to my outfit.”
“Jeans and a white dress shirt. No tie. Sunday boots.”
“Thanks, hoss.”
“What’s Daisy look like?”
“Blonde. Big hair. Lots of makeup.”
“Texas Mary Kay gal, huh?”
“I guess.”
“What if she didn’t post her real picture online?”
“If she’s as pretty as the back end of a mule, I’ll cut the date short.” The past four months he’d corresponded with three women. If Daisy didn’t work out, he’d arrange a date with the next one on his list.
“Did you post a picture of your ugly mug on your page?”
“Of course.”
“Good luck, buddy.”
“Hey, Logan. What do you say we get together Christmas Day?” Logan’s father had died six years ago and his mother lived in Florida with Logan’s aunt. Fletcher hated the idea of his friend sitting home alone the first Christmas without his wife.
“I’ll think about it. Later, Romeo.”
The dial tone buzzed, then Fletcher’s earpiece went silent.
“Dad! Where are you?”
“In here.”
His seven-year-old-son dashed into the room and launched himself onto the bed. Danny looked nothing like Fletcher. There was little of the McFadden Irish in the kid. He had his mother’s blond hair, slight build and brown eyes. Fletcher didn’t care. Despite the fact that his son had been conceived during a momentary loss of sanity on Fletcher’s part he’d loved the boy the moment he’d been born.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Getting ready for a—” He didn’t want Danny worrying about his father dating, so he lied. “Trip into town.”
Danny jumped on the mattress, raising his arms above his head to touch the ceiling fan. “Can I come?”
“Nope.” His son had woken with a bellyache this morning—a medical condition that had become all too frequent since the divorce and Sandi’s absence. “If you’re too sick to go to school, you’re too sick to leave the house.”
“I’m feelin’ better now.”
Yeah, I bet you are. “Maybe next time.”
“I’m bored,” Danny whined.
“Quit jumping.” He reinforced the command with a glare. “Practice your spelling words with Grandpa.” After the divorce Fletcher had sold the house he and Sandi had built in a subdivision on the outskirts of Midland and moved back to his father’s ranch. Danny appreciated the extra attention and in truth Fletcher needed his father’s help in dealing with his son’s unruly behavior.
“Can I go fishing with Grandpa if I get all my words right?”
“Yeah.” Probably the wrong answer but Fletcher felt bad that his numerous attempts to convince Sandi to pay more attention to their child had failed.
“Thanks, Dad!” Danny raced from the room.
Fletcher tucked in his white dress shirt, aligned his belt buckle with his jean zipper, shoved his feet into high-polished black Laredo boots, donned his Stetson, then squirted on cologne. He studied his image in the mirror. His looks weren’t special—not like his buddy, Logan, whose movie-star face stopped women in the street. At six three, Fletcher had height on his side and a strong physique from a life of ranch work, but his auburn hair and r
uddy face were nothing to brag about. Hope you like what you see, Ms. Daisy.
The ride into Junket took fifteen minutes. He stopped at the only intersection in town and had trouble peeling his foot off the brake. Chicken. Hell, yes he was scared. He hadn’t had a date—a real date—in seven years. What did women expect from men these days? Dinner and movie before…sex? Speaking of sex…it had been so long since he’d done the hanky panky he wasn’t sure he remembered how to seduce a woman.
A horn honked and he checked the rearview mirror. Old man Carson sat behind the wheel of his 1978 Ford truck. His hunting dog Beau occupied the passenger seat. Carson didn’t go anywhere without Beau. Maybe Fletcher should get a dog instead of a woman. Dogs might smell bad but they were loyal critters. He lifted his foot off the brake and continued down Main Street.
Paying no attention to the town’s new Christmas decorations, his eyes scanned the vehicles parked outside the local businesses. Daisy said she drove a black Volkswagen Beetle. No Beetle in sight so he parked in front of Baker’s Drugstore and shut off the engine.
He considered hiding in his truck until he spotted a big-haired blonde, but decided the polite thing to do was to wait for Daisy inside the store. Mrs. Polanski was towel drying glasses behind the soda fountain when he walked through the door. He slid onto a stool and greeted the gray-haired woman. “Afternoon, Mrs. P.”
When Mrs. P. and her husband moved to the area and purchased the drugstore from Darla’s parents, the older woman had learned the name of every child in Junket and knew which parents in the community struggled to put food on the table. Whenever those children dropped by the drugstore Mrs. P. handed out free hot dogs and glasses of milk.
“How’s Danny, Fletcher?”
“Woke up with another stomachache this morning.”
“He misses his mother.”
Fletcher agreed, although he didn’t understand how a child missed a mother who’d hardly paid attention to him since his birth. He suspected Danny worried his father might desert him, too. Every day Fletcher expressed his love to his son, but the words failed to reassure the boy.
