The Marriage Season

by Linda Lael Miller

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Tate was sure he did. After being a pilot, plus a stint in the military, Tripp had returned to Mustang Creek. The kind of experience he’d had made you value the comfort and contentment of home.

  Spence started to say something but was interrupted by shrieks from the front of the house. Alarmed, they all rushed to the door, Tate getting there first and yanking it open, only to realize—with immense relief—that the noise was a sign of joy, not fear. Mrs. Arbuckle’s signature car was parked next to their trucks, like a royal personage in a row of peasants. She stood beside it, dressed fashionably as usual in a wool skirt and jacket, seemingly oblivious to the fact that six canines were romping around her two hundred–dollar shoes.

  Not to mention the three ecstatic boys in the melee.

  Mrs. A. spotted Tate, who’d stopped dead in the middle of the front porch, and imperiously waved him toward the crowd, announcing, “I brought you a housewarming gift. Eight weeks old, and they have all their shots.”

  Three puppies. The boys were in heaven.

  Both Tripp and Spence were laughing. He could hear them guffawing away behind him.

  Eight weeks old? They seemed pretty big to him. One of them was enthusiastically licking Adam’s face, Ben was holding another one and Josh was on the ground, giggling, letting the third one crawl all over him. He’d intended to get a dog. A. Dog. Not three monster puppies.

  Since he had yet to speak, because he couldn’t think of a thing to say, Mrs. A. fixed him with a steely look. “Rescue puppies. Lab mix. All males. Every working ranch needs a few dogs.”

  “Lab mixed with what?” he finally managed to ask in a strangled voice. “Great Dane?”

  She airily dismissed that. “I’m not sure. They’re from the same litter. I’m on the committee for the Humane Society, and when they were brought in, I thought of you. There’s lots of room here, plus the children. They’ll be happy.”

  Maybe so, but would he be happy?

  Bex would probably run the other way as fast as possible now, and he couldn’t blame her. The boys were enough of a handful as it was…

  As usual, he was completely wrong.

  “Oh, how cute.” She and Hadleigh and Melody had come outside, drawn by all the ruckus, and Bex brushed past him to go and pet them all, including the adult dogs, Harley, Muggles and Ridley.

  “They are,” Hadleigh squealed. “So sweet.”

  “Adorable,” Melody said.

  He couldn’t possibly say no. Not to the boys, not to Mrs. A. and certainly not to Bex, if she was okay with the idea. Although he had a sinking feeling that he was going to be taking care of the animals and cleaning up after them during the necessary process of getting them house-trained…

  Small price to pay. Everyone seemed thrilled.

  Especially Tripp and Spence, who were still laughing.

  He actually thanked Lettie Arbuckle, agreed with her suggestion that he drive into town to pick up three doggie beds and corralled the animals as she drove off.

  Then he was stuck with three puppies rolling in the leaves with three boys, and three more dogs running around, a half-furnished house and five adults watching him try to control the chaos until they all pitched in, carried the squirming puppies inside and whistled for their dogs.

  Melody had made sloppy joes for dinner. Instant hit with the boys—and with the new members of his household, the ones he hadn’t known he was going to have. Boys were messy. Puppies happily took care of the problem.

  Spence and Tripp, cold beers in hand, made the most of it.

  “I’m thinking they’re part Saint Bernard,” Spence said.

  “I don’t think so… Could be boxer.”

  “Too big for boxer.” Spence tilted his head as one of the puppies ran past. “Irish wolfhound?”

  Melody punched him on the shoulder. “Stop that.”

  He caught her hand and kissed it. “Honey, I’m kidding, and Tate knows it, but those are going to be big dogs. He knows that, too.”

  “Maybe we should take one.”

  “You do remember that we have three cats plus a dog already, don’t you? And which puppy would you take away from which child?”

  The boys were busy talking about names through mouthfuls of their dinner. Three boys and three puppies. What a zoo.

  Melody narrowed her eyes. “You are so rarely right, but I do concede that point, Spencer Hogan.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  He turned suddenly, to see the alarm on Bex’s face. “We’ll work that out,” he said reassuringly and slipped an arm around her waist. He knew she had to be thinking about Josh and the puppy.

  “Tara won’t let him have a dog.”

  “We can keep his dog, and he can come visit him. Mrs. A. is right about one thing—there’s lots of room here for them to run.”

  “You sure are taking this in stride.” Bex leaned into him and briefly rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Do I have a choice? They’re so excited. Look at Adam, eating his green beans without an argument so they can take their dogs out to play. I’m going to bet Mrs. A. will be considered the best-dressed fairy godmother in Bliss County by three of the people in this room.”

  *

  BEX WAS WELL AWARE of Hadleigh and Mel exchanging smug smiles over Tate’s casual—and public—embrace.

  She said stoutly, “I think every person in this room can say that about Mrs. A., even you. All her friends buy Hadleigh’s quilts, she commissions pieces from Melody, she certainly helped me out with my business contacts and the list goes on. Let’s not forget your dream stable. I’ll admit her tactics can be high-handed, but she means well.”

  His smile was rueful. “That’s why she and my father don’t get along. They’re exactly alike. He’ll move heaven and earth to get you to do what he thinks is best for you. It’s against my principles to lie, but I might omit the truth about who delivered the dogs and just say we got them from the Humane Society. If he gets wind that his archenemy was the benefactor who made the boys so happy, he’ll try and go her one better. I shudder to imagine it. Pet giraffes, maybe? Rhinos?”

  She laughed. “That would be interesting. For now, I think cleanup duty is in order and we can free the beasts, all of them, into the wild so the adults can eat.” It was true; there was a bit of napkin work to be done on three little faces, plus strict orders for them to go in and wash their hands, and then a whirlwind of boys and dogs hit the door at full speed.

  Bex and Hadleigh set the table for six. Tate had explained that he’d sold the formal dining room set from his previous house and bought the rustic farmhouse-style table instead, with seating for eight, because it matched the house so much better. He’d made a good decision. It looked perfect in the space, and she’d picked out the low burnished-copper light fixture above it and the high-backed chairs.

  Bex hadn’t given him puppies as a housewarming gift. Besides the clock, which was a joint gift, she’d chosen something else. In anticipation that it might not occur to a male, she’d bought cloth placemats and napkins and brought her favorite set of plates from home, plus matching soup bowls.

  She hadn’t told Hadleigh and Mel yet that she intended to leave the dishes there…

  Not sharing such critical information was unprecedented. And it wasn’t as though they weren’t going to find out soon enough. When they’d made the pact, she hadn’t realized she’d be so afraid of falling in love again.

  But now she had—and she suspected she wasn’t fooling Hadleigh and Mel.

  She set down a plate and said as casually as possible while she arranged the silverware, “Tate wants me to move in.”

  “Not surprised. Mel and I figured that one out.” Hadleigh handed her a napkin for the place setting.

  Suspicion confirmed.

  “It’ll be so good for Josh,” Bex said.

  Hadleigh raised her brows. “So you are thinking about it. Yes, it’ll be good for Josh. Wha
t about Becca Stuart?”

  She flushed and didn’t mention that she’d already agreed. “I…it’s just happening so fast.”

  “You’ve known each other for months. Remember me, the one who introduced you? Tripp’s discerning about his friends, so I knew Tate was a good guy before you ever met him.”

  “You’re going to take the credit if this works out, aren’t you?”

  Hadleigh grinned. “Damn straight.” Then her expression changed and her hand went to her stomach. “Ooh…just felt the baby move. He must be hungry. I’m getting the signal. Lady, I could use some grub.”

  “He?”

  “Just a guess.”

  Bex had to laugh. “Alpha males have daughters, too.”

  “And protect them like rabid wolves,” Melody remarked as she carried in the salad bowl and bread.

  “If I know Tripp,” Hadleigh said, “that’s going to be the case.”

  “Would you have it any other way?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, listen up,” Bex told them. “The menu today is vegetable-beef soup, Bex-style, salad and garlic bread. I figured hearty for the men and healthy for the pregnant women. When Mel offered up sloppy joes for the kids, I jumped on it.”

  Hadleigh grinned. “If you suppose I haven’t sampled the soup, you’ve lost your mind. Any pot simmering on the stove is fair game. It’s really good, by the way.”

  “That’s just like when we were in college. You haven’t changed. Starting on dinner before it was served.”

  “Just making sure it’s good enough for everyone else.”

  Bex laughed again and hugged her. “Always thinking of others.”

  “You bet.” Hadleigh hugged back and whispered, “I’m so happy for you.”

  It was premature to assume anything, but the marriage charm might be working. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  “Am I missing something?” Melody set the salad and bread on the table.

  “She’s moving in with Tate.”

  Bex wasn’t sure she wanted that announcement made —in front of such an audience—since naturally the men had followed the food, but at this point, she was resigned.

  “You are?” Melody’s delight was quickly replaced by amusement. “Welcome to instant motherhood—times three. You can give Hadleigh and me pointers. We’ll need advice.”

  If Spence and Tate hadn’t been standing right there, Mel might have said that Bex had told her not to settle for less than marriage, but this was a different story.

  Bex resolutely changed the subject. “I hope everyone’s hungry. I couldn’t find a soup tureen, so carry your bowl to the stove.”

  Tripp turned to Tate. “You don’t know where your soup tureen is?”

  “That’s not the problem. I don’t know what a soup tureen is.” Tate sent Bex his special smile.

  Spence was just as helpful. “I think it holds soup.”

  Three female glares fixed on the men in the room. They grabbed their bowls and moved swiftly toward the kitchen.

  Hadleigh muttered, “It’s a wonder we put up with them.”

  “Their idea of humor is kind of questionable,” Bex said.

  “But they come in handy now and then.” Mel took a piece of bread. “Like if you need a picture hung or air put in a tire.”

  “Nice body heat, too.” Hadleigh was magnanimous. “Being with Tripp is like having a personal furnace.”

  Bex asked poignantly, “Am I making the right decision?”

  “Yes,” they said in unison.

  “What about the marriage part of the marriage pact?” Bex couldn’t keep herself from asking.

  “That’ll come,” Hadleigh said confidently.

  “Yeah,” Mel told her. “He’s going to want it all. Just as much as you do.”

  Except that Bex wasn’t entirely sure she did…

  *

  NIGHTFALL WAS A BLUR of indigo blues over the tips of the peaks.

  She’d been basically moved in for a week. The house still wasn’t completely put together, but it was taking shape.

  Bex ran her fingers over the cool marble counter after she’d finished the postdinner cleanup. “We made a good choice when we bought this.”

  “You made a good choice.” Tate lounged in the doorway, one broad shoulder propped against the entry. “It looks great, and so does the clock. Take a bow.”

  Mel had definitely made a statement.

  With an old spittoon, no less. That was what Tripp had used for the numerals and the outline of the house. Melody had found it, handed it over and he’d made it happen.

  Bex loved the result. The old man who’d made the frame had used slender broken branches of alder, spruce and aspen.

  “I want to see the foundation for the stable.” She’d had a busy week at work, and adjusting to living with four males and three rowdy puppies was an interesting experience. She hadn’t had a chance to check out the progress. The contractor Tate had hired had his crews there early every morning, and that added to the general chaos.

  What had happened to her well-ordered life?

  Oh, yeah, one handsome pilot with an irresistible smile, that was what.

  “Good idea.” Tate nodded. “I want to talk to you while we walk over to the pasture.”

  Uh-oh.

  He looked uncomfortable, too, and as they crossed the front porch, and Bex felt a hint of warning when he held the door for her. She took a peek at his expression a second time.

  Something was up.

  Good news? Or bad? Had he changed his mind about her being there? One week in, did he feel it wasn’t working?

  Tate was usually so self-assured, but she was getting a very odd feeling. Two scenarios instantly raced through her mind. He wanted to break it off, or he was going to propose. Hadleigh and Mel had predicted that the latter was going to happen any day.

  She hoped not. She loved him, but he’d made his position on marriage fairly clear. For Hadleigh and Melody, the pact and the charm had been a blessing; for her, it might turn out to be a curse.

  The very last time she’d seen Will, he’d asked her to marry him. She understood Tate’s fear of marriage, which was based on his experience. Her fear was irrational; she knew that on an intellectual level. When the three of them had made the pact, she hadn’t even realized that particular fear existed. But it did. And it had emerged, full-blown, since she’d fallen in love with Tate.

  Bex took a deep, calming breath and reminded herself that she’d faced worse than this, but her heart was breaking. Nothing could be worse than learning about Will’s death. And yet, she was terrified that what she had with Tate would not survive the realities and the demands of marriage. At one point, she’d believed that marriage—to him—was what she wanted. Now…she just didn’t know, but she was afraid to take the chance.

  “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

  Her frantic introspection was broken when Tate pointed at a filly grazing a few feet away. It was no lie to agree, which gave Bex a chance to regroup. The animal had sleek lines and wonderful markings, plus she came up to the fence at once, begging for attention, nudging Bex’s arm until Tate grinned and handed over a carrot he extracted from his pocket. “I think she likes you.”

  She stroked the animal’s silky nose. “I like her right back. When did you get her?”

  “I bought her two weeks ago but the rancher brought her over today now that the fence is up and they installed the gate.”

  While one crew worked away on the foundation of the stable, another one had been fencing the grazing area.

  Tate said, “Name her.”

  Startled, she turned to him. “Really?”

  “Please don’t make it Trixie.” His teasing smile made her relax a little. Maybe the horse was what he wanted to talk about.

  “That never crossed my mind.”

  “I bought her from an old rancher who just bred them, but never named the foals before sale. He said he ended up feeling too attached. She needs a name.”
<
br />   Bex thought it over. “Um, how about Flora? My grandmother’s name.”

  “I like that. Flora it is.”

  He was looking at her very intently, and she doubted the horse’s name was why they were there. Bex had never been keen on surprises, so she asked bluntly, “What did you want to talk to me about? Tate, we know each other pretty well—”

  “Intimately. In fact, this has been the best week of my life, hands down.” His slow smile reassured her, and by the same token, made her more anxious. “I hope you’re as happy as I am.”

  Okay, they weren’t about to break up. She hadn’t really thought so, but please, not the other. Yes, she was happy.

  Don’t spoil it.

  His next words, however, weren’t reassuring. “I have an important question and, of course, you can say yes or no. I want you to say yes, but be aware that a no won’t ruin what we have now.”

  She should take off her jacket, because a hot flush of panic had spread over her skin.

  The hard truth was that she wasn’t ready. Tate was everything a woman could want and more…sexy and, despite his denial, sensitive. A good father. Make that a great father. Josh was becoming more outgoing every day, and he’d settled in with a happiness she’d never seen in him before. Friends who were like brothers, puppies, horses and someone like Tate playing the role of dad—what was there not to like about the situation? She felt the same way.

  So leave it alone.

  She squared her shoulders and faced him. “Well, don’t leave me on the edge of my seat.”

  Tate lifted his brows. “You nervous?”

  “No.” Flora nudged her shoulder again, and Bex thought about vaulting onto her back and riding off into the sunset.

  “You’re acting nervous.”

  “You’re acting nervous, and maybe that’s making me nervous. Could you just ask?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He took off his hat and ruffled his hair, his dark eyes serious. “Here goes.”

  That made her stomach do a flip-flop.

  Then the game changed.

  “I want more children.”

  Bex did a double take.

  “With you.”

  What?

  He went on, speaking slowly. “You love Josh so much, but when the divorce gets settled, either Tara or Greg is going to take him from you. I wondered if you’d consider having a baby. With me.”