The Texan's Little Secret. Barbara Daille White

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      “Maybe not originally. But times change. And it’s more common now for women to ride bulls.”

      “It’s damned dangerous, that’s what it is.” He exhaled heavily. “At any rate, what’s the point of my having it out with the girl? As headstrong as she is, she’s sure to want to ride despite my arguments.”

      “Or because of them.”

      “That, too.” Again, he slapped the arm of the wheelchair. “And I’m going to have to do something about it.”

      * * *

      “YOU THINK LUKE will show up before the barbecue’s over?” Kim Healy leaned against the counter in the ranch house kitchen. Her brown eyes, opened wide, counteracted her offhand tone.

      Carly shrugged. They had returned to the house for reinforcements, including another batch of the homemade biscuits that Anna, their cook and housekeeper since long before Carly had been born, had left in the still-warm oven. She looked at Kim and pointed toward the stove. “I haven’t got the first clue about Luke Nobel’s plans.”

      “You would have, if you’d been back here the past couple of years.”

      Carly gnawed her lower lip. Kim wouldn’t let this ride.

      Every Fourth of July, Brock laid on a barbecue for his family and any of the hands who were around to attend. Once she’d heard Luke had started working on the ranch, she had deliberately begun missing the event, using her job in Houston as an excuse, even though it meant passing up Anna’s barbecued beef.

      Fortunately, Anna knew her well. The casual meal always showed up on the menu during her infrequent visits.

      “In all this time taking care of your dad, you must have seen Luke by now,” Kim persisted. “Have you talked to him yet?”

      “Briefly.” Two days ago, and she still felt unsettled by the memory. Not that she’d need to confess that to Kim, who would already know. And she couldn’t blame Kim for her question.

      They had been fast friends since second grade, when Kim had tried to take over in a kickball game. Carly had punched her lights out and, to her delight, Kim had punched back. Someone squealed about the tussle to their teacher, which resulted in Mrs. Blake’s frog-marching them to the principal. She and Kim had sat waiting in the hallway outside his office, both of them covered in dust from the unpaved playground, sporting a rapidly swelling eye and a bloodied nose, respectively, and grinning at each other.

      “Briefly,” Kim repeated in a low tone, though they were alone in the room. “That one word is speaking volumes to me. And what did you speak to him about? What did he say to you?”

      “Not much.” Sad, really, when she and Luke once had so much to talk about.

      “He’s still single, Carly, and since there’s never any gossip floating around about his love life, that means he doesn’t have one. Which means he’s unattached. He works for your dad, he takes care of his daughter—you know Rosie’s two already, right? He helps out his mom. Once in a while he stops at the Longhorn for a couple of beers. And that’s about it.”

      “Enough already, Kim.”

      “Don’t you even care that he’s still up for grabs?”

      “What I care about are those biscuits.” Carly gestured toward the oven again. “We’ve got a herd of hungry cowboys waiting out there.” After taking a sleeve of plastic cups from the pantry, she urged Kim toward the back door.

      She couldn’t blame her best friend for her curiosity. Since that day in the schoolyard, Kim had been the one whose shoulder she’d cried on at Christmas and on her birthday, the days she had most missed the mom who’d gone away and left them all. Kim had been the friend she had ranted to a few years after her mom’s departure, when Brock had remarried. Adding her first stepmother and two stepbrothers into her life, making the family even larger, had thrown Carly into the middle of the crowd that had left her feeling so lost.

      Kim was still the one she told all her secrets to.

      Or almost all of them.

      Outside, the ranch hands milled around the yard, already lining up for seconds at the serving table Carly and Kim had loaded down with Anna’s ovenproof dishes of ribs, baked beans and potatoes in their jackets.

      At another table, her sisters presided over an assembly line of pop bottles. A few feet away, her brother, Jet, had set up the beer keg.

      Kim veered toward one of the tables spread with food.

      Carly walked up to Jet. “Hey, little brother.” She never missed a chance to greet him with the teasing reminder he was a year younger. “Don’t drink too much of that poison. We’ve got a date for tomorrow, remember? And when I take you on at the arena, I don’t want you claiming a handicap because you’re hungover.”

      “Are you kidding? This stuff doesn’t bother me. I’ll tell you what does rile me,” he added loudly enough to make sure Savannah and Lizzie heard him. “Getting stuck with the tough job today.”

      “What’s so hard about filling up a beer mug?” Carly asked.

      “Filling it isn’t the problem. It’s having to hand it off to somebody else.”

      She laughed. “Don’t even try for a sympathy vote from me. You’ve never in your life had to give up something you didn’t want to. I’m sure you’ll get your fill.”

      “Don’t waste time worrying over it,” Savannah called to her.

      “That’s for sure,” Lizzie said. “He’s already had more than his share.”

      “Somebody had to taste test,” Jet protested. “Savannah didn’t want any, and in your delicate condition, Lizzie, you need to stay away from it.”

      For just a moment, Carly let herself glance at her sister’s rounded stomach, where the first Baron baby of the next generation waited to make an appearance. When Lizzie caught her eye, she forced a smile. She had so much she wanted to say to Lizzie, so many questions she could never ask.

      Do you worry about carrying the baby to term? Did you miss not sharing the news with Mom? Do you hate knowing you can’t turn to her for advice?

      After Lizzie’s health scare early on in the pregnancy, Carly had kept those concerns and questions, those reminders of the past, all to herself. Yet they were concerns she had always wondered about, too.

      Attempting to swallow the lump in her throat, she forced a smile. She moved past Lizzie’s table and continued to the one filled with plates and plastic utensils set up assembly-line style. Kim now stood talking to one of the cowhands. Carly couldn’t help but glance around the yard, looking for a familiar broad-shouldered cowboy. There were plenty of cute wranglers in the vicinity, but not the one she...wanted to avoid.

      Darn Kim, anyway, for bringing up Luke’s name.

      As if he hadn’t already been on her mind.

      A moment later, Kim hurried up to her. “Well, don’t look now, but you’re about to get your chance to make up for that brief encounter.” СКАЧАТЬ