CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AS LUCE WAS to discover over the dizzying course of the next ten days, there was her definition of simple—and then there was the Blythe Carson–Dorothy Hale version.
Dorothy and Beth, baby in tow, arrived in Mustang Creek barely a week after the hasty airfield conference, full of happy plans.
Luce, though slightly wary, was thrilled to see her mother, sister and infant nephew.
Dorothy and Blythe hugged and cried and laughed, and they were still chattering long after everyone else had retired that first night.
Luce tried to sleep—upcoming wedding notwithstanding, she was still searching for the herd of wild horses every day, albeit without success, and she’d been spending hours on her research notes, as well. She needed her rest.
Still, knowing her sister and tiny nephew were just down the hall, Luce couldn’t lie still long enough to close her eyes, let alone drop off into sweet slumber.
So, barefoot and wearing pajamas, she tiptoed toward that particular guest room, blushing a little as she passed Drake’s closed door.
Alas, there would be no private slumber party tonight, not with Luce’s mother in the house, huge as it was. She consoled herself with the reminder that soon enough Drake’s room would be her room, too.
Reaching Beth’s door, Luce rapped lightly, hoping her sister hadn’t already gone to sleep. Motherhood, according to Beth, was strenuous business, and the day had been a busy one.
“In,” Beth called quietly. For a moment, it seemed to Luce, time shifted, and she and her sister were girls again, meeting in one of their bedrooms to whisper and giggle and, sometimes, commiserate over a boy or a bad grade or being grounded.
Luce stepped willingly into the time warp.
Beth had just gotten the baby to sleep in the antique cradle hauled over from Slater and Grace’s part of the house for his use.
She smiled at Luce and held an index finger to her lips.
Luce smiled and nodded and crept over to admire the sleeping infant. His name was Ben, and he looked downright cherubic lying there, his downy hair fluffing out, his lashes resting lush on his plump little cheeks.
Luce’s heart swelled with love for this child and, naturally, she thought of the babies she and Drake would have.
Was it even possible to sustain the kind of happiness she was feeling now?
Probably not, she supposed. Like everyone else, she and Drake would have their ups and downs, but the core of their relationship was solid and lasting, and that was what counted.
She and Beth moved to sit, side by side, on the edge of the bed, speaking in near whispers.
“Okay,” Luce began, “let’s have it. Is Mom here to see her best friend and help with the preparations, or is she planning a full-scale assault on my wedding plans?”
Beth smiled, took Luce’s hand and squeezed it gently. “We’re here because you’re getting married, and we want to be with you. I think Dad and I have been fairly successful in persuading Mom not to go all Martha Stewart, though I can’t guarantee she and Mrs. Carson aren’t plotting a takeover even as we speak.”
Luce shook her head, but she was smiling as she returned Beth’s hand-squeeze. “Whatever happens, I’m so glad you’re here. Mom, too, of course.”
“Dad and Liam will be here the day of,” Beth said. Liam was her husband. “In the meantime, Mom and I just want to be part of the process.” She made a cross-my-heart motion with one hand. “We’ll behave, I promise.”
Luce laughed, very softly. “Who are you,” she joked, “and what have you done with my sister?”
Beth stifled a giggle, à la the old days, when they were teenagers with silly secrets. And her eyes shone as she gazed at Luce. “I’m so happy for you, sis.”
Luce teared up briefly and gave Beth a one-armed hug. “Thanks, Bethie. That means a lot to me.”
They sat in silence for a little while, just being sisters, side by side, shoulders touching.
Then, with a faux wince, Beth ventured, “You do know about the wedding shower, right? I hope I’m not blowing a big surprise.”
“I suspected something was up,” Luce admitted, pleased in spite of her no-fuss policy. “I’ve caught Grace and Harry and Blythe whispering a few times, among other hints.”
“So you’ve made friends here?”
“I haven’t had much spare time,” Luce answered, “but, yes, I’ve been meeting new people right and left. Hadleigh, Melody and Bex—they’re married to Drake’s closest friends—have been great to me. Being neighborly is very big in Mustang Creek.”
“Good,” Beth said. “I love my husband, but the older I get, the more I cherish my girlfriend time.”
Another silence followed, contented and reflective. Again, and typically, Beth was the one to break it.
“Okay, so I do have one question,” she said.
“Shoot,” Luce responded.
“What about your PhD, and your plans to teach? It’s none of my business, I know, and yet—”
“And yet it is,” Luce said. “You’re my big sister, after all. The answer is, I may modify my plans a little, at least at first, but I’m definitely going forward with the original idea.”
“Where would you teach? Is there a college in Mustang Creek?”
“A community college,” Luce replied, “with a very good chance of upgrading to a four-year institution in the next few years. They’ve already approached me about establishing an ecology program this fall, in cooperation with the high school, and that means I can teach while I finish my graduate work.”
“And what does Drake think?”
Luce smiled and patted her sister’s hand. “He’s all for it. Drake is as committed to the environment as I am, if not more so, and I’m counting on his input when I start my syllabus.”
Beth fairly beamed. “Wow,” she said. “The man is not only hot, he’s progressive.”
Luce laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. Drake’s hot, all right, but progressive?” She shook her head, still amused. “When he decides to dig in his heels, he can be incredibly stubborn, and some of his ideas are distinctly old-fashioned.”
“Examples, please, little sister.”
“Well, he can be overprotective. He opens doors and tips his hat and says ‘Ma’am’ when he speaks to a woman over fifty. He stands when any female enters a room and won’t hear of going Dutch.”
Beth made a mock-sympathetic face. “Poor you,” she said.
“Yeah,” Luce agreed happily. “Poor me.”
Beth yawned then and, since yawns are catchy, Luce did, too. The sisters exchanged good-nights, and Luce went back to her room.
This time, she had no trouble falling asleep.
* * *
THE NEXT FEW days were busy ones. Luce saw little of Drake, but this only ratcheted up the anticipation, and when they were together, invisible fireflies lit the atmosphere between them.
As it turned out, literally every woman in Mustang Creek had been invited to the wedding shower, held in the community center, and there was a capacity crowd. By Blythe’s decree, and much to Luce’s agreement, nobody brought gifts; the gathering was meant to be a getting-acquainted celebration, and it was certainly that and more.
Although the no-gifts rule was observed, it apparently didn’t apply to food. Luce had never seen so many cakes, pies, cookies and casseroles supplementing the catered spread. There was plenty of wine—Mace’s label, of course—as well as lemonade and punch and that small-town specialty, two large urns of coffee, regular and decaffeinated.
Luce was absolutely dazzled; Melody, Hadleigh and Bex had hung streamers, and there were flowers everywhere.
Luce had a wonderful time, as did her mother and sister, though with all those new faces, she began to wish someone had passed out name tags.
The event lasted some three hours, and Luce was dizzy by the end, feeling fully welcome in her new community. There was still a great deal of food, but the women of Mustang Creek were prepared; they’d brought plastic containers of all sorts along, and they filled every one to the brim.
Much of it would be eaten later that same day, since, once a week, the community center offered free meals to anyone who showed up. By design, tonight was the night. The remainder of the largesse, mostly desserts, would be taken to the town’s two nursing homes as a treat for the residents.
Luce treasured the prospect of friendship with these women, and their generosity, to the less fortunate members of the community as well as to her, was a memory she would hold in her heart forever.
* * *
WHEN THEIR WEDDING DAY finally arrived, Luce was in a strange, blissful state, and for the first time, she understood what the old cliché about walking on air really meant.
Blythe and Dorothy had done their best to restrain themselves, but only so much could be expected of the mothers of the bride and groom.
The spacious yard behind the ranch house glittered in the twilight when everyone gathered for the ceremony. Colorful Chinese lanterns glowed in the branches of the maple and oak trees, the rented folding chairs had bows affixed to their backs and a three-piece mini orchestra had set up in the gazebo.
There was an abundance of food, as there had been at the shower a few days before, but Luce knew not a scrap would be wasted. Once again the leftovers would be shared; this time two local churches had agreed to package what remained and deliver meals to every shut-in in town.
When all was ready, the ceremony began.
Luce wore a simple, ankle-length dress of white eyelet over a silky fabric; Drake, a dark suit that flattered his cowboy frame in a whole new way. The small orchestra played quietly.
Luce’s father, recently arrived, proudly escorted the bride to the rose arbor serving as an altar, where Beth waited, beaming, bouquet in hand.
Drake, with his brothers at his side, stood tall and proud and impossibly handsome, facing the Carson family’s longtime minister.
“Who gives this woman in marriage?” the pastor asked.
“Her mother and I,” answered the father of the bride in a clear voice. Before returning to his seat in the front row, next to Dorothy, Blythe and a happily weepy Harry, he bent his head and kissed Luce gently on the cheek.
The vows were made, the rings were exchanged and Drake and Luce were pronounced husband and wife.
Drake’s kiss was long and deep, and when it ended, the guests applauded and cheered, and he whispered mischievously, “There’s something to be said for starting off on the right foot, so to speak.”
And Luce laughed for joy.
* * *
AS MUCH AS DRAKE loved his family and friends, there were times, during the picture-taking and the cake-eating and the exuberant congratulations, that he wished they’d all vanish, temporarily of course, into some parallel universe, so that he could be alone with his wife.
It seemed to him that the fussing and the eating and the making of toasts would never end. Drake choked up as he watched his bride and her father share the first waltz.
God, Luce was so beautiful.
And she was his wife.
When it was his turn to dance with the bride, Drake forgot everything but the way it felt to hold this woman in his arms, to see her smiling up at him, her eyes alight.
Eventually, the long-awaited cue came. Slater gave the prearranged signal to take Luce and slip away—a raised fist.
Finally, finally, the honeymoon could begin.
Drake grabbed Luce and led her to the refurbished buckboard awaiting them. Red was at the reins, all spiffed up in his best suit, reserved for weddings and funerals, and grinning from one ear to the other. He jumped down, nimble for a man of his age, and watched proudly as Drake lifted Luce up into the seat, then followed, taking the place Red had occupied.
There were more cheers and good wishes, and then Mr. and Mrs. Drake Carson were on their way.
The honeymoon would be an unconventional one, Drake supposed, at least in terms of location, but it was exactly what both he and Luce wanted.
Earlier in the day, with the help of his brothers, Drake had set up a tent in the private spot where he and Luce had made love the first time. A campfire was laid, and there were fancy provisions, but just then, Drake didn’t care if he ever ate again.
Luce sat close, leaning against him, her arm hooked through his.
“I can still arrange for a hotel, if you’ve changed your mind,” he told her, raising his voice a little to be heard over the two-horse team and the creaking harnesses.
“Not a chance,” Luce said. “This is perfect.”
The words proved prophetic.
When they reached the campsite, the tent, just big enough for an air mattress equipped with a double sleeping bag, glowed like a palace in the star-spangled moonlight.
For a touch of elegance, there was a small portable picnic table, so they wouldn’t have to eat breakfast sitting on the ground. If they ever got around to breakfast, that is.
Luce drew in an audible breath. “Oh, Drake,” she whispered. “This is lovely!”
Her pleasure was his pleasure, and not just in bed.
Drake secured the wagon’s brake lever, wrapped the reins loosely around it and climbed down. When he reached for Luce, she wrapped her arms around him and slid her body along the length of his as she descended.
He kissed her, long and hard and deep.
“Happy?” he asked when he caught his breath.
She smiled. “Yes,” she replied, “and about to be a whole lot happier still.”
Drake laughed and swatted her lightly on that delectable backside of hers.
“Like any good frontier husband,” he said, “I’ve got to look after the horses before I can do anything else.”
“Then I guess you’d better hurry, cowboy,” Luce purred, her eyes dancing.
With that, she headed for the tent, disappeared inside.
If there was a God in heaven, Drake thought, with a silent apology for irreverence, she’d be out of that dress by the time he joined her.
* * *
IT WAS DELICIOUSLY DARK inside that small tent, and Luce wasted no time wriggling out of her wedding dress and panty hose and bra. Since there was no place to put the discarded garments, she tossed them through the narrow opening and stretched out to wait for her husband.
He was in the process of stripping when he entered their honeymoon hideaway.
Luce was more than ready for him, and there was no question that he was ready for her.
They’d made love before, of course, but somehow that night was even better. In fact, it was transcendent.
They touched each other everywhere.
They kissed and withdrew, not to tease, but because they needed to catch their breath.
They drew out the foreplay until neither of them could bear the wait any longer, and when they came together, they felt their souls mate along with their bodies.
Intermittently, they slept, satiated, and then woke to love again.
For a solid forty-eight hours, they were alone in their singular world of grass and trees and snow-capped mountains.
Then, inevitably, it was time to go back.
“Could we do this again?” Luce asked. This morning, she was wearing shorts, hiking boots and a tank top from the suitcase they’d brought along in the back of the wagon.
Drake, busy hitching the horses to the wagon, paused long enough to kiss her thoroughly. “I was thinking,” he said, working again, “that we ought to build a house here. What do you think, Mrs. Carson?”
She turned him around, flung herself at him, arms around his neck, legs around his hips. “I think you’re a genius, Mr. Carson,” she cried, and then she kissed him just as deeply as he’d kissed her before.
* * *
NO HONEYMOON LASTS FOREVER, Drake reminded himself when they drove up to the ranch half an hour later and found Red waiting for them with a solemn expression on his grizzled old face.
“He doesn’t look happy,” Luce observed, perched beside Drake on the wagon seat and sounding worried.
“He never looks happy,” Drake said.
Luce didn’t wait for him to help her down from the wagon this time. She marched over to Red and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Red chuckled. “See you’re takin’ to bein’ a ranch wife right off the bat,” he remarked, not unkindly.
“You looked so serious,” Luce persisted.
“I ain’t what you’d call expressive,” Red told her. By then, Drake was out of the wagon, coming toward them.
“Stop stalling and spill it,” he said.
“Look, I didn’t mean to get you all riled up. I just wanted to welcome the bride and groom home proper like, that’s all. Let me deal with this wagon and these horses and we’ll talk business.”
Knowing Luce wanted to take a shower and then drink coffee that hadn’t been boiled over a campfire, Drake said, “Go on inside, Luce. Mom and Harry are probably waiting to make sure you’re still in one piece after a wilderness honeymoon.”
Luce smiled, but she didn’t budge. “In a minute,” she said. “If this is about the mountain lion, or the wild horses, I want to hear it.”
Red looked a little surprised, but he didn’t offer an opinion. In his era, women didn’t talk back to their husbands.
Drake felt a little sorry for Red’s generation, because this particular woman was worth listening to.
“The BLM and the Fish and Wildlife people are all over this,” Red said as stolidly cheerful as ever. “They plan to tranquilize the cat and relocate it farther north. If they can find it, anyhow.”
Drake was relieved. Relocation was ideal in a case like this, but it wasn’t always possible for a variety of reasons, including budgets and manpower.
“Just goes to show change isn’t always bad,” Red agreed. “Back in my day, they solved problems like this one with a bullet.”
“Change isn’t good or bad,” Drake said. “It just is. And this is still your day, Red.”
“As long as my eyes open every morning, I reckon that’s true.” Red scratched his chin, his tone jocular.
“What about the wild horses?” Luce asked.
“No sign of them,” Red replied with regret.
“In that case, I’m going inside.” Luce stood on her toes and kissed Drake’s cheek. “See you around, cowboy,” she said, and then she was moving away, headed for the house.
A glint appeared in Red’s eyes the moment Luce was gone.
“You’ve got more to say,” Drake prodded. “So say it.”
“All the weddin’ visitors are gone,” Red replied, “but you have some company coming your way.”
Given the topic of conversation, the incoming person had to be none other than Lettie Arbuckle-Calder. “Does she have a hyphenated last name by any chance?”
“You got it.” Red practically chortled. “She ain’t alone, either. Two lawyers and some other fella’s comin’ with her. They ought to be here any minute now. Your mother told me to send you in to talk to her soon as you and Luce got back.”
Luce was on her way to the shower. If Drake went inside now, he ran a definite risk of following her upstairs. And if that happened, he’d be late for Lettie’s meeting.
If he got there at all.
“Damn,” Drake muttered. “I hope this doesn’t mean Lettie and her bunch have filed some sort of injunction to keep me from capturing that stallion and moving him off this ranch. If that happens, I’ll never get my mares back.”
“Seems to me you ain’t made much headway in that direction anyways,” Red said wryly.
“Thanks for pointing that out,” Drake retorted. “For a minute there, I’d forgotten.”
Red busted loose with one of his gap-toothed grins. “Look on the bright side, son. In a roundabout way, that stallion landed you a beautiful wife.” He hoisted his rickety old carcass up into the wagon seat and took the reins. Looking down at Drake, he went solemn again. “Just simmer down and listen to what these folks have to say. Like as not, they want the same thing you do, just for different reasons. And Lettie Arbuckle might be a lot of things, but stupid ain’t one of ’em.”
Drake didn’t answer. He just went around to the back of the wagon, lowered the tailgate and pulled out Luce’s suitcase and his leather overnight case.
Soon as he raised the tailgate again, Red drove off.
* * *
DRAKE HEADED FOR the house. No sign of anybody.
Not daring to join his wife upstairs, Drake found clean jeans and a shirt in the laundry room, then used the adjoining shower, reserved for men who might dirty up Harry’s clean floors or get dust on the furniture.
While he lathered up, he thought about Lettie. She could be pushy as hell, but he’d served on the board of the county humane society with her, and he knew her concern for the welfare of animals was genuine. If she was on the annoying side, well, her heart was in the right place.
Fifteen minutes after he’d gotten dressed and poured himself a cup of coffee, the Lettie Arbuckle-Calder contingent showed up in a caravan of luxury vehicles.
Harry and Blythe instantly reappeared, greeted him cordially and proceeded to welcome their guests.
Everyone gravitated to the dining room and seated themselves around the big table, conference style.
Luce joined them while they were still getting settled, and another round of good wishes ensued.
While Harry bustled off to the kitchen to brew a gallon or two of coffee and arrange the inevitable baked goods on platters, Lettie stated her business.
“We’ve come to outline our plan concerning that stallion and his band,” she said, and her tone was decisive. “Those beautiful, majestic creatures must be protected at any cost.”
Harold, who was now recovered to the point that he could get around, ambled in and settled himself as close to Drake as he could manage, and Violet soon arrived, too.
All eyes swung to Drake, as surely as if he’d bolted to his feet and roared an objection.
Before he could lodge an opinion, before he really had an opinion, however, Harry rushed in from the kitchen, clearly panicked. “I just heard from Grace over the intercom,” she blurted. “It’s time!”
Luce went pale and rushed toward the wide doorway. She turned back to him. “Come on, Drake,” she said urgently. “Slater’s off on location somewhere, and we’ve got to get Grace to the hospital!”
Call him slow, but Drake hadn’t made the leap from Harry’s “It’s time!” to the fact that Grace was about to give birth.
Blythe, too, was on her feet, apologizing to the group assembled around the table.
Luce waited impatiently. “You get your truck,” she told Drake, “and I’ll get Grace. Hurry!”
“I’ll call Grace’s doctor and let Slater know,” Blythe said.
“Oh, dear Lord,” Harry said, looking faint.
Somebody led her to a chair and sat her down, made her put her head down low.
Drake ran to the kitchen, grabbed his keys from the hook next to the back door and hurried outside to fire up the rig.
When Luce appeared, Lettie was with her, and they were supporting Grace between them.
“Get her in the truck,” Lettie ordered.
Drake obeyed, hefting a bulky Grace into the backseat.
Harry, apparently recovered, ran outside with a stack of clean towels. “You might need these!”
“I hope to God you’re wrong about that,” Drake muttered.
Luce bounded into the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt. “Go!” she told Drake.
Grace moaned softly.
Drake laid rubber.
“Why didn’t you tell someone you’ve been having contractions all day?” Luce asked her sister-in-law, sounding surprisingly calm.
Drake was anything but.
“They were far apart,” Grace protested. “And I get them all the time!”
Another moan, this one deeper and slow to end.
“Well, they sure aren’t far apart now,” Luce said.
“I’m not sure we’re going to make it to the hospital,” Grace groaned.
“Don’t worry,” Luce told her. Easy for her to say, since she wasn’t the one fixing to have a baby in the backseat of a pickup.
Drake said nothing. He just drove.
And he prayed.
“If necessary, Drake can fill in for the doctor,” Luce went on merrily. “It can’t be that different from delivering a calf.”
Drake swore under his breath and kept the pedal to the metal. Checking the rearview mirror, he was relieved to see Harry and his mother barreling along behind them in Harry’s old station wagon.
Lettie and her bunch followed, on their way back to wherever they’d been before they showed up at the ranch en masse.
It was quite a procession. Grace gave an apologetic little scream.
Holy shit, Drake thought.
“Hold on, Grace,” Luce said, rifling through her purse. How was it that, no matter what the emergency, women always managed to have their handbags with them? Triumphantly, she held up a small bottle of hand sanitizer. “Voilà!”
“I can do this,” Grace said, panting the words. “I can do this.”
That was Grace for you.
“How far to the hospital?” Luce asked, digging in her purse again.
“A lot farther than I’d like,” Drake said tightly.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” Luce said in a singsong voice. She’d extracted a pair of nail scissors and a package of dental floss by then.
Grace wasn’t fooled by Luce’s eager reassurance. She was, after all, in pain and possibly on the verge of giving birth to her first child in a truck. “An epidural would be good right about now,” she answered, shutting her eyes.
The next thing she said was “Oh, my God, the baby’s coming—now!”
Drake was about to whip over to the side of the road, shut off the truck and take care of business, but before he could, Grace spoke again.
“Or not,” she said happily. “Whew. That was a bad one.”
* * *
THEY MADE IT, after all.
Just barely.
In the end, an emergency-room doctor delivered the baby in the backseat of the truck, right there in the hospital parking lot.
At least Drake had dodged that bullet.
Luce loved the fact that he would’ve done whatever he had to, though. It gave her a greater sense of his brother’s vision of life in a place like this. His documentary about this area showed how people used to rely on one another. In the old days, with no hospitals handy, midwives, the occasional doctor or sometimes stalwart husbands had to make do. “You almost had to deliver the baby,” she said.
Hours had passed, and they were back home in their room.
“Almost is good.” Drake sank down on the bed and fell back, crossing his arms behind his head. He was wearing jeans, but no shirt and no boots. “I can deal with that. And, by the way, there is a major difference between delivering a calf and delivering a baby.”
Luce smiled winningly, stretching out beside him, running a hand lightly over his chest. “You can do anything,” she said.
“Thanks,” Drake replied wryly, “but there may be a few flaws in that theory.”
“The important thing is Grace and the baby are both doing well.”
“You’re right. That is what’s important. Of course, Slater may need treatment for heart failure, now that he’s heard the story.”
“Poor Slater,” Luce agreed, still stroking Drake’s chest. “All the way up in northern Alberta. He must be beside himself.”
“By now, he’s on his way home,” Drake said.
“If you’re away from home when I have our first baby,” Luce said, “I might have you horsewhipped when you get back.”
Drake laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.”
“And if you don’t stop doing what you’re doing, that baby might come sooner than expected.”
Luce kissed him. “Promises, promises,” she murmured. “Are you just talking, or do you plan to put your money where your mouth is?”
“I definitely plan to put my mouth in a few places,” he answered. “Forget money.”
* * *
IT HAD TAKEN eight of them that morning, and a carefully orchestrated dance of experienced horsemen, not to mention a whole lot of luck, but they’d accomplished their mission.
They’d tracked down the stallion, finally, and cornered him, along with his band, in a canyon.
Cutting out Drake’s mares wasn’t easy, but with some fancy riding and even fancier roping, they’d gotten the job done.
The stallion was outraged, naturally, and he’d get the mares back if he got the chance.
It was Drake’s job to make damn sure that didn’t happen.
Two riders had kept the stallion and his following boxed in until the mares, some with foals, were well away.
Back home, he and the others put them in stalls, fed and watered them.
When Luce appeared, Drake pointed at one of the stalls. “Take a look,” he said.
Luce gave him an uncertain glance but went to peer over the top of the stall door. The look on her face made it all worthwhile. “Oh, Drake! He’s beautiful!”
The colt was truly a fine-looking little horse. The spitting image of his sire, right down to the way he left his mother to come and stare up at Luce, nickering quietly.
“You said you wanted a horse of your own,” Drake told her. “You’ll have to sweet-talk Red into starting him when that high-spirited colt gets old enough. The old man has a soft spot for you, so that should work out.”
“He’s gorgeous.” She whispered the words, marveling.
So was she.
There was nothing ordinary about her, including the fact that she’d decided to study wild horses even though she’d been skittish about riding at first.
She was made for ranch life.
God, how he loved her. She’d spent her honeymoon in a tent and delighted in every minute of it. She’d jumped into a truck and driven country roads with a pregnant woman about to deliver in the backseat.
Oh, yes. She was his kind of woman.
“This horse is going to be magnificent when he grows up.”
“He’ll have to be gelded,” Drake reminded her.
“You really surprised me this time,” she said, and her eyes were alight.
He was fairly sure he’d fallen for those eyes first. The minute she’d stormed at him through that meadow. He couldn’t forget her tempting body, either...
But it wasn’t only physical. Her adventurous spirit had moved him from the beginning and so had her innate kindness. He searched for the right answer and found honesty the only option. “It might have been,” he admitted. “Did it work?”
She smiled and rose on tiptoe to kiss him. “You’ll find out tonight.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from by Linda Lael Miller.