Lone Star Daddy (McCabe Multiples)

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Figuring there was only one panacea for that, Clint caught her reaching for a towel and took her in his arms. “Before we get started...” He lowered his head and kissed her the way he had wanted to all day, one hand running down her spine to rest at the small of her back. She curled against him like a heat-seeking kitten. Yet he was the one practically purring when the sensual liplock came to a halt.

  She gazed up at him as if she would never really understand him. “What was that for?” she asked, dreamy-eyed.

  A down payment for later, he thought. A down payment for the rest of our lives. But aware it was too soon for that, he said huskily instead, “Congratulations.”

  She laughed, her confusion deepening. “For stealing your job? Or half of it, anyway?”

  Guilt ran through him at the machinations he’d used to help make that all happen. “I’m happy for you, Rose,” he told her. And he was—although he would have preferred to be done with working for Farmtech, for good.

  It just wasn’t his thing.

  The question was, how would he get out of it?

  Without her losing out, too?

  Rose moved away from him. She turned on the burner under two big canning tubs that had already been filled with water. While the water heated, she pulled out the sterilized mason jars. Handing him a ladle, she demonstrated how to fill each of the jars to within a quarter inch of the top with the hot jam. Once they began to work, she said, “I’m happy, too. I mean, according to the specifics they gave us over lunch, it’s not going to require all that much time from either of us once we get the initial commercials and videos done. Just one or two days a month and a little bit of travel.”

  She paused to show him how to put the seals and lids on the filled jars.

  “And best of all,” she continued as she went down the line, wiping down the outside of the jars, “the money I’ll get from Farmtech will pay all three of my kids’ preschool tuition for an entire year!”

  Together they carefully lowered the jars into the boiling water bath. Rose set the timer for ten minutes. She returned to the counter, then, with his help, carried the empty Crock-Pot insets to the farmhouse sink. “I mean, once they get to public school in another two years, the tuition won’t be such an issue,” she said, filling them all with hot, soapy water, then leaving them to soak. “But right now, I have to admit, it’s pretty steep...”

  As was her workload, Clint thought.

  He was used to working hard himself, but as always, seeing her stretched to the limit filled him with need. And not just to hold her in his arms and make love to her. He wanted to protect and care for her, and her kids. Have fun with her. Weather the storms with her. He wanted... Hell, he wanted all of this. Just not with Farmtech.

  She turned toward him again, stopped. The buzzer went off on the stove. She gave him another long, considering look.

  He shook off his musing. “What do you need?”

  She pointed to the stove. “All of these jars have to come out of the water and be set onto the towels on the counter to cool.”

  “I can do that.” He stepped in to grab the handles and lift one of the wire racks that held the jars. He set it down gently. Then he turned to the second.

  When he’d finished, Rose turned off the stove. She swung back to him. Her eyes were solemn, assessing, and in that split second, so very, very sad. “You really don’t want to do this, do you?”

  What was Clint supposed to say to that? He could lie, of course, but she would see right through him. “I think you’re perfect for the position,” he said finally.

  She slipped off her apron. In the tank top and suit skirt, she looked incredibly beautiful and feminine. Like the woman she had been before kids. The woman she still could be.

  If he cooperated.

  She sent him a skeptical look from beneath her lashes. “But you’re not?”

  He took his tie off and unfastened another button on his shirt. “I think I’ve made it clear advertising is really not my thing.”

  Her gaze focused on the open collar of his shirt. “So, if we were being completely honest with each other...” Dragging in a breath, she lifted her eyes to his once again. “You wouldn’t want to do it at all. You’d want to finish what you were already under contract for and be done with it.”

  She understood him all too well.

  But this wasn’t just about him.

  It was about her, too.

  And what she’d negotiated for them both thus far had just enabled him to pay a sizable down payment on the top-of-the-line multipurpose tractor that would turn his property back into the horse and cattle ranch it was meant to be.

  So if he had to sacrifice some of what he wanted in the short run, so be it. “Of course I want to spend time with you,” he said honestly. “I want you to have a chance to promote your business and your expertise, too. Not to mention benefit financially.”

  He knew how much she struggled as a single mom, so he’d do anything that he could to make her life easier. And as a consequence, give the two of them more time to spend together—so he could convince her that what they had was a lot more than a fling.

  “You’re sure?”

  Aware she still sensed something was off, he said, “Very.”

  Clint took her in his arms. Meaning, at that moment, to simply distract. To keep her from asking any more point-blank questions that would force him either to lie or to tell the truth and hurt her feelings. Neither option was palatable. Making love to her—and cementing how far they’d come—was.

  * * *

  ROSE BARELY HAD time to react before Clint’s head lowered. His eyes darkened. His lips fastened over hers. And just that suddenly, all her worries fled—along with the sinking sensation she had been in this exact same situation before. When she’d been with a man who was telling her everything was fine, though deep down, her feminine intuition knew otherwise.

  It was obvious that whatever reservations Clint had possessed were gone as well, replaced by the here and now of this riveting kiss. She moaned softly as he clasped her to him and deepened the kiss until it was so wild and reckless she lost her breath. Unable to turn away from such pure unleashed need, such undeniable tenderness, she went up on tiptoe and pressed her breasts against the hardness of his chest, her lower half against his.

  This, she thought, was the way she had always wanted to be kissed but never had been. As if he meant to erase every bit of hurt or disappointment she had ever weathered. Passion swept through her, and she kissed him back without restraint, letting everything she felt, everything she hoped for, pour into the smoldering embrace.

  Clint rocked against her. “Rose,” he rasped once, and then again. He captured her mouth and kissed her in a way that had her senses spinning and her heart soaring. “I want to make love to you...”

  She’d been thinking they didn’t have time, but the possessive glint in his eyes robbed her of the will to resist.

  “Then we’d better hurry,” she teased, glancing over their shoulder at the kitchen clock. “Because we’ve got exactly...thirty minutes...”

  Tucking an arm beneath her knees, he carried her up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. “Plenty of time,” he drawled, mischief lifting the corners of his mouth.

  Her heart raced as he set her down beside the bed.

  Not one to delay, he had her undressed in no time flat. She managed the same. The wicked gleam in his eyes igniting all her erogenous zones, he joined her on the bed. He rolled to face her, and she could feel him, hard and ready. And then his lips were on hers in a frenzy of wanting. She trembled as he cupped her breasts, caressing the taut, aching tips. Caressed the flatness of her abdomen, the sensitive inside of her thighs, and yes, there, too. The mind-blowing intimacy of his touch, coupled with his hot, knowing kisses, had her arching against him, taking in what h
e gave, soaking in the heat and sturdy masculine feel of him.

  On the brink, she rolled him onto his back and moved on top of him. Draping her body over his, she caught his head between her hands and took the lead, kissing him languidly at first, then with building ardor, rubbing against him, driving him to the brink, even as the ridge of his arousal grew ever harder.

  Liking the fact he was willing to let her set the pace, she slid ever lower, kissing and caressing, not stopping until he was throbbing every bit as much as she was.

  And then they were changing places again; he was kissing her intimately, too, parting her thighs with his knee and rising above her. She gasped as he surged into her slick, wet heat. Wanting. Needing. Giving. Taking. As lovers, as equals, as friends.

  He took everything she offered. She possessed him as well. Until there was nothing but the heart and soul of the moment, nothing but the two of them, and the never-ending, all-encompassing bliss.

  Afterward they clung together. He captured her lips in another hot, lingering kiss. “That was...amazing,” he murmured finally.

  Rose smiled at the wonder in his voice. Eyes closed, she laid her head on his chest and took in the steady beat of his heart. “It was,” she murmured back. She liked the sexy turn their relationship had taken as much as the rough sound of his voice.

  So what if he hadn’t said he loved her? She hadn’t said she loved him yet, either. Even though she was beginning to feel like she did.

  Aware of the time crunch, they got up and began to dress. He watched her shimmy into her undies with undisguised pleasure. “You look...happy.”

  So did he.

  Wishing they had time to make love again, Rose smiled as she went to the closet to get a pair of shorts and another knit top to put on in lieu of her business suit.

  “I am happy, and excited, and thrilled about the idea of working with you and sometimes traveling with you for the entire next year.” She nestled against him briefly before going to get a brush for her hair. “I guess I didn’t realize it, but maybe even with all my business success and the joy I get from bringing up my kids, my life has been in a rut in other ways.”

  “Romantic ways?”

  She nodded, admitting, “I’m finally ready for something more.”

  He took her in his arms and kissed her again. “That’s good to hear.”

  Miraculously, Rose thought, the two of them were on the same page. Would wonders never cease?

  * * *

  “THANKS FOR MEETING me on such short notice,” Clint told Amy Carrigan-McCabe later that same afternoon when she arrived at the Double Creek.

  “How can I help you?” the energetic blonde asked, getting out of her Laurel Valley Ranch pickup truck, clipboard in hand.

  Knowing the plant nursery owner was also one of the best botanists in the area, Clint strode forward to shake her hand. “I wanted to talk to you about possibly moving the blackberry bushes on my property. Is there any way to dig up and transplant them?”

  “Not with any real hope of success.”

  “Is there another way to grow more of them, then?”

  Amy pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. “We can propagate them from leafy stem cuttings and root cuttings.”

  Clint wanted to be sure he understood. “So the very same bushes I have on my property now—”

  “Can be duplicated elsewhere. Basically, there are two ways to do it,” she explained. “The most economical way is to take leafy stem cuttings when the canes are still actively growing and place the cuttings in a moist mix of peat and sand until the roots begin to grow.”

  That did sound easy enough.

  “With root cuttings, we wait until the plants are dormant—which is sometime in the fall or winter, depending on the weather—to take the root cuttings. Those go into cold storage for three weeks and then are planted in a peat and soil mixture, covered in clear plastic, and set in a warm place until roots appear. In either case, once we get good, healthy roots established, we can plant the new bushes in gardens or fields.”

  He nodded, stroking his jaw with one hand. “And how long before they would produce the kind of yield I’ve got now?”

  She looked at his fields. “I’d say at least five years.”

  Not good. Trying not to think how this news would devastate Rose, Clint pushed on. “Okay, here’s my next question. You’re familiar with Rose’s property. Is there a place blackberries could be planted at Rose Hill Farm with good results?”

  Amy’s face lit up. “Oh, absolutely.”

  “Are there other places in Laramie County that would be equally hospitable?”

  “Yes. A lot, actually.” Amy paused. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to do here, Clint.”

  Make Rose happy.

  Make myself happy.

  Make everyone happy.

  Clint shrugged, then finally said, “I don’t want my ranch to be the only place these blackberries can be found.”

  Amy rocked back on the heels of her boots. “That’s mighty generous of you.”

  Not really, given what he’d also be mowing down in the process. That was going to make more than a few people upset. Especially Rose. Which was why he had to do damage control now. Clint shoved a hand through his hair. “I was thinking about giving some Double Creek blackberry bushes to Rose, since she’s become so fond of them.”

  Amy smiled. “That’s really nice. Very...sentimental.”

  He nodded, sure hoping that Rose would see it that way, too. “So, you’ll work up an action plan and cost estimate for me?” he pressed. “I want to make sure that Rose knows what would be involved and approves the plan before we proceed.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “Great,” he said with a big sigh of relief. “I’d also like a list of any other local farmers or landowners you think might be interested in growing Double Creek blackberries, too—so I can talk to them about it when the time comes. Naturally, I’d hire your business to do the work, which is why I asked you out here.”

  “All sounds good to me.” Amy tossed her clipboard into the seat of her pickup truck. “It’s going to take a few days for me to work up the proposal, though.”

  “That’s fine. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to Rose or anyone else. It’s kind of hard to explain...but I’d like it to be a surprise for her when I do tell her.”

  Amy mimed a zipper across her mouth. “I understand. My lips are sealed.”

  Unfortunately, just as Amy drove off, Rose and her kids arrived at the ranch. Rose got out of the driver’s seat while Clint assisted the kids. Then Scarlet, Stephen and Sophia ran up to the front porch to get the Matchbox car set Clint had brought out for them.

  Grinning, Rose ambled toward him. “Did Amy finally come out to talk to you about getting some plants?”

  He nodded.

  Assuming—wrongly—that her cousin’s wife had initiated the conversation, Rose continued cheerfully, “Well, I’d take her up on it if I were you. Could be a lot of money for you there.” She winked. “Not to mention what sharing the plants would do for the community at large.”

  Reluctant to let anything spoil the evening ahead, Clint passed on the opportunity to correct Rose’s misconception. Instead, he gathered her against him for a welcoming hug. “Hey,” he chided gently, “I thought you were all here for pony rides and a picnic supper!”

  “We are,” the kids shouted from the porch.

  He pointed to the corral next to the barn, where the Shetland Pony he had borrowed for the occasion waited. “Then let’s get to it.”

  * * *

  “MORE HUGS, MR. CLINT. More hugs!” the triplets said as they were leaving.

  Aware it was several hours past their bedtime and they were all blissfully tired, Rose looked at
her children. “Okay. But this is the last round. You-all have a big day tomorrow. Speaking of which...”

  She paused and turned to Clint. This was a big step. She was ready for it.

  He looked at her, waiting.

  Rose bolstered her courage. “There’s a family barbecue being hosted by my Aunt Annie and Uncle Travis. It’s at their ranch—the Triple Diamond. I’m allowed to bring a date.” She swallowed around her sudden burst of nerves, aware she hadn’t put her heart on the line this way in quite a while, if ever. “So, if you’re interested...?”

  Without warning, he played hard to get. “Depends.”

  She caught the mischief in his eyes and returned it in kind. “Really. On what?”

  He tapped a finger against his chin, thinking. “Are you going to wear a dress or jeans?”

  Rose tried not to think what fun he’d had getting her out of a dress. “Most likely capris,” she said, trying not to blush at the sensual memories. “Why? Does that make a difference?”

  Very aware—as was she—that the kids were listening to every word, he said, “I was thinking we should match. Like,” he gestured dramatically, “if you wore jeans, I’d wear jeans. Or, if you wore a dress...” he hesitated long enough to make her heart race “...I’d wear chinos and a button-down. But—” he paused dramatically yet again, while the kids and Rose all hung on his every word “—I don’t have any capris.”

  Rose rolled her eyes.

  The kids giggled.

  Solemnly she told him, “I’d be worried if you did have capris.” Wishing she could pull him into her arms and kiss him senseless right then and there, she patted him on the cheek and declared, “But no worries, cowboy. Jeans and a shirt are fine.”

  He sighed as if greatly relieved.

  The kids giggled again.

  Rose had to hide a smile.

  Until her next thought hit. “Speaking of button-downs. Do you still have that shirt my kids ruined?”

  He sobered, too. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Well, I’d like to see if I can’t work my magic and have it looking like new again.”

  He frowned. “You don’t have to do that.”