The Cowboy and the Princess

by Lori Wilde

  It’s just because the sex was so damn great, he tried to tell himself. The best he’d ever had. But why was it the best he’d ever had? He’d been with far more experienced women. Done wilder, crazier things in bed. But none of it touched what had happened to him last night.

  Was it because of her virginity? Could it simply be his chuffed-up pride, because she’d chosen him for her first time?

  Annie shifted beside him, opened her eyes. “Good morning,” she said, and shyly lowered her lashes, stretched, yawned.

  “Mornin’, Buttercup.”

  He leaned down to kiss her, but she put a palm over her mouth to block him. “Morning breath.”

  “Like I give a damn about that.”

  She giggled.

  He kissed her and the minute his lips touched her, his body heated up hot as a blowtorch.

  “Will you—” she started, stopped, peered up into his eyes.

  “What is it?”

  “Will you make love to me again?”

  “Buttercup, all you have to do is ask.”

  Their dawn joining was different from the heated rush of the night before. Softer. Slower. More bittersweet. Last night they’d been addled by hormones. This morning, they were fully aware of what they were doing.

  An hour later they were still in bed, relaxing in the afterglow, lazily caressing each other, marveling in the sensations they stirred in each other. They might have stayed in bed longer if Brady’s cell phone hadn’t rung.

  “You get that,” Annie said. “I’ll go take a shower.”

  “You do that.” He grinned. “And I’ll make us breakfast after I take this call.”

  Modestly, Annie wrapped the sheet around her and padded for the bathroom, but the sheet didn’t quite close all the way and he got a tantalizing glimpse of her sweet fanny. He cocked his head, watching her sway away.

  The phone rang for the fourth time. Sighing with pleasure, he snatched it up off the bedside table, checked the caller ID, and saw that it said the State of Texas. Instantly, the smile faded from his face and his gut tensed.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Talmadge?”

  “Uh-huh.” He swallowed the bowling ball-sized lump in his throat.

  “Mary Jameson here.”

  He tightened his grip on the cell phone. “Yes?”

  “I’m pleased to tell you that you passed our background check. We started running it before the paternity test, just in case.”

  Relief shot through him like excess adrenaline, leaving him feeling a little shaky. He had no doubt he would pass, but just knowing he was under investigation put him on edge. He sank down on the mattress. “Thanks,” he said.

  “Would you like to see your daughter?”

  “I . . . I can see her?”

  “Under supervised visitation for now.”

  Brady blew out his breath. “Yes, sure, when?”

  “Can you make it this afternoon?”

  He was supposed to go to East Texas today and pick up a horse for Joe, but he could swing by Fort Worth on his way. “Absolutely. You tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

  Mary Jameson gave him the details and hung up. Brady switched off the phone and he was still sitting there staring at the phone when Annie came out of the bathroom, toweling her damp hair.

  “Brady?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” Truth was, he was scared to death.

  She sat beside him, placed her hand on his arm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I get to see my daughter this afternoon, but hell, Annie, I’m terrified.”

  Her smile warmed him from the inside out. “Brady, you will be fine.”

  “Really?” A second wave of relief washed over him. He’d never been so anxious for help in his life. “You think so?”

  “I know so.” She leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. “Tell the caseworker you’ve got support. You’ve got a girlfriend and she’ll be here to help you when you bring Orchid home.”

  Yeah, he thought. Sounds good now. But what happens once you’re gone?

  “You made the paper. Good work. Free publicity for The Bride Wore Cowboy Boots,” Prissy said when Annie and Mariah walked into the office later that same morning. Since Brady was going to East Texas with Trampas and he might have to stay overnight because of his detour to Fort Worth to meet his daughter, Annie had brought Lady Astor to work with her. She hated for the little dog to be cooped up in the cabin all day by herself.

  “What?” Annie startled, letting Lady Astor out of the satchel.

  “Yes.” Mariah grinned. “They ran the story.”

  Prissy folded the paper to the lifestyles section, passed it across the counter to her. There was Annie with Melinda Messing. The headline read, Local Woman Dead Ringer for Princess Annabella.

  This was news? This shouldn’t be news. A sick feeling washed over her. The last thing she needed was to get her picture in the paper. She had no doubt that Chandler and Strawn had not stopped looking for her. She’d already seen them in Jubilee and at the carnival, although they hadn’t been around in the last few weeks. If they got their hands on this paper, it was all over. Quickly she scanned the article.

  Prominent Dallas socialite Melinda Messing has chosen Jubilee’s own Mariah Daniels to host the wedding of the year as her daughter, Peyton, marries famed cutter Drew Kincaid.

  “The Bride Wore Cowboy Boots was on our short list,” Messing said. “But when I learned Mariah Daniels had a Princess Annabella look-alike working for her, I knew they were the wedding planning business for us. I want my daughter to have the fairy-tale wedding she deserves.”

  Messing is referring to Jubilee newcomer Annie Coste, who does bear a striking resemblance to Princess Annabella Farrington of Monesta. The princess, who attended Echo Glover’s wedding last month, is currently recuperating from mononucleosis at the former president’s compound in Dallas.

  The article went on to give details of the upcoming wedding, including the tea Annie was slated to host.

  “Why is this news?” Annie cried, then realized how over-the-top she must have sounded to Mariah and Prissy.

  “Melinda Messing is a big cheese in Texas politics,” Prissy said. “She combs her hair and it shows up in print.”

  “We were lucky to catch the Jubilee Journal on a slow news day,” Mariah said. “If it had been the height of cutting season we wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

  Annie blinked. “We?”

  “Melinda’s photographer e-mailed me a copy of the picture and I saw it as a great opportunity for free advertising. I wrote up the piece and sent it in. Isn’t it great?” Mariah beamed.

  No, no, it was not great. She had two weeks left in Jubilee and so much left to do. She had to help Brady get Orchid, and now that they’d made love, she realized just how much time they’d wasted. She had to cram as many kisses, caresses, and long, slow lovemaking sessions into the next two weeks as she could fit.

  But now? If Chandler and Strawn saw this article, they would be in Jubilee before she could catch her breath, and this time, they would know exactly where to find her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  You might be a princess if . . . when you run away from home they send the Secret Service after you.

  Brady was meeting Mary Jameson and Orchid’s foster mother on neutral ground at Forest Park in Fort Worth. He arrived at the designated rendezvous area and parked his horse trailer beside a new Prius and a battered old Jeep Wagoneer.

  He took a deep, steadying breath and got out of the pickup, spied Mary Jameson and another woman pushing a baby carriage along the walking trail. He felt drained suddenly and didn’t know how he possessed the strength to stand. It was all too much too soon. To hear of Kelly’s suicide, learn he had a daughter, start a sexual relationship with Annie, lose Jake Moncrief to enemy hands, all within the span of a few short days.

  He felt both vaguely nauseated and ravenous. Part of him wanted to walk toward them, another part want
ed to pivot on his heel and run away from everyone, from it all. He wanted to get in his trailer and drive away. Find a horse that needed him and heal it. That he knew how to do. This being a daddy stuff . . . this forming a relationship to last a lifetime . . . well hell, what did he know about that?

  It is all right. He heard Annie’s sweet voice in his head. You can do this.

  His back itched and he could feel the old scars cut into his flesh. Scars flayed deeper than flesh. Scars that marred his soul. He wasn’t good enough for them. Neither Annie nor Orchid.

  “Mr. Talmadge,” Mary Jameson called out, raised a hand. The two women came closer. Almost here.

  He had no choice but to put one foot in front of the other and move forward. Go to meet them. No running away now.

  The women stopped. The foster mom pushed back the top of the carriage and lifted up a small, wriggling bundle.

  Brady’s heart shifted, stumbled.

  The woman turned to Brady. “Good morning, Daddy. I’m Byronny Rawlston. I’ve been taking good care of your girl.”

  Involuntarily, Brady held out his hands.

  The second Byronny Rawlston put Orchid in his arms, everything transformed.

  Just like that. In a whisper of a breath. Brady looked down into navy blue eyes and his world, the world he had once been so sure of, collapsed.

  Here was the ultimate damsel in distress, peering up at him like he was her white knight. Her savior.

  The wrecking ball hit and all at once he knew the answer to the secret of the universe. He knew why he was here. He’d been put on the face of this earth to take care of this little girl.

  “Hey there, Sunshine,” he murmured, surprised by the wrung-out sensation in his gut.

  The old gut, which was supposed to guide him in every situation, quivered, wobbled, and had no idea what to do. He reached out a trembling finger and traced it lightly over her cheek.

  This was his daughter. He was her father.

  Orchid gurgled and smiled big.

  Smiled at him.

  Brady pooled into a puddle of pure love. Emotion choked him. He raised his head, glanced up to meet Byronny Rawlston’s gaze. “I . . . I . . .” There were no words. He had no idea what to say. “I . . . I . . .”

  “This is what it feels like to be a parent,” the woman murmured. “Astonishing, isn’t it?”

  Brady looked back at Orchid. His little girl reached up to wrap her little fist around his index finger that looked big and fat in her tiny grip. “I want to take her home. Tell me what I have to do to take her home.”

  Mary’s lips flattened into a stern line. “You must be sure. It’s easy to fall in love, not so easy to make a lifetime commitment. Orchid is in a good foster home. This can’t be a whim for you, Mr. Talmadge. You must provide love and care for this baby until she is eighteen years old. You must cherish her and educate her. There will be three A.M. feedings and trips to the doctor’s office. This little girl will turn your world upside down in ways you’ve never dreamed.”

  Brady hardened his jaw. “I don’t care.”

  “She’s cute and cuddly now and you’re feeling the rush of endorphins. You want to protect her, provide for her.”

  That was all true. He could not deny it.

  “But how will you react when she starts walking and messes with your things? Because she will. She’ll break your prized possessions. She’ll—”

  “Seriously, lady, you are the worst salesperson in the world,” he growled.

  “I’m not trying to sell you on your own daughter.”

  “You’re trying to sour me on parenthood.”

  “No. No, I’m not,” Mary Jameson said. “I’m trying to be honest and make you aware of what’s in store. I’ve seen men come into my office and profess they want their children and then when they get in the thick of it, they can’t fight their nature. They want a drink or they ache to gamble. They want to go out with their friends and have fun. They never expected a child to be so much work. They never expected to have the last of their carefree youth stripped away. They never—”

  “Lady,” he growled, “I’m not those other guys.”

  Orchid startled at his gruff voice. Her eyes widened and her bottom lip quivered.

  “Oh, no, no, Sunshine, Daddy’s not mad at you.”

  Orchid whimpered.

  Brady felt his heart rip into two pieces at the thought he’d upset the baby. Helplessness and guilt circled his neck like a noose. It was okay. Let him be hanged. He was not going to leave this baby. He was not going to run away from her. He was going to take care of her, protect her the way a father should. He was a father now. Nothing else mattered. He lifted the baby to his shoulder. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he’d seen Mariah comfort Jonah this way. He patted Orchid on the back and the baby immediately quieted. He stared triumphantly at Mary Jameson.

  “I can’t simply take your word for it, Mr. Talmadge. I’ll need proof that you’re prepared to take on the daunting task of raising a child.”

  “I’ve already got a place to live and a new job. I’m in the process of making a nursery and Annie and I . . .” He swallowed. This was the part that made him hesitate. He didn’t want to lie. Technically, he supposed it wasn’t a lie. Annie was his girlfriend. At least for now.

  “Annie?” Mary Jameson’s frown deepened.

  “My . . . my girlfriend. You told me I needed a support system. I’ve got a support system. I have a girlfriend willing to help me.”

  “I’ll take all this under consideration,” Mary Jameson said.

  “What do you mean you’ll take it under consideration?” Panic pushed at him. “You said if I found a job, got a home, established a support system that I could get custody. I passed the background check. What more do you want?”

  Orchid whimpered again.

  He forced the tension from his body, patted her gently on the back, and lowered his voice. “She’s my child.”

  “And right now, she’s my responsibility.”

  He fought to keep his emotions reined in. Getting upset with the caseworker would not win him any brownie points, plus he didn’t want to upset Orchid.

  “All right,” he said. “You are in charge, Mrs. Jameson. What happens now?”

  “Go finish the nursery, then next week, you give me a call. I’ll come check things out. If all meets with my approval, we’ll see where we go from there.”

  “A week? I have to go a whole week without seeing her again?”

  “We need to run a background check on your girlfriend, and I’ll be out of the office on vacation.”

  “Background check. On Annie?”

  “If she’s going to be one of the child’s caregivers, then yes, she needs to have a background check as well.” She took a form from her notebook. “Get her to fill this out. We’re going to need both driver’s license and social security numbers. You can fax it to me.”

  Fear iced his veins. “So hypothetically, if the background check on Annie were to turn up something—”

  “You don’t know her all that well, do you? This is a relatively new relationship?”

  “If the background check were to turn up something less than favorable,” he continued, ignoring her questions. “What would it mean in regard to getting custody of Orchid?”

  “If your girlfriend turns out to have a criminal record, Mr. Talmadge, and you chose to stay with her, then in all good conscience, I could not turn the child over to you.”

  Panic quickened the pulse in Brady’s throat. He forgot all about East Texas and Joe’s horse. All he could think about was Annie. Would she give him permission to have Mary Jameson run a background check on her? Or was her secret too dark that she simply could not do that?

  Things had come to a head. He had to know her secret. He couldn’t ignore it any longer. As long as they were just playing and having a good time, it had been fine. But now he had a child. He had to think of Orchid. He couldn’t have Annie in his life if it jeopardized his chances
of getting his little girl.

  You don’t have Annie in your life. Not long-term. She’ll be leaving anyway.

  Yes, that was true. But having a woman who was willing to help him with Orchid. A support system, as Mary Jameson called it, would assure he would get his daughter sooner rather than later.

  But not if she had a criminal record.

  It was a miserable situation, but Orchid had to come first. She was a baby and he was all she had.

  Dammit! How had he allowed this to happen? Brady slammed the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. He’d broken all his rules for leading an uncomplicated life. That’s what had happened. “Stupid. Stupid.”

  Trampas slunk down in the backseat, covered his eyes with his paws. Lady Astor had been teaching him her tricks.

  “Not you, buddy,” he told the dog. “Me. I’m the dumbass.”

  Brady was so busy castigating himself that it took a minute for him to see what he was seeing when he turned down John Wayne Boulevard headed for the town square. Two men in black suits, sunglasses, and fedoras getting out of a limo.

  His gut took a nosedive. The Blues Brothers were back.

  And this time they weren’t alone. Pulling into parking spaces on the cloverleaf in front of the courthouse were half a dozen black Cadillac Escalades. More guys in black suits and sunglasses, minus the fedoras. These guys were Feds.

  Shit, just what the hell kind of trouble was Annie in?

  Brady fumbled for his phone, dialed the number to the bridal shop. Annie answered on the first ring.

  “Hello?”

  The men were getting out of the vehicles, converging on the shop.

  Brady whipped the truck around, changed direction. The back of the trailer bounced up on the curb in his crazy turn-around. “Go out the back exit immediately. I’ll meet you there. I’m pulling the horse trailer.”

  “What is it?” She sounded alarmed.

  “The Blues Brothers are back.”

  She hung up the phone.

  Thirty seconds later Brady was in the alley behind The Bride Wore Cowboy Boots. Annie was running, face pale, her satchel clutched to her side, Lady Astor’s perky little head poking out of the side corner.