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His Twin Baby Surprise
Patricia Forsythe
He never wanted to put down rootsFormer football star Ben McAdams is constantly travelling, looking for new investment opportunities and supporting charities. Becoming a father was never part of his plan. But then Lisa tells him he’s going to be a dad…and she doesn’t want his help. And somehow that makes him need to step in.Lisa Thomas has always wanted to save the world, on her own terms. Carrying twins was never part of her plan, which now includes working a full-time job and stepping in as temp mayor of their small Oklahoma town. So what if she's falling for Ben? He's only going to leave in the end…because that's what Ben does.


He never wanted to put down roots
Former football star Ben McAdams is constantly traveling, looking for new investment opportunities and supporting charities. Becoming a father was never part of his plan. But then Lisa tells him he’s going to be a dad...and she doesn’t want his help. And somehow that makes him need to step in.
Lisa Thomas has always wanted to save the world, on her own terms. Carrying twins was never part of her plan, which now includes working a full-time job and stepping in as temp mayor of their small Oklahoma town. So what if she’s falling for Ben? He’s only going to leave in the end...because that’s what Ben does.
“Is something wrong?” Lisa asked, but the ultrasound technician was gone.
Ben took her hand and this time, she didn’t resist. “If she’s not back in two minutes I’ll go find her,” he promised. “Along with the doctor.”
“What...what do you think is wrong?”
“Probably nothing. Let’s wait and see.”
The technician brought the doctor back quickly. He was an older man whose white hair and smiling demeanor inspired confidence.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas. I’m Dr. Harber and I just want to check something here.”
Neither Lisa nor Ben corrected him on their names, but watched as he moved the wand slowly across her belly. After a minute, he said, “You’re probably wondering what we’re seeing. It takes a little practice to distinguish it exactly.” He pointed to the screen. “Right here, we have a head, and over here is another head.”
Lisa’s voice squeaked as she squeezed Ben’s hand and asked, “I’m having a two-headed baby?”
Dr. Harber chuckled. “No, of course not. There are also four arms, four legs, and two bodies. You’re having twins.”
Dear Reader (#u9d25d6bf-8960-524d-b564-d6776139952b),
Welcome back to Reston, Oklahoma. If this is your first visit, I hope you enjoy this quirky small town and its colorful characters. His Twin Baby Surprise is the third book in the Oklahoma Girls miniseries and features Lisa Thomas and Ben McAdams who grew up together, but who have very different goals in life. Lisa is a hardworking, focused Realtor who wants to bring jobs and prosperity to her hometown. She leaves nothing to chance. Ben is a former professional football player who now has charities and businesses all over the world. He is charming and laid-back and has no intention of putting down roots anywhere. Their plans are derailed when they meet unexpectedly far from Reston—a meeting that will have unexpected consequences for them both.
I hope that Lisa and Ben’s journey to love and accept each other is one you will love.
Happy reading!
Patricia
His Twin Baby Surprise
Patricia Forsythe


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
PATRICIA FORSYTHE is the author of many romance novels and is proud to have received her twenty-five-book pin from Harlequin. She hopes there are many more books to come. A native Arizonan, Patricia loves setting books in areas where she has spent time, like the beautiful Kiamichi Mountains of Oklahoma. She has held a number of jobs, including teaching school, working as a librarian and as a secretary, and operating a care home for developmentally disabled children. Her favorite occupation, though, is writing novels in which the characters get into challenging situations and then work their way out. Each situation and set of characters is different, so sometimes the finished book is as much of a surprise to her as it is to the readers.
This book is dedicated to my granddaughters—Ashley, Alicia, Madison, Tamsin, Fiona and Eleanor. May life always bring you joy.
Contents
Cover (#ue6ecdefc-a8bf-5ce2-b137-bcf54ae412cd)
Back Cover Text (#u29519ffb-5153-57b9-9709-3a09a426f13f)
Introduction (#u0fb698f7-8f33-5110-92f4-25cf363528c4)
Dear Reader (#u693d5438-924f-59a5-9057-af9445e49737)
Title Page (#u5e6ed824-91a7-5575-ab14-2d8e800a149d)
About the Author (#u8be3ce7e-cedc-50ed-af95-74e8818bea6a)
Dedication (#uec28e31c-f899-5eab-b53c-c47e56634f34)
PROLOGUE (#u78fa7448-a900-5b09-9290-08ea66b63156)
CHAPTER ONE (#ufcd45a79-db04-585a-9504-4c179e6088b3)
CHAPTER TWO (#ua77b9717-1804-5c92-ada7-44ae39c9f582)
CHAPTER THREE (#u31382552-3625-5e79-b8d9-d377d1629aee)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u398c4d98-6d3f-5244-af08-ee11dd11bc89)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#u9d25d6bf-8960-524d-b564-d6776139952b)
INSIDE THE RESTON COUNTY sheriff’s station, Fred Jepson was wondering about the wisdom of having eaten a whole meat pie for lunch.
Mary Alice made them down at the café and he couldn’t resist them. They were huge—flaky pastry stuffed with meat and potatoes. Enough for two people, but he always ate the whole thing. Why let it go to waste? Why hurt Mary Alice’s feelings? And that chocolate cake she made? It was enough to make a grown man weep. He’d had to have a piece of that.
What Fred didn’t doubt was the wisdom of bringing in the McAdams boy. Ben was in the holding cell in the next room, eating the sandwich Fred had brought back for him. The cell had a cot, a sink, a toilet and nothing else. Worked out fine for the usual lawbreakers and the drunks who didn’t need to be on the road on a Saturday night. A little stark and scary for a twelve-year-old, but the kid had to learn a lesson about hurting other people, about obeying the law. Better to have him here overnight now for shooting Mrs. Crabtree in the butt with a stone from his slingshot than in jail for months or years down the road for a felony.
As the sheriff, duly elected by the citizens of Reston County, he felt an obligation to set the boy on the right path.
Fred snorted. Who gave their kids a slingshot anymore? Jim and Helen were pushovers. That kid of theirs got everything he wanted just by grinning and showing his dimples.
He leaned back in his chair and loosened his belt. That was a little better. He glanced around to make sure he was alone, though he knew that all but one of his deputies was on patrol or at lunch. Deputy Earl Flake was out back, tinkering with the engine on an old cruiser, sure he could make it run again.
The office receptionist, Anita Sturm, had decided the refrigerator in the break room was disgusting and was cleaning it out. When he’d peeked in earlier, she’d been half wedged inside the freezer, scrubbing to her heart’s content. Fred knew better than to get in her way when she was in a cleaning mood. He’d thoughtfully closed the door to the break room so she could work in peace and could say as many angry things as she needed to about the unsanitary habits of certain men she knew. He’d told her he’d answer the phone if it rang, but he didn’t expect any calls. The town was pretty quiet at lunchtime.
He unsnapped his pants and slid down the zipper just to give his gut room to breathe for a few minutes. He’d fasten himself up again as soon as he heard someone at the outer door.
He’d gained weight in the past few months. He knew it and he was going to do something about it soon, probably tomorrow. If he had to chase down a runner, he’d be screwed. His uniform was too tight and he could barely fasten his belt, even on the last notch, but he refused to buy a larger size. He was going to lose weight and get back in shape soon.
He returned to thinking about Ben. The boy was in the sixth grade now, big for his age and eager to play football. Football was a religion in Reston. Jim McAdams, Fred’s old high school rival, had been its deity during his school days. He wanted the same for his son.
Jim would have that if Ben didn’t end up in juvenile detention first. The family didn’t realize it, but Fred was doing them a favor by scaring some sense into their boy right now.
He was still considering that when the door to the outer office was thrown open, reverberating against the wall. Startled, Fred jerked upright. No one came in, but he craned his neck to see five kids scuffling in the dirt, fighting, clawing and kicking. Their howls echoed into the jail as they shrieked and tumbled.
Fred pushed his chair back and lumbered to his feet, forgetting about his pants as the weight of his utility belt dragged them down and they started to slip.
His horrified attention was on the kids. There was something wrong with their faces. Their features seemed to be smashed in. It was several seconds before he realized they were all wearing stockings over their heads. One kid had a pair of pantyhose over his, the legs tied up in a kind of crazy ponytail that bobbed on top of his head. Or her head. Fred couldn’t tell.
“Hey, what’s going on here? Stop that right now. You can’t be fighting like that.”
They ignored him, continuing to punch and kick as they howled and screamed, kicking up dust and knocking over a trash can. They banged up against the side of the building as they called each other names, the yelling so loud and crazy he couldn’t make sense of what they were saying.
“Stop! Stop!” Fred bellowed. He started around the side of the desk, forgetting about his pants, which immediately fell to his knees, hobbling him. He tripped and went down like two hundred and fifty pounds of wet cement, face-first. Instantly the fighting outside paused and he heard footsteps running toward him.
“Sorry, Sheriff Jepson,” one of them growled in an obvious effort to disguise his voice. “Just...just stay down, okay?”
“What? Stop. What are you doing?” Fred couldn’t get up and he couldn’t turn over because of the way his pants had twisted around his knees.
“Get the key! Get the key!” the kids were shouting in unison from where they crowded around the door.
He could hear one of them scrambling through the items on his desk, opening drawers and riffling through.
“I got it!” the kid shrieked.
Fred couldn’t tell who it was—who any of them were. He groaned when one of them crouched on his back to keep him down. Blackness was closing in on him. Mary Alice’s meat pie threatened to make a second appearance.
He managed to turn his head to the side enough to see one of the kids run toward the other room. He heard the rattle of the key in the lock of the holding cell. A moment later that same kid ran past with Ben in tow.
The boy was yelling, “Are you crazy? My dad woulda got me out.”
The kid who was pulling him responded, “Shut up and come on. We’re heading for the border. My uncle Lester’s been in jail for years and Grandpa says he’ll never get out.”
“I’m not your uncle Lester. How come you think you’re the boss of everybody?”
“I’m standing up for my friend,” the kid insisted. “You gotta think about your future. You don’t want to be a criminal.”
“I ain’t a criminal, and you didn’t let me finish my sandwich.”
“Oh, quit thinking about your stomach.”
“I don’t need you to—” Ben started to say but the other kid jerked him out the door.
Fred heard feet running away, and the one sitting on his back jumped up, freeing him. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he cursed.
His prisoner was in the wind.
CHAPTER ONE (#u9d25d6bf-8960-524d-b564-d6776139952b)
Twenty years later
LISA THOMAS STARED at the row of pregnancy tests—six of them—lined up on the table in front of her like crestfallen soldiers who had let their leader go down in defeat.
“They’re all positive.” Gemma Whitmire, one of her best friends since childhood, sat beside her. Carly Joslin, her other best friend, sat, too, and scooted her chair in closer.
They were in one of the examination rooms of the Sunshine Birthing Center, which Gemma had founded for the benefit of the women of Reston County. The walls were painted a soothing pale green, but the color did nothing to calm Lisa’s distress.
Her eyes full of tears, and her lips trembling, she asked, “You don’t think they could be lying?”
Gemma gave her a gentle smile, her eyes sympathetic. “What would be their motive? They’re inanimate objects. They would have no reason to lie. I’ve been a midwife for a long time, Lisa, so I can tell you that pregnancy tests, especially six of them done at the same time, are going to be truthful.”
Panic fluttered in Lisa’s throat as she looked around. “But we’re in your birthing center. Don’t you have a...another test I can take?”
“The ones here at the Sunshine Birthing Center aren’t any different than those you bought at the pharmacy.”
In desperation Lisa turned to clutch at Gemma’s hands, holding them with her shaking fingers. She knew her hair was frazzled and messy because she’d been sitting and holding her head in her hands while she’d waited for the test results—which she now had. “But what if I did another—”
“Doing another test won’t change the results,” added Carly.
White-faced, Lisa looked at them. “Pregnant. How? How could this have happened?”
Carly raised a dark eyebrow. “Oh, I think it happened in the usual way.”
“I can give you a clinical description,” Gemma added, “but I think you know how it happened.”
“I...I do know. But I’m thirty-three years old. It’s not like I’m a silly teenager with her first boyfriend...and we...we used protection.”
“No protection is one hundred percent reliable.”
“I know that—however, I didn’t think—”
“Did you suspect you were pregnant? Has anything been different?”
“I’ve been a little light-headed, though not really faint, for a couple of months. I thought I was just working too hard, what with the plans coming together for the resort out on the lake—”
“You always work too hard,” Gemma pointed out. “And I’m not quite sure you have to be the point person on the resort project.”
“Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how many jobs this will bring to Reston County? And besides, I’m not really heading it up. Mayor Morton is.”
Gemma held up her hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have become sidetracked. What other symptoms have you had?”
Lisa wrinkled her nose. “Things smell odd. Stronger. I had to take all the scented candles out of my home and office because they were overwhelming, and they’ve never bothered me before.”
“Those are all symptoms of hormonal changes.”
“I’ve felt sick every day for two weeks and I’ve thrown up every day, too. I thought it was some kind of flu bug or—something I ate.”
“Every day for two weeks?” Carly asked. “Denial much?”
“You didn’t say anything about feeling sick,” Gemma put in, sending Carly a quelling look.
“My period’s been off for months, but I thought maybe things change when you’re in your thirties, you know?” She groaned and continued, “And they should. A person is supposed to have sense enough to not get unexpectedly pregnant at the age of thirty-three.”
Gemma said, “Some hormonal changes are normal—”
“But a complete abandonment of common sense?” Lisa asked desperately. “I don’t think so.”
They all fell silent. Lisa knew they were waiting for her to deal with this the way she did most things—head down, moving forward, plans set.
She couldn’t do that, though, because she’d been distracted and daydreamy for the past month. She had difficulty concentrating, and odd, random thoughts and memories had popped up like jack-in-the-boxes when she tried to focus on work. She was sure Gemma was right—it was probably hormonal.
And now shock had paralyzed her brain even more. She could barely form a coherent thought, except for one—that this didn’t seem real. Or possible. “I’m going to have a baby.”
“That’s right,” Gemma said. “In about seven months.”
“So...in September?”
Lisa frowned. “So, nine months from the end of December—”
“Nine months isn’t accurate. Pregnancy is actually supposed to be forty weeks, a little more or less depending on the mother—and the baby. Multiples often come earlier.”
Lisa gulped as her eyes widened. “Multiples?”
“Um, sorry. I gave you too much information right there. Professional hazard.” Gemma cleared her throat. “Back on track. Be forewarned, being pregnant in this Oklahoma heat and humidity won’t be easy.”
“Nothing about this will be easy.” Lisa looked up. “And I feel sick all the time.”
“That should ease up in a few weeks. We need to make an appointment for you to see Nathan. He can prescribe something to help with the morning sickness if you want. In the meantime, there are herbal supplements you can take.”
Lisa nodded, then dropped her head forward. “I can’t believe I’ll be the first one of us to have a baby. At least you two are married.”
Carly waved that away. “That just means you’ll have two ready-made babysitters—until we have kids. Even then, we’ll work something out.”
Gemma got up and took a bottle of water from the small fridge in the examination room where she had brought Lisa to wait for the test results. She twisted off the cap and handed it to her.
Shakily, Lisa took a big drink, then held the cold plastic bottle against her cheek and closed her eyes. She had to get a grip on this, but all she wanted to do was to fold up into a ball and cry.
When Lisa opened her eyes, Gemma had seated herself beside her once again. She and Carly were looking at her curiously.
“What?” she asked.
“We’re wondering...” Gemma said. “When you’re going to tell us...”
“Who the father is,” Carly concluded.
Lisa pressed her lips together.
“Oh, come on, Lisa, we’re your best friends. We’re not going to judge you.” Gemma gave her a fond smile.
Lisa looked from one to the other—Gemma, with her practical, no-nonsense approach to life, and Carly, who was strong and businesslike, but who could see a broken-down wooden chair in a junk heap and imagine it as a fun and useful porch swing.
Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly and said, “It’s Ben McAdams.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Carly yelped. “The Reston Rascal? Oklahoma’s answer to Casanova?”
“I thought you weren’t going to judge,” Lisa said drily.
“Um, sorry.”
Astounded, Gemma said, “I didn’t even know that he was back in town, or that you two were dating, or even liked each other.”
“We aren’t and we don’t.” Lisa gazed at them miserably. “We haven’t been friends since we were twelve and his parents banned me from seeing him after I—”
“Masterminded the jailbreak,” Carly interrupted with a grin.
“Yeah. And that hasn’t changed.”
“Lisa, obviously something changed.” Gemma smiled in sympathy. “However you don’t have to tell us and—”
“I want to know what happened,” Carly objected.
“You don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready,” Gemma went on as if Carly hadn’t spoken. She stood and began gathering the test kits for disposal.
Carly settled down and gave an encouraging nod, but Lisa, her eyes full of tears, dropped her face into her hands for a few seconds before she, too, sat back and stared at her friends.
“I feel like my head is floating somewhere off in space.”
“And that will continue for a while,” Gemma said. “But things will settle down. You’ll get used to the idea, and soon you’ll be excited about being a mother.”
“I can’t be a mother,” Lisa said desperately. “I had a terrible mother. I’ve still got a terrible mother. And my grandmother tried, at least when I was little, but she wasn’t much of a model mother, either.”
“You’ll figure it out, Lisa. You’re the smartest and most driven person I know.” Carly gave her a hug.
The warmth of her friend’s arms couldn’t stop the shaking that had suddenly begun.
“I swore I’d never do this,” she said fiercely. “I swore I’d never be careless and get pregnant, and leave my baby—”
“You would never leave your baby,” Gemma objected.
“Lisa, you’re twice as old as Maureen was when she had you and left you with her mom and dad. You’ve got a successful career, a home of your own, a support system. Friends,” Carly said, emphasizing the last word as she gave her another squeeze and stepped back to look at her with an anxious expression.
Lisa took deep breaths and tried to still the quaking that came in waves from her core and moved outward. After a few moments she looked up and tried for a wan smile.
“Right now the question is how are you going to tell Ben?” Carly asked.
“I don’t know, but I’d better do it soon,” Lisa said. “I don’t like putting off unpleasant tasks and this isn’t something that can be hidden indefinitely.”
“No,” Gemma agreed. “And if I know you, you’ll want to have every detail planned well ahead of time.”
Lisa nodded even as she gave her friends a pitiful look. “I can barely form a sentence right now, much less a plan.”
Gemma gripped her hand in sympathy, but Carly looked at her considerately.
“And I had plans,” she went on. She knew she was rambling, but couldn’t seem to stop. “The group of investors from Oklahoma City who are interested in developing a resort on Reston Lake are really making progress on the plans. Can you imagine how many jobs that would bring to this area?”
“So you keep saying.”
“It will be a boost to your business, too, Carly. The resort will need fresh vegetables for their restaurants. If you get the contract, you’ll have to expand your gardens, which means you and Luke will have to hire more employees. As for the rest of the county—between the construction and the running of the resort, it could bring in so much prosperity. I was going to broker the deal if I could convince the current owners to at least consider it.”
Carly frowned. “You can still do all that. You’re having a baby, not giving up your career.”
Lisa barely heard her. “And I didn’t tell you two this, but I’m thinking about running for mayor this year.”
Her friends stared at her. “You’re kidding,” they said in unison.
“It’s true. I would never try to push Harley Morton out of office, but—” she lowered her voice and nodded toward the reception area where Harley’s wife worked “—Brenda wants him to retire and...well, I know I could do the job.”
“Wow,” Gemma said. “Just wow. I had no idea that was even on your mind. Brenda never said a thing to me.”
“We were keeping it quiet.” Lisa put her hands over her belly. “But now...”
“Everything’s changed,” Carly finished for her.
The three of them fell silent for several seconds until Carly cleared her throat. “So you got pregnant two months ago,” she said slowly.
Lisa could see that her friend wasn’t ready to let this go. “Obviously.”
“Ben’s been out of town for months. So how and where? If it was two months ago, it must have been—”
“When I was in Chicago.” Lisa sighed. “At Christmastime. Right after my great-aunt Violet’s funeral.”
“You said you were stuck at the airport during a blizzard,” Gemma added.
“I was, along with a million other people who were trying to get home. By the wildest chance, I ran into Ben. I’d last seen him in September, when he bought Riverbend Ranch and I brokered the deal. He was in Chicago for a Christmas charity event that a bunch of big-name sports figures support. It benefits cancer research. Anyway, he had a room, one of the last ones at a hotel near the airport. He invited me to share the room, and we ended up sharing one of the beds.”
“Oh, honey,” Carly said.
“I never do things like that.” Lisa could feel the tears sliding down her face. “I always think about consequences, about how my actions will affect my future.”
“Whereas Ben McAdams has never needed to. He’s always just taken chances on everything, followed the most fun path to whatever he wanted next,” Gemma said.
“And that night, you were what he wanted,” Carly added.
“It wasn’t really like that,” Lisa told them, resting her head in her palm as exhaustion swamped her. She should have known something was wrong. Besides working too much, she’d thought maybe she’d had a low-grade virus. But it wasn’t. It was a baby. A baby!
Out of the corner of her eye she saw her two best friends exchange a look.
“We wondered why you were so...unlike yourself when you got back from Chicago,” Carly said.
“It seemed to be more than simply your great-aunt’s death,” Gemma added, her face full of compassion. “You didn’t say much about it, but your mother was there, wasn’t she?”
“Yes.” Lisa looked down at her hands, which were now clasping the water bottle. “I tried to talk to her, but she—Maureen—turned away. She seemed very shaken up over Aunt Violet, but I don’t really know how she was feeling. I’ve only seen her half a dozen times in my life, so I don’t know how she would react to anything. She barely talked to me at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s funerals, so—” Her voice choked off and her head dropped forward.
“Oh, that’s rough,” Carly said.
“Maureen didn’t talk much to anyone, except the minister, and then she practically ran from the funeral home. I don’t know where she went. I don’t even know where she lives. What kind of family is this?” she asked fiercely. “I see my own mother only half a dozen times in my life and we don’t have anything to say to each other? How is that even possible?”
“Oh, honey,” Gemma said. “That’s something that started before you were even born and you can’t fix it with one conversation.”
Lisa took another deep breath. Somehow she couldn’t seem to get enough air to blow away the storm of emotions. “You’re right.” She paused, then said, “A little while later, I saw that the weather was closing in, so even though my flight wasn’t until late that night, I said goodbye to my cousins and headed for the airport and got stuck there...or, actually, nearby.”
“With Ben.” Gemma reached for her hand again as Carly gathered her into another hug.
Lisa rested her head on her friend’s arm and glanced up with a rueful look. “You know how he is.”
“Yeah,” Carly said. She and Gemma both sighed wistfully. “Charm in size twelve cowboy boots.”
Lisa nodded miserably. “He was warm, sympathetic and understanding. I was happy to see someone from home, you know? I was so distraught I hardly knew which way to turn, and the thought of spending the night at the airport was more than I could handle. I know I could have called my cousins for help, but the roads were already closed and they had enough to deal with. Then I saw Ben. He took care of everything.”
“Short-term responsibility has always been his strong point.”
“I...I know. I needed someone to lean on right then, but it got way out of hand. I never meant for this to happen,” she said yet again. “And now I’m going to have a baby.”
“Which I’ll be happy to deliver when the time comes, if you want me to,” Gemma assured her. “The good news is that you’re healthy, things look fine, and you’ve got some time to come to terms with this.”
Lisa nodded and leaned into the hug. She had time, but not much.
CHAPTER TWO (#u9d25d6bf-8960-524d-b564-d6776139952b)
MAUREEN THOMAS SAT in her car across the street from Reston Realty and watched the front door, trying to build up the courage to go in and talk to Lisa, the daughter she had no right to call her own.
She had returned to Reston because she’d had no choice. She’d promised her aunt Violet that she would try to make amends with her daughter. It was far too late to patch things up with her parents, or to even get answers to the questions she’d carried with her from the time she’d been old enough to wonder why her mom and dad were so different than everyone else’s parents. Why their house and farm were overrun with things no one used, discards from other people that were left to rot or rust.
Before she could go back into the rabbit hole of endless questions, she pulled her mind to the present.
To anchor herself, she stared at her hands, which were scarred and callused from every minimum-wage job she’d had since she was sixteen. They were a reminder of how hard she’d fought to stay alive after she’d bound her breasts to stop the flow of milk and left her infant daughter in her parents’ care. She’d sneaked away in the night, dodging the twisted metal hazards in the front yard and running down the lane, hitchhiking to Aunt Violet in Chicago.
The terror and despair she’d felt then paled in comparison to the abject fear she was experiencing now at the thought of facing Lisa.
Maureen’s plan had been to stay at a motel for a couple of days, get a sense of how Lisa was, then see if they could talk. That plan had been destroyed in Wichita, Kansas, when the transmission dropped out of her car and she’d had to make a roaring, rattling entrance into a nearby garage.
The repairs had taken almost all of her spare cash, so now her plans had changed. She couldn’t stay at a motel, couldn’t eat at Margie’s Kitchen. There was no money.
Besides, she didn’t want to be seen around town, at least not until she had talked to Lisa. She would stay out of sight and sleep in her car again if necessary. She’d done it last night, driving to an old barn off the highway that she’d remembered as abandoned. But, of course, things had changed in the thirty-three years since she’d been back. The place was now a prosperous-looking organic gardening operation.
She had driven on, searching for someplace to park for the night, and had ended up at Reston Lake. Posted signs said the park was closed, but she’d driven around them and parked behind a stand of trees, leaving before dawn to avoid detection.
Maureen hated that she was sneaking into her own hometown, skulking around to see her daughter, but she simply wasn’t ready to face anyone else from her past. It would take all of her courage to talk to Lisa.
The uncomfortable truth was, if she wanted to follow Aunt Violet’s last wish, she would have to ask Lisa if she could stay with her. Lisa had once had an apartment in town—she’d proudly sent pictures of her place to Aunt Violet years ago when she’d gone into real estate. Heaven knew the girl had never sent pictures of the old Thomas place. Who would want their relatives to look at photos of a landfill?
“Now she owns the office. She’s an agent and a broker,” Maureen said aloud, gazing out her car window as she experienced a flurry of pride in what her daughter had accomplished in spite of the lousy circumstances she’d been handed.
Maureen reached for the door handle, hesitating to see Lisa at work, fearing a humiliating rejection. Still, she’d been humiliated before and she’d survived. She was terrified that’s all she would ever do—simply survive.
Jerking up on the door’s stiff handle, she stepped out of her old sedan. As the door clicked shut behind her, she smoothed the front of the coat that had fit her so well a few months ago but flapped around her figure now. At least it was good quality. Nothing to be ashamed of there.
As she walked up to the glass-fronted doors, she reached for the handle just as a man’s hand grasped it.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said in the local drawl she’d longed to hear again. “Let me get that for you.”
Flustered, she looked up at the handsome dark-haired man. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t recall where she’d seen him. She stepped inside and he followed.
The moment passed as the secretary looked up and broke into a wide smile. “Why, Ben McAdams, as I live and breathe. I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“I am for now, Sandy.”
Maureen recognized the secretary, too. Her name had been Sandy Westlyn, but the nameplate on her desk said Sandy Borden. Maureen used to babysit for her and her two little brothers. She’d known the Borden family, too, but it had been so long, she couldn’t think of which one of the sons Sandy might have married.
Sandy managed to move her dazzled smile to take in Maureen’s somewhat subdued appearance and switch to being professional. “I’ll be right with you, Ben. How can I help you, ma’am?”
Maureen clenched her hands inside her coat pockets, grateful that Sandy didn’t seem to recognize her. “I’d like to see Lisa Thomas, please.”
“What a coincidence,” Ben said affably. “That’s just what I want, too.”
Maureen answered with a shaky smile, then went to a chair so she could stop the trembling in her legs. And get her bearings.
* * *
“LISA, YOU’VE GOT VISITORS.”
Sandy Borden’s voice pulled her away from the paperwork she was compiling for a new listing. She had spent an hour rereading the resort proposal, checking facts and figures. The more she read, the more excited she became at the prosperity the resort would bring to the county. She’d finally put the report away, knowing there was much work to be done before any ground-breaking could take place.
The faraway tone of her receptionist’s voice caught Lisa’s attention.
Intrigued, she closed her laptop, stood and walked to her office door. “Yes? Oh.” Her attention darted from her receptionist to the man at the front of the office.
Ben McAdams stood by the glass front door of Reston Realty. He tipped his hat and winked at Sandy. “So, how are you, beautiful? Haven’t seen you since little Derek won the roping competition at the county fair. How is he? How’s the family?”
Delighted color washed up Sandy’s face. As if she couldn’t help herself, she fluffed her hair and moistened her lips. “Oh, Ben. It’s great to see you. Everyone is fine. Little Derek is taller than you are now and he’s going to Oklahoma University in the fall.”
“Go, Sooners,” Ben said, making a fist and pumping the air. “That’s great. You must be proud of him.”
“Cliff and I both are.”
Ben tilted his head as he gave her a teasing grin. “I’m wondering, though, how he’s going to get out of the house with you two hanging on to his leg crying, ‘No, no, please don’t go.’”
Sandy laughed. “I don’t know. You’re supposed to raise kids to let them be independent, but I’m sure we’re not ready for that.”
“I’m sure you and Cliff have raised a good man. He’ll be okay.”
Lisa was so shocked to see Ben in her outer office, she could barely form words. She’d been thinking about him constantly for days, but she hadn’t contacted him about the baby because she couldn’t decide what to say—a rarity for her since she usually met problems head-on. Was it possible that her imagination had conjured him up?
Distracted, she looked around to see that someone else had come in, as well, and had taken a seat against the wall.
She glanced at the woman, then away, but her attention shot back to her, astounded.
“Huh... H-hello,” Lisa stammered.
“Hello, Lisa,” Maureen said. “Can I talk to you?”
Lisa stared at her and then at Ben, who was having a great chat with Sandy, his distinctive rumbling chuckle breaking out. That happiness would disappear the minute Lisa told him the news.
She fought a ripple of hysteria as she looked from Maureen’s solemn face to Ben’s laughing one. Maureen, who hadn’t had time for her at Aunt Violet’s funeral, wanted to talk to her now. But Lisa had to talk to Ben first. She couldn’t put it off.
“I’m...I’m so sorry. I can’t see you—at least not now. I’ve got...”
“I understand,” Maureen said, standing. “Maybe we can try again later.”
“Yes, later,” Lisa agreed, even though her excellent memory reminded her that “later” seemed to always be the time when Maureen was departing. She had to take that chance, though. When she did talk to her mother, she wanted to be able to give the conversation her full attention and she couldn’t do that until she’d dealt with Ben.
Lisa scooped her cell phone out of her pants pocket. “Do you have a phone? Can you give me your number? I’ll call you as soon as I’m free.”
Of course, there was no guarantee that Maureen would answer if she did call.
Maureen gave a nervous little smile, supplied her number and left, the door swinging silently shut behind her. She hadn’t asked for Lisa’s number.
As she tried to control her reaction to the double shock of seeing both Maureen and Ben, Lisa watched Ben charm Sandy’s socks off. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see her receptionist’s eyes suddenly turn into beating pink hearts like a love-struck cartoon character’s.
It wasn’t simply that he was handsome, with his rich, dark auburn hair, dark gray eyes, thick lashes and strong, square chin. It wasn’t only his size. He was a big man, at least six foot four, slimmed down somewhat from his days as a linebacker in the NFL, but still muscled and strong. The thing was that Ben was genuinely interested in everyone and could focus his attention on the person he was listening to as if they were the most interesting human on earth. When he listened, he leaned in from the waist, turned his head slightly and narrowed his dark gray eyes just a little, as if he wanted to block out the rest of the world and everything in it. When he smiled, deep dimples appeared, and when he laughed, he threw back his head and didn’t hold anything in.
As if all of that wasn’t enough, his voice had a rolling timbre that made everyone in any gathering stop their own conversations to turn and hear what he had to say. The Oklahoma drawl that she’d heard all around her every day of her life was somehow more enthralling when it came from him.
That Southern Gentleman Charm should be labeled as a lethal weapon.
Lisa’s heart fluttered anxiously. She’d been on the receiving end of that charm and look where that had gotten her.
Automatically she sucked in her stomach, although it was still perfectly flat, and reached over to the coat tree by her office door to snag the jacket that matched her slacks.
As she did that, the office door swung open and Calvin Swenson, the deliveryman, stopped in with a package. He recognized Ben and shook his hand, saying, “Man, it’s good to see you, Ben. You gonna be around for a while?”
“A few months, at least, Cal. I’ve got some work around here.”
“Let’s get together, go fishing. Trout are biting out on the lake and the season ends in a few weeks.”
“Let’s do that,” Ben answered. “Let’s see if Junior Fedder can join us. I’ll give you a call.”
“Yeah. Have you seen him? There was a time he couldn’t have fit in my boat, but he’s dropped some major pounds.”
“Good for him.” Ben seemed genuinely pleased. “I haven’t seen him in months, but I’ll give him a call and let you know.”
With a happy nod, Calvin left and Lisa shook her head. Everyone wanted to spend time with him. Ben charmed all living creatures. Men, women, children, dogs, cats—it didn’t matter. Everyone fell under his spell.
Finally, Ben leaned over Sandy’s desk and gave her a smile that threatened to melt her into a puddle as he said, “Hey, beautiful, it’s been great catching up with you, but I need to talk to Lisa.”
Sandy looked concerned. “Oh, I gave her your messages. Didn’t she call?”
Lisa watched as Sandy turned her head and gave her a look that suggested she had betrayed all womankind by not returning Ben’s calls.
“Nah, but it’s okay. I know she’s the busiest Realtor in six counties and you’re the best assistant, so I know she got the messages.”
Sandy, mother of three and married to a good man for twenty years, fluttered her eyelashes and fluffed her hair again. “Oh, Ben, you’re so sweet to say that.”
“I only speak the truth.”
Lisa decided it was time to step in. Steeling herself, she plastered a polite smile on her face and stepped forward as she casually fastened the three buttons down the front of her jacket. She was delighted that she had worn four-inch heels today. It put her closer to eye level with him. “Here I am, Ben. Come on into my office. What can I do for you?”
He gave Sandy another wink that made her giggle and strode into Lisa’s office. As soon as she shut the door behind him, he turned to her, swept the sides of his jacket aside to plant his hands at his waist and said, “Why have you been ducking my phone calls?”
“Oh, well...” Lisa paused, indicating that he should sit as she returned to her chair and put the width of her desk between them. “I’ve been very busy.” She tried to sound professional as she folded her suddenly damp hands on top of her desk and asked, “Were you interested in seeing another property?”
He raised an eyebrow at her as he removed the leather jacket he wore with crisp jeans and a dark blue shirt. As he sat, he said, “No, I’m interested in finding out why you won’t talk to me, why you’ve avoided every one of my calls since that night in Chicago.” He balanced his cowboy hat on his knee as he watched her face. The laid-back charm dropped away and he became laser-focused. “Can you tell me why?”
Heat flooded her features and her gaze jerked away. She really didn’t want to think about that night, but she knew she had to tell him the consequences of the time they’d spent together.
“I was worried about you,” he went on, obviously realizing she wasn’t going to answer. “I wanted to know if you’d made it home safely.”
Lisa gave a nervous laugh and held out her hands. “As you can see, I got home just fine.”
His lips twisted. “I do see that, but would it have killed you to let me know?”
“Um, well, I...I thought that...” She let her voice trail off, unable to articulate how she’d felt the next morning and for days afterward as she’d questioned her actions—the need, the abandonment of self-control—that had driven her into his arms.
He leaned forward and pitched his voice low. “Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. I wouldn’t do that.”
Lisa’s eyes widened at the fierceness of his tone. She did know that. Every woman he’d dated in Reston was still his good buddy, so it was obvious he hadn’t treated any of them badly.
“I...I guess I—”
Her words stumbled to a stop. He waited, but she didn’t know what she’d been going to say except, “I don’t do things like—”
“Like what happened in Chicago?”
Ben looked at her thoughtfully, then said, “No, what you do is try to control every situation you’re in. You’ve been that way since we were kids.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Even before you broke me out of jail. That seemed to give you a sense of your own power.”
She stared at him. She’d had no idea he’d realized that about her.
He went on, “I’ve barely seen you in the past fifteen years, but I know that’s probably still true.” He paused. When she didn’t answer, he prompted her. “Isn’t it?”
Lifting her chin, she gave him a steady look. “Yes, which is why I’ve got a successful business.”
“Which is why you look a little pale.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you ever get out in the sun? Take a hike? Go fishing?”
Glancing away, she didn’t answer but felt color rushing into her face.
“That’s better,” he said approvingly. “You know, Lisa, a person can be successful and still have some fun in life. Do you ever have fun?” He gave her a sly grin. “Other than with me?”
Lisa pressed her lips together. There was absolutely no way she was going to answer that.
He waited for a second, then turned on his winning smile, the one that was so warm and convincing. “Hey, how about I take you to lunch? Have you had lunch?”
She’d barely managed to keep down her breakfast. Lunch wasn’t even on her radar yet. She didn’t have to answer, though, because her intercom buzzed.
“Sorry to interrupt, Lisa,” Sandy said, “but Mayor Morton heard that Ben’s in town and says it’s urgent that he speak to him.”
“Ben?” The mayor’s voice boomed into the room, making both Lisa and Ben jump. “You in there? I’ve been trying to call you, but I guess I had the wrong number. I need to see you, and it’ll take a while.”
Ben gave Lisa a pained look as he called out, “Coming, Mayor Morton.”
The intercom clicked off and Ben stood. “He always thinks his business is more important than anyone else’s.”
Lisa knew that was true, but in spite of her determination to tell Ben about the baby, at this moment she could have kissed Harley Morton full on the lips.
Ben gave her a direct look. “I’ll call you later,” he said. “Please answer.”
He shut the door behind him, leaving Lisa to reach for the glass of water on her desk and gulp down a long drink to try to settle her stomach. She should have known he would seek her out when they were both back in Reston. She had avoided telling Ben about the baby long enough. It was time to take action. She couldn’t have him coming here, flirting with Sandy, interrupting the routine—reminding Lisa of the night they’d shared.
She wouldn’t tell him over the phone or at her place of business, though. She would go to his house at Riverbend Ranch later and tell him. That way, she could escape when she needed to.
* * *
BEN STOOD ON the bottom rail of the cedar fence and gazed across the pasture. Delighted, he grinned at the sight of a mare and her foal running through the dried grass, their hooves kicking up chunks of dirt as they went. Tailspin, so named because of the swirl of dark red spots that circled her rump, took her colt, Prince’s Folly, from one end of the pasture to the other. At three months the colt was similarly marked, but his spots were a darker red.
Ben was fascinated by the play of muscles beneath their shiny coats, their smooth-gaited run and their tricolored manes and tails—brown to red to blond—that rippled in the wind. He didn’t know if that type of mane was rare or not. He’d have to ask Jason Littletrees about it.
It was relaxing to watch the horses run, to see the mustangs adjusting to their new home. The simple pleasure of it was something he could understand.
Lisa Thomas was something he didn’t understand at all. He’d gone to see her as soon as he’d returned to this place, gotten the herd moved in with Jason’s help and settled a few other things. It annoyed him that she wouldn’t talk to him, and he didn’t like being annoyed. He liked things settled, his relationships uncomplicated, easy. Not that he and Lisa had any kind of relationship. They didn’t even have a friendship.
He could blame Harley Morton for interrupting them today, but the truth was he wasn’t sure he could have convinced Lisa to have lunch with him. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him and she’d looked pale and distressed—really distressed—to have him in her office. He wasn’t accustomed to having that effect on a woman.
“Ben.”
His dad’s voice broke into his thoughts. Ben had almost forgotten he was there.
“Yes?”
“Are you sure about this, son?” Jim McAdams asked, grunting slightly as he pulled himself up beside Ben on the tall fence. “What is the purpose of having horses you can’t race, or train to work cattle, or train for the rodeo?”
“What are you talking about, Dad? These mustangs can do all those things and more, and have been doing it for centuries.” Ben looked at his father, who just shook his head. “They’re not big, but they’re bred for endurance and can outdistance most other breeds. I can’t believe you’ve lived your whole life in southeastern Oklahoma and you’ve never heard of the Choctaw Wild Mustangs.”
“I’ve heard of them. I just never saw any reason to own or breed them. I can’t believe Jason has talked you into starting your own herd. You don’t know much about horses.”
“I’ll learn. Besides, it’s an opportunity to help save the Oklahoma Heritage Horse.” Ben liked the idea of preserving the breed for posterity. And why not? He had the money and the resources.
Jim hooked an arm around a tall fence post and rubbed his chin. “Yeah, I guess that’s important, but it sounds expensive.”
Ben’s lips twisted ironically. “I don’t doubt it for a minute, but it’ll be worth it.”
“To each his own, I guess. I’ve given up trying to keep track of all the things you want to spend your money on.”
With a chuckle Ben said, “That’s probably a good choice.”
He watched as Jim looked around at the acreage that encompassed Riverbend Ranch, so named because the Kinnick River made a dogleg bend at the edge of the property. The grass-covered land, long since shorn of all but a few stands of trees, sloped to a stock pond then lifted to rolling hills. The acreage was big enough for the herd of thirty mustangs to run free, but the pastures were secured by solid fences. Two wooden barns were situated beside the corral, and the house stood on a rise a few hundred yards away.
Even at his most generous, the only word Ben could think of to describe it was ramshackle.
The main house had been built in the nineteen twenties, added onto several times since then and been unoccupied for many years. The floors were a patchwork of wood—some maple, some pine—and none of them flush. Most had a strip of wood at the bottom of the doorway to smoothen the transition from one room to the next, but Ben had tripped a dozen times already. He’d finally learned to walk on his heels and lift his toes when going from one room to another to minimize the danger of falling.
Most of the doors had warped in the heat and humidity of past summers so that now only a few of them would close all the way. The ones that did close were hard to open, only coming free with hard jerks and a few well-placed kicks. All the electrical and plumbing needed to be updated and the place cried for paint and wallpaper. His great-grandmother would probably have felt right at home with the ancient appliances in the kitchen.
But Ben didn’t care what the place looked like or how inconvenient it was. He’d never been a nester. Too many other things to do. Once he got the herd established, he wouldn’t be there much.
“I’d tear that house down if I were you. Build a smaller one,” Jim said. “It’s falling apart, anyway, and much too big for one person.” He gave Ben a sidelong look. “Unless you plan to have a family to fill it up.”
“Dad, you know that’s never been in my plans.” He lifted his hand and made a circular motion that encompassed the ranch. “At least I’ve got my own place in Reston so you know I’ll be around part of the year.”
Jim shook his head. “Just part of the year? Yeah, I know. Places to go, things to do. Your mother and I have long since given up any hope of being grandparents.”
“I know, Dad.” They’d had this conversation so many times Ben didn’t even feel the need to engage in it. He simply gave his stock answer. “I know it’s a disappointment to you, but that’s just the way it is.”
His father answered with a long-suffering sigh and went back to their original topic. “Who’s gonna take care of this place when you’re off on one of your projects, or chasing around the world on the next wild hare you get?”
Ben didn’t take offense. He and his dad would never see eye-to-eye. “Jason Littletrees is looking for someone.”
“He’ll find someone. The whole Littletrees family is involved with horses one way or another.”
“Yes. Hadn’t seen him in years, but we ran into each other at the Choctaw Nation Labor Day Festival in Tuskahoma last fall. He was showing some mustangs there—”
“And you thought, ‘Great! Here’s another way to burn up some money.’”
“Dad.”
Jim looked chagrined. “Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction. Well, at least Jason is trustworthy, and I guess he’ll find someone who knows these mustangs.”
“That’s the plan.”
“I was happy with registered quarter horses and, since I don’t ride anymore, it doesn’t matter.” Jim stepped down, taking a moment to steady himself against the cedar rails.
“Is your leg bothering you?” Ben asked, forgetting about his horses for a minute. He hopped down from the fence to stand beside Jim.
“Nah, no worse than usual,” Jim answered with a shrug, but he bent over to rub his left knee. “Five years since I rolled my truck on that ice patch, and it doesn’t get any better. Doesn’t matter. I can still do what I need to do. As long as I can keep working, I’m happy.”
“I know, Dad.” It saddened Ben to think of his father never taking time for a vacation, or any kind of break, but as the old man said, “To each his own.”
“By the way,” Jim said, “Harley Morton’s been trying to get in touch with you. Did he find you?”
“Yes. I talked to him today.”
“What did he want?”
Ben stifled a laugh. His dad absolutely couldn’t help himself. He had to be involved in everything, know everything. “He wants me to run a football camp this summer. Apparently he’s convinced Wolfchild Whitmire that they need to do this out at the Whitmires’ old campground.”
Jim snorted with laughter. “How many footballs do you think will go flying into their lake?”
“Probably more than the city budget can afford.”
“You gonna do it?”
“If I can fit it into my schedule.”
“Good. That’ll keep you around for a while longer. Give you some useful work to do.”
Ben only shrugged.
Jim clapped him on the shoulder. “Speaking of work, I’ve got things to do at home, son. I’ll talk to you later.” With a wave, Jim headed for his truck, then paused and glanced back. “Wild mustangs. I sure hope you know what you’re doing.” He climbed into the truck’s cab and drove away.
Ben gazed after his dad and knew that, physically, at least, he was looking at himself in forty years. But he was determined to have a different focus in his life. His dad had raised cattle, bought and sold land, operated a construction company and a gravel-mining operation, and run a few other businesses. He’d achieved his goal of financial comfort long ago but still worked nonstop.
Ben knew his mom wanted to travel, see something of the world before old age came calling. She was only sixty but saw life passing her by because Jim wouldn’t slow down long enough to have any fun. Ben had taken his mother to Europe and to Thailand. Even though she’d enjoyed the trips, she’d really wanted her husband there to share it, but Jim had insisted he had to work.
His dad was the reason Ben had long ago made the decision that work wouldn’t rule his life.
Ben’s goal was to enjoy life, to travel, meet new people and make friends all over the world, start businesses, fund projects. He’d done a good job of investing the money he’d made playing professional football. Now he considered his job to be to spend it wisely but in fun ways. He knew his reputation around his hometown was that he was something of a squanderer, but he didn’t care. It was his life and his money. Anyone who cared to look carefully could see that he spent his money to benefit others, but he wasn’t going to advertise the fact.
As he walked back to the house, he took out his phone and checked his calendar. His attention was caught by the sound of tires crunching on gravel. A dark red, sporty sedan was heading toward him. He frowned for a second as he tried to see who was driving, then grinned.
So his visit to Lisa’s office had paid off. But he was surprised she’d come out to his ranch.
He watched as Lisa pulled her car to a stop and looked up to meet his eyes. Her solemn expression, the twin of the one she’d given him earlier in her office, made him pause before he walked over to open her door and hold out his hand to help her out.
She stood, somewhat unsteadily, smoothed the short, black wool jacket she wore with matching slacks, and braced herself in the door opening. Finally she looked at him. Her lips flickered in the faintest smile. “Hello, Ben.”
“Hey, Lisa. Thanks for coming over. I would have called, headed back to your office. You didn’t need to come all the way out here.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to,” she said, stepping aside so that he could close the door behind her.
Something about her complete shift in attitude made his words stumble. “Um, yeah. I wanted to see if you were okay after your aunt’s death...and...well, you know...everything that happened.” Ben felt embarrassed heat climb his throat. “But you didn’t respond.”
“I know.” She glanced away, apparently distraught. Her face was as pale as it had been earlier and her eyes seemed sunken. “I was hoping we could start this conversation again.”
“Yes, sure, but are you okay?” he asked, reaching to take her arm.
At last she met his gaze. “Can we go inside, Ben? I have something...important to tell you.”
CHAPTER THREE (#u9d25d6bf-8960-524d-b564-d6776139952b)
“PREGNANT?” BEN STARED at her, swallowed, then stared some more. “And...it’s mine?”
“Of course it is!” Lisa fought down a burst of hysteria. “You don’t think I go around sleeping with—”
“Of course not. Of course not,” he answered hastily, holding up his hands, palms outward. “But...we used protection.”
Hearing him say exactly what she’d said to Gemma and Carly a few days ago didn’t make her feel any better. “I know.”
He sat forward, as if all the strength had been drained from him, and rested his forearms on his thighs. Looking down, and then up, he seemed to struggle to form a sentence.
Lisa knew this wasn’t at all the conversation he’d expected to be having when he’d come to her office. She wondered if that was the last lunch invitation she’d ever receive from him.
Unable to meet his shocked gaze anymore, Lisa looked away, taking in the shabby living room she’d last entered late in September when she’d handled the sale of the ranch to him. The house looked as bad as ever, but she’d been so agitated when she’d driven up today, she hadn’t even noticed if he’d done anything to improve the outbuildings or acreage, although she’d noticed a small herd of horses in the pasture.
She looked around, feeling her mind drifting from the subject at hand. This time, she didn’t try to stop it as the Realtor in her assessed the positive aspects of the house.
This room had beautifully carved crown moldings that could easily be returned to their original beauty if touched up and painted, maple floors with a buildup of grime around the edges that could be cleaned with refinishing, and dingy mint-green paint on the walls. She didn’t think any upgrades would happen. Ben had brought in two new-looking chairs, a sofa and a couple of floor lamps, but she had no idea if he intended to make it any more homey.
Ben looked as though he’d been working hard since he’d returned from town, if his worn, dirt-streaked jeans and blue flannel shirt were any indication. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but his dark auburn hair needed a cut, or maybe it only looked disastrous because he’d been repeatedly running his hands through it, exactly as she’d done when she’d first learned of this news.
Ben cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. His dark gray eyes, the color of a winter storm, looked at her. “Is that why you’ve refused to talk to me?”
“Not at first. I was...embarrassed.”
“Because you never do what you did? What we did? I get that. But you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” When she didn’t respond, he asked, “How long have you known?”
“Only a few days, but I’ve known something was...different for a while.”
“Have you...thought about...what you’re going to do?” His expression was that of a man going down for the third time, grasping at any twig of hope for a different outcome. There wasn’t going to be one.
She scooted forward in her chair, sat straighter and gave him a hard look. “I’m having it and I’m keeping it.”
“Of course. I wasn’t suggesting anything else, I swear. Listen, it’s your choice.” He stood and paced around the room, his boots thumping on the hardwood. “I’ll do my part, of course. I’ll pay child support.”
She waited, wondering what he would say next. Would he want to be part of the baby’s life? That wasn’t what she wanted. Did most men say they wanted to help when they were handed a bombshell like this one? Other than a name on her birth certificate, she didn’t know who her father was and doubted he knew of her existence.
Ben swung back to look at her. His face worked for a minute before he went on, his voice strangled. “I have to tell you, though, Lisa, I never intended to be a dad. I like kids, but I’ve got the life I always worked for—money to do what I like, go where I want, deals working, projects and businesses all over the world.” He shook his head and frowned. “I just had this conversation with my father. I never saw myself with a family because I thought it would be unfair to a kid for me to either be gone all the time or to drag it around the world with me.”
“You don’t ever want anything to impinge on your freedom.”
He barely seemed to think about his response. Throwing his hands wide, he asked, “Would you?”
Lisa started to answer but a wave of nausea rose in her throat. She stumbled to her feet and ran to where she recalled the downstairs bathroom was located. Desperately hoping the ancient plumbing worked, she lurched into the room and shoved the door closed behind her.
A few seconds later she had emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl and stood trembling, holding on to the washbasin as she rinsed her mouth and splashed water on her face. She spotted a roll of paper towels beneath the sink and used one to pat her face dry. Staring at her miserable reflection in the mirror, she took several deep breaths and then scooped more water into her mouth.
She could hear Ben pacing to and fro outside, which meant it was time for her to leave. She had done what she was supposed to do. After stewing about it for days, choosing exactly the right words, even writing out what she planned to say so that her sudden onslaught of brain burps wouldn’t hijack her thoughts, she had told Ben he was going to be a father. Shock and surprise were what she’d expected, but she hadn’t counted on his adamant statement that he’d never wanted to be a dad.
She should have guessed, though. He’d had legions of girlfriends over the years, some in Reston, others scattered around the country, maybe even the world. If he’d wanted to stay with one woman and start a family, there probably would have been at least one of them who would have been happy to accommodate him.
“Lisa?” he called from the other side of the door. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”
“No. I’m fine.” She pulled on the knob but nothing happened. She looked to see if she’d locked it, but the old-fashioned door had only a slightly rusted bolt. She tried the knob again but the door wouldn’t budge.
“I think it’s stuck,” Ben said in an apologetic tone. “Let me try.”
The knob twisted and she heard a thump and a grunting sound. She stepped back hastily, but not fast enough. The door flew open and Ben shot through, slamming her against the edge of the sink, knocking the breath out of her in a whoosh.
Ben made a grab for her, his arms going around her shoulders to keep her on her feet as he said, “Sorry! Are you okay?” He held on to her as he looked her up and down.
“Yeh...eh...hess,” she wheezed, fighting for her breath. She managed to loosen one arm and surreptitiously rub her hip where she knew she would have a bruise.
He took the hint and stepped back, his worried gaze still on her. “Sorry about that door. Every single one in the place sticks, but I guess that one’s the worst. I’ve never closed it before.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “I’m here alone. No need to shut the bathroom door.”
“Oh.” She lived alone, too, but always closed the door to the bathroom. In fact, she closed her bedroom door every night, too. She paused, considering it. Growing up, those were the only two doors in the house that would close because everywhere else was so stuffed with her hoarder grandparents’ things. She frowned at Ben.
“Come on,” he said, ushering her into the hallway. “Let me get you something to drink. You want some coffee?” He looked around helplessly. “Or tea?”
“No thanks. No caffeine.”
As if he couldn’t help himself, he glanced down at her belly and then up. “Oh, of course. Um, I’ve got soft drinks. Lemon-lime soda, maybe?” Suddenly his worried expression cleared. “And crackers! I’ve got some saltine crackers.”
Before she could respond, he helped her back to her chair and strode into the kitchen. As he rustled around, she twisted in her chair and rubbed her hip again. She could ask for an ice pack but doubted that he had one. A dripping bag of ice cubes wouldn’t do her wool slacks any good, although she wasn’t sure why she was worried. Her waistline would soon expand so much that she wouldn’t be able to wear this beautifully tailored outfit, anyway.
A few minutes later he returned with a glass and a bowl of saltine crackers. She considered turning down the snack, but her lurching stomach told her she’d better not.
Since there was no table on which to set anything, she placed the bowl in her lap and held the soft drink in one hand. As she nibbled and sipped, Ben roamed the room and turned up the thermostat. The old-fashioned wall heater rattled and groaned to life and soon had the room at a stifling temperature.
With a sound of annoyance, he turned it off once more. “I’ve got to do something about that.”
After an awkward silence had stretched far too long, Lisa set her empty glass on the floor, knowing any condensation from the glass wouldn’t harm the already-warped boards.
Ben finally sat opposite her and cleared his throat. “I guess we should talk about...financial arrangements...for the...”
“Baby. It’s called a baby.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. You’ll need money for...”
As his words trailed off, Lisa watched him try to think of what an expectant mother might need. She didn’t yet know much about it, but he knew even less than she did.
“Ben, I’m...I’m glad you’re willing to provide financial support, but we should have a legal agreement.” She studied his face, unsure how he would react to that statement.
“That makes sense, and I can pay for...for your before-baby care, too.”
“It’s called prenatal care. Thanks, but I don’t need your help. I’ve got health insurance, a good hospital, a good doctor. And Gemma will help deliver the baby when it’s time.”
He nodded. “And the time will be...September?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ve been invited to help establish an American-style football league in India. I have to be there in August, but sometimes there are delays. I might be in town in September,” he said.
Lisa dropped her head forward in surrender. Leaning down, she set the bowl beside the glass and stood. “I’m so glad you think you might be able to fit the birth of your child into your schedule, but I don’t expect you to be there.”
He surged to his feet. “I didn’t mean it like that. I want to help—”
“Yes, as long as it corresponds with what you already have planned and doesn’t interfere with your freedom.” Turning, she stomped to the door.
“Be fair,” he insisted, following her. “I don’t know anything about kids.”
Unwanted tears sprung into her eyes as she said, “And that’s the way it’s going to stay, isn’t it, Ben?” She waved a hand in dismissal. “You can be whatever kind of father you want to be.”
Eager to escape a situation that had gone from uncomfortable to unbearable, she grasped the doorknob. Of course, the door wouldn’t open. Ben reached around and gave it a tug, but this time she was quick enough to move aside and avoid injury. She hurried out and down the steps to her car with him following.
As she slid behind the wheel, he leaned in and said, “We can talk about this later, when we’ve both had time to process it a little.”
“You’ll be hearing from my attorney,” she responded, jerking the door shut.
Ben called after her, but she started the car, turned in a big circle and slammed on the gas pedal, shooting up gravel that had him scrambling backward. Blaming overactive hormones for her out-of-control emotions, she wiped away her tears, took a breath and concentrated on driving.
She had done what she was supposed to do. Ben now knew he was going to be a father, a role he obviously didn’t want. She didn’t know exactly what she’d expected to happen, but this was worse than she’d imagined.
Now that she’d had time to come to terms with her impending motherhood, she felt exhilarated but also terrified. She had to remember that she had friends, a support system that would help her every step of the way. Her baby would have honorary aunts in Gemma and Carly and uncles in their husbands, Nathan Smith and Luke Sanderson—even a cousin in Carly and Luke’s adopted son, Dustin. Her child wouldn’t have a father. But then, Lisa had never had one, either.
* * *
LONG SHADOWS WERE stretching across the road as Lisa gratefully headed for home. She couldn’t wait to go inside, put her feet up, eat dinner and try to come to terms with what had turned out to be an emotionally wrenching day. She’d known it would be hard telling Ben about the baby, but she hadn’t expected the overwhelming disappointment she’d felt in the charming, winsome Ben McAdams.
She wanted to talk to Gemma and Carly about it, but it was dinnertime and they had family responsibilities, so the lengthy talk she would need to put this into perspective would have to wait.
As she approached her home, she glanced over in surprise to see an ancient compact car parked out front. Her stomach quivered nervously when saw the Illinois license plate. The car appeared to be stuffed with bags and boxes.
Cautiously, she parked in her carport, grateful for the automatic lights that flipped on as soon as she pulled in. Looking around as she stepped from the car, she reached into her pocket for her cell phone, prepared to call for help. She was two miles out of town, though, so she didn’t think assistance would arrive as quickly as she might need it.
“Hello?” she ventured, her gaze darting around. She kept the car door open in case she had to leap in and make a fast getaway. Fortunately the carport was open at both ends and no longer obstructed by the broken-down tractor that had once barred the way.
At the sound of a hesitant step behind her, she spun around. She had her keys in her hand, the tips protruding from between her fingers—the only weapon at her disposal.
“Oh, hello,” a woman’s voice said as she stepped into the light.
Lisa blinked, astonished. “Maureen?”
“You said we could talk later,” Maureen said with a hesitant smile, running a hand through her short, dark hair. She shrugged one shoulder in a way Lisa thought looked vaguely familiar. “Hello, Lisa.”
“Um, hi. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’ve had...a crazy day and...” Her voice trailed off. The drama with Ben had made her forget about Maureen.
“It’s okay. I know it must have been a shock for me to come strolling into your office that way. It’s a lovely place, by the way. Very neat and clean.”
“Thank you.”
“I was taking a look around while I waited,” Maureen said, her hands sweeping out to encompass the property. “I hope you don’t mind. The place is wonderful. What did you do with all that junk Dad had piled everywhere?”
“Um, uh, sold it, donated it, tossed it...” Lisa’s voice trailed off. She couldn’t seem to make sense of what was happening, couldn’t believe what her eyes were telling her. The mother she barely knew was standing in front of her, casually talking about how great the old homestead looked. “Were you looking for...something?”
Maureen answered with an awkward laugh. “No. It’s just that I’d never seen the place without piles of old tires, wrecked cars and various abandoned tasks all jumbled together.” She paused, glanced around and stuffed her hands into her pockets.
Good grief, Lisa thought. What should she say to this woman? The mother who’d left her when she was a month old?
Her curiosity overcame her trepidation. Stepping away from her car, she closed the door and said, “Would you like to come in?”
Immediately, Maureen’s shoulders relaxed and relief flooded her face. “Yes, thank you.”
Maureen waited while Lisa unlocked the door and held it open so she could precede her into the kitchen.
Once they were inside and Lisa had flipped on the light in the kitchen, she was able to get a better look at her mother. Maureen was examining the room, her mouth open in awe.
There was no denying who Maureen’s parents were. She had Grandma Lily’s dark blue eyes, which Lisa had also inherited, and her face was square-shaped like Grandpa Wesley’s. Her short dark hair was touched with gray and her face was free of makeup. Lisa thought she appeared drawn and thin, but she saw her mother so infrequently, she couldn’t be sure.
She attempted to see the kitchen as her mother did. It had been completely gutted, and where piles of books, boxes of odds and ends, and other detritus had once made it impossible to move without the danger of injury, the simplest of hickory cabinets, white-tiled countertops and stainless-steel appliances had been installed. A row of glass jars filled with rice, pasta and beans was the only item on the counter. A couple of antique signs advertising long-vanished brands of ice cream hung on the wall over the breakfast nook. The cozy little corner held a small wooden table and two chairs Carly had found and refurbished for her. Lace curtains on the east-facing windows let the sunshine in every morning, brightening the whole room.
Maureen pointed to the hardwood floor that gleamed a dark honey color. “Was this underneath that nasty old green tile?”
“Yes, quarter-sawn maple.”
“Unbelievable.” Maureen shook her head, moved into the small dining room and marveled at the polished mahogany table and chairs. “I’ve never seen the top of that table in my life.”
“Me, neither. I grew up thinking the natural color of the wood was nasty gray. Turns out that it was grime all along.”
Maureen answered with a pained look. “I remember. It’s beautiful now.”
“My friend Carly Joslin refinished it for me.”
And so it went throughout the remainder of the house—living room, three bedrooms and two bathrooms. As they moved through the house, Lisa cast surreptitious glances at Maureen, who now carried her coat over her arm. She thought her mother looked thinner than she had when in Chicago, and fragile, as if she’d been sick. But for all she knew, Maureen’s skin always had that paleness. Lisa doubted that she’d always worn such baggy clothes, though.
They ended up back in the living room. The floors had been stripped and refinished so that the wood gleamed. The walls had been painted a restful shade of soft cream and the built-in bookcases on each side of the fireplace had new, unbroken glass in the doors. Best of all, there were only a few cherished items on the shelves and on the mantel over the fireplace, including the one good photograph she had of Lily and Wesley Thomas. It had been taken in the sixties, when they were newly married and anything seemed possible.
Maureen stopped and turned to her, tears filling her eyes, her lips trembling.
“What did you do with it all?” she asked. She waved a hand. “The junk, the garbage, the years of crud that was more important to them than—” Her head slumped forward and she lifted a hand to her eyes. She hunched her spine as if weighed down by crippling sorrow.
Taken aback and filled with pity at Maureen’s distress, Lisa’s natural instinct was to draw her mother into a hug, but the defensiveness of her shoulders made her stop. Instead she stammered out the same thing she’d said before. “Sold it, tossed it...a bunch of people helped me and—”
“How long did it take?” The words seemed to be wrenched from Maureen.
“Six months and then another two to renovate the house. I’d had an apartment of my own until they got sick and I moved back in to care for them, but when we started the cleanup, I lived with my friend Carly until it was done.” She fell silent. Maureen couldn’t possibly be interested in her living arrangements while Rich Richmond’s construction firm had finished the renovations. Nor would she be interested in hearing of the emotional support she’d needed after losing the ones who had raised her within weeks of each other, and when she’d sorted through mountains and hills and piles of the worthless junk they had spent more than fifty years collecting.
A wave of nausea rose in her throat and she had to say, “Excuse me,” and hurry to her en suite bathroom where she couldn’t be heard. She threw up, rinsed her mouth and once again stood looking at her devastated face and stunned expression in the mirror.
This had been a day of shocks, and she had the horrible feeling they weren’t over yet.
“The hits just keep coming,” she murmured, rubbing her sore hip.
Her thoughts went to Ben and the shock he must have felt when she’d told him about the baby. The surprise of having Maureen show up made her a little more sympathetic about Ben’s reaction. But not much, she thought, pushing away from the sink and returning to the room where Maureen waited.
The older woman looked as though she had pulled herself together. She glanced up from where she’d seated herself on the sofa. “Are you all right?” she asked, her gaze swiftly taking in Lisa’s appearance from head to toe.
“Yes. I’m fine.” Lisa provided the automatic reassurance, although she didn’t feel fine. She took a chair opposite the sofa.
Maureen looked around, her face still dazed. “It’s so clean and beautiful. I can’t believe all you’ve accomplished.” She paused and then she met Lisa’s gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first. I—” She shook her head again. “Honestly, it didn’t occur to me that you still lived here. When I drove up, I thought I was in the wrong place. I didn’t have to drive through head-high dead weeds or dodge a row of engine parts and a dozen old transmissions.”
“And a pile of wheels and axles,” Lisa added. “Grandpa started moving those to the front of the house in the year before he died. Not sure why he didn’t display that particular collection sooner.”
“It’s impossible to know how his mind worked.” Maureen’s lips tightened and she looked away, her attention going to a small brass statue of a pair of praying hands that stood on the end table. Reaching out, she ran her hand over it. Lisa had found it in the bottom of a box of papers, its surface unmarked from having been buried for half a century. The words Lily and Violet had been scratched on the bottom in childish carving, so it must have belonged to one of them as a child. “There was so much of it...everywhere, strangling everything.”
Lisa couldn’t tell if she was experiencing grief, sorrow, disgust or some other emotion. She didn’t know her mother well enough to read her expressions, know her thoughts. Sadness, fueled by her tiredness and expectant-mother hormones, had tears springing into her eyes. She quickly wiped them away and stood to go to the kitchen. Forcing normalcy into her voice she said, “I’ve got to get something to eat. Would you like to join me?”
“Yes, please.” Maureen sounded surprised at the invitation. “Do you need some help?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” Lisa waved a hand. “Look around some more if you want to.”
Happy to escape and collect her thoughts, she went into the kitchen and pulled out a chicken stew she’d made on Sunday. She poured it into a pan and, while it heated, made a salad. The whole time her mind was frantically racing, trying to figure out why her mother was there. Maureen had only visited a handful of times since she’d left at the age of sixteen. She had never spent the night.
Lisa paused in her preparations, staring down at her hands. Did Maureen expect to stay the night? Or longer? If so, why?
She set the table and called Maureen in.
“Oh, this smells wonderful,” her mother said as she sat. “Did Mom teach you how to cook?”
“A few things. Mostly I taught myself.”
Maureen gave her a thoughtful look. “Forgive me, Lisa, but I have to ask. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. After they...died, why did you stay here? Fix it up? You could have simply walked away.” She gave a laugh. “Or set a match to the whole thing.”
Lisa’s lips wavered in a smile. “Don’t think I didn’t consider that, but arson is against the law.”
She hadn’t answered the question but Maureen didn’t push her. In truth, Lisa had cleaned up and refurbished the place because she was hoping it would give her some answers about why her grandparents had been the way they were. Why Maureen had left. She hadn’t found any of those things and had frequently questioned her own sanity while sorting through and disposing of the mess. She didn’t want to say such a thing quite yet, though.
She knew that if Maureen felt free to ask why she’d stayed, Lisa could ask why her mother had left. She didn’t want to hear the answer tonight, though. She’d had enough.
Dinner conversation was awkward. Lisa knew it was because the only things they had in common were the unlivable home in which they’d grown up and the two people whose lives could best be described as dysfunctional.
As they were finishing their meal, Lisa made them each a cup of tea. Maureen took a sip, then played with the handle of the cup. She jerked in a deep breath and said, “Dinner was delicious. Thank you. I guess you want to know why I’m here.”
“Yes, I’d like to know. I mean, if you want to talk about it.” Lisa lifted her hands helplessly. “I’ve only seen you a few times. This past hour has been the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”
“I know.” Maureen looked down at her hands, which Lisa could see were scarred and work-worn. “Did you ever read a poem by Robert Frost that has a line in it about home being where they have to take you in when you go there?”
“Well, yes. I studied American literature. It’s called ‘Death of the Hired Man.’” Lisa drew in a sharp breath. “Maureen, are you dying?”
Horror flooded Maureen’s face. “No, no. I’m sorry. I would never burden you with that. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I’m saying this all wrong. I’m not dying, but I’ve been sick with an antibiotic-resistant infection. Even though I had health insurance, the hospital bills and treatments wiped out most of my savings. I lost my job and my apartment. I had to get away from the weather in Illinois, so I thought I’d come here.” Shame filled her face. “I know it’s a lot to ask. You probably think I’ve got a lot of nerve.”
“I don’t know what to think,” Lisa admitted. Her brain and her emotions were on overload. She desperately wanted to go to bed and pull the covers over her head. She could see that Maureen was as exhausted as she was, her eyes drooping and her face set in grim lines.
“When I drove up tonight, I planned to ask the new owners of this place if they knew where you lived, but then you came home—”
“And...you want to stay?”
“Only a little while, until I can find a job, get back on my feet.” She gave Lisa a desperate look. “I promise it’ll only be for a little while.”
Through the swirl of her emotions, she mostly felt curious. “Why, after all these years?”
“Several reasons, but mostly unresolved history, and I decided I had to return to my hometown and quit being a coward. When I...ran away, I went to Aunt Violet in Chicago.”
“Yes, Grandma told me.”
“Before she died, she told me I had to come here, make things right, or I would never have peace.” She tilted her head and gave another little shrug.
With a start, Lisa remembered that her grandfather had made exactly that gesture. Lisa’s heart ached. She had been dealing with her own problems all day, but she knew this woman had a much bigger one. Lisa might be expecting a baby that would change her life in ways she couldn’t yet imagine, but she had security, friends and her own business. Maureen had nothing except a daughter she barely knew—and consequences for actions she’d taken thirty-three years ago.
Lisa wanted to know more, much more, about Maureen’s motivations, reasons, life, but she couldn’t handle one more thing tonight.
In her mind Lisa could hear Gemma and Carly warning her to be careful, that it might all be a scam, but she met Maureen’s hesitant gaze and said, “Of course you can stay. You can have my old room—your old room, or the smallest bedroom, whichever one you want.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#u9d25d6bf-8960-524d-b564-d6776139952b)
IN SPITE OF the chilly wind that was swirling dead leaves around his boots, Ben stood jacketless and bareheaded by the pasture fence and stared out at his mustangs. He had enough land to support a herd twice this size, but right now this was as much as he could handle.
He was waiting for Zach, Jason Littletrees’s cousin, who would teach Ben about the horses and manage the herd.
Jason had suggested Ben should learn all he could while Zach was on the Riverbend. Zach never stayed in one place too long, so when Zach moved on, Ben would know what to look for in a new ranch manager. Ben hadn’t planned to hire another one. He’d hoped Zach would be a permanent fixture. However he’d called around and learned that Zach was the best at what he did, and that was what Ben wanted. He would deal with a new hire when the time came.
In the meantime he was brooding about the bombshell Lisa had dropped on him the day before. He’d had twenty-four hours to get used to the idea of being a dad, and he still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He hunched his shoulders against the cutting breeze and thought back over the conversation they’d had the day before.
Everything he’d told Lisa was true. He’d never intended to be a father or thought it would be forced on him. On the other hand, Lisa probably hadn’t intended to be a mother, either, at least not right now. He knew he felt reluctant about his impending fatherhood, but he didn’t know how Lisa felt about motherhood. She was adamant about keeping the baby, but he didn’t know how she actually felt about it. He didn’t really know her.
They’d been friends when they were kids, at least until the infamous jailbreak, after which his parents had refused to let him have anything to do with her. It still made him chuckle to remember that her plan had been for them to make their way to where the Canadian River ran through Oklahoma and follow it to Canada. The Canadian River would have taken them nowhere near Canada, but they’d had no chance to find out because his dad and Sheriff Jepson had tracked them down only a few blocks from the jail.
His punishment had been to apologize to Mrs. Crabtree, weed her garden all summer and burn the slingshot that had landed him in jail in the first place. He’d been so busy, there’d been no chance of getting into any trouble, or even seeing much of his friends until fall. He obeyed his parents’ orders to avoid Lisa and it had become a habit over the years. Until last December in Chicago.
He walked along the fence line, favoring his right knee, an old football injury that stiffened up on him in the cold. What did he actually know about Lisa, the woman who was going to be the mother of his child? They had graduated from high school together and he’d gone straight to play for the Sooners. Oh, and got a business degree while he was at it.
Lisa was smart, near the top of their class, but she’d gone to the community college, taken care of her grandparents on that landfill they’d called a ranch and had become a whiz at real estate, even had her own business. He felt a spark of pride in all she’d done for herself. It was good to know their child wouldn’t lack for ambition.
What would the kid lack, though? What did a baby need beyond the tangible items like food, clothing, a crib, diapers? He had no idea.
At the sound of someone pulling into his lane, he turned around to see an older pickup with shining silver paint pulling an ancient Airstream. It was coming his way.
It must be Zach.
Ben had offered to let him live in the house, but the horseman had said he would bring his own house with him. Ben knew that itinerant ranch and rodeo workers often had their own motor homes or mobile homes, but he’d never before seen one like this. It was old, but its top-of-the-line pedigree showed in the Airstream’s clean lines and shining silver skin. It had either been well cared for or beautifully restored, and so had the pickup, which he could now see was a 1950s-era Ford F-1 painted silver to match the Airstream.
Ben knew the rig must get a lot of attention as it rolled down the road.
Zach deftly pulled his truck to a stop, reversed, and maneuvered his home into place beside the rambling ranch house. The shining truck and trailer only served to make Ben’s place look even worse. Before he could walk over to greet his new employee, he heard another vehicle on the road and glanced back to see three more cars following Zach onto Riverbend Ranch.
Amazed, Ben saw that all three of them were classic cars, built in the days when Detroit really knew what it was doing—a 1955 turquoise-and-white Chevrolet Bel Air, a 1959 Chevrolet Impala with sparkling black paint and distinctive tail fins, and a root beer–colored 1966 Ford Mustang convertible that made Ben’s heart pound. All three cars were driven by women who stepped out and walked toward Ben, hands outstretched in greeting.
They were dressed in tight jeans and snug tops that showed off their figures. Ben had been carefully taught by his mother to never ask a woman’s age, but he guessed these three to be well past fifty.
“Hello. Ben, isn’t it?” the petite, blonds driver of the Mustang said as she took his hand. “I’m Denise Clark, a friend of Zach’s.” She removed the scarf that had been protecting her hair from the wind and turned to wiggle her fingers at Zach, who was walking over to join them.
“Um, hello. I’m, uh, happy to meet you, Ms. Clark.” Before Ben could say any more, Denise was elbowed aside by the other two women, who Ben could now see were twins. Denise stumbled back and gave them a dark look.
“Hi,” one of them said. “I’m Ginger Afton, and this is my sister, Cinnamon Vale.”
Ben nodded. Ginger and Cinnamon? Really? “Uh, welcome to Riverbend Ranch.”
Zach joined them right then and introduced himself, giving Ben’s hand a bone-shattering shake that reverberated up his arm and rattled his teeth.
“Glad to meet you, Ben, and glad to be back in the area where I can work with some Choctaw ponies.”
“He’s been in Arkansas,” Denise breathed, a wistful tone in her voice. “That’s where we met him. In Fayetteville. At a classic car show.”
That explained the vehicles, if nothing else, Ben thought. “That’s wonderful, ladies.”
The three sighed in unison as Cinnamon—or was it Ginger?—said, “Happiest day of our lives.”
Nodding, Ben recalled that Fayetteville was in the northern part of the state, almost a four-hour drive away. Looking from one to the other of the women, he tried to decipher their expressions and finally decided it could only be described as love struck.
“Oh, now, you ladies are being too nice. Meeting ol’ Zach couldn’t have been the best day.” His expression said he expected them to dispute that, which they did with declarations of how much they would miss him.
“We came along to make sure he arrived safely,” the other twin offered. “We would be heartbroken if anything happened to him.”
All three women sighed and Zach shrugged one shoulder and ducked his head modestly as he removed his cowboy hat, revealing a shock of thick, black hair touched with gray. He held his hat over his heart as he said, “My guardian angels.”
Who is this guy? Ben wondered, returning his attention to Zach, who was smiling at the three women with a fond expression. The guy was fifty if he was a day, possessed of a hawk-like nose that had been broken at least once and deep-set eyes that were so black and intense it was impossible to distinguish the pupil from the iris. He had a winning smile but was missing a bicuspid on the top right side. Maybe that added to his appeal to these women.
Obviously looks weren’t everything, Ben decided. Zach had some admirers.
“It’s wonderful that he’s got, um, friends like you ladies,” Ben said in response, though he knew none was expected. He could have disappeared into thin air and none of his guests would have noticed. He wondered fleetingly why the three of them hadn’t ridden together, but when he saw the snapping, side-eyed looks they were giving each other, he figured there had been danger of one of them pushing the other two out of the vehicle as they followed Zach to Reston.
The Choctaw charmer turned a smile on the ladies. It was so full of sweetness and gratitude they all seemed to blush in unison. “You girls made my stay in Fayetteville a visit straight to heaven. I hope you come back and visit me again real soon.”
“I will,” they said, once again passing a challenging glare between them.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, beginning to walk his three admirers to their cars.
“Now, Zachie, don’t forget to call me. You’ve got my number,” Denise said. “I put it in your phone myself. It’s listed under my name and also under Sexy Lady.”
Ginger and Cinnamon snorted in disdain, but Zach said, “I sure do have your number, honey. And you other two beautiful women, too.”
Gallantly, he opened the driver’s doors for each of them in turn, gave them a kiss on the cheek and then watched, his face full of regret, as they made the big turn in Ben’s driveway and started out for Fayetteville. Zach gave them a sad wave as they each pulled out, their arms stuck out the windows, hands flapping in goodbye as they went.
Ben had to admit it. The old guy had some moves. When the last car in line pulled out of sight, Zach turned to Ben, rubbed his hands together and said, “I’d like to go down and take a look at the horses as soon as I get my trailer hooked up to power and water. I’ve got a hot date tonight.”
He hurried to his Airstream as Ben gaped after him. Things just got a lot more interesting at Riverbend Ranch.
* * *
“YOUR MOTHER? YOU mean Maureen, right?” Carly asked, a slice of pizza suspended in front of her mouth. Slowly she returned it to the plate and sat staring at Lisa. Gemma appeared to be equally astounded.
In spite of husbands and family responsibilities, Gemma, Carly and Lisa had vowed to continue their Girls Night In at least once a month. Fortunately this one had fallen on the night after Maureen’s arrival, so Lisa had an excuse for delaying her return home. They had gathered around Carly’s dining room table to enjoy their feast of pizza, salad and soft drinks. Carly’s husband and son had gone to play cards with Nathan.
“That’s right. Showed up yesterday, out of the blue, asked to stay.” Lisa told her friends everything that had happened, including her talk with Ben.

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