An Unexpected Homecoming

Deanna Blake is stunned at the loss of her estranged father—and inheriting half his ranch. In a strange twist, the other half goes to Josh Talbot...her former crush and one of the many sources of trouble between Dee and her dad. Not to worry. The single mom-to-be hates this place, steeped in reminders of the past she’s still trying to leave behind. She’ll sell her share now and ensure a comfortable future for her unborn child.

Except Josh can’t afford to buy her out. Reluctantly, the handsome cowboy agrees to sell the entire operation and split the proceeds. Josh—and his young son—will have to start over. But as Dee warms to their friendship, something sparks. And Josh begins to wonder if maybe they should keep it all in the family.

The smile grew, even if it didn’t quite catch in his eyes.

“Your father was crazy, I hope you know.”

This was said so gently, and with so much love, Deanna’s eyes burned. But before she could recover, Josh said, “I know why he sent you away, Dee. Or at least, I can guess. And no, he never talked about you all that much afterward. But when he did...” Looking away, he shook his head. “It was obvious how much he loved you.” His gaze met hers again. “How much he loved you. Missed you—”

“You mind if we don’t talk about this right now? About Dad?”

His cheeks pinking slightly, Josh straightened, turning to look out over the pasture. “Sorry. I’m not real good at this.”

“At what?”

“Social graces. Knowing when to keep my trap shut. I hear this stuff in my head—” he waved in the general direction of his hat “—and it just falls out of my mouth.”

“I remember,” Deanna said quietly, then smiled, not looking at him. “I think that’s why we were friends.”

“Because I have no filter whatsoever?”

“Yes, actually.” She let their eyes meet, and her heart thudded against her sternum even harder than the baby kicking her belly button from the inside.

* * *

Wed in the West:

New Mexico’s the perfect place

to finally find true love!

The Rancher’s Expectant Christmas

Karen Templeton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN TEMPLETON is an inductee into the Romance Writers of America Hall of Fame. A three-time RITA® Award–winning author, she has written more than thirty novels for Mills & Boon. She lives in New Mexico with two hideously spoiled cats. She has raised five sons and lived to tell the tale, and she could not live without dark chocolate, mascara and Netflix.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Once again, I have to give a shout-out to

Kari Lynn Dell

For her patience,

Friendship,

And willingness to answer probably some of the

dumbest horse-related questions she’s ever heard.

I hope your eyes don’t hurt TOO much

from rolling so hard.

To Carly Silver

Editorial Assistant Extraordinaire

It’s with very mixed feelings that I congratulate you

On your promotion.

Because you, my dear, have been a true godsend

To this beleaguered author.

So. Much. Love.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The baby walloped her full bladder, jerking Deanna Blake out of a mercifully sound sleep and scattering wisps of agitated dreams into the predawn gloom. Her heart hammering, she scooched farther underneath the soft Pendleton blanket, cradling her belly...

“A-choo!”

Gasping, Deanna heaved herself around just as the small child fled the room, awkwardly yanking shut the bedroom door behind him.

For what felt like the first time in weeks, she smiled, then clumsily shoved herself upright. Spearing a hand through her short, undoubtedly startled-looking hair, she frowned at her old room, coming more into focus as the weak November sun gradually elbowed aside the remnants of a dark country night. She’d been so wiped out from her cross-country flight, as well as the three-hour drive up from Albuquerque after, she hadn’t even turned on the light before crawling into bed. Now, taking in the old Gilmore Girls poster, its curled edges grasping at the troweled plaster walls, she wasn’t sure which was weirder—how long it’d been since she’d last slept here, or that the room was exactly as she’d left it more than ten years ago. Then again, why would Dad have changed it—?

Deanna squeezed shut her eyes as a double whammy of grief and guilt slammed into her, even stronger than the next kick that finally forced her out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom where she studiously avoided glancing at the mirror over the chipped marble sink. Between the pregnancy puffies and an unending series of sleepless nights, in the past few weeks her complexion had gone from fair to vampiresque. Meaning it was simply best not to look.

Teeth brushed and comb dragged through hair, she wrestled into a pair of very stretchy leggings and a tent-sized sweater before, on a deep breath, opening her door. A child’s laughter, the comforting scent of coffee she couldn’t drink, tumbled inside.

As if everything were perfectly normal.

Through a fog of sadness and apprehension, Deanna crept down the Saltillo-tiled hallway toward the kitchen, hoping against hope that Gus, her father’s old housekeeper, was just looking after the little boy while his daddy tended to some ranch duty or other. Just as Gus had watched Deanna from time to time, as well as Sam Talbot’s boys whenever the need arose. In some ways it’d been like having four older brothers, both a blessing and a curse for an only child living out in the New Mexico boonies.

She hesitated, gazing through a French door leading into the courtyard centering the traditional hacienda-style house. A light snow sugared the uneven flagstone, sparkling in the early morning sun. Save for the spurts of laughter, the house was as eerily quiet as she remembered. Especially after the constant thrum of traffic, of life, in DC. A pang of something she couldn’t quite identify shuddered through her. Not homesickness, she didn’t think. She palmed her belly, where the baby stirred.

Uncertainty? Maybe.

No, definitely.

The cavernous kitchen was empty, save for a huge gray cat sitting on a windowsill, calmly ascertaining Deanna’s worthiness to share its breathing space. The room hadn’t been vacant long, though, judging from the softly crackling fire in the potbellied stove at the far end of the enormous eat-in area, anchored by a rustic wood table that easily sat twelve. Even though the Vista Encantada’s century-old main house had long since been converted to natural gas, Gus had always lit the old stove, every morning from early October through mid-May. The dark cabinets and hand-painted Mexican tiles were the same, as well, even though the vintage six-burner range’s lapis finish seemed a little more pitted than she remembered. And for a moment she was a kid again, scarfing down one of Gus’s breakfast burritos before catching the school bus in the dark—

“Dee?”

She turned, immediately trapped in a pair of moss-colored eyes that had at one time been very dear to her. Dear enough to prompt her father to send her clear across the country when she was fifteen, to live with her mother’s sister. And oh, how she’d initially chafed at Dad’s assumption that something was going on between her and Josh Talbot that wasn’t. And wouldn’t. Because Josh had never been like that, even if Deanna hadn’t fully understood at the time what “that” might have been.

Somehow, she doubted he’d appreciate the irony of her current situation.

“Hey,” she said, crossing her arms as Josh dumped an armful of firewood into the bucket beside the stove, his mini-me peeking at her from behind his legs. It’d been over a decade since she’d caught more than a glimpse of him on her occasional visits home. And the tall, solid cowboy whose sharp gaze now latched on to her belly, then her hair, was nothing like the skinny, spindly teenager she used to sneak off to see, prompting her father’s conclusion-jumping. Although the shy, lonely girl she’d been, still reeling after her mother’s death, had only been seeking solace. A refuge. Neither of which, looking back, Josh had been under any obligation to give her—

“I didn’t expect...” Deanna shoved out a breath. “Where’s Gus?”

“Went into town with my mother for groceries. For...tomorrow.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, but with a decided, And where the hell have you been? edge to it.

So much for thinking her heart couldn’t be more shredded than it already was. Irony, again, to find herself facing exactly what she’d avoided by not coming home, that look of disappointment. Confusion. Not from her father, no, but still.

“Same goes,” she said into the awkward silence. Because she could hardly explain things with a child in the room, could she?

His mouth set, Josh nodded, and pain knifed through her. Josh’d been the only one of the former manager’s sons to show any real interest in ranching. Or, later, the horse-breeding operation. Even so, when medical issues forced Sam’s early retirement a few years back, her father’s asking Josh to take his dad’s place had surprised her. At least until she realized how close Josh and her father had become, despite that business when she and Josh had been teenagers. That Dad clearly thought of her childhood friend like a favorite nephew. If not the son he never had.

A feeling she’d gleaned had been mutual.

Blinking away tears, Deanna cleared her throat and smiled for the little boy, who kept peering at her from behind his daddy. Her father had told her about the child, that his mama wasn’t in the picture. Her hand went to her belly again, as if to reassure the little one inside.

“Hey, guy,” she said softly. “I’m Deanna. Mr. Blake’s daughter. Although you can call me Dee if you want. What’s your name?”

The child ducked back behind Josh and muttered something unintelligible. Sighing, Josh twisted to haul the boy into his arms. “How about trying that again? Only so she can actually hear you this time.”

“Austin,” the kid got out, giving her a sweet, heart-squeezing smile. Dark hair, like his daddy. Same eyes, too.

“Pleased to meet you, Austin—”

“How come your tummy’s so big?” he said, pointing to her belly, and Josh’s face blazed.

“Oh, jeez...”

Deanna laughed, even as she thought, At least one person in the room is being honest. “It’s okay, I’m used to it.” Returning her gaze to Austin, she bent over as much as she could and whispered, “There’s a baby growing inside me.”

The kid frowned. “Like the horses?”

“Exactly. Except this baby doesn’t have hooves.”

“Oh. Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A girl.”

Austin frowned at her belly again. “What’s her name?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

The kid gave her a maybe-you-should-get-on-that look that made Deanna’s chest tickle as she bit down on a smile. Then, heaving a breathy “Okay,” he wriggled out of his father’s arms and took off to mess with the cat, who’d thudded to the tiled floor then flopped in the morning’s first sunbeam, belly bared to the world. Or in this case, little boys. Brave cat.

“Sorry about the interrogation,” Josh said, and Deanna turned to see his mouth pushed into something reasonably close to a smile.

“Hey. At least he didn’t ask how the baby got in there.”

“Give him a minute,” Josh muttered, and for a second she saw the boy who’d kept her from losing it, all those years ago.

The boy she might have loved, if she’d been inclined to such foolishness.

“Austin’s adorable. He looks like you.”

“So everyone says.” He frowned. “Your...the baby’s father let you come alone?”

“We’re...not together.”

There was no denying the judgment in his stony expression. And not only about her pregnancy, she guessed. The baby kicked; stifling a wince, Deanna glanced over at Austin before meeting that penetrating gaze again. “I had no idea Dad was even sick. I swear. Because he’d made Gus swear not to tell me. Because if I’d known, nothing would’ve kept me from being here. And the worst thing is...” Her eyes stung. Tough. “I can’t even tell Dad how angry I am. How...hurt.”

The staring continued for several seconds before Josh said, “I know he didn’t tell you. But if you’d bothered to pay a visit in the last six months—”

“And why would I do that when Dad made it more than clear he didn’t particularly want me to?”

And why was she was even trying to explain something she didn’t entirely understand herself?

A long, tense moment passed before Josh said, “For what it’s worth, it happened pretty fast.”

“So Gus said.” Deanna glanced over at Austin, now lying beside the cat and apparently telling it a story, before facing Josh again. “Although I gather the only reason he did was because he figured I’d see the death certificate, discover the truth whether Dad wanted me to or not.”

Another breath left Josh’s lungs. “I suppose he didn’t want you to worry—”

“What he did,” Deanna said, not even trying to hide the bitterness in her voice, “was unfair and selfish. Kind of a major thing to keep from me.”

Josh’s eyes once more dropped to her swollen middle, and Deanna’s face warmed. Especially when he looked back up.

“Just like I’m guessing Granville had no idea about his granddaughter.”

“I didn’t intend to keep her a secret forever, for cripe’s sake! But I did know...” Her lips pressed tightly together. “That the circumstances surrounding my condition wouldn’t exactly make Dad happy. At least not...not before he had a chance to meet her. I had a plan,” she said over the stab to her heart. “Unfortunately it didn’t jibe with the Universe’s.”

That got a hard stare before Josh walked away to open the fridge.

“What would you like for breakfast?”

Deanna frowned, confused. “You don’t have to—”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Um...lunch yesterday? But cereal’s fine, don’t go to any trouble—”

“Not planning on it. But Gus left pancake batter, and even I can scramble eggs. The squirt already ate, an hour ago.”

“Eggs, then. If you’re sure—”

He shot her another look that shut her up...a look that said they only had to get through the next few days. Then everyone could get back to their regular lives.

Or whatever.

Another wave of grief shunted through her, as she thought about the ramifications of her father’s passing, not only for her but for the entire community. Weird, how she’d never thought much about what would happen to the ranch after his death, mainly because that’d always seemed so far in the future. Even though he’d been significantly older than her mother, somehow Deanna had always thought of Dad as immortal, like some Greek god. Especially since he’d never discussed the disposition of the property with her—

A sudden burst of voices from the mudroom shattered her thoughts. “Gramma!” Austin yelled as he abandoned the probably very relieved cat and sprinted across the room, where the woman who’d so often filled the gap in Deanna’s life, and heart, after her mother died dumped several recyclable grocery totes on the counter, then swept her grandson into her arms. Gus, the belly cantilevered over his giant belt buckle nearly as big as Deanna’s, followed a moment later, hauling several more bags which landed unceremoniously on the floor. Her long ponytail a mass of delicate, staticky silver wires against her back, Billie Talbot turned, her expression softening when she spotted Deanna.

“Oh, sweetheart...” she crooned, and fresh tears sprang to Deanna’s eyes. A moment later she was wrapped in the older woman’s arms. “I’m so sorry...so, so sorry...”

Unable to speak, Deanna nodded against Billie’s shoulder, the coarse fabric of the older woman’s poncho scratching her cheek. “Such a good man, your daddy,” Billie whispered into her hair. “Whole town’s gonna miss him like crazy...and oh, my goodness!” Holding Deanna apart, Billie grinned. “Seven months?”

“More or less.”

“And they let you fly?”

Scrubbing a tear off her cheek, Deanna smiled, remembering that Josh’s mother was a midwife. “Believe me, the flight attendants all breathed a huge sigh of relief when we landed,” she said, and Billie chuckled.

“I’ll bet they did.” Then she sighed. “It’s so good to see you, honey. I just wish it weren’t under these circumstances.”

“Me, too.”

Another gentle smile curving her lips, Josh’s mom tucked her hands underneath the poncho, seeming to see the rest of her for the first time. “Your hair...adorable. The darker color suits you.”

Deanna flushed. “Thanks.”

“And on you, the nose stud totally works.” A low laugh rumbled from her chest. “Although I can only imagine your daddy’s reaction. But listen, you need anything while you’re here, anything at all, you let me know. I mean it.”

“I know you do. And I’m grateful.”

A wordless nod preceded another hug before Billie turned to Josh. “Why don’t you let me take Austin back to the house for a while? Y’all don’t need a four-year-old underfoot right now.”

Josh seemed to hesitate for a moment, then smiled for his son. “Wanna go with Gramma?”

“Yeah!” the kid yelled, wriggling like somebody’d put bugs down his pants, and Deanna smiled, too, over the sadness cramping her heart. For the most part, and despite the events of the past little while, she loved her life back east, a life filled with art and dance and music with more instruments than a couple of guitars and a dude on drums. And no matter what, she had her father to thank for that, for giving her opportunities she would’ve never had if she’d stayed here. Even so, as she watched Josh softly talking to his mother and little boy, as the love and goodwill she’d always associate with this kitchen, this house, this godforsaken little town, washed over her, she had to admit it didn’t exactly feel terrible to be back.

For a little while, anyway.

* * *

Although there was no real reason to walk Mom and Austin out to her car, seeing Deanna again—especially an extremely pregnant Deanna with pointy black hair and a diamond in her nose, for godssake—had rattled Josh far more than he wanted to admit. He could only imagine what was going through his mother’s head.

“I think we’ve got everything for tomorrow,” Mom said after buckling Austin into one of the three car seats that were permanent fixtures in the back of her SUV. At the rate they were adding kids to the family, though, one of those wonker vans was looking good for the near future. Straightening, Mom swung her gaze to Josh’s. “Although Gus said there’s already a dozen casseroles and such in the freezer?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

A chilly breeze tangled his mother’s ponytail, pulled off her high-cheekboned face. “What do you know?” she asked, and Josh smiled drily.

“Meaning about Deanna?”

“Yep.”

“Not a whole lot. Since she’s only been back for five minutes. Also, it’s none of my business. Or anyone’s.”

“True. Although I did notice there’s no wedding ring.”

He paused. “She said she and the father aren’t together. And again...none of our business.”

“Hmm.” Mom squinted out toward the Sangre de Cristo mountains, their snowy tops aglow in the early morning sun, a harbinger of the winter breathing down their necks. Then she looked back at him, a little smile tilting her lips. “I know how much it annoyed you boys, the way your father and I were always up in your business.” The smile turned into a grimace. “Especially for Levi and Colin.” Both of whom had flown as far from the family nest as they could, even though Josh’s twin, Levi, had returned several months ago. “Still,” Mom said, “seeing the obvious pain in that little girl’s eyes, that she never got to say goodbye to her father...maybe your father and I didn’t do such a bad job, after all.”

“Like I’m gonna give you that much ammunition,” Josh said, and she swatted his shoulder.

Then she frowned. “I’m guessing Granville didn’t know about the baby?”

“It would appear not.”

Looking away, Mom slowly wagged her head. “I don’t get it, I really don’t. What would make one of the most generous human beings on the face of the planet disconnect from his only child?”

Crossing his arms, Josh sneaked a peek at his son, happily banging two little cars together. A question he’d asked himself many times, though even as a child Dee’s discontent with small-town living had been obvious. As though Whispering Pines wasn’t big enough to contain all that Deanna Blake was, or wanted to be...a malaise that only increased as she got older, if her periodic bitching to him had been any indication.

And certainly Josh would’ve never been enough for her, a truth he’d thankfully realized before he’d said or done anything he would’ve most certainly regretted. So her excitedly telling him on her fifteenth birthday she was moving to DC hadn’t come as all that much of a surprise, even if he hadn’t let on how much it’d killed him. Especially since he’d known in his gut she’d never come back. Not to live, anyway.

Even so, her father’s basically giving her up...it made no sense. Then again Austin’s mother hadn’t seemed to have an issue with leaving her son behind, had she? So maybe this was simply one of those “there’s no accounting for people” things.

Josh realized his mother was giving him her What are you thinking, boy? look. A smile flicked over his mouth. “I guess we’ll never find out. About her father, I mean.”

“Guess not.” Mom glanced back at the beautiful old house, which, along with the vast acreage surrounding it, the barns and pastures and guesthouses scattered along the river farther out, had been in the Blake family since before New Mexico was a state. “I suppose this will all go to her.”

Josh’d be lying if he said her words didn’t slice through him. Yeah, by rights the Vista was Dee’s now, she could do whatever she wanted with it. But Josh had never lived anywhere else. Or wanted to. So by rights the place was his home far more than it had ever really been Dee’s.

“I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow,” he said, trying to sound neutral. “After the memorial, the lawyer said.”

“Granville’s request?”

“Apparently so.” Just as his boss had been adamant he didn’t want a funeral, or a burial, or “any of that crap.” So he was probably looking down from wherever he was, pissed as all get-out about the memorial service. No way, though, was the town gonna let his passing go without any acknowledgment. As much as the old man had done for everybody, it’d be downright disrespectful to pretend as though nothing had happened. Meaning for once Granville Blake wasn’t getting his way.

“Well,” Mom said, opening her car door, “I’d best be getting back. I’ve got a couple of mothers to check up on later, but no babies due in the next little while, thank goodness. I told Gus I’d be there early tomorrow to get started on the food for the reception. I’ll bring Austin back then.”

“You don’t have to keep him—”

“I know I don’t. But something tells me Deanna’s gonna need a friend over the next couple of days.” She paused. Squinting. “And I don’t mean Gus.”

Josh sighed. “That was a long time ago, Mom.”

“So? It won’t kill you to be nice to the girl.”

Thinking, I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Josh stood in the graveled driveway, waving to Austin as his mother backed out, taking his buffer between him and Dee with her. But when he got back inside, where she was sitting at the table inhaling the breakfast that Gus had whipped up for her in the nanosecond Josh had been gone, it wasn’t his mother’s pushy words ringing in his ears, but Granville’s.

Because two days before he’d died, his boss—the boss who’d guarded his privacy so fiercely he’d refused to discuss his illness—happened to mention his suspicion that Dee was in some kind of trouble but wouldn’t tell him what. Mutterings Josh had chalked up to the illness, frankly. Or, more likely, Granville’s own guilt and regret that he’d kept his daughter in the dark about his condition. Talk about apples not rolling far from the tree.

Except obviously the old man’s intuition had been dead to rights, resurrecting all manner of protective feelings Josh had no wish to resurrect. Especially when she lifted those huge, deep brown eyes to his, and he was sixteen again, sharing one of those soul-baring conversations they used to have when they’d tell each other their dreams and hopes and fears, knowing there’d be no teasing, no judgment...

“If anybody needs me,” he said to the room at large, “I’ll be out working that new cutter I bought.”

Then he got his butt out of there before those wayward thoughts derailed what little common sense he had left.

Chapter Two

Apparently, pregnancy made her nostalgic. At least, that’s what Deanna was going with as she waddled outside after breakfast, bundled up against a morning chill laced with the scents of her childhood—fireplace smoke and horseflesh, the sweet breath of piñon overlaying the slightly musty tang of hoof-churned earth. It was always a shock, how clear the air was at this altitude, how the cloudless sky seemed to caress you, make you feel almost weightless. Even when you were hauling around thirty extra pounds that could never quite decide how to distribute itself.

A dog she didn’t recognize trotted toward her, something with a lot of Aussie shepherd in him. “And aren’t you a handsome boy?” she said softly, and the pooch dissolved into a wriggling mass of speckled love, dancing over to give her hand a cursory lick before trotting off again—Sorry, can’t dawdle, work to do, beasts to herd.

Other than the dog, little had changed that she could tell. The old, original barn still stood in all its dignified, if slightly battered, glory not far from the house, even though it’d been decades since any actual livestock had been sheltered there. She smiled, remembering the July Fourth barn dances her father had sponsored every year for the entire community, the cookout and potluck that had always preceded them. The fireworks, down by the pond. How much she’d loved all the hoopla as a child, even if she’d grown to dread it after her mother died of a particularly aggressive brain tumor when she was fourteen, when she’d never felt up to being the gracious hostess Mom had been. A role far more suited to someone...else.

Although most of the fencing around the property had been long since converted to wire, the pasture nearest the house was still bordered in good old-fashioned white post and rail...another bane of her existence when she was a kid and Dad had insisted she help repaint it whenever the need arose. Which had seemed like every five minutes at the time. She let her cold fingers skim the top rail, smiling when a nearby pregnant mare softly nickered, then separated herself from a half-dozen or so compadres and plodded over, almost as though she recognized Deanna. And damned if the jagged white blaze on her mahogany face wasn’t startlingly familiar.

“You’re Starlight’s, aren’t you?” she said gently, and the horse came close enough for her to sweep her fingers across her sleek muzzle, for the mare to “kiss” her hair. Same sweet nature as her mama, too, Deanna thought, chuckling for a moment before releasing another sigh.

It hadn’t been all bad, living out here. Boring, yes. Stifling, definitely. But as quickly as she’d acclimated to—and embraced—living back east, there’d been more than the occasional bout of feeling displaced, too. Even if she’d never admitted it. She’d missed riding, and the sky, and the deep, precious silence of a snowy night. Greasy nachos at the rodeo every fall. The way the mountains seemed to watch over the plains and everything that lived on them. The way everyone kept an eye out for everyone else.

Josh.

She spotted him, working a sleek chestnut gelding in the distance, as homesickness spiked through her, so sharp she lost her breath.

Homesickness, and regret. Choking, humiliating, taunting regret.

Shivering, Deanna wrapped up more tightly in the giant shawl she’d scored for ten bucks at that thrift store near her apartment—

Crap. She had no idea where she belonged anymore, although here certainly wasn’t it. Here was her past, which she’d long since outgrown. But her life there, in DC, had collapsed like a house of cards, hadn’t it? All she knew was that she’d better figure something out, and soon, before this little person made her appearance. Kinda hard to bring a baby home if you weren’t sure where home was.

Still caressing the mare’s sun-warmed coat, Deanna looked out toward the other horses grazing the frosted grass, their coats gleaming in the strengthening morning sun as bursts of filmy white puffed from their nostrils. Then she started as she realized Josh was headed her way. His own breath clouding his face, he came up beside her, digging into his pocket for a piece of carrot for the mare.

“I see you two have already met.”

Deanna drew back her hand, wrapping up more tightly in the shawl. “She’s Starlight’s, isn’t she?”

“Yep.”

“What’s her name?”

“Starfire. One of the best cutters I’ve ever ridden. Her babies should fetch a pretty penny. This one’s already spoken for, in fact.”

“When’s she due?”

“Late January or thereabouts.”

After a moment, Deanna said, “So she actually gets to carry her foal to term?” and Josh softly chuckled. She knew many “serious” breeders only used their prize mares to jumpstart an embryo, then transplanted them into surrogates. She supposed in some ways it was less stressful on the mare that way, but it’d always seemed to her so...callous. Like the horses were only things to be used.

“Not to worry. Your daddy would’ve killed me, for one thing. Not to mention my daddy. No, we do things the old-fashioned way around here,” he said, stroking the mare’s shiny neck. “Don’t we, sweetheart?”

The horse nodded, the movement knocking off Josh’s hat.

“Hey!” The horse actually snickered, making Josh shake his head before scooping the hat off the ground.

Deanna smiled as Josh smacked the old Stetson against his thighs to knock off the dust, then rammed it back on his head. “She looks so much like her mama it’s uncanny.”

“You seen her yet?”

“Ohmigosh—she’s still here?”

Something like aggravation shunted across Josh’s features. “Until the day she crosses over. Why would you think she wouldn’t be?”

“Because I’d told Dad to sell her, since I wouldn’t be riding her anymore. At least, not enough to warrant keeping her. But he kept her anyway?”

Leaning back against the fence, Josh folded his arms over his chest, releasing another little puff of dust from his well-worn barn coat. “He came to talk to her every day. Sometimes twice a day, until...well.” A small smile curved his lips. “To tell her all about what you were doing. I even caught him showing the horse your picture on his phone once.”

“Get out.”

“Of course, then he got all embarrassed when he realized I’d seen him.” The smile grew, even if it didn’t quite catch in his eyes. “Your father was crazy, I hope you know.”

This said so gently, and with so much love, Deanna’s eyes burned. But before she could recover, Josh said, “I know why he sent you away, Dee. Or at least, I can guess. And no, he never talked about you all that much afterward. But when he did...” Looking away, he shook his head. “It was obvious how much he loved you.” His gaze met hers again. “How much missed you—”

“You mind if we don’t talk about this right now? About Dad?”

His cheeks pinking slightly, Josh straightened, turning to look out over the pasture. “Sorry. I’m not real good at this.”

“At what?”

“Social graces. Knowing when to keep my trap shut. I hear this stuff in my head—” he waved in the general direction of his hat “—and it just falls out of my mouth.”

“I remember,” Deanna said quietly, then smiled, not looking at him. “I think that’s why we were friends.”

“Because I have no filter whatsoever?”

“Yes, actually.” She let their eyes meet, and her heart thudded against her sternum even harder than the baby kicking her belly button from the inside. “Because I knew you’d always be straight with me. Because...because you never treated me like the boss’s daughter.”

Confusion flitted across his face for a moment until he punched out a laugh. “Oh, trust me, I always treated you like the boss’s daughter.”

Now it was Deanna’s turn to flush. Partly because she got his drift, partly because she’d had no idea there’d been a drift to get. Or not, in this case.

Another subject she didn’t want to talk about, one she’d had no idea was even on the table until thirty seconds ago. However, at this rate they’d have nothing left to discuss except the weather, and wouldn’t that be lame?

“Didn’t mean to abandon you,” he said, and her head jerked to his again. “A little bit ago. For breakfast?”

“Oh. Right. It’s okay, Gus took over. As Gus does. Although I ate so little he threatened to hook me up to an IV.”

“So much for eating for two.”

“Yeah, well, one of the two has squished my stomach into roughly the size of an acorn. Not to mention my bladder. Anyway, I assured him that since I’d eaten everything that wasn’t nailed down in my second trimester I doubted the kid was suffering.”

Josh’s gaze lingered on her belly for several seconds before he turned to prop his forearms on the top rail. “So how long are you here?”

“Not sure. A couple of weeks? I figured...” Deanna cleared her throat, then clutched the fence, stretching out her aching back. “I figured,” she said to the ground as she willed the baby to shift, “there’d be...” Standing upright again, she met Josh’s gaze. “There’d be things to discuss. Handle. Whatever. So I left my ticket open-ended. Long as I’m back the week before Thanksgiving, I’m good.”

“And what happens then?”

“Among other things, an all Mahler concert at the National Symphony I’ve been looking forward to for months. But also an installation at my gallery. Well, not my gallery, but where I work. Young Japanese painter. I...” Her face warmed. “Through a weird confluence of events, I sort of ‘discovered’ him. This will be his first US showing, so we’re all very excited...and your eyes just glazed over, didn’t they?”

“That’s the clouds coming in, they said it might snow later.” She chuckled. Josh crossed his arms. “You like it? What you’re doing?”

“I adore it. It’s what I’m good at. What I love. That I’m actually employed doing something related to what Dad coughed up four years’ tuition for is a bonus.”

When she reached behind her to massage her lower back again—because her daughter’s favorite position involved ramming her skull into the spot right over Deanna’s tailbone—Josh’s gaze dropped to her stomach again, then away.

“This must feel weird. Being back.”

“You have no idea. Like I’m having a dream where I’m a kid again. Because so little has changed.”

Josh gave her a funny look. “Did you expect it to be different?”

“I’m not sure what I expected, truthfully.”

“You’re not what I expected, either.” His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her hair. “What’s up with that, anyway?”

She laughed. “It was decided I needed to look—” she made air quotes “‘edgier’. As in, customers are more likely to buy contemporary art from someone who actually looks contemporary to the twenty-first century. So buh-bye long, blah brown hair, hello—”

“Edgy.”

“Yep. And this is not the pic Dad was showing Starlight. Trust me.”

“Since you never sent him one of you looking like this.”

“Oh, hell, no.”

Josh crossed his arms. “So this is, what? A costume?”

“It’s called dressing the part. And everybody does it. Seriously—if you rode into the rodeo ring in a business suit, would people take you seriously?”

Grinning, Josh looked away. “Point taken.”

Starfire’s breath warmed Deanna’s face when she reached up to stroke the mare’s nose again. “Gus said Dad had hospice come in, at the end,” she said quietly.

“The very end,” Josh breathed out. “That last week or so. Gus was his main caregiver. The rest of us filled in when we could, of course. Or I should say, when Gus let us. Since according to him we never did things right.”

Her jaw tight, Deanna looked back toward the house. “And as I said, Dad could have clued me in, anytime. Or let Gus do it.” Her mouth pulled tight. “I can tell how much it sucked for the old guy, caught between loyalty to my father and what he clearly felt he should’ve done.”

“And obviously you were in no condition to be nursing someone—”

“First off, between Gus and me, we would’ve managed. Secondly, also as I said, Dad didn’t know I was pregnant.” Her tenuous grasp on a good mood slipped away. “And this is a dumb conversation.”

She felt Josh stiffen beside her. “Just like any conversation that gets too close to reality, right? Seriously, if there’s some kind of prize for avoiding a subject, you’d win hands down.”

“And you might want to think about picking a fight with a pregnant woman.”

“I think I can handle it. And have. And since I have absolutely nothing to lose here, I may as well say this—whatever’s going on with you, whatever kind of relationship you and your father had is none of my concern. I know that. But this keeping secrets crap is for the birds. Especially since your dad knew something was going on with you, even if he didn’t know what. And that was my concern, since I worked for the man.”

Deanna gawked at him for several seconds before averting her eyes again. “That’s ridiculous.”

“My concern?”

“No. That you think he knew something—”

“Because he told me, Dee. He was worried about you. I’m not making that up.”

Annoyance surged through her. “If he was so worried about me, why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t he simply ask me?”

“Oh, I don’t know—maybe because he knew you wouldn’t’ve told him, so what would’ve been the point? Because God forbid the two of you actually talk to each other. And you know what?” he said, pushing away from the fence. “You’re right, this is a dumb conversation. And I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime.”

“Dammit, Josh—don’t be like this!”

“Like what?” he said, a frown digging into his forehead. “Who I’ve always been? The dude you could count on to be straight with you? Fine. You don’t wanna talk, I can’t make you. But you’re not gonna shut me up, either.” He shrugged. “Just how it goes.”

Then he stalked off, his boots thudding in the dirt, and Deanna sighed.

This was going to be the longest two weeks in the history of the planet.

* * *

His toddler stepdaughter balanced on one hip, Josh’s twin, Levi, came up beside him in the ranch’s formal dining room, where the dark, highly polished table contrasted with the troweled plaster walls and beamed ceiling. But after probably half a century Josh wouldn’t have been surprised to find the table’s graceful feet had taken root in the pitted grout between the old handmade tiles. He remembered, because his brain was being a real sonuvabitch today, hiding in here with Deanna when they were little—really little, like before he’d even started school—sitting under the table and pointing out “pictures” they’d see in the uneven tiles—

“You doing okay?” Levi asked, frowning at some unidentifiable finger food before picking one up and popping it into his mouth, anyway.

“Sure,” Josh muttered, doing some frowning of his own at Deanna through the wide, arched doorway between the dining room and the vast great room where she sat on one of the leather sofas, Mom watchdogging beside her as people offered their condolences.

His brother’s gaze followed Josh’s, but thankfully he kept his mouth shut. For the moment, anyway. Levi offered the toddler one of the...things, but with a vigorous shake of her dark curls and an emphatic, “No!” Risa shoved away his hand. So Levi ate it for her. As one did.

“Nice service,” his brother said, like they were distant cousins who hadn’t seen each other in twenty years. Josh glowered; Levi shrugged. “Well, it was. Simple and to the point. Granville would’ve approved. Doncha think?”

“Except he didn’t want a service at all. People making over him and stuff.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t always get our druthers, do we? And if you stare any harder at Deanna somebody’s gonna melt.”

“I’m not—”

Levi snorted. Josh sighed. Levi snorted again.

“You know, I do remember a few things from when we were kids. Like how you two were joined at the hip. Okay, bad choice of words,” he said when Josh glared at him again. “But you spent a lot more time with her than you did with any of us.”

“Because you all were jerks?”

“There is that.” The baby hugged his neck, yawned, and settled her head on his chest, giving Josh a sweet little smile before her dark eyes fluttered closed. Levi smoothed her thick hair away from his chin and said softly, “But I seem to recall you used to be pretty damn protective of her. I’m guessing that hasn’t changed.”

Blowing out a breath, Josh picked up one of the whatever-they-weres and ate it. Except for the green chile—which found its way into 90 percent of the food around here, with red the other ten—his taste buds weren’t really cluing him in. “Everything’s changed, Leev,” he said, chewing. “Seriously—are you the same person you were at seventeen?”

“No. Thank God. But I still love the same woman I did then,” he said with a glance at his still-very-new wife Val, who gave him a little wave. Softly smiling, Levi met Josh’s gaze again. “Only now we’re good together. When we were teenagers...” He shook his head. “Would’ve been a disaster.”

“Which has nothing to do with anything.”

“Do you even realize how pissed you sound?”

Behind the teasing—and okay, the truth—lay a genuine concern that only proved his brother’s words, that Levi wasn’t the same live-for-the-moment bad boy he’d been as a kid. Or had seemed to be, anyway. But after six years in the army and taking on a ready-made family, nobility sat a lot more comfortably on his shoulders than anyone could have possibly imagined back then. Which only proved his point that people changed. Sometimes even for the better.

“I don’t like unresolved issues, Leev. That’s all.”

Levi’s brows lifted. “Deanna’s an unresolved issue?”

“Not for me, no. No,” he said to Levi’s skeptical look. “But I suspect she’s got them. And I...” He shoved out another harsh breath.

“You still care. Which makes you feel like an idiot. Hey. We’re not twins for nothing,” he said, when Josh gave him the side-eye.

“Fraternal. We’re not clones, for godssake.”

“And you don’t share womb space—not to mention a bunk bed—for as long as we did without getting a pretty good feel for what the other person is thinking. Besides, I’m only returning the favor.” He nodded toward his wife again. “Considering how you didn’t exactly stay out of my face about Val, either.”

“And remind me to never say anything to anybody in this family about anything, ever again.”

Hiking the toddler higher on his chest, Levi chuckled. “Like that’s gonna happen,” he said, his gaze swinging toward their father, in conversation with Gus on the other side of the room. “You know what’s hell?” he said softly. “Being the child of fixers. Inheriting that gene. Because the truth is, we can’t fix everything. Hell, we can’t fix most things.” From his tone, Josh figured Levi was referring to his tours in Afghanistan, a time he still didn’t talk about much. At least, not to Josh. “The trick is,” Levi said, facing Josh again, “knowing which battles are yours to fight, and which aren’t. And sometimes...” He picked up another appetizer, gesturing with it in Deanna’s direction before taking a bite. “And sometimes it’s simply about showing up. Being there. Even if you know you’re not going to win.”

Josh felt another frown bite into his forehead. “Win? Win what?”

“The battle,” his brother said, then walked away to rejoin his wife and older stepdaughter across the room.

Yeah, not making him feel better. Especially since, as far as Josh could tell, the battle was in Dee’s head. Where it would undoubtedly stay, he thought irritably. And whether or not that made sense—his irritation even more than her reticence—it simply was.

Because this wasn’t his first rodeo. As it were, he thought grimly.

What was it with women, anyway? At least, every woman he’d ever known. Either they shared every single thought that floated through their brains, or they kept what they were really thinking locked up like it was a state secret. Only it wasn’t really a secret, oh, no. Because damned if they didn’t expect you to somehow magically know what they wanted or what was bugging them. And then what you were supposed to do to make it better. Like you didn’t really care unless you could read their minds.

A real stretch considering most men didn’t completely understand what a woman was saying when she did tell him. Because there were always these...subtexts. God, he hated subtexts.

Josh took another sip of his beer, not even sure why he was trying to figure this—her—out. Except... Deanna Blake had been the only female he’d ever known—with the possible exception of his mother—who’d always been open with him. Not rudely, or oversharing all the girl stuff he really did not want to know about. But he’d always known where they stood with each other. So her clamming up now was pissing him off. Big time.

A rough breath left his lungs around the same time Dee’s gaze wandered to his. His mother was nowhere to be seen, meaning Dee was alone, looking very brave. And, weirdly, very small. Since at only a few inches shorter than Josh, she wasn’t.

She smiled, after a fashion, and his gut cramped, remembering how bright that smile had once been. The way it’d light up her whole face...and Josh’s insides. How, for every time she’d rant and rave about something, she’d laugh five times more. These huge, completely unladylike belly laughs that sometimes got so out of hand she’d have to cross her legs so she wouldn’t pee herself.

But only when she was with him, she’d said.

So he was guessing her obvious unwillingness to talk about what had led to her current predicament—and he had no doubt it was a predicament—was basically a defense mechanism for when your life has gone to hell in a handbasket and you’re too damn embarrassed to talk to anybody about it. Especially when—he heard his son giggling, playing with his other cousins near the fireplace—it was kind of hard to ignore the consequences of that handbasket ride.

Not to mention the hell part of it.

Tossing his empty bottle in the plastic-lined bin by the table, Josh marched his sorry ass into the other room and over to Dee, where he dropped onto the sofa beside her like he actually knew what he was doing. Even though, aside from the fact he doubted he could fix things for her any better now than when they were kids, he also imagined they were the worst possible combination of two people in the entire world right now.

And quite possibly the only two people who’d really understand what the other was going through.

He thought this was called working with what you had. Or were given.

Something.

* * *

By this point Deanna was so drained, both emotionally and physically, she was basically numb. She’d told herself she wouldn’t cry, but that had been a lost cause. Shoot, there were tears when she scored her favorite ice cream in the freezer case; what on earth had she expected at her father’s memorial service? Stoicism? And right on cue, her chest fisted. Again.

And Josh was not helping. But asking him to go away would be mean. Not to mention self-defeating. Since as much as she wished he hadn’t come over, she didn’t want him to leave, either. Actually, what she really wanted was to curl into as much of a ball as her massive middle would allow and sleep the merciful sleep of the oblivious. Lord, pregnancy brain was a bitch. However, even if Josh hadn’t planted his large self beside her on the couch there was the will reading to get through. Honestly, it was like being in some old black-and-white movie, what with the drama and all—

He’d leaned forward, his elbows planted on his knees. Not looking at her. Just being there, like the old days.

“You doin’ okay?”

“Mostly. Sure.”

One side of his mouth lifted. “If you say so,” he said, and she sort of laughed, rubbing her belly. Babypie was apparently snoozing, thank God, although that hard little head still relentlessly gouged her lower back.

But anyway, Josh. Whose scent immediately brought back a slew of memories—maybe not so numb, at that—that made her think of things she’d refused to let herself think about then, and for darn sure shouldn’t be thinking about now. Or ever. God knew not all cowboys smelled that good—and there’d been plenty of times when Josh hadn’t, either, to be real—but right now it was all about leather and fresh cotton and something piney and yummy and her extraspecial pregnancy smeller was having a freaking field day.

“You need anything? Food or whatever?”

“No. Thanks. Your mom made sure I ate.”

“She’s good at that.”

Josh sat up a little straighter, scrubbing one palm over his knee. Jeans, of course, although his “good” ones. Paired with a black corduroy shirt with silver buttons, a tan sports jacket, the guy didn’t look half-bad. This late in the day a beard haze shadowed his jaw, giving him a sexy male model look, God help her.

Then he laced his hands together between his knees, frowning at the tops of his boots—also his “good” ones, dirt-and dung-free. “When’d Steve say the reading was again?”

“He should be here any minute,” Deanna said, and Josh nodded. The last of the guests—a couple from a nearby ranch, she didn’t even remember their names, so sad—stopped to give her the obligatory, “If you need anything, anything at all, please let us know,” before walking away, and Deanna huffed a tired little breath. From the time she’d heard until this very moment, everything had felt oddly surreal, familiar and yet not, like being in a play she ought to know her part in but she didn’t, really. Now, for some bizarre reason, it felt as though the stage lights were being shut off, one by one, leaving her and Josh on a bare stage, lit only by the eerie glare of a single, stark light. The good news was, she could stop pretending now, if she chose.

The bad news was, she still had no idea what her reality was. Or was supposed to be. But when she looked at Josh’s profile, saw that set jaw, the grim set to his mouth, it occurred to her she wasn’t the only one whose world was about to turn upside down. Or inside out. Heck, Josh had given his entire life to this ranch. Meaning whatever came next would probably affect him a lot more than it would her.

From the kitchen, a murmur of voices floated into the silent, cavernous room—his parents and Gus, she thought. Austin came over to climb in Josh’s lap; Josh wrapped his arms around his son from behind as though nothing, nothing, would ever come between them, and suddenly Deanna wanted to know so badly what’d happened between Josh and Austin’s mother it almost made her dizzy. She’d asked Gus, actually, but he’d said it wasn’t his story to tell.

“Hey,” she said softly, and Josh angled his head to look at her, the obvious worry glimmering in those soft goldy-green eyes punching her insides harder than the baby’s foot. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she reached over—awkwardly—to lay a hand on his knee, right beside Austin’s little sneaker. “It’s gonna be okay.”

He actually chuckled. “You telling me that? Or yourself?” he said, a moment before the lawyer arrived, looking a little windblown from the short walk from the driveway to the front door.

“Sorry I couldn’t make the service,” he said breathlessly as Josh stood to shake his hand. “Got summoned to a surprise court appearance in Santa Fe.” Sweeping hunks of unruly silver hair off his forehead, Steve Riggs gave Deanna a sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry, honey, I really am. Your daddy was a good man. We’ll all miss him.”

The same words she’d heard no less than three dozen times in the past two hours. Still, she knew the sentiment was sincere.

“Thank you.”

“Well,” the attorney said, looking a little relieved at being able to move on, “I suppose I’m ready when you are. Do you need help?” he asked when she tried to cantilever herself to her feet. But Josh was already on the case, having set Austin down to come around the side of the sofa, bracing one arm across her back to hoist her upright.

The attorney’s brows spiked over his glasses. “My goodness. When are you due?”

Because she was not one of those women who only gained fifteen pounds and looked like she was carrying a cantaloupe. “Six weeks or so.”

“Well.” Steve’s favorite word, apparently. “If you gather the others, I suppose we can do the reading in Granville’s office. Unless...” His gaze swung to Deanna’s. “You’d rather do it elsewhere?”

“The office is fine.”

It didn’t take long. Her dad had left modest bequests to various people in the community who’d be notified in a few days. Gus got an annuity, Dad’s old Caddy and the right to live in one of the guesthouses as long as he wished. Since Dad had already given Josh’s parents a house in town after Sam’s retirement, his gifts to them now included a few stocks and bonds and a small Thomas Moran landscape painting Sam had always admired...and which Deanna knew was worth big bucks. Then, aside from a modest savings account which went to Deanna, there were a few disbursements to various charities Dad had always supported, particularly ones that worked with the local Native populations.

“And now,” Steve said, peering over his glasses at Deanna, then Josh, before clearing his throat. “‘I leave my ranch, known as the Vista Encantada, including the house, the land, any and all outbuildings and whatever livestock on said land at the time of my death, equally to my only daughter, Deanna Marie Blake, and my employee Joshua Michael Talbot.”

A moment of stunned silence preceded a dual “What?” from Deanna and Josh.

“Congratulations, kids,” Steven said, angling the will toward them so they could see for themselves. “You’re now co-owners of one of the prettiest pieces of property in northern New Mexico.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.