Claiming the Rancher's Heir

by Maisey Yates

  And somehow, Wren found that their unit didn’t compromise her desire for independence. Rather, it supported it.

  He supported it.

  There was a strange sort of freedom, having this giant brick wall on her team. She couldn’t fully explain it. But there it was. True as anything.

  The house that stole her heart surprised her.

  It was a white farmhouse with red shutters, new, but styled in a classic way. She could see how their Christmas styles might even meet here. A little glitter, a little rustic.

  The kitchen had gorgeous granite countertops and white cabinets. Light and airy, but not too modern. Perfect for Christmas Eve lasagna, and Christmas turkey.

  She loved the layout of it, the great big living room that she could imagine being filled with baby toys, and a big old Christmas tree.

  Fake or real, it suddenly didn’t matter.

  The way the bedrooms were configured, with one just down the hall from the master bedroom that she knew would make the ideal nursery, was perfect. More than she had ever dreamed. For a life she hadn’t been able to imagine before, but could now, so vividly that it hurt.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “This is it,” she said.

  A life that was theirs. A life that didn’t belong to anyone else.

  “Yes,” she said. “I think this is going to work.”

  * * *

  Let it never be said that Creed Cooper was a coward, but he had been avoiding having meaningful conversation with his family for far too long. They were all dancing around the issue of his marriage, and his impending fatherhood. And it was obvious that whatever leash had been holding Honey back had just broken.

  He was in his office, finalizing details for the upcoming joint winery event, when Jackson, Jericho, Honey and their father walked in. Or rather, Honey burst in, and the others came in behind her.

  “Are we just not talking about this? About the fact that you got married?”

  “I mean, there’s not much to say.”

  “You married a Maxfield.”

  “I did,” Creed said.

  “She’s pregnant.”

  “Honey, do I have to walk you through how that happens, or did you get sex ed in school?”

  “I’m good,” Honey said, her tone dry. “Thanks, though. My point is, what exactly is going on?”

  “I got her pregnant. I married her. That’s what a gentleman does.”

  Honey rolled her eyes. “I was under the impression a gentleman waited until he was married.” She looked like she was deciding something. Then, decision made, her lips turned up into a smirk. “Or at the very least used a damn condom.”

  “Can you not say the word condom?” Creed asked.

  “Why? I would assume you’d prefer to think that I was using them rather than not.”

  “I would prefer not to think about it at all.”

  “You’ve given me no such luxury. Since you clearly had unprotected sex. Like a...horny goat.”

  “Are you just here to lecture me on protocol or...?”

  “Do you love her?”

  “What does love have to do with anything?” And the words sat uncomfortably in his gut. Because he felt something for Wren, sure as hell. He was selling his ranch for her, moving into another house.

  As if she could read his mind, Honey’s gaze sharpened. “Is she making you leave your ranch?”

  “No,” he said. “I suggested we get a place that’s more about the two of us.”

  “You...did?”

  “It was the least I could do. Considering I basically forced her to marry me.”

  “You didn’t,” Honey said.

  “I did,” he responded.

  His sister stared at him, and he could feel his older brother mounting a protective posture. At him? That was ridiculous.

  “Honey,” Jackson said. “Maybe just leave it alone. Like we told you to when you were ranting a few minutes ago.”

  “You guys are terrible bouncers,” Creed said, addressing his brother and Jericho. “You let her come right through the front door.”

  “I just don’t get it,” she said. “Why you would marry somebody you’re not in love with.”

  “There’s a lot of reasons to get married, sweetheart,” he said. “And they often don’t have anything to do with love.”

  “Then what?”

  “Well, lust comes to mind.”

  “You don’t marry somebody just because you lust after them. That’s silly.”

  “Fine. The pregnancy.”

  “I still don’t understand how you could be so stupid. You’re not a kid.”

  “Honey, I pray that you always keep your head when it comes to situations of physical desire.”

  She tossed her pale brown hair over her shoulder. “I would never get that stupid over a man.”

  The three of them laughed at her. Well, chuckles, really, but Honey looked infuriated.

  “Spoken like a woman who’s never wanted anyone,” Jericho said.

  Honey’s face went up in flames. “You don’t know anything,” she said, planting her hand on his chest and shoving him slightly.

  “I know plenty enough,” he responded.

  “Did you guys just come to my office to bicker? To yell at me about something I can’t change?”

  “They’re our rivals,” Honey said. “That’s what I don’t get. Now you’re married, and did you do anything to protect the winery when you made that deal?”

  No. They hadn’t signed a prenup of any kind. And in hindsight that probably wasn’t the best decision. But all he’d been thinking of was making sure he was protecting his rights as a father.

  He hadn’t thought to protect his monetary assets at all.

  “Everything will be fine,” he said.

  “How could you be so shortsighted?”

  “I was only thinking about one thing,” he said, his patience snapping. “I’m really glad that you can sit there on your high horse. But virgins don’t get to talk about what it’s like to be carried away by desire. I’ve made this mistake before.” That made his sister look shamefaced, shocked. “And the woman took the kid from me, okay? I missed out on eighteen years of raising my son because I didn’t make sure my rights were protected, and I wasn’t going to do it again. I did what I had to do. My kid was more important than the winery.”

  Finally, his father spoke. “You compromised the winery for this marriage?”

  “There are things that are more important than a winery, Dad. I would think you would know that.”

  He couldn’t read the expression on his old man’s face. “I protected the winery all this time,” he said. “It was my...new dream after it became clear I wasn’t going to get the first thing I wanted. And I never compromised for it.”

  “No,” Creed agreed. “You didn’t. Down to not wanting to make too big of an incident out of me getting a girl pregnant when I was sixteen. Yeah, Dad, you protected the winery. But I protected my son. Can you say you did the same?”

  Suddenly, Creed was done. Done with all of it. Done with all of them.

  It was easy for them to pass judgment, but they didn’t know what they were talking about.

  His father had gotten everything he wanted in his life. He’d had a wife, had his children.

  And then the old man had withdrawn into himself when his wife had died and let his children take over the running of the winery.

  Yeah, he’d used them to protect the winery. At the expense of everything else. His father had asked endless sacrifices of Creed.

  Creed was out of damn patience for his family.

  “All of you spare me your lectures,” he said. “A virgin and an old man who don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.” He shook his head and walked out of the building, breathing
in the sharp early-morning air.

  He wasn’t going to justify his decision to marry Wren. His course was set.

  And whatever Honey thought, love did come into it. The love for his child. Nothing else mattered.

  Ten

  The big cross-vineyard event was tonight, and Wren could hardly keep the nerves from overtaking her.

  She got tired much more quickly than usual these days, and her midsection was beginning to get a bit thicker, which made the dresses she normally wore to things like this slightly tighter. She had spent countless hours trying on gowns in hers and Creed’s bedroom, until he had grabbed hold of her and said very firmly that he loved her body like it was, and that absolutely everything looked good on her, or off her.

  That had ended in him nearly destroying her makeup with his kisses, and she had scolded him roundly about the fact that they didn’t have any time to get busy.

  She had been filled with regret about that decision, however. And the fact that making love to him seemed a whole lot more interesting than readying herself for something she was supposed to be excited about irritated her.

  As she slipped into the formfitting green dress she’d decided on, she tried to tell herself she was irritated simply because having a baby was such a big deal.

  It was harder and harder to care about other things right now. She was consumed with the fact that in six and a half months she and Creed were going to be parents.

  And for some reason, it kept sticking in her mind even more that they were still going to be husband and wife, for six more months and longer.

  The baby was supposed to be what mattered.

  And first, this event.

  Her family was acclimating to the fact that she and Creed weren’t rivals anymore. That they had to be friendly, to an extent, with Cowboy Wines. But it wasn’t smooth sailing.

  Not entirely. For some reason, Cricket was being difficult about playing nice. And while Wren had a lot of patience for what they were all going through under the circumstances, her sympathy still didn’t make it easy to accept Cricket’s behavior.

  All dressed and ready, Wren kissed Creed goodbye and told him she needed to get to Maxfield Vineyards early.

  He grumbled about being reluctant to let her go, but she pointed out that she hadn’t been back home since they’d moved. Not to the house, anyway. She’d gone to the winery itself, to the public areas, the tasting rooms. There had been weddings and dinners and other things since she and Creed had gotten married. But she hadn’t actually been in the house.

  For some reason, she felt like she needed to do that today. And she felt like she needed to do it alone.

  Nerves overtook her when she realized part of the reason she felt an urgency to visit was that she hadn’t actually been alone with her mother, Cricket and Emerson altogether since the wedding.

  When Wren arrived at the house, her mother looked impeccable, but stone-faced, and Emerson looked as radiant as ever. Cricket was wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

  “What are you doing, Cricket?” Wren asked.

  “Oh, I’m not going,” Cricket said.

  “Why aren’t you going?”

  “Because I don’t want to,” she said defiantly.

  “But it’s a family event.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Cricket said. “It’s an event for the winery, and I don’t have to be there. There’s absolutely no reason for me to get dressed up and parade myself around. I’m not really part of anything that happens with the winery. It’s never been me.”

  Wren was shocked, but she had to wonder if she would feel the same way had she been Cricket’s age when their family had fallen apart.

  “I’m divorcing your father,” her mother said.

  “What?” Wren asked.

  “I’m divorcing him,” she said. “I haven’t seen him in months. What’s the point of staying married? What was the point of any of it?” Her mother, who was often so quiet, sad even, seemed...not herself.

  “More and more I question the point of any of this. I have this beautiful house, but your father never loved me. I have you girls. The only good to have come out of my life in the last thirty years. Everything else is shallow. Pointless. I thought this winery mattered. This house. The money. It doesn’t.”

  “And if it doesn’t matter to her,” Cricket said, “why should I pretend that it matters to me?”

  “I’m all for bids of independence,” Wren said. “And I’m not going to say I haven’t been on a soul-searching mission myself these last few months. But save your breakdowns so they’re not right before my big event?”

  “Sorry it’s not convenient for you,” Cricket said. “You getting married and abandoning me wasn’t great timing either.”

  Wren had a feeling that was directed at both her and Emerson.

  “Cricket,” Emerson said. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want. But if you’re upset, maybe we should talk.”

  “We should talk now,” Cricket said. “Because this family is a mess, and Wren is just making the same mistakes Mom did. Marrying Creed because she’s having a baby, when they don’t even love each other. You can pretend all you want but I don’t believe you magically fell in love with him. It’s going to end like this. Big house, lots of money. Maybe a winery conglomerate. Sad adult children and divorce.”

  “That’s enough,” her mother said. “I judge myself for the decisions I made for money. For comfort. For...for turning away from somebody who did love me for somebody who never could.” Wren stared at her mother for a moment, not fully understanding what she was talking about. “But the one thing that I’m at peace with is anything I did for the sake of you girls. Wren made a decision for the sake of her child’s future. And Creed Cooper isn’t your father.”

  “No,” Wren said, her tone firm. “Creed is a good man. He loves this baby. So much. You have no idea.”

  “Well, I don’t have to participate in any of this.”

  Cricket turned and walked out of the room. Emerson put her hand on Wren’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about her. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She doesn’t know what it’s like.”

  There was something in Emerson’s gaze that scared Wren, and she couldn’t pinpoint why.

  Didn’t know what what was like? Relationships?

  That she would believe. Her sister had led a cloistered life on the vineyard, and hadn’t gone away to school the way Wren and Emerson had. In many ways, it had felt like their parents had given up by the time they’d gotten to Cricket. For all that the expectations of their father had been hard on Emerson and Wren, Wren suspected there had been no expectations at all of Cricket.

  And that the low bar hadn’t done her any favors.

  But Wren didn’t think that’s what Emerson was talking about. And the alternative possibility made her stomach feel tight.

  “Mom,” Wren said, turning to her mother, deciding to reject any thoughts she was having about herself and deal with her mother instead. “What did you mean about ‘someone who could love you’?”

  “The Coopers are good men,” her mother said. “If Creed is anything like his father, he has a lot more honor than James Maxfield ever did.”

  Wren’s whole world felt shaky, and she decided not to press the issue, because she didn’t think she could take on any more right then.

  Instead, Wren and Emerson went down to the grand event hall, which was decorated and lit up, overlooking the valley below. It was all pristine glass, floor-to-ceiling windows and honey-colored wood beams. A huge fake Christmas tree was at the center, lit up, merry and bright.

  It looked elegant and perfect, and stations for each winery were beginning to come together. Lindy Dodge, from another local winery, was there, setting out samples and arranging small plates of food, her big, cowboy husband, Wyatt, helping with everything. The sight of those two people,
so very different from each other—Lindy, petite and polished, and Wyatt, big, rough and ready—did something strange to Wren’s insides. Made her long for something she didn’t think was even possible.

  She turned away from the couple, and made a show of looking at some of the displays put up by the other wineries before busying herself with the fine details of their own.

  And when Creed arrived, her world spun to a halt. Just looking at him made her mouth run dry. Made everything in her go still, and her sister’s words echoed inside her.

  She doesn’t know what it’s like.

  Not a relationship. No, nothing quite that simple. Not attraction either. Because that was not deep enough.

  No, what Cricket didn’t understand was what happened when a man entered a woman’s life, who was wrong in every way, but fit so beautifully.

  Who seemed to take all the jagged pieces and press them together, turning something ordinary into something new. Making each fractured line seem a beautiful detail rather than a fatal flaw.

  What Cricket didn’t understand was the miracle involved in loving someone she shouldn’t.

  Loving someone who made no sense. And the way that it rearranged one’s life into something unrecognizable.

  What Cricket didn’t understand was that love was a storm.

  Wren had always imagined that loving somebody was civil. That it was something she could pick out, like selecting the perfect wine in a refined cellar.

  But no. That wasn’t how it was with Creed.

  He was a brilliant and glorious streak of lightning, shooting across the sky, a low, resonating boom of thunder that echoed in her heart. He was nothing she would have ever looked for, and everything she was beginning to suspect she needed.

  And that need wasn’t comfortable.

  Because just like a storm, she couldn’t control it, didn’t know how much damage it might cause, didn’t know what the landscape would look like after it was finished raging.

  Feelings like this, they could uproot trees. Reorder the slopes of mountains.

  Damage her heart irrevocably.