Lone Star Daddy (McCabe Multiples)

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Happy he was playing along with her messaging, Rose grinned in approval. “I’ve heard that about you. It’s why you were so great in rodeo, isn’t it? Because you weren’t afraid to build all those strong muscles by eating healthily?”

  Unfortunately, the triplets were on to another subject already. They settled on the sofa next to him while he continued enjoying his raw veggies. “Mr. Clint, which game is better?” Sophia asked. “Baby dolls or engineer?”

  Rose brought him a glass of iced tea to go with his appetizer. “Their cousin Henry’s grandparents have an old-fashioned steam train as part of their wedding ranch business. When the triplets visit, they get to ride in the train and pretend they are driving it.”

  “Sounds cool!” Clint said. He wouldn’t mind doing that himself, especially if he, Rose and the kids all went together.

  “See!” Stephen crowed, triumphant.

  Clint wordlessly offered all three kids a celery stick. All three refused. He added, “But playing baby dolls is good, too.”

  Scarlet sat cross-legged on the coffee table directly in front of him. “Did you play baby dolls when you were little, Mr. Clint?”

  “Unfortunately,” he replied with a disgruntled sigh before he could censor himself. Catching Rose’s chiding look, he went on, “I have four sisters, and they liked to play house and wedding a lot. So I was always getting drafted as either the daddy or the husband.”

  Rose rolled her eyes and quipped, “Which probably explains why it’s taken you so long to marry as an adult. That whole endlessly reenacted wedding thing...”

  “Hey,” Clint protested, aware he hadn’t felt this relaxed and happy in a long time, “I’ll be a groom soon.” Just as soon as he got the right woman to say “I do.”

  As expected, Rose was giving no opinion on the subject, and she swung away before he could see the expression on her face. The kids were not so circumspect. They looked at him, then their mom, then back at him. Finally Scarlet tackled the elephant in the room and spoke up. “Mr. Clint? Are you going to marry our mommy?”

  * * *

  ROSE BLUSHED. GIVEN the task she had ahead of her, she should have waited until the kids were sound asleep to invite Clint over. He probably wouldn’t have minded having dinner with her—or even dessert and coffee—at eight-thirty.

  But she hadn’t done it that way. Mainly because she had wanted to remind him what her life was really like on a daily basis. However, she hadn’t figured they would bring up the subject of marriage in conjunction with him.

  Clint sent her an ornery grin. “Careful, kids. I don’t think your mommy likes the M word.”

  Three little heads tilted in unison. Confusion reigned.

  Relieved they had no idea what was really going on, she explained, “Mr. Clint is teasing.”

  “Oh.” Her children recovered quickly. They turned back to Clint. “Will you play a game with us?”

  Rose nixed the suggestion with a shake of her head. “It’s bedtime.”

  “Maybe next time,” he promised.

  “Maybe means no.” Sophia pouted.

  Quickly Clint conceded, “Okay. You’re right. We’ll all definitely play a game together next time.” This would give him another excuse to come over and spend time with all of them. And, of course, step up his plan to pursue Rose.

  “Baby dolls or engineer?” Stephen persisted.

  Clint threw out the first unisex thing that came to mind. “Superheroes.”

  Thankfully, that satisfied them.

  Rose gathered up the children. All three said goodnight to Clint, then went upstairs with their mom. A short time later she returned, beckoning him into the kitchen. She, too, had showered since arriving home. Her chin-length hair had been dried into a sleek bob with a fringe of bangs across her forehead. She wore little makeup, but she didn’t really need it, given how gorgeous she looked. Grabbing her floral apron off the hook on the wall, she slipped it over her head and tied it around the waist. Peering up at him impishly, she went over to the oven and lifted out a tray of sumptuous-looking barbecued chicken.

  “Exactly how do you play Superheroes?”

  He bypassed the island and captured her in his arms. “Haven’t a clue. Luckily I have time to figure it out.” Then he lowered his head and kissed her tenderly.

  Rose caught her breath even as she softened against him. She splayed her hands over his chest. “What was that for?”

  He gave her waist another playful squeeze before letting her go. “Practicing.” He returned her look of surprise with exaggerated seriousness. “In case I’m enlisted as the groom in the next game of Wedding.”

  She laughed despite herself. “Very funny.”

  Clint walked back around the island so he wouldn’t be tempted to kiss her some more. “You never know.” He sat down to watch her cook. “So why did you ask me over tonight?”

  He couldn’t help but think, by the slightly jumpy way she was acting now, that she had some ulterior motive other than friendship.

  The way she averted her gaze confirmed it. “I felt—feel—bad about the way things ended between us last night,” she said finally.

  “Me, too.” He’d wanted her to stay. Make love with him again. Or at least not regret it...and declare it out-of-bounds for the future. “What else?”

  Rose slid a green salad out of the fridge. “I get tired of eating kid food all the time, and I don’t like to go to all the trouble to cook adult food just for myself.”

  He could buy that. He couldn’t see the kids eating salad with field greens, fresh orange slices, green onions and almonds. Nor did he imagine they were crazy about the zucchini, corn and red-pepper side dish she had prepared to go along with the mashed red potatoes coming out of the oven. “And I was asked to talk to you.” She brought out two place settings and put them on the island.

  “By...?”

  Rose brought all the dishes over and set them within reach. “Jeff Johnston and all the executives involved in the ad campaign.” She whisked off her apron and settled on the stool next to him. “They’re concerned about the way things are going so far.” She inclined her head, indicating he should serve himself first.

  Clint added the delicious-looking chicken and veggies to his plate, then watched while she did the same. “If Farmtech wanted an actor as spokesperson, they should have hired one.”

  She spread a napkin across her lap with extraordinary care. “They didn’t want a generic pretend-farmer, Clint. They wanted you.”

  He tried not to admire the narrow stretch of silky-smooth thigh between her knee and the hem of her shorts. “What about you, Rose?” He lifted his gaze, taking in a brief but pleasurable glimpse of her slender waist and full breasts before returning to her face. “What do you want?”

  “For this to go smoothly,” she said, as if he needed reminding. “And it’s not.”

  “And you’re disappointed.”

  She stared at him, two high spots of color on her cheeks. “It occurred to me you could be trying to get fired in order to get out of whatever other contractual demands Farmtech makes.”

  That was, as a matter of fact, exactly what he had been attempting to do. However, still wanting her shielded from any trouble he made for himself, he took a bite of tender, succulent chicken. “Why is that your problem?”

  Rose forked up a slice of orange. Then put it down again. Huffing out a breath, she looked him in the eye. “Because if you get fired, Clint, Jeff and Farmtech will take the berry picker back immediately, and all those berries will go to waste.”

  A fact that would break her heart.

  Not sure he liked coming second to any business venture, no matter what it was, Clint met her level gaze. “And your business loses the revenue you stand to get if you harvest the crop.”

  She resumed eating. “As do
you.”

  Suddenly as ticked off as she was, he sat back. “So either I straighten up and fly right, or you and I are...what?” he demanded gruffly, not sure whether he wanted to haul her into his lap and kiss her. Or simply accept that their priorities were too different, get up and leave. “No longer friends?”

  Chapter Nine

  Rose looked at him and sighed. “Of course we would still be friends,” she declared, her emotions suddenly as fired up as his. “Unless you don’t want to be?”

  Clint wanted to be a whole lot more than friends, but pushing her now on that front, would get him nowhere. “What are you asking me to do?” he asked.

  “Cooperate wholeheartedly,” she said. “Barring that, get a third party to run interference for you so there’s a buffer between you and the creative team.”

  This had a really familiar ring to it. He took another bite of chicken. The sauce-covered meat melted in his mouth. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

  Rose went back to eating, too. “I suppose you could ask Travis, since he is your attorney, but then you’d be paying his hourly rate, and that would be expensive. Or perhaps you could get an agent...”

  “An agent would take 15 percent—of everything.”

  Rose stiffened in surprise. “Okay. Well, I didn’t know that.”

  Her upright posture emphasized the soft swell of her breasts. His body hardened in response.

  Oblivious to what he was thinking—and feeling—she mused, “Then maybe an attorney would be the less expensive way to go, since this isn’t anything you intend to do long-term.”

  Casually he baited her, “Unless more offers come up.”

  Rose lifted a forkful of mashed potatoes. “I suppose that could happen,” she said absent-mindedly.

  Clint chewed thoughtfully for a few moments, then swallowed. “But there would be more of a chance of that if I had someone advocating on my behalf,” he said softly, looking her in the eye.

  She nodded, distracted, then tilted her head at him. “It wouldn’t have to be an agent per se, would it?”

  And here it comes, he thought. The pitch I never wanted to hear, especially from her. He lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. “Just someone who knows me and knows the business.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Someone who would have only my best interests at heart.”

  Rose nodded in all innocence, suddenly looking so happy and content she was almost glowing. “Right.”

  Anger churned in his gut. If only she weren’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “Like you?”

  * * *

  ROSE DIDN’T NEED to hear the soft accusation in his voice to realize he’d misunderstood her. She stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. “What are you talking about?”

  “Would you do this for me if I asked you?”

  Well, that was a loaded question if she’d ever heard one! He seemed to want to know whose side she was on. His, naturally! “Yes.”

  “Exactly what I thought.” Clint stood abruptly. “Thanks for dinner.”

  She blocked his way to the door. “Wait! Clint! What’s going on? Why are you so angry?”

  “Because I’ve been down this road before, Rose, and I have no intention of ever going there again.” He stepped past her.

  She grabbed his elbow. When he wouldn’t turn toward her, she moved around him and let out a quavering breath. “Okay, now you really have to tell me what is going on, because this is just not fair.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her and then continued onto the front porch. “My ex wanted to build my career, too.”

  Rose stepped out beside him. “She was an agent?”

  “She wanted to be,” he admitted with a grudging nod. “But to do that, she needed to find someone to represent first. And with my looks and my rodeo stardom, she figured the sky was the limit.”

  Rose picked up on the sarcasm. “I gather she was successful?”

  Giving another terse shake of his head, Clint stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “She got me the saddle soap and the leather glove ads. Which, combined with the winnings I had racked up, enabled me to buy back the Double Creek.”

  “So what happened after that?”

  Clint exhaled and cast a look at the expansive black velvet sky overhead. It was studded with stars and a brilliant three-quarter moon. “I told her I was in love with her and wanted to marry her and move back here and raise a family.”

  “She said no?”

  Bitterness turned down the corners of his lips. “She’d fallen in love with a rodeo star. If I wanted to go with the announcing gig she had managed to drum up for me and work on developing a broadcasting career, fine. Otherwise,” he shook his head grimly, “she wasn’t interested.”

  Rose paced the porch. “And that’s why you broke up.”

  Clint leaned against a post, a mixture of regret and lingering disappointment on his handsome face. “I don’t mind being in business with a spouse. I think that can be a good thing. But Reba’s idea of a rich life, and mine, were completely opposite.”

  Whereas, Rose thought, she suspected her and Clint’s ideas of what really counted were the same. Friends, family. Work they enjoyed. Maybe even great sex, if and when the opportunity arose...

  She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry you went through that, Clint. Really I am. But that’s not what I was trying to do here. The only reason I got involved at all was...”

  “What?” he prodded her.

  “Jeff Johnston and the Farmtech execs thought I might be able to sweet-talk you into having a better attitude.”

  A flash of anger glimmered in his eyes.

  Rose could hardly blame him. Although her intentions were good—she’d simply been trying to bring peace to the situation—on the surface it did sound manipulative. She edged closer, breathing in the fresh-air scent of his skin. “I tried to tell them you’re not the kind of guy who listens to anyone unless he wants to.”

  Clint waited.

  Wishing she could comfort him physically without it meaning or leading to anything, she said, “But they seemed to think that...”

  He shifted his gaze to her lips. “There’s something going on between us?”

  She felt herself flushing. “Something like that. Of course, I told them that wasn’t the case, either—”

  He moved brusquely away from her. “So you fibbed.”

  She had no choice but to follow him down the steps. “Given all that was at stake, I promised that I would talk to you.”

  With a sardonic lift of his brow, he pivoted toward her. “And make me a very nice dinner.”

  “No,” she corrected hastily. “The dinner was my idea! I knew what a hard day you’d had, and I was just trying to be nice.”

  “Nice,” he repeated.

  “I was trying to be your friend. And I’d still like to be that if you’d let me.”

  Clint gave her a long look that she couldn’t begin to interpret. “Got any dessert?” he asked finally.

  The question was so far from what she’d expected, she couldn’t help but laugh. “As a matter of fact, I do. So, what do you say, now that all our cards are on the table?” She held out her hand.

  He took it.

  “Can we start the evening over?”

  Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he reeled her in close and murmured, “I don’t see why not.”

  * * *

  VIOLET EXCHANGED HUMOROUS glances with Lily and Poppy, then elbowed Rose the next day, as the four of them toured the estate of their late grandparents, John and Lilah McCabe. “I thought I was the one who always had circles under my eyes from lack of sleep,” she teased.

  Rose made a face at her triplet. “Just because I’m not a resident physician does not mean I can’t stay up all night, too.”


  Always in mommy mode these days—when she wasn’t actively working as an attorney mediator— Lily put her hand on her swollen tummy. “Is one of your kids sick?” she asked Rose worriedly.

  “No. Everyone’s fine.”

  Poppy—who was working on the interior-design plans for the newly sanctioned home of the nonprofit McCabe House—set her clipboard down. She sat down midrise of the sweeping ranch house staircase. “Then why were you up all night?”

  Lily and Violet sat down on the risers, as well. “We’d like to hear the answer to that, too,” Violet said.

  Rose sighed. If she couldn’t confide in her sisters, who could she talk to? “It was Clint.”

  A contemplative silence fell. “He slept over?” Poppy asked.

  “No. Of course not. The kids were there.”

  “Right.” Lily nodded, knowing firsthand what it was like to juggle the whole kids and romance thing.

  Not that Rose and Clint were having a romance, she reminded herself firmly. Yet, anyway.

  Poppy grinned as if reading Rose’s mind. The oldest and most forward-thinking of all the McCabe daughters, she saw no reason ever to get married. “You want him to sleep over?”

  You have no idea.

  Lacing her hands around her knee, Rose sidestepped the query. “We’re not even dating.”

  “From what Gannon says, you could be,” Lily put in.

  Since Clint and Gannon were best buddies, Lily probably knew the scoop. “What do you mean?” Rose asked. Had Clint said something to Gannon?

  “Gannon thinks Clint is really interested in you.” Lily waved a hand. “Of course there’s the whole you’re-never-getting-married-again thing, when all Clint wants is to find The One and tie the knot.”

  Violet gave Lily an attagirl pat on the back. “Nicely summarized, sis.”

  Poppy asked, “So why was Clint keeping you up ’til all hours?”

  Why indeed? Rose thought back to the long, increasingly intimate conversation that had continued through dessert, and dishes, and then cups of hot tea... “We were talking.”