by Meg Maxwell
“You’re one of us,” Hank said. “Well, not a cowboy. Or a man. But you know, part of the crew.”
“And by part of the crew, he means family,” Grizzle said. “Not just an employee.”
“At first we wanted to make you all this stuff in Tex’s memory,” Hank said. “I mean, none of us knew him too well since we only worked with him a week, but we sure did like him a lot and he was a hard worker and was always rattling off the most interesting facts. Like about how much water clouds hold before they open up. That kind of thing.”
Emma smiled. She thought about the moment she’d met Joshua, the cute rodeo rider waiting in line in front of her at the refreshment stand. “The whole reason I started talking to Joshua—Tex—was because he was telling someone all about the best Texas barbecue and how it should be made, and his friend was telling him he was wrong. Well, I know about Texas barbecue and I sided with Joshua. We didn’t stop talking for hours after that.” She glanced at Jake, who was staring at the ground. “But Hank, you said ‘at first’ you wanted to make this all in Tex’s memory. What did you mean by that?”
“Oh, just that it might have started that way but then we did it because you’re one of us. You’re Emma, not the woman Tex left behind with a baby on the way. You know?”
Emma was even more touched than she’d been a moment ago. She nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. And thank you. Thank you all.”
Her gaze stopped on Jake. She wondered if he would have said something along those lines had she not disappeared up to her room last night. Maybe he’d offered her the job because she’d been Joshua’s left-behind pregnant ex, but maybe he’d done everything else because she was Emma. Because of how he felt about her. Maybe all that had nothing to with what he “owed” her. She felt like she knew Jake Morrow. And she believed that with all her heart. The man did care about her, no matter what.
Emma walked over to the mobile, attached to the crib by a movable wooden arm. She touched the soft, colorful little stuffed animals.
“Grizzle made the stuffed things for the mobile,” Golden said.
“Michelle helped me with the patterns, I admit,” Grizzle said. “Before she dumped me, anyway.”
Emma touched Grizzle’s arms. “Well, Michelle must care about you to have helped out. Please thank her for me. I love the little animals.”
Grizzle waved a dismissive hand, but Emma could tell the man was glad to have a reason to seek out Michelle.
“We’ll get it all moved upstairs this afternoon,” Hank said. “You can tell us where you want everything.”
“You guys are the absolute best. Just the best.”
They did this because they liked her. And cared about her and little Baby Violet. They didn’t do it because she couldn’t afford to furnish her own nursery or because they felt they owned her something. They did it simply because they cared and there was nothing else attached to it—no conditions, no strings.
It was about the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.
Aside from proposing to her to save her farm. Jake hadn’t done that out of guilt or because he felt he owed her. She knew that now with absolutely certainty.
Oh, Jake, she thought, you wonderful, speak-your-mind guy. How can I hold you to this sham engagement and keep you from going forward with your life? She had to talk to her dad. She had to get him to see things her way.
So Jake could carry on. Without her. So that he could find love and have a future with a woman he chose.
How she would say goodbye to him, she had no idea.
* * *
Essie switched around Emma’s work schedule, so she arrived for her lunch shift at Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen at eight thirty, a half hour early. She’d needed to get out of the ranch house, away, but somewhere she felt safe and on solid ground, which meant her aunt Essie’s. The apricot-colored Victorian was quiet, and her great-aunt was alone in the big country kitchen when Emma arrived.
After a hug and a glass of Essie’s homemade peach smoothie, Emma got to work on today’s lunch special, meatloaf and garlic mashed potatoes with two kinds of gravy.
“Did you know my meatloaf recipe was handed down from your grandmother?” her great-aunt said as she chopped onions so fast and so finely that Emma was mesmerized for a moment.
Emma chopped a bunch of stalks of celery, then grabbed a handful of garlic bulbs. “My grandmother?”
“Your dad’s mom. Vanessa. She’d have us over for dinner every now and then and her meatloaf was unbelievable. My own mother and grandmother were good cooks, but I didn’t know plain old meatloaf could taste like that until I tried Vanessa’s. She gave me the recipe and I’ve never changed one tiny thing.”
Emma smiled. “Is the famed meatloaf recipe from his side of the family the reason my father thought he could advise you about the restaurant?”
“Oh yes,” Essie said with a laugh. “That and a whole slew of reasons. Your dad means well.” She gave something of a devilish smile. “In his own mind, anyway.”
Emma laughed, but her smile quickly faded. “He sure does think he knows what’s best for me, even though I’m a grown woman.”
“You’re good at standing up to him,” Essie said. “That’s what you have to do when someone is trying to run your life.”
Emma stared at the heads of garlic and out of nowhere, she burst into tears. Essie came over and sat her down and Emma poured out the whole story. The argument about her life choices that had propelled her to the rodeo for an afternoon of forgetting everything. Meeting Joshua Smith, though that part Essie knew. Her father’s reaction to the news of Emma’s pregnancy and situation. The Baby on Board tank top and the dance her father had crashed to find her. The ultimatum.
“He actually sent husband candidates to the ranch?” Essie said, shaking her head. “I’m shocked but not surprised in the slightest. That is Reginald Hurley, all right.”
Emma took a deep breath. A sip of her peach smoothie. A bite of biscuit with apple butter. And then she told her great-aunt the part about Jake proposing. Her not accepting. CJ’s idea for the fake engagement.
“Ah, now some things make sense that I couldn’t put my finger on,” Essie said. “I was a little confused because the relationship between you and Jake Morrow seemed to escalate awfully fast, but then I saw you together—here, then at the past two dances—and I could see you both love each other.”
“What? What do you mean? The engagement is fake.”
Essie raised an eyebrow. “The impending nuptials might be fake. But the feeling between you and Jake, the emotion, is not. I’ve been around seventy-six years, Emma. I’ve recently watched my three granddaughters marry. I know love when I see it.”
Well, the love her astute great-aunt was seeing was all Emma’s. Jake didn’t love her.
She felt Essie Hurley studying her. It was as if the woman could read her mind. “Emma,” Essie said. “Why do you think Jake proposed to you?”
“Well, at first I thought he did it because he’s just a great guy,” Emma said. “And he is. But yesterday I found out he also feels he owes me because he was Joshua’s boss and Joshua died on the job. I don’t think that’s the only reason he proposed, but I do know it’s tangled up in why.”
Essie took Emma’s hand and held on to it for a moment. “The man stepped up the way he did because he loves you, Emma. Men do the right thing for all kinds of reasons. But underlying it all is love.”
“All four of the cowboys at the Full Circle said they would have stepped up,” Emma pointed out.
“Yeah,” Essie said. “For the fake engagement. You said Jake proposed marriage before his brother ever brought up the idea of a phony engagement to stall your dad. Those cowboys care about you, absolutely. But Jake Morrow loves you.”
Emma knew her great-aunt was very wise. But Jake Morrow did not
love her. He cared about her, was all. Jake Morrow was the kind of man who’d put off looking for his own biological twin brother to spare the discomfort of CJ. He was the kind of man who’d propose marriage so that she wouldn’t have to marry one of her father’s vetted husband candidates in an arranged marriage that would destroy her soul.
Emma hugged her aunt for making her feel better, for listening, and the kitchen crew began filing in, so they got back to work. But all Emma could think about was Jake asking her to marry him. Kissing her. Looking at her in a way that send jolts up every nerve ending. Helping CJ make her baby’s crib and keeping the workshop a surprise.
The only thing Emma knew for sure where Jake Morrow was concerned was that she loved him.
* * *
After a full morning of ranch chores and invoice paying and business, Jake finally told an excited Golden that yes, it was finally time to move all the nursery furniture they’d made into Emma’s room. Making the chair and ottoman had been a first for Golden and he’d discovered he was a natural craftsman and carpenter and was now interested in starting his own side business. Jake loved watching Golden transform into a more confident young man.
Jake and CJ brought up the crib. Emma pointed to the spot she wanted it, against the wall near the window, and they positioned it. Grizzle reattached the mobile. Hank and Grizzle brought up the bookcase, and CJ and Golden brought up the rocker and ottoman. With the soft white walls and the colorful rug already in the room, the nursery looked complete. Redford had followed the crew and was now curled up on the rug, grooming his orange face with his paw.
“Can’t believe a baby is going to be sleeping in that crib in just a few months,” Grizzle said. “Makes me remember when my daughter was born. Most magical day of my life.”
Emma smiled. “I can tell by all the love put into that mobile, Grizzle.”
Grizzle smiled, and they all looked around the room. “We did good, guys.”
“Thank you all so much from the bottom of my heart,” Emma said. “I love the nursery. I love knowing all this was handmade by guardian angel cowboys.”
Once the guys were sure that Emma liked where everything was placed, they headed downstairs to the kitchen to rustle up Italian sandwiches. Jake said he’d be down in a bit.
Emma sat in the rocker, leaning against the soft yellow back pad. “I went to see my dad after my shift at Hurley’s. I tried to explain that even though I’m engaged, I wanted him to understand that I am self-sufficient and could raise my daughter on my own. I showed him my bank account records, talked about how independent and organized I am, and reminded him that I’ve been working full-time since I graduated from high school. He didn’t hear a word I said.”
“Because his issue isn’t really with whether or not you can raise a baby by yourself, it’s that he doesn’t feel you should.”
Emma sighed. She stood up and moved to the dresser and picked up the skinny, floppy-eared bunny that Grizzle had made with extra fabric from the mobile animals. “I know. I guess I thought if I could just get him to agree that I could do it, that of course I could do it and do it well, rule single-motherhood, I could slowly axe away at his old-fashioned notions.”
“You’ll be an amazing mother, Emma Hurley. I have no doubt about that.”
She smiled and sat down on the edge of her bed, smoothing the bunny’s long blue ears. “Thank you. My dad said the same thing. But then he added, ‘well all that is a moot point to make now you have Jake.’”
You do have me, he wanted to shout from the roof. Here I am. But before he could say anything, her mouth dropped open and her hands flew to her belly.
He rushed over and knelt in front of her. “Emma? What’s wrong?”
“Jake! The baby kicked! The baby kicked for the first time!”
Phew. For a second there he was worried something hurt or she needed help. “Can I?” he asked moving closer.
She nodded. She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. He couldn’t feel the kick but he felt...something. Life. Energy. The future.
He tilted up her chin and kissed her, deepening it and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He ran his hand through her silky golden-brown hair. He could feel her lush breasts against his chest and he moved his hands around her back, to caress her face. He wanted her so badly.
“You’re so beautiful, Emma,” he said, and she kissed him so passionately she almost knocked the breath out of him.
He was about to rip off her T-shirt, dying to see what was underneath. Lace? Cotton? “I just realized that we’re right in the middle of the nursery and any second, any of the guys could come walking through the door with the little extra decorations they’ve been making.”
She looked at him and touched his face. She seemed to be debating something in her head. If this was a good idea or not.
It was. And wasn’t.
Finally, she said, “Maybe we should close and lock the door, then.”
Hot damn. Yes. It was a good and bad idea, but it was clear they both wanted each other. He got up long enough to lock the door, then was back on the bed where he lay Emma down against the blanket. He leaned up and slid the pale blue T-shirt over her head, lifting her pretty hair. The bra was white and lacy and so sexy he almost exploded on the spot.
But they’d make love and then what?
He knew what. He was balanced on a ledge right now, fine with how things were. The fake engagement. Everything had its place. They had an understanding. But the moment they had sex, made love, entwined their bodies, Jake would fall so hard that everything would topple. Literally and figuratively speaking. And there was too much at stake.
Like Emma’s family farm.
Like his own self-preservation.
The more he thought about it, the more the faintly blinking yellow light in his brain turned into a bucket of cold water pouring on his head, down his jeans, dousing him in the face. Oh hell.
He ran his fingers through her silky golden-brown hair. “Emma, once we have sex, everything could change. I think we need to talk about that.”
She bolted up and put her T-shirt back on. “You think I’m going to demand you marry me in the morning?” She glared at him. “Jake, you really are turning into Hank.” With that, she got up and marched out, despite the fact that it was her bedroom they were in.
Redford gave Jake a dirty look and padded after Emma.
“I’m going to want to demand you marry me in the morning,” he whispered to absolutely no one. But he had to get it through his thick skull—that wasn’t what Emma wanted.
He had to let her go.
Chapter Eleven
Yes, Jake was avoiding Emma this morning. He’d gotten up earlier than usual, four fifteen, and grabbed a hard-boiled egg and a muffin and made himself coffee in a thermos, then headed out to the barn. At five, he heard Golden, Grizzle and Hank shuffling past on their way to the house for breakfast.
He moved farther into the barn to check on their littlest newborn goat, a weakling who the crew was taking turns watching and feeding. The sweet little white kid hungrily took the bottle Jake offered of its mother’s milk. Every day the little guy was more able to stand firm on its spindly legs.
“You’re Emma’s favorite,” he said to the kid. “I know she comes to feed you right after breakfast, but I was here so you’re stuck with me.” The little goat slurped away. He hoped Emma wouldn’t mind too much that he’d fed the baby goat. “Soon I’ll be feeding our baby with a bottle,” Jake said. Out of the clear blue sky.
He froze. Our baby. Our baby? When had Emma’s baby become our baby?
Since he was right there when little Violet had kicked for the first time and he’d felt the baby’s energy right through Emma’s belly. In that moment, Jake had understood—or thought he did, anyway—what it mean to feel like a father.
&
nbsp; He felt like Baby Violet’s father.
He wondered what Emma would think of that. Not much, very likely.
Unsettled with all these new and warring thoughts, Jake began mucking out stalls, the hard work good for his muscles and clearing his head. Before the crew had even emerged from the house from breakfast, he was out checking the far pastures. The ride and the cool morning air had done him good.
A couple of hours later, when Jake had just put Midnight back in his stall and threw some fresh hay, he heard a car pulling up in the drive. He brushed the hay bits from his jeans and headed outside. Who was this? Not Fern—she always drove her pickup. Not Michelle. Her car was white. As he got closer to the black SUV he saw it couldn’t be Katie or Stella, given how petite they were and how big the person behind the wheel was. But whoever it was hadn’t gotten out.
Jake stopped for a moment. The SUV had pulled over by the goat pasture. The driver sat there for a few moments, looking around. Then finally he opened the door.
A dark-haired man stepped out, no one Jake had seen before. He was head to toe in black, including black cowboy boots. But this guy was no cowboy. Early thirties, Jake figured, tall, as tall as Jake, and easily as muscular, with the kind of sunglasses state troopers wore. He looked serious.
“I’m looking for Jake Morrow,” the man said. He seemed to be staring intently at Jake, though Jake couldn’t be sure because of the sunglasses.
“You found him,” Jake said, extending his hand. “How can I help you?”
The man shook Jake’s hand and cleared this throat. Then he took off his sunglasses. Green eyes, like Jake’s, stared at him. “My name is Colt Asher.”
Asher.
Jake almost gasped. “You’re my—We’re—”
“Twin brothers,” Colt finished.
Jake wasn’t often speechless. He was now. He gave himself a moment to think. “But how—”
Just then CJ tore out of the barn on Merlin, riding way too fast. From the brief glimpse on CJ’s face, it was clear he was upset about something. He must have overheard Colt Asher introduce himself—and clearly remembered the name Asher from the index card on the adoption paperwork he’d found in his father’s trunk.
