Cowboys & Babies Volume 1 From Harlequin: The Texas Ranger's TwinsA Baby in the BunkhouseA Cowgirl's Secret

by Tina Leonard

  Daisy argued, “But the GPS lady said this is the way.”

  Her oh-so-wise child sighed. “I’m telling you, she’s wrong. We’ve learned all about maps in school and I think we should turn.”

  “Okay,” Daisy said, “but it’s cold and windy and we haven’t seen any sign of civilization for an hour. If we have to spend the night out here, I’m eating all of your pretzels.”

  He laughed. “I know I’m right.”

  “You excited to see your dad?”

  Nodding, he said, “I’m real glad you guys are getting married. It’ll be fun having him live with us all the time. Plus, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I want an extra-big wedding cake.”

  Worrying her lower lip, she said, “Slow down, sweetie. We don’t know for sure yet if Luke even wants to marry me. Last time I saw him, I made him pretty mad.”

  Kolt said, “Don’t worry, Mom. I know Dad loves you.”

  “How?”

  “Because every time he talks about you, he gets a funny look on his face. Kind of the same way Jonah does when he’s around Nancy Meir. I think she’s gross, but Jonah’s all the time talking about her shiny hair.”

  “That’s a very bad sign,” Daisy said, afraid to hope her son’s assessment of Luke might be right. After two days on the road, more than anything she wanted Luke to give her one more chance. She knew she didn’t deserve it, but she figured it never hurt to pray.

  HAND TO HIS FOREHEAD, shielding his eyes from the worst of the dust the wind had kicked up, Luke eyed the car approaching the Triple C’s barn.

  No way…

  Sure enough, Daisy’s prissy gold Mercedes—dirty as ever, bucked over the potholed dirt lane. Seated in the front seat alongside her was Kolt.

  Tears stung Luke’s eyes, but he didn’t even bother sweeping them away. His mom hadn’t just been wrong, but acting downright senile. Daisy hadn’t been running from him, but to him.

  Chest swelling with hope that she’d tracked him down for a happy reason, he damn near stopped breathing when he noticed her expression as she left the car wasn’t all smiles.

  “Dad!” Kolt bolted from his seat, barreling himself against Luke for a man-size hug. “I missed you.”

  Kissing the top of his son’s head, Luke said, “I missed you, too, bud.”

  “Did you miss Mom?” Kolt asked.

  Luke didn’t have a quick answer. Yes, he’d missed her so bad he hadn’t even wanted to eat. But his logical side kept reminding him that he’d survived ten years without Daisy. Surely he could go a few more.

  “It’s all right if you didn’t,” Daisy said. She wore faded jeans, sneakers and a ratty University of Oklahoma sweatshirt Luke recognized as belonging to Dallas. In her hands she carried a legal folder she struggled to keep steady in the wind. “That said, in the event you did miss me—want to see me again—I took the liberty of drawing up this.”

  “What is it?” Luke asked. Had she written the legal papers he’d wanted? It seemed a bit silly now. A piece of paper proving trust. When his mom had told him Daisy had left Weed Gulch, Luke’s first instinct had been to panic, but a quiet voice of reason reminded him to stay strong. Daisy had grown, so had he. She wouldn’t hurt him again.

  “I want you legally to have equal custody of our son. As his father, you could easily enough obtain it on your own, but I wanted it to come from me. This, too.” She handed over a small pouch, containing a folded document.

  “First, come inside,” he said, putting his arm around both of them, guiding them to his trailer.

  “This is cool!” Kolt said, bouncing on the bed. “Can I come horse-whisper with you?”

  “Sure,” Luke said, all the while never dropping Daisy’s gaze.

  “Now that we’re out of the weather,” she said with a shiver, “have a look. I—I think you’ll like it.”

  A quick scan of the document inside showed it to be his son’s birth certificate. Daisy Buckhorn was listed as Kolt’s mother and Luke Montgomery as his father. Luke’s throat ached from holding back tears. “All this time? But I thought you’d listed his father as unknown.”

  “You thought it,” she said. “During one of our hundred arguments I was going to tell you, but got interrupted. I’m done hiding things from you, Luke. You’ll never know how sorry I am for hurting you. You have to understand that no matter what, I want to make decisions that affect both of our lives as a team. If your offer’s still good, I don’t want to be Daisy Buckhorn anymore, but Daisy Montgomery.”

  “Am I gonna be Kolt Montgomery?” their son asked.

  “Yes,” Daisy said, “no matter what. I’ve already filed the paperwork.”

  “I love you,” Luke said, too relieved for words. Not about the custody agreement. He knew he didn’t really need it. He was relieved that he and Daisy and Kolt were finally going to be a family. “Your ring’s at my cabin, but once you get it back on your finger, I’d better not ever see it off.”

  “Yes, sir.” She sealed her promise with a kiss.

  “Why don’t I get a ring?” Kolt asked.

  “Because you’re getting a custom-built tree fort,” Luke said. “I already had a friend of mine draw up plans, and just as soon as your mom’s carpenters finish her jobs, I’m putting them to work on ours.”

  “I love you, Dad.” Kolt squeezed Luke in a hug.

  His throat tight with emotion, Luke said, “I love you both.”

  “Hey,” Kolt pushed free. “There’s only one of me.”

  Daisy and Luke laughed.

  “I was talking about your mom,” Luke noted, “but if you want to leave her out of our fort, I suppose we can have a special vote.”

  “Nah.” Kolt gave his mom a hug, too. “I love her, too, but Jonah says if you get married, Mom’s gonna have a baby and if she smells as bad as Mabel and Robin when they poop, then I don’t want her coming anywhere near our fort.”

  “Agreed,” Luke said. “But what if your mom has a boy baby?”

  Kolt took a moment to ponder this. “I s’pose then it would be okay. Boy babies don’t smell as bad, do they?”

  Cupping her belly, Daisy’s eyes sparkled. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-0609-0

  A COWGIRL’S SECRET

  Copyright © 2011 by Laura Marie Altom

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Excerpt from The Long, Hot Texas Summer

  Chapter One

  There were times for doing things yourself and times
for not. This, Justin McCabe thought grimly, surveying the damage he had just inflicted on a brand-new utility cabinet and the drywall behind it, was definitely one of the latter.

  Frustrated, because there was little he couldn’t do well, Justin shook his head in disgust. Then he swore heatedly at the blunder that further derailed his tight schedule and made it even harder to prove the skeptics wrong.

  It was possible, of course, that this could be fixed without buying a whole new cabinet. If he knew what he was doing. Which he clearly did not—a fact that the five beloved ranch mutts, sitting quietly and cautiously watching his every move, seemed to realize, too.

  A motor sounded in the lane, and he hoped it was the carpenter who’d been scheduled to arrive that morning and had yet to actually make an appearance. Justin set his hammer down. He stalked to the door of Bunkhouse One just as a fancy red Silverado pickup truck stopped in front of the lodge. It had an elaborate silver Airstream trailer attached to the back and a lone woman at the wheel.

  “Great.” Justin sighed as all the dogs darted out the open door of the partially finished bunkhouse and raced, barking their heads off, toward the vehicle.

  The obviously lost tourist eased the window down and stuck her head out into the sweltering Texas heat. A straw hat with a sassy rolled brim was perched on her head. Sunglasses shaded her eyes. But there was no disguising her beautiful face and shapely bare arms. The young interloper was, without a doubt, the most exquisite female Justin had ever seen.

  She smiled at the dogs, despite the fact that they were making a racket. “Hey, poochies,” she said in a soft, melodic voice.

  As entranced as he was, the dogs seemed more so. They’d stopped barking and had all sat down to stare at the stranger.

  She opened her door and stepped out. All six feet of her.

  Layered red and white tank tops showcased her nice, full breasts and slender waist. A short denim skirt clung to her hips and emphasized a pair of really fine legs.

  She took off her hat and shook out a mane of butterscotch-blond hair that fell in soft waves past her shoulders. After tossing the hat on the seat behind her, she reached down to pet the dogs. The pack was thoroughly besotted.

  Justin completely understood.

  If there was such a thing as love at first sight—which he knew there wasn’t—he’d have been a goner.

  The woman straightened and removed her sunglasses. “I’m Amanda,” she said in the same voice that had magically quieted his dogs.

  Justin stared into long-lashed, wide-set amber eyes that were every bit as mesmerizing as the rest of her. His brain seemed to have stopped working altogether. His body, on the other hand, was at full alert. “I’m Justin McCabe.”

  “This the Lost Pines?” Amanda asked, taking a moment to scan their surroundings.

  Working to get the blood back in his brain where it belonged, Justin merely nodded.

  “So,” she said, still admiring the acres of unfenced grassland peppered with cedar and live oak, as well as the endless blue horizon and rolling hills in the distance. “Where do you want me to park my trailer?”

  And then, all of a sudden, the fantasy ended. This gorgeous woman had not been dropped into his life like a karmic reward for all his hard work. Brought swiftly back to reality, he stopped her with a regretful lift of his palm. “You can’t.”

  She pivoted back to him in a drift of citrusy perfume. Her eyes sparked with indignation and her delicate but surprisingly capable-looking hands landed on her hips. “I made it very clear to whomever I spoke. My camping out here is part of the deal.”

  What deal? “It can’t be.”

  She came closer, her soft lips pursed in an unhappy frown. “Why not?”

  Embarrassed that it had taken him this long to correct her misconception, Justin explained without rancor. “Because this isn’t the Lost Pines you’re looking for.”

  A flicker of indecipherable emotion flashed in those beautiful eyes. She regarded him skeptically, seeming to think he was trying to pull something over on her. “But how can that be? The sign above the gate said this is the Lost Pines Ranch.”

  “The sign’s on the long list of things waiting to be changed.” A new one had been ordered but wasn’t coming in for another month. Which meant he would continue to have these mix-ups with nonlocals.

  “Are you sure I’m not in the right place?” she asked with a frown. “Because...”

  Justin shook his head, a little disappointed that this beautiful amazon would not be settling in for a long stay. He turned and pointed in the opposite direction. “What you want is the Lost Pines Campground, which is another three miles down the road, next to the Lake Laramie State Park. But...” What the heck, why not? Just this once he was going to go for what he wanted. Which was a little more—make that a lot more—time with this sun-kissed beauty. “Once you get set up there, Amanda, I’d be happy to take you to dinner.”

  THIS WAS, AMANDA BLISS JOHNSON thought, the most bizarre encounter she’d ever had. Even if the tall rancher with the shaggy chestnut-brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes was the hottest guy she had ever come across in her life. From the massive shoulders and chest beneath that chambray shirt, to his long muscular legs, custom-boot-encased feet—and ringless left hand—everything about him broadcast Single and Available.

  Which meant Strictly Off-Limits to her.

  She wished she’d left her sunglasses on so he wouldn’t see her dazzled expression. “First off,” she told him crisply, “I don’t date customers.”

  Now it was his turn to look shocked. “Customers! What are you talking about?”

  Amanda pushed on. “You called for a carpenter, right? At least, Libby Lowell-McCabe, the CEO of the Lowell Foundation and chairwoman of the board for the Laramie Boys Ranch, did. She said it was an emergency. That your previous carpenter quit with no notice and you only have four weeks to get the bunkhouse ready for occupancy.” She paused to draw a breath. “I emailed her back that I’d be willing to help y’all out, but only if I could keep my travel trailer on the property so I wouldn’t have to waste time commuting back and forth to San Angelo.”

  Amanda fought her racing pulse and tried to stay calm. “But if that’s not going to work, I guess I could park my Silversteam at the campground. Assuming, of course, they have a space available. Since it’s the busy summer season, they may not.”

  He lifted a hand. “You don’t have to do that.”

  Amanda folded her arms in front of her. “Sure about that? Because just now you seemed dead set against me camping here.”

  He flashed a slow, disarming smile. “That’s because I thought you were a tourist, not an apprentice.”

  Apprentice? Strike two for the handsome Texan! “I’m not the apprentice,” Amanda said tightly, her temper rising. “I’m the master carpenter.”

  He pulled the paper out of his pocket and squinted at it as if he couldn’t believe the words in front of him. Then his head lifted and he speared her with an incredulous gaze. “You’re A. B. Johnson Jr.?”

  Amanda wondered if it took him this long to process everything. “Amanda Bliss Johnson. Junior’s the nickname I got at work.”

  “You want me to call you Junior?” he asked, with a hint of humor in his low baritone.

  “Or Amanda.” She waved a hand. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter to me.” What did was getting this gig. It would allow her to settle in this ruggedly beautiful place for an entire month before moving on to her next rural job.

  Justin McCabe continued to contemplate her as if he either didn’t believe she could really be an ace carpenter or wasn’t going to be comfortable having a woman undertake such a large job.

  Amanda sighed.

  Great, just great. She’d gotten up at the crack of dawn to put the finishing touches on a built-in bookcase for a very fussy client, then spent hours getting all her stuff packed up and driving all the way out here. Now, the deceptively laid-back McCabe was acting like he wanted to fire her on the spot.
>
  Deciding it was his turn to be put in the hot seat, Amanda stepped closer. “Do you have a problem with the fact I’m a woman?”

  “No.” He was clearly fibbing. “Not at all.”

  Then why couldn’t he stop looking at her like he was going to need a protective force field just to be anywhere near her? “I come highly recommended.” The defensive words were out before she could stop them.

  “I know.” He exhaled, beginning to look as off-kilter as she felt. “I just expected a guy. That’s all.”

  A common mistake, given that most of her competitors were male. Still, Amanda refused to let Justin McCabe off the hook. Sensing there was more to whatever it was going on with him, she arched a brow.

  There was a beat of complete and utter silence.

  He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I did a Google search on your company after Libby told me she had arranged for A. B. Johnson Carpentry to come out and finish the work on an emergency basis. The website said the company was founded in San Angelo, Texas, by Angus ‘Buddy’ Johnson thirty-eight years ago.”

  Proudly, Amanda relayed, “That’s my grandfather. He still runs the business—although he’s supposed to be phasing out of that, too—but he stopped doing the rural gigs a year ago.” After much persuading on her part.

  Amanda touched her thumb to the center of her chest. “I do them now.”

  It was McCabe’s turn to appear irritated. “So why didn’t you make that clear in the communication with Libby? Unless—” he paused, still scrutinizing her closely “—you’re trying to purposely mislead people?”

  Amanda really did not want to get into this. However, he’d left her no choice. “When I first started doing jobs on my own the company was getting a lot of requests for me that had nothing whatsoever to do with my talent as a carpenter.”

  Understanding dawned on his handsome face. Along with a hint of anger. Amanda warmed beneath the intensity in his eyes. “So we took all the employee photos off the website and just listed the carpenters by name, or in my case, just my initials and last name. To differentiate me from my granddad we added the Junior to my name. That successfully eliminated all the customers just interested in making up jobs to hit on me.”