Keep My Heart (Top Shelf Romance Book 7)

by Lex Martin

  “It’s a great family.” I sound like the freaking Frosted Flakes tiger, but why spill the beans now if they’re under the wrong assumption?

  Is this why Kat picked me up this morning and told our parents we’d meet them at the diner? She wanted to avoid them meeting Ethan? Avoid them seeing my living situation?

  “¿Y la esposa?” My mother sips her coffee, her expression not giving me a hint of what she wants to know.

  Is the wife… what?

  I look to Kat for a clue here, but she’s too busy gorging on the omelet the waitress set down in front of her to notice my distress.

  Come on, Kat!

  She’s chowing down, making these hungry sounds like she’s starving to death.

  Meanwhile, my stomach gurgles, from acid reflux or some kind of ulcer, and I press a sweaty palm to my belly.

  Fuck it. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid.

  I glance between my parents. “You know they’re divorced, right? That I work for a single dad and his brother?”

  Based on the shock on my dad’s face and the horror on my mother’s, they did not know.

  Folding my hands in front of me, I wait for the apocalypse to rain down on my head. It’s a position I’m used to in my family. Because this is what I do. I screw up.

  Kat finally pauses in her race to fend off starvation and waves a fork at us.

  “Ethan is awesome. I told you guys,” she says around a mouth full of food. “He’s good friends with Brady, and he pays his taxes, and he’s an awesome dad.”

  That’s your argument? That he pays his taxes?

  Where has my sister gone? The one who could argue the devil out of his due?

  The bell over the front door jingles, and goosebumps break out on my arms. It’s the most insane thing ever that as I look up, I already know Ethan is here. He’s strolling up with his daughter.

  My first reaction is the one I always have when I see him. Elation. The same feeling I got as a kid when I’d daydream one day my parents would win the Lotto and buy me a pony.

  When our eyes connect and his lips tilt up, I swear I hear that old time-y song my parents love by Frank Sinatra about flying to the moon.

  Or maybe it’s playing on the overhead speakers. Whatever. The important thing is Ethan Carter is mine, and booyeah, baby, I’m fucking psyched!

  But then I remember we’re not alone.

  That soaring sensation of being batshit crazy about him takes a steep nosedive as I quickly tabulate all the things that can go wrong when he meets my family.

  Sweet Jesus. I’m so sorry I haven’t been to church in ten thousand years!

  A gurgle bubbles up in my gut.

  What is it they say? When it rains, it pours? Here comes the deluge. I brace myself for my parents to lose their shit. At least our brunch will be memorable despite the hole in my stomach lining.

  When my sister called this morning and asked if I could join her for an hour, Ethan said he and Logan could watch the kids, that I’d earned a reprieve from the ranch. I hadn’t known my parents were lurking to ambush me, just that Kat wanted to grab something to eat.

  Had I known, I might’ve mentioned something to prepare him in case he randomly decided he needed to come to the Lone Star diner in the middle of a work day.

  He’s holding Mila’s hand as she skips toward us. They’re so freaking cute together. Pretty sure the people next to us hear my ovaries explode and splat on the floor.

  “Hey, babe.” The smile on his face makes my insides somersault. I smile back, likely looking dumb and in love, but he gives me all the damn feels. What am I supposed to do? Be a robot?

  My parents look slowly between us, like they’re trying to gauge, one, if Ethan is a serial killer; two, if he really pays his taxes; and three, if we’re sleeping together.

  No, yes, and definitely.

  When my father’s searching gaze reaches mine, my smile fades, and I cough. “Mom, Dad, this is Ethan Carter. My, um… my, uh, boss.”

  God, that doesn’t sound right, though technically it is. But I can’t exactly put an asterisk by that statement and add he makes me want to spawn and have his babies. That’s not brunch-appropriate.

  I’ve never brought a guy home to meet my parents. Never ever. I saw how they gave Brady the nth degree when he was trying to get Kat on the love lockdown. I didn’t want any part of that drama.

  Ethan glances down at his shoes, a brief but shy smile on his face like he knows I have no clue how to do this, and then he reaches over and gives each of my parents a friendly handshake.

  In my head, I’m yelling for him to ignore everything we say at this table. Every. Thing. We. Say. And that he should run far, far away before this conversation goes to shit. Because it will.

  My father is in the middle of taking a drink of his coffee when Mila leans up on the table, gives us a wide grin, and declares, “Tori is Daddy’s girlfriend. They have sex.”

  Oh, holy fuckadoodle.

  Well, that was fast.

  Ethan

  There comes a time in every man’s life where you think you can’t be easily embarrassed anymore. That you’re grown up enough to withstand whatever trivial things life might throw your way.

  Your baby puking on you? No biggie.

  Your son peeing in your face during a diaper change? Gross, but not the end of the world.

  Your child pooping straight through his diaper and your jeans too? Survivable.

  But your kid saying whatever crazy thing enters her brain at any given moment? That I had not taken into account.

  For instance, take my child, the cute one with the delighted smile on her face. My tiny intercontinental ballistic missile dressed in pink is one hundred percent clueless that she just detonated the fuck outta any chance I had to get Tori’s parents to like me.

  I didn’t realize that was who she was meeting up with this morning when her sister picked her up. Wasn’t even thinking this was where they went for breakfast or brunch or whatever this is. But Mila heard that Tori was going out to eat and asked if we could too. She looked up at me with those sad, puppy-dog eyes, and I couldn’t say no.

  With how much I’ve been working lately, I thought some father-daughter time might be good. I wanted to make sure Mila was still feeling okay about what we’d talked about last night when I explained that Tori and I were dating.

  Pretty sure this new topic takes precedence.

  I wait until Mr. Duran’s done choking on his coffee to address my daughter.

  Squatting down next to her so that we’re eye to eye, I lower my voice. “Honey, where did you learn that word?” Her blank expression tells me she has no clue what I’m talking about.

  Mr. and Mrs. Duran’s laser-point stares burn holes through my body. Christ. Was I ever this nervous with Allison’s parents? They weren’t my biggest fans either, but I can safely say I never cared this much.

  I clear my throat. “Mila, where did you learn the word ‘sex’?”

  She shrugs. “Uncle Logan.”

  Of course. Gonna kill that brother of mine.

  “And what do you know about it?” Please, God, I will do anything if she thinks sex is an island in the Pacific.

  She shrugs. “Just that he likes to have sex with his girlfriends. Like all the time.” She tilts her head. “Is it a game? Like Monopoly?”

  I laugh awkwardly and glance up at Tori’s parents, whose stony expressions freak me out. Turning back to my daughter, I shake my head. “It’s an adult word, okay? Kids shouldn’t be talking about it, but no, it’s not like Monopoly.”

  In my head, I put two and two together. She heard my brother use the word ‘girlfriend’ and ‘sex,’ and she equated them. Fucking Logan.

  She scrunches her nose, my answer clearly not satisfying her curiosity. Fuck my life. Why don’t I know how to answer this?

  Tori reaches over and takes Mila’s other hand, her soft voice immediately soothing to my frayed nerves. “It’s how babies are made, but you don’t have to w
orry about that for a long, long time.”

  For a second, I’m worried Mila’s gonna ask if Logan is trying to have babies with all of his girlfriends—again, please, God, no—but instead, she shrugs again, the concern in her eyes disappearing.

  “Can I have some pancakes, Daddy?” she asks, and I nod, relieved to have this conversation over.

  Standing, I direct her away from the table. “Mr. and Mrs. Duran, it was nice to meet you. I certainly enjoyed this little exercise in mortification. I hope y’all have a good lunch.”

  Kat snickers. “Ethan, you’re the sweetest thing ever. At least that’s what my sister tells me.”

  Pretty sure I’m blushing. A grown man. Blushing.

  I run my hand over my face and blow out a breath. When my eyes connect with Tori’s, though, the crazy swirl of affection I have for this woman almost overwhelms me. “Take your time here today. Enjoy the visit with your parents.”

  For a second, it’s just the two of us, like some scene out of a movie where all the ambient sound fades, and she comes into sharp focus, knocking my heart rate up a few notches with her secret smile.

  Yup, pretty sure I’m head over heels for this girl. I give her a wink and quickly nod to her scary parents before I scoop up my daughter and head for the counter to order her some pancakes in a to-go box.

  Because we need to go. ASAP.

  “What happened?” Logan’s laughing so hard, he snorts, and I shove him off the living room couch. He lands on the carpet with a loud thump and rolls onto his back.

  He clutches his stomach, tears streaming down his face as he relishes one of the most awkward moments of my life.

  “Mila said what?” he asks again, more for dramatic effect than the need to have me repeat it.

  “Get off the fucking floor.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s hysterical.” With a quick swipe of his palm, he wipes one eye and then the other. “Bro.”

  I can’t make out what else he mutters because blood is pulsing in my ears. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm down before I choke my sibling.

  Once I’m confident I won’t stroke out from anger, I try to put into words how utterly embarrassing this situation was.

  My eyes dart to the hallway, ensuring my kids are still taking their afternoon naps, before I jab a finger in his direction. “What do I always tell you? Mila isn’t window dressing. She fucking hears you talk about your dating life, dumbass. Thanks for her first lesson on sex, for traumatizing me, Tori, her parents. Fuck, her parents. You should’ve seen their expressions. Like I was an ax murderer. Like I had defiled their daughter and then told my kid about it.”

  With my hand to my forehead, I try to focus on the silver lining. “’Course, Tori came to my rescue. As always.”

  “Love that girl.” Logan pats himself on the back. Literally. “Pretty sure you have me to thank for planting her cute little ass in your life.”

  “Don’t talk about her ass,” I growl, even though I know he doesn’t think of her that way. He’d better not be jerking it to thoughts of Tori.

  “Just saying you can’t be too angry at me since I’m the reason she’s here in the first place. And hey, have you even thought about our court appointment this week since all this happened?”

  I still. Then scratch my chin.

  My silence is the only answer he needs, and his trademark smirk spreads on his face. I hate when he’s right. I’ve been a mess of nerves, and while informing Tori’s parents that I’ve fucked their daughter is not exactly the reprieve I was looking for, it has rewired my headspace.

  Now that I’m home, though, now that I’ve had some time to mull it over, there are a million things I wish I’d told Mr. and Mrs. Duran. Like how much I adore their daughter. That she’s one of the most capable people I’ve ever met. That they raised a brilliant, passionate woman who’s an amazing example for my kids.

  Did I say any of that? No. I stumbled through a terrible description of sex, one that only confused Mila, and then hightailed it out of there. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  I groan, dropping my head into my hands.

  Never again. Tori deserves better.

  The front door opens and shuts with a soft click. Tori drops her bag in the front hall, traipses across the living room, and plunks herself on my lap.

  Before I can begin to figure out how to apologize for this morning, she beats me to it after planting a soft kiss on my lips.

  “I’m so sorry you got ambushed. I didn’t realize Kat was meeting up with our parents.” She shudders. “I’d never drag you into something like that on purpose.”

  Having her in my arms immediately puts me at ease. “Nothing to apologize for, honey. I’m sorry I didn’t handle it better.”

  She nibbles on her bottom lip. “I feel bad. You guys have a lot going on this week. You don’t need more stress.”

  Logan, who’s still on the floor, groans. “Shit. Guess I need to wear a suit on Friday, right?”

  My suit is ready to go. In fact, every morning when I see it hanging in my closet, it gives me a little heartburn, knowing why I need it ready. “That’s probably a good idea. We can’t show up looking like bums.”

  “Speaking of.” Tori tugs on my t-shirt. “I’ve been thinking about your situation.”

  I lift an eyebrow.

  “Why you don’t compete anymore in those cutting horse competitions.”

  All of my muscles tense, and I lean back, trying to put some space between me and Tori even though she’s sitting on my lap. Not sure why this puts me on edge, but it does.

  She must sense my anxiety because she pats my chest. “I get that there’s a cashflow problem. That the competitions are expensive. But the purses are fairly substantial, and a few years of doing the cutting circuit could get you out of debt with Allison.”

  All shit I’ve debated and analyzed this summer, except I don’t see how we can make it happen.

  “What’s the biggest expense if you wanted to compete?” she asks. “The guy who provides the cattle?”

  I scoot out from under her and stand up. This whole discussion makes my skin itch. “Yeah. That eats up a bulk of our budget.”

  “And you pay him outright?”

  Nodding, I wonder where she’s headed with this.

  “This morning my parents were talking about this farming collective they’d heard about from one of their friends.” Tori turns to Logan to explain her parents used to be migrant farmers. “The families all share in the cost and profits, you know, pooling their resources. It got me thinking that maybe you could ask the guy who provides the cattle to do it for a reduced rate for a cut of the profit. That way you’re offsetting the cost. And maybe, if you can get him on board, I wonder if Allison would be open to getting paid that way too. So rather than taking an immediate payout on the ranch, she could view that money as an investment with different terms, say a payout within five years or whatever you guys decide.”

  Logan and I look at each other, and that glimmer in his eyes makes me want to put on the brakes.

  With a sigh, I yank off my baseball cap and scrub my hand through my hair. “I’d say this plan has potential, but there’s one colossal variable.” Leaning back against the fireplace mantel, I restrain myself from listing all the ways this could go wrong.

  Tori gets up and wanders over to me, beaming that luminescent smile, the one that makes me consider jumping off high dives like this one. “Yeah.” She nods, stopping right between my legs. “It assumes you win. That you go to Fort Worth and kick ass.” Her eyes cut to Logan. “Can Ethan do this? Can he go and be the best right out of the gate? Or is he just there to make his Wranglers look good?”

  I chuckle and reach for her. I can’t help it. Kinda want to spank her for all that sass. Except she’d like it.

  I wait for my brother to say something sarcastic, but his attention drills into me. “Ethan’s the best. I’d bet on him to win. Our daddy always said he was a natural. That he had cutting in his blood like one of
the horses. Now, he’d have to qualify with enough points in earlier competitions and we’re already midway through the season, but if anyone could do it, he could.”

  Aww, bro.

  Feeling a little sentimental, I shrug and struggle to find something to say, but Tori fills the silence. “I wasn’t thinking that you’d have to compete right away, just set the groundwork for it this fall, get your investors on board, and then go for it in the new year so you can have a good shot at qualifying for the Futurity.”

  Twisting her in my arms so I can see her face, I smile. “Have you been researching all of this?”

  “Maybe.” She bats her eyelashes at me, and I belt out a laugh. “Though I might’ve fallen asleep reading the contest rulebook online.”

  I kiss her forehead, feeling cautiously optimistic. But no matter what happens, I’m grateful for this girl in my arms. So fucking grateful.

  Logan strides over and smacks me on the back. “Tori’s made some great points. I think we should go for it. Figure shit out along the way. She’s right—you could win the big enchilada in a year or two, and that would take our ranch to a whole new level. If you wanna do this, bro, I got your back. I know Mom will too when she gets back from Chicago.”

  We grin at each other like assholes, and Tori coos at us. “You guys are adorable. I always wanted brothers to look out for me the way you two do with each other.”

  With a smile on my lips, I pull her closer and whisper, “Baby, I can assure you I do not think of you as my sister.”

  Not even a little bit.

  Tori

  “Like this?” Mila asks, her face a mask of seriousness.

  “Yes, ma’am. You’re doing great.”

  We’re sitting in the family room with a mountain of art and craft supplies. I’m showing her how to make dolls with some artificial flowers, wire, and yarn I found in the sewing room. I made her one the other day, and she loved it, so I thought we could do them together this afternoon to take her mind off her parents, who have that court date to settle their finances.