ONCE IN A BLUE MOON (BLUEBONNET, TEXAS Book 2)

by Stuart, Amie

  I’d do neither. I loved him too much to give up this one shot that some quirk of fate had given me. And his next words lulled me again.

  "I’m sorry...Momma, she can be...tough to take sometimes." He leaned against the car and pulled me to him.

  "Glad to know I wasn’t the only one nervous about tonight." My chuckle was mixed with a sigh of relief. He felt so strong and solid, I sighed, wanting to stay there forever. His hands on my back and his soft sweatshirt against my cheek.

  We had one more issue to address so I stayed put. "Ty, I do have something I need to say. I’d really like to clear the air about this before we get too much further."

  "What’s that?" His rough husky voice distracted me.

  "I got the impression the last time we talked—back in July—you might have thought you were just a thing...a hook-up. Tim told me..." I took a deep breath and forced my heart to slow down. "I slept with you because I wanted to. It wasn’t just a hook-up."

  "I’m sorry for that. Things were...difficult with the divorce and all," he murmured.

  "I still wanna know why you cut my grass," I teased. "Look, I know this baby wasn’t planned, but I didn’t want you thinking our child was the result of a fling or that it meant nothing to me." I winced. Even to my own ears it sounded horrible and I just couldn’t think with him pressed all up against me. "I’m no saint, Ty, but...I’m not as bad as—"

  "I know. And thank you. That means more than you know," he said, lowering his head.

  I relaxed against him with a soft moan deep in my throat, lost in the firm, warm lips on mine, his tongue gently teasing me. "I better get," I whispered a few minutes later. "I’ve got lots to do and I’m exhausted."

  "Get some rest. And if you need anything, just ask."

  * * *

  I spent the morning out hunting for a dress. Unsuccessfully, I might add. Then ran by the florist that Tara had found, and by Whole Foods for a salad. The baker would have to wait until Friday morning. I had an eleven o’clock client.

  Tara hit me the minute I walked in. "Did you go by the florist?"

  "Yes, Tara." I kept walking, smiling at two ladies waiting on another stylist.

  She followed me down the hall and into the office, list in hand. "Bakery?"

  "No, Tara."

  "Dress?"

  "No, Tara." Who needs a mother with her to nag?

  "You have to have a dress!"

  "No, shit?" I threw my poor salad in the fridge and slammed the door. "I’m sure, if I had to, I could dig something out of my closet."

  "I’ll see what I can find on the internet." She dug my salad out of the fridge and put it on the desk. "Eat."

  "Nothing could possibly get here by Monday." I frowned and flopped in the chair in a fit of bratty temper.

  "We might get lucky and find something local. I’ll check the Emme website. She has cute stuff."

  This from a chick with raspberry colored hair. I just stared at her.

  I was in the middle of a haircut when Tara and Cassi came bustling in my room. Lucky for me, Rona Maguire was a regular and used to our antics.

  "Guess what we found?" they chorused.

  "Do tell!" I drawled, a handful of hair between my fingers and my scissors poised to snip.

  "Your wedding dress!"

  My Lord, you’da thought they’d found the secret to time travel they were so excited.

  "Betti, you’re getting married?" Rona asked.

  I patted my belly with a sheepish grin and nodded.

  "Do you want to see her dress?" Cassi interrupted.

  I shrugged in lieu of an apology. Rona reached for the paper Cassi was waving around, giving her a mock scowl. "What color does it come in?" she asked, taking the lead.

  Tara practically shoved me out of the way to lean over and chatter at Rona. "I found a place locally, and they have it in lilac, plum, navy...and pink paisley."

  "Did you say pink paisley?" I nudged her back and leaned over Rona’s shoulder. Tara had indeed outdone herself. The dress was tea length, georgette in style and had peasant sleeves and a plunging neckline. Feminine and funky.

  "Yup." Tara grinned. She knew she’d found a winner.

  "Will they hold the dress for me in my size?" My mouth watered. I had the perfect pair of shoes to match.

  After Rona left, I propped my feet up and nibbled on the last of my salad, waiting on my next client to arrive.

  I also had one more chore to handle. Angelina. I dialed, and took a deep breath while it rang. Our relationship was up and down though I honestly tried to let go, praying she didn’t do something stupid someday like come back to Bluebonnet. The answering machine picked up on the fourth ring and I left a message asking her to come home this weekend.

  * * *

  I stretched out in my hydraulic chair after my last client left.

  "You’re working too hard," Cassi said softly from the doorway. She crossed the tiny space and started massaging my shoulders. "You don’t need to be overdoing with that baby on the way."

  "I’ve been cutting back." I groaned and closed my eyes.

  "I know you have. We just worry. That’s why Tara and I are coming over tomorrow night to help you start packing. The kids will stay at my mom’s on Sunday night, and Monday I’ll be in charge of you."

  "You guys." My heart turned into a big hormone-induced puddle and I cursed my watery eyes. "You don’t have to—"

  "We know." Her tone was positively smug. "Speaking of guys, I see he came through in the ring department."

  "Damn good thing, too," Tara quipped from the doorway.

  "Oh now, Tara, he took good care of our girl. Did you see the size of that?" Cassi pointed at my left hand with a grin.

  "Not up close." She came over and lifted my hand for a better look. "Very nice, but why didn’t he call today?"

  Picky, picky, picky.

  "He does work!" I gathered up my tips and spun around to face her. "He’s playing at the dancehall tonight."

  "That’s no excuse for not calling your future wife," she scolded. "And, what exactly is a dancehall?"

  I turned around, an expression of mock horror on my face. "What do you mean ‘what is a dancehall’?" Adding in my best hick accent, "Where you from, girl?"

  Cassi and I both burst out laughing.

  "Dancehalls are basically bars that allow children, so you find a lot of families there. Ty plays at his aunt’s dancehall.”

  "Oh, so like, don’t expect to get picked up in one." She might as well have said, "You’ll never catch me there."

  "You are bad." I slung my purse over my shoulder. "I’m going. Now."

  By the time I hit my front door, a bag of Risky’s BBQ in hand, I was ready to drop. I kicked off my shoes and headed for the answering machine. The red flashing light indicated I had a message. Angi wasn’t coming. Some bullshit about a big test on Monday. I swallowed my disappointment and called her back. Still no answer. I hated for her to find out I was getting married via a phone message but didn’t have much choice.

  * * *

  After our late night packing and pizza party, Sunday morning Cassi, Tara and I loaded up our vehicles and headed to Ty’s—after a big breakfast at IHOP. He was gone but had left a note on the door telling us to come on in.

  "Yuck!" Tara said when we brought the first load in.

  "Why in the hell would someone make the inside of a house on a ranch all white?" This from Cassi.

  "I have no fucking clue." I plopped down on the white couch, not caring if I got it dirty. The nasty thing was gone as soon as I could manage anyway.

  "You sit, sister. We’ll carry this stuff in."

  "You guys."

  "No arguing!" Eyes narrowed, Tara pointed one manicured finger at me.

  Instead of sitting, I wandered around. Picking up the white throw pillows, I tossed them into a pile.

  "Hello, hello," a deep voice rumbled from the vicinity of the front door.

  "Hey, Tim." I peered around the square column. A c
olumn? One sat on each side of the front door, then you stepped down into the living room. Just one more thing to frown about. "Did you come to help?"

  "If you need me to, sure." He took off his hat and gave me an easy smile. "I was out in the arena and saw ya’ll come in."

  "Well, since you’re so big and strong, why don’t you help us?" Cassi quipped, nudging past him with loaded arms.

  Tim turned and gave her his most charming smile. "It’d be my pleasure, honey."

  Cassi actually blushed. I laughed, knowing Tim just had that effect on women.

  With his help, the girls had both our vehicles emptied in no time. We’d only gotten the important stuff—my clothes, shoes, bathroom and kitchen stuff for now. And while they unpacked, I scattered some vividly colored pillows and throws all over that ugly white furniture and made tea.

  "You’ve been busy, Mama," Cassi gently teased, easing into a dining room chair. I could tell she was tired, but then, we all were. I set my favorite cobalt blue tea jug and four glasses on the table.

  "I got all the dishes unpacked and put up."

  "Sure looks a darn sight better with some color," Tara said, helping herself to some tea.

  "You think Ty will mind?" I looked around, suddenly a bundle of nerves at what Ty would think of my wholesale redecorating job.

  "I doubt it." Tim laughed, crossing over to the table and pulling out a chair. Tara slid a glass over to him and pouring another for herself.

  Tired, we all sat quietly for a minute.

  "Tim, could you hang that red framed mirror for me? Oh, and what are you doing on Tuesday?" I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my temples. It was past my naptime.

  "Well sure, honey, if we can find a hammer and nails. And, I can be available for whenever you need. Ask and it’s yours."

  "I think you’re marrying the wrong man," Tara quipped, giggling. Tim and Cassi joined in.

  "Is that so?" came a voice from the door.

  My face on fire, I turned to see a sweaty dirty Ty standing in the open doorway. He still looked good despite the fine layer of grit that clung to him. He stepped down into the living room, leaving a trail of dusty footprints in his wake.

  "Would you like some tea?" I clutched my fingers in my lap, my heart picking up speed.

  "No, I gotta go back to work. I saw the cars and thought I’d come see how things were going." Tight lipped, he looked around and said, "Looks like you got everything covered."

  He left as fast as he’d come, and I high-tailed it to the kitchen, trying to hold in my emotions. Tim followed, finally locating a hammer.

  He slammed a drawer behind me, then appeared at my elbow, lifting a cracked coffee cup. "Ty let Rhea take whatever she wanted. Stupid-ass." Then softer, "Give him some time, girl. It’ll be okay."

  I threw myself at him, tears streaming from my eyes, full blown sobs hard on their heels.

  "What did you do to her?" Cassi demanded from the doorway.

  "Nothing! She’s upset over Ty."

  "I don’t know why she loves that jackass anyway," she swore, patting my back.

  Horrified, I sucked in my breath, but Tim squeezed me tighter against him.

  "It’s all right, girl. I won’t tell him," he murmured. "But it makes me feel a hell of a lot better about you marrying him. Now let’s get this mirror hung.”

  Chapter Ten

  GIMME A BULLET

  Scowling, Ty flung the front door open, ready to yell at his brothers who’d been teasing him about the wedding non-stop for the last two days.

  Only, it wasn’t his brothers.

  "I’m not supposed to see you." He immediately swung the door between them, blocking his view of Bettina.

  But the damage was done. He rested his head against the door and squeezed his eyes shut. She looked so damned pretty in her fancy pink dress and her curly hair all piled on her head.

  "Well, you’ve seen me, so open the door."

  "We can talk like this." What if she’d come to back out? What then? What about their baby?

  She sighed. "Are you alone?"

  "Yeah, why?"

  "Because it’s personal and I’m cold, Ty."

  He was too much of a gentleman to leave her standing outside in the cold and swung the door open a bit more, looking her over. Then felt his face turn red when he realized she was checking him out, too. A part of him was suddenly glad he’d taken Delaney’s advice about the seafoam green shirt. "Did you change your mind?"

  "Not yet. But I might if you don’t let me in, Tyrell Andrew Boudreaux."

  "How’d you know my full name?"

  "Marriage license." She clutched her leather car-coat around her as a stiff wind made her shiver and raised goose bumps on his arms.

  He finally pulled himself together and swung the door wide, standing aside. He’d spent all morning prowling the house, had even run Tim off, still mad because she’d had Tim help her on Sunday instead of him. God, he wanted a Xanax.

  "Have a seat." He shut the front door, closing off the bitter wind that had snuck up from nowhere.

  Her silence worried him.

  "How are you feeling?" He followed her over to the dining table and braced himself against a chair but didn’t sit. He couldn’t seem to keep still.

  "Fine. I’m fine." She shrugged out of her coat and crossed her legs.

  "The baby’s okay?" How could she sit there and act so calm?

  "The baby’s fine." She studied him again and recrossed her legs.

  "Do you want something to drink?" He pointed toward the kitchen with eyebrows raised.

  "No, Ty, I want to talk. Just...gimme a minute."

  Of course she did. Maybe it’d be quick and painless. He studied his hands and wondered if he could take the other shirts back. "Sorry. Sure."

  "Do you really want to marry me, Ty?" Her voice broke on want and rose in pitch on his name.

  That got his attention. "You’re having my baby."

  "That’s not what I asked," she countered, a frown on her pale smooth face.

  "Of course I want to marry you. You’re the mother of my child." And that meant the world to him. He sank down on one knee and took her hands in his, praying she wouldn’t notice how clammy his were.

  "I see." Her eyes on their hands, she squeezed his fingers and swallowed, then swallowed again.

  There was more. She had conditions. Terms of surrender.

  "What kind of marriage is this going to be, Ty?"

  Nope, just a question that left him scratching his head. "Well, a marriage." He shrugged. "What do you mean?"

  When she took another deep breath, he suddenly realized she was just as bent out of shape over getting married as him. "What I mean is are we going to share a bedroom....or not? Are we going to live like roommates?"

  God, no.

  "Or try and have a real marriage. I mean really try. I know you don’t love me, Ty. That’s a given, but at one time, there was something physical between us. Something I really enjoyed. I’m a normal healthy woman and I just want to know what to expect...sexually and...not sexually. God, maybe we should just forget this whole thing," she muttered.

  She’d enjoyed sex with him.

  "No! N-no, we shouldn’t. I-I honestly hadn’t thought about it. I like you and I do care about you...and not just as the mother of my child either. I just assumed—what do you want?"

  "I had hoped we...could."

  Could what? He frowned and waited for her to continue. He hadn’t signed up for a roommate. One had been enough.

  "Have a real marriage...with sex."

  Sex was good. His face grew steadily hotter and he couldn’t meet her eyes. Or talk. Sex with Bettina was very good. "Sounds good to me. Sure, whatever works."

  "So, you’re willing to try, give us a hundred percent?"

  A real marriage, not roommates. A friend. A lover. He studied their hands, hers all pale and soft against his big rough ones. "Absolutely."

  "Then let’s go get married."

  The cak
e and flowers were beautiful and so was his bride. Momma and Jessa both cried. The wind died down, the sun came out, and gave them a beautiful fall day despite the occasional brisk gust. Everything went off without a hitch. He’d done it. The one thing he’d sworn to never do again. Get married.

  Around sundown he wandered out to the back porch and accepted a glass of scotch and a cigar from his dad. A couple small sips wouldn’t kill him or arouse suspicion. But he’d have to skip the Xanax tonight—the Xanax he’d hidden in his dresser drawer. He’d been working on weaning himself off them anyway.

  "You gonna make it there, Bub?" Zack smiled at him from his spot next to Dad.

  Ty laughed and ducked his head. "I’m tired."

  "You not sleeping again?" His dad frowned up at him in obvious concern.

  "Too much excitement, I guess." He shrugged it off, hoping they’d let it go. He wasn’t in the mood for anything—teasing or smothering.

  By the time he got home, Bettina’s friends were gone and she was sound asleep on the couch. Dressed in sweats and her face scrubbed free of makeup, she looked plumb worn out. He quietly stripped to his boxers and pulled back the sheets on the bed, then went back to get her.

  "What are you doing?" She locked her arms around his neck and sleepily hung on.

  "Putting you to bed. The couch is no place for a pregnant woman."

  "I hate that couch," she grumbled. She needed her rest.

  "So do I." More than she knew. He laid her down and covered her with the sheet and blanket, then stretched out on his side. Despite the little bit of scotch, sleep was a while in coming. He was too aware of Bettina sleeping on the other side of the bed. The irony didn’t escape him. He was sleeping with his new wife in the same bed he’d slept with his last wife in. It was like something out of a cheesy drama.

  He flopped on his stomach and wrapped an arm around one pillow, finally managing to doze off.

  Damnit, not tonight!

  He was dreaming, but he couldn’t stop it. Lost in the same dismal dream he’d had ever since Rhea had left him. Lost in the dark and gloom. Running in a tunnel with no end and fighting for oxygen. Up ahead he saw a light. He ran toward it, through it and came to a screeching halt at the sight of his ex-wife standing under his favorite cottonwood tree.