Lone Star Baby (McCabe Multiples Book 5)

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  He pressed a kiss to her temple, her brow. Stroking a hand through her hair, he teased, “And you know what else I figured out?”

  Her curiosity piqued, Violet put her arms around his waist. “Tell me.”

  “That you’re right. Some decisions are best made on pure emotion. Like the first time I kissed you,” he reflected fondly. “That was an impulse and a darn good one.”

  He paused to demonstrate, most effectively, she thought as tingles slid through her head to toe.

  He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. “Then there was the first time we slept together, the first time we made love. Hell,” he corrected, chuckling mischievously, “every time we made love.”

  “No quarrel there.”

  His voice dropped another husky notch. “That was all done from what we both felt—in here.” He touched both their hearts, in turn.

  But there was a time, Violet noted, they needed to do things...his way, too.

  “Still,” Violet cautioned, stepping back and calling on her practical side, “there are some things we need to weigh and consider.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Such as?”

  “How this is all going to work out.”

  “If you’re asking me what I want, it’s for you and Ava to move back in, pronto.”

  Violet swallowed. They were definitely headed in the right direction, but there was still no talk of love. And without that...would it work out? Could it work out? Long-term? “Isn’t that how we got into trouble in the first place?” she asked, determined to put on the brakes, at least temporarily, before they derailed again. “By rushing into being a family?”

  He shook his head. “No. We got into trouble when I stopped listening to my heart and almost convinced you to stop listening to yours and give Ava up.” He exhaled slowly, all the regret he felt in his gaze. “I’m not going to make that same mistake again.” He gathered her close. “I love you, Violet, with all my heart and soul.”

  Violet closed her eyes as she let the wonderful feeling sink in. Finally, she opened her eyes and kissed him. “Oh, Gavin,” she breathed, “I love you, too. So very much.” She didn’t need more time to know that.

  He pulled back to study her, even more serious now. “Enough to marry me?”

  At last, the heartfelt proposal she had been waiting for all her life. “You’re sure?” she whispered tremulously, aware all her dreams were about to come true at long last.

  He nodded. “Positive.” He kissed her again, sweetly and tenderly, before flashing a mischievous grin. “Because as it turns out, I do have a romantic bone in my body, after all.”

  Epilogue

  One year later

  “Up!” Ava commanded with heartfelt urgency, holding out her arms to Gavin.

  He flashed her an indulgent smile. “You got it, sweetheart.” He swooped Ava into his arms and cradled her against his chest.

  Smiling, the fourteen-month-old propped one elbow on his shoulder and used the other hand to crinkle the collar on his shirt between her fingertips. “Daddy,” she announced affectionately.

  “Ava,” Gavin replied in turn, bussing the top of her head.

  Ava beamed at the sound of her name, then turned to Violet and pointed. “Mommy,” she declared happily.

  Violet blew her a kiss. “My sweet, sweet baby girl.”

  Ava giggled, glad everyone had been properly identified, then squirmed to get down. “Play.” She pointed toward the backyard. Together, the three of them walked outside.

  Gavin lowered their little girl gently to the grass. Ava took a moment to get her balance before toddling over to her sandbox. Perching on the edge, she picked up her pail and shovel and began to awkwardly sift sand, a few grains at a time.

  “So what do you think?” Gavin asked, turning the conversation to the new addition on their house.

  Violet reflected on her decorator-sister’s handiwork. It was gorgeous, down to the last detail of Ava’s pink-and-white-gingham bedroom, the second bath and the cozy sunroom that opened up onto their backyard.

  But then, that was no surprise. Poppy was a master at creating warm and inviting spaces.

  “I think,” Violet said softly, “I’m very glad that we elected to build on rather than move. This place has so many memories.”

  Keeping a watchful eye on their daughter, Gavin wrapped his arm around Violet’s shoulders and tugged her close. “We brought Ava home from the hospital here.”

  Violet relaxed against him, savoring the masculine scent and feel of him. “This is where we got to really know each other and fell in love.”

  His eyes locked with hers. “And decided to formally adopt our little darling.”

  Which was, she thought, contentment filling her heart, one of the very best decisions of their entire lives. “It’s where you officially presented me with an engagement ring.”

  He kissed the back of her hand. Then, looking every bit as satisfied as she felt, tilted her head up to his. “And we got married last spring.”

  Violet couldn’t help but chuckle. “That was a day, all right.”

  Laughing, he shook his head. “We planned to have the ceremony outside.”

  She smoothed her hands across his chest. “And it rained.”

  He nodded, his hands slipping to the curve of her hips. “So we moved everything—and everyone—inside.”

  Warmth zinged through her. “To the point we barely had room to move.”

  His gray-blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “But it was incredibly special, anyway.”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, Violet rose on tiptoe to kiss him. “As are all our moments.”

  Gavin hauled her even closer. He returned her kiss, thoroughly, tenderly. “And now that we have everything...” he murmured, brushing his lips across her temple.

  “Ahh. More than you know,” Violet whispered in return.

  Gavin lifted a brow.

  Violet blushed. She cast a look at their daughter, who was still happily playing in the sand. Violet had been planning to wait. But the news was too good not to share.

  She swallowed and said, “We’re expanding our family a little sooner than we had figured.” Which probably wasn’t a surprise given how often and passionately they made love.

  Gavin’s sexy smile widened slowly. “You’re...?”

  “Pregnant. Yes, Doc, I am.”

  The laugh erupted out of his chest, warm and exultant.

  “When?”

  “If my calculations are correct, next May.”

  Violet shook her head. She waved her hand at the new construction. “So this addition we just spent the past six months building...”

  His eyes twinkled. “May not be room enough. That’s okay. Next time we’ll just have to build up.”

  They were going to have to—otherwise they’d have zero backyard for their kids to play in.

  “Always an adventure with us,” she surmised.

  Gavin hugged her close. “Good thing we’re up to the task. Although, for the record, a second story would be nice.”

  They could double the square footage that way, in one fell swoop, Violet knew. “So will a little brother or sister for Ava.”

  Hearing her name, Ava climbed out of the sandbox and toddled back their way. This time she lifted her arms toward Violet. “Up!” she said.

  Violet swung their little girl up into her arms and Gavin joined in the family hug. Together, they reflected on how wonderful life was.

  * * * * *

  Watch for the next story in

  Cathy Gillen Thacker’s McCABE MULTIPLES

  miniseries

  LONE STAR TWINS

  coming November 2015

  Only from Harlequin American Romance!

  Keep reading for
an excerpt from RANSOM CANYON by Jodi Thomas.

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  Ransom Canyon

  by Jodi Thomas

  CHAPTER ONE

  Staten

  WHEN HER OLD hall clock chimed eleven times, Staten Kirkland left Quinn O’Grady’s bed. While she slept, he dressed in the shadows, watching her with only the light of the full moon. She’d given him what he needed tonight, and, as always, he felt as if he’d given her nothing.

  Walking out to her porch, he studied the newly washed earth, thinking of how empty his life was except for these few hours he shared with Quinn. He’d never love her or anyone, but he wished he could do something for her. Thanks to hard work and inherited land, he was a rich man. She was making a go of her farm, but barely. He could help her if she’d let him. But he knew she’d never let him.

  As he pulled on his boots, he thought of a dozen things he could do around the place. Like fixing that old tractor out in the mud or modernizing her irrigation system. The tractor had been sitting out by the road for months. If she’d accept his help, it wouldn’t take him an hour to pull the old John Deere out and get the engine running again.

  Only, she wouldn’t accept anything from him. He knew better than to ask.

  He wasn’t even sure they were friends some days. Maybe they were more. Maybe less. He looked down at his palm, remembering how she’d rubbed cream on it and worried that all they had in common was loss and the need, now and then, to touch another human being.

  The screen door creaked. He turned as Quinn, wrapped in an old quilt, moved out into the night.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said as she tiptoed across the snow-dusted porch. “I need to get back. Got eighty new yearlings coming in early.” He never apologized for leaving, and he wasn’t now. He was simply stating facts. With the cattle rustling going on and his plan to enlarge his herd, he might have to hire more men. As always, he felt as though he needed to be on his land and on alert.

  She nodded and moved to stand in front of him.

  Staten waited. They never touched after they made love. He usually left without a word, but tonight she obviously had something she wanted to say.

  Another thing he probably did wrong, he thought. He never complimented her, never kissed her on the mouth, never said any words after he touched her. If she didn’t make little sounds of pleasure now and then, he wouldn’t have been sure he satisfied her.

  Now, standing so close to her, he felt more a stranger than a lover. He knew the smell of her skin, but he had no idea what she was thinking most of the time. She knew quilting and how to make soap from her lavender. She played the piano like an angel and didn’t even own a TV. He knew ranching and watched from his recliner every game the Dallas Cowboys played.

  If they ever spent over an hour talking they’d probably figure out they had nothing in common. He’d played every sport in high school, and she’d played in both the orchestra and the band. He’d collected most of his college hours online, and she’d gone all the way to New York to school. But they’d loved the same person. Amalah had been Quinn’s best friend and his one love. Only, they rarely talked about how they felt. Not anymore. Not ever really. It was too painful, he guessed, for both of them.

  Tonight the air was so still, moisture hung like invisible lace. She looked to be closer to her twenties than her forties. Quinn had her own quiet kind of beauty. She always had, and he guessed she still would even when she was old.

  To his surprise, she leaned in and kissed his mouth.

  He watched her. “You want more?” he finally asked, figuring it was probably the dumbest thing to say to a naked woman standing two inches away from him. He had no idea what more would be. They always had sex once, if they had it at all, when he knocked on her door. Sometimes neither made the first move, and they just cuddled on the couch and held each other. Quinn wasn’t a passionate woman. What they did was just satisfying a need that they both had now and then.

  She kissed him again without saying a word. When her cheek brushed against his stubbled chin, it was wet and tasted newborn like the rain.

  Slowly, Staten moved his hands under her blanket and circled her warm body, then he pulled her closer and kissed her fully like he hadn’t kissed a woman since his wife died.

  Her lips were soft and inviting. When he opened her mouth and invaded, it felt far more intimate than anything they had ever done, but he didn’t stop. She wanted this from him, and he had no intention of denying her. No one would ever know that she was the thread that kept him together some days.

  When he finally broke the kiss, Quinn was out of breath. She pressed her forehead against his jaw and he waited.

  “From now on,” she whispered so low he felt her words more than heard them, “when you come to see me, I need you to kiss me goodbye before you go. If I’m asleep, wake me. You don’t have to say a word, but you have to kiss me.”

  She’d never asked him for anything. He had no intention of saying no. His hand spread across the small of her back and pulled her hard against him. “I won’t forget if that’s what you want.” He could feel her heart pounding and knew her asking had not come easy.

  She nodded. “It’s what I want.”

  He brushed his lips over hers, loving the way she sighed as if wanting more before she pulled away.

  “Good night,” she said as though rationing pleasure. Stepping inside, she closed the screen door between them.

  Raking his hair back, he put on his hat as he watched her fade into the shadows. The need to return was already building in him. “I’ll be back Friday night if it’s all right. It’ll be late, I’ve got to visit with my grandmother and do her list of chores before I’ll be free. If you like, I could bring barbecue for supper?” He felt as if he was rambling, but something needed to be said, and he had no idea what.

  “And vegetables,” she suggested.

  He nodded. She wanted a meal, not just the meat. “I’ll have them toss in sweet potato fries and okra.”

  She held the blanket tight as if he might see her body. She didn’t meet his eyes when he added, “I enjoyed kissing you, Quinn. I look forward to doing so again.”

  With her head down, she nodded as she vanished into the darkness without a word.

  He walked off the porch, deciding if he lived to be a hundred he’d never understand Quinn. As far as he knew, she’d never had a boyfriend when they were in school. And his wife had never told him about Quinn dating anyone special when she went to New York to that fancy music school. Now, in her forties, she’d never had a date, much less a lover that he knew of. But she hadn’t been a virgin when they’d made love the first time.

  Asking her about her love life seemed far too personal a question.

  Climbing into his truck, he forced his thoughts toward problems at the ranch. He needed to hire men; they’d lost three cattle to rustlers this month. As he planned the coming day, Staten did what he always did: he pushed Quinn to a corner of his mind, where she’d wait until he saw her again.

  As he passed through the little town of Crossroads, all the businesses were closed up tight except
for a gas station that stayed open twenty-four hours to handle the few travelers needing to refuel or brave enough to sample their food.

  Half a block away from the station was his grandmother’s bungalow, dark amid the cluster of senior citizens’ homes. One huge light in the middle of all the little homes shone a low glow on to the porch of each house. The tiny white cottages reminded him of a circle of wagons camped just off the main road. She’d lived fifty years on Kirkland land, but when Staten’s granddad, her husband, had died, she’d wanted to move to town. She’d been a teacher in her early years and said she needed to be with her friends in the retirement community, not alone in the big house on the ranch.

  He swore without anger, remembering all her instructions the day she moved to town. She wanted her only grandson to drop by every week to switch out batteries, screw in lightbulbs and reprogram the TV that she’d spent the week messing up. He didn’t mind dropping by. Besides his father, who considered his home—when he wasn’t in Washington—to be Dallas, Granny was the only family Staten had.

  A quarter mile past the one main street of Crossroads, his truck lights flashed across four teenagers walking along the road between the Catholic church and the gas station.

  Three boys and a girl. Fifteen or sixteen, Staten guessed.

  For a moment the memory of Randall came to mind. He’d been about their age when he’d crashed, and he’d worn the same type of blue-and-white letter jacket that two of the boys wore tonight.

  Staten slowed as he passed them. “You kids need a ride?” The lights were still on at the church, and a few cars were in the parking lot. Saturday night, Staten remembered. Members of 4-H would probably be working in the basement on projects.

  One kid waved. A tall Hispanic boy named Lucas, whom he thought was the oldest son of the head wrangler on the Collins Ranch. Reyes was his last name, and Staten remembered the boy being one of a dozen young kids who were often hired part-time at the ranch.

  Staten had heard the kid was almost as good a wrangler as his father. The magic of working with horses must have been passed down from father to son, along with the height. Young Reyes might be lean but, thanks to working, he would be in better shape than either of the football boys. When Lucas Reyes finished high school, he’d have no trouble hiring on at any of the big ranches, including the Double K.