Читать книгу Twins For The Texan - Charlene Sands - Страница 9

Three

Brooke

You’ll never know how much last night meant to me. If you ever need me for anything, you can find me at the Blue Horizon Ranch. Thank you.

Wyatt

Brooke sat on her bed in the guest room of Zane Williams’s brand-new gorgeous ranch estate and reread the note for the tenth time this month. She hadn’t been able to toss it away. The paper was crumpled and creased, but the words rang out loud and clear. Wyatt had blown her off.

The morning after the wedding, when she’d woken up alone at the inn, she’d read his words and been baffled. She’d been certain Wyatt wasn’t the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. She’d been certain they’d wake up together and exchange phone numbers, at the very least. Maybe have breakfast together. Their connection had been powerful, so strong, in fact, it sort of scared her. She’d been sure it wasn’t one-sided. Had her BS meter gone on the fritz?

After what Royce Brisbane did to her, she’d turned on her protective radar with all shields up. She’d come to Texas partly to forget about men and romance. And then Wyatt appeared, seemingly out of the blue, and gave her one miraculous day...and night.

Maybe that’s all there’d ever be for her, snippets of passion, spread out here and there, but nothing real, nothing permanent. Oddly enough, it was the “thank you” at the end of the note that pissed her off more than anything. As if she’d done him a service.

If you ever need me for anything, you can find me at the Blue Horizon Ranch.

Hell, yeah, she needed him. But right now, her pride interfered with good judgment. Tears entered her eyes. Tears she didn’t want. Tears that embarrassed her. She wasn’t a teary-eyed romantic fool, but her hormones were out of whack and had been pretty much since she’d missed her last period.

She knew what it meant. She’d taken the test yesterday. She was going to have Wyatt’s baby—a result of too much passion and not enough good sense.

She’d slept on the news last night, hoping when she woke up today it would’ve all gone away, like a bad dream you eventually forget. She hadn’t told a soul, but Emma was raising her eyebrows at her lately, asking her why she was tired and looking pale. She blamed it on the Texas heat and humidity. She wasn’t used to the sweltering temperatures, but Emma was five months pregnant and having just gone through these early months, she knew the signs all too well.

Dylan popped his head into her room. “Are you gonna come out to the set today, sis?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. But thanks.”

“What are you gonna do? Stay alone here all day?”

Zane and his new wife, Jessica, had graciously offered for the three of them to stay as his houseguests in the glorious new home Adam Chase had designed as a wedding present, while Dylan shot a Western movie here. Zane had been a neighbor for a time back in Moonlight Beach, California, and Dylan, Zane and Adam were all good friends now. But newlyweds Zane and Jessica were inseparable, and a few days back, they’d left on Zane’s spectacular tour bus, heading toward New Orleans to do a round of country music concerts.

Now Dylan, Emma and Brooke had the house all to themselves for the next few weeks.

Emma barged into the room, her growing belly covered by a breezy floral handkerchief dress. “No, she’s not spending the day alone. She’s going to help me pick out baby girl clothes!”

Brooke forgot about her own problems and jumped up. “You’re having a girl?”

Emma nodded, her laughter infectious. She lifted the pointed hem of her dress with both hands, and danced around the room singing, “Yes, yes, we’re having a baby girl.”

Brooke caught her midstride and hugged her tight. “Oh, this is wonderful. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter, but now we know!”

She peered over Emma’s shoulder at her brother. His eyes were gleaming with love for his wife and new child. One would never know the child Emma carried wasn’t his. But he loved both mother and child with all of his heart. And that’s all that mattered.

Brooke stepped away from Emma and with arms reaching up, walked over to Dylan to give him a giant warm hug. Her big brother was happier than she’d ever seen him. “Congratulations.”

Dylan kissed her forehead. “Thanks. We’re excited.”

“You’re going to be outnumbered, you know, with all these women around.”

“He’s used to it,” Emma said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“That’s right, the big mega movie star has women falling at his feet,” Brooke said.

“Not anymore. They know I’m taken.” Dylan went to Emma and took her hand. She smiled and then both of them looked Brooke’s way. “So, you’ll drop by the set with Emma later?” he asked.

“Sure, we’ll come by and see you.”

She couldn’t burst his bubble. She’d been a downer lately, and hadn’t been able to concentrate on having a good time. They sensed something was up with her, but hadn’t pried. Not yet, anyway. She didn’t want to raise any more suspicion. She was having enough trouble accepting the fact that Emma wouldn’t be the only new mother around here. And she had no clue of how or when to tell Wyatt Brandt he was going to be a father.

* * *

Wyatt sat upon a black gelding with white socks named Oreo and faced the rushing waters of the Willow Springs River. Twenty miles north of Beckon and even farther from his ranch, he was doing Johnny a favor today by coming here. Aside from Johnny Wilde, no one else in the area had as much commonsense knowledge about horseflesh and cattle as Wyatt did. Not that he’d wanted this job. Hell, he was no consultant, but his friend had called him in a panic. Johnny had come down with the flu, hopefully just the twenty-four-hour kind, and he’d needed a replacement, pronto. “You’re the only one I trust to do the job,” he’d said.

It wasn’t the plea, but the weakness in Johnny’s voice that had Wyatt agreeing to haul his butt away from Blue Horizon Ranch and his kids today.

He glanced at the men milling around, decked out in fringed leather chaps, Stetsons and snakeskin boots. Actors.

Dressing room trailers—honey wagons, Johnny had called them—were set up in the outlying area and a crew of about fifty were pulling wires, setting up cameras and shouting orders. He’d already spoken with the director today about the scene they were to shoot along the river’s edge. The horses and cattle would be crossing in shallow waters, but it was a key concern that no animals or actors be hurt in the highly technical shot.

From a distance, he spotted the star of the movie, Dylan McKay, stepping out of his trailer decked out in a chambray shirt, jeans and a red paisley kerchief around his neck. And then Wyatt froze. He blinked and refocused.

Yep, he wasn’t imagining it. Dylan was with a woman.

It was her.

Brooke Johnson.

What was she doing here? She looked awfully chummy with Dylan, laughing at something he’d said and walking along with him as though she was accustomed to being close to the mega superstar.

Seeing her again sent blazing fireworks off in Wyatt’s head. “Uh, Tony?” He took his eyes off Brooke for a second to get the assistant wrangler’s attention. “Do you know who that woman is walking with Dylan McKay?” He pointed. “Is her name Brooke Johnson?”

The wrangler scrubbed his jaw, his eyes narrowing a bit to gain a good look. “It’s Brooke all right. All the single guys on the crew have been eyeing her. But her name’s not Johnson. That’s Mr. McKay’s sister, Brooke McKay.”

“She’s Dylan McKay’s sister?”

“Yep, that’s what they tell me. She’s a looker, but she’s not the friendly type, if you know what I mean.”

No, he didn’t know what Tony meant. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. The woman he’d met on the road had been friendly and fun and sassy. He’d never describe Brooke as unfriendly. But then, he hadn’t known the real Brooke, had he? She’d given him a fake name. Now that wasn’t cool.

And just like that, Brooke turned her head and met his gaze. She halted abruptly, her face going as white as newly plowed snow. Dylan kept walking, but Brooke stood there, some twenty feet away, staring at him as if she couldn’t believe it. As if she wanted to hide under a rock.

God, when had his effect on women taken a turn for the worse?

She said something to her brother, and then did a one-eighty and hightailed it back to the trailer. Before stepping inside she glanced in Wyatt’s direction. To see if he was watching? Their eyes met again and for all he was worth, he couldn’t, wouldn’t stop looking at her. Then she was gone, the trailer door slamming shut behind her.

“Crap,” he muttered, climbing down from his horse. He planted his feet on solid ground and held the reins in his hand, trying to decide what to do. He’d worked hard to put Brooke out of his mind, and now here she was infiltrating, invading and trying her best to take up space again.

He was so busy being in his own head, he didn’t notice Dylan McKay until he was standing right in front of him. “Hello, I’m Dylan. I understand you’re taking over for Johnny Wilde today?”

“Yes,” Wyatt said, distracted. He got it together enough to refocus and pay the star some attention. “Wyatt Brandt.”

Dylan put out his hand. “Nice meeting you.”

“Same here.”

They shook hands. “I understand you think the river’s too fast to do the crossing scene today?”

“That’s right. I told the director we should wait. I know the area, and that current is only going to get stronger as the day progresses. It’s not safe for the animals. Clouds are starting to gather and those breezes are gonna turn ugly in a few hours. The winds will only complicate things. Sorry, I know it’s not the news you hoped to hear.”

“No need to apologize. We can shoot around it. Keeping the animals and crew safe is a priority. I just wanted to hear it from you.”

“Sure thing.”

“So, you’re from around here?”

“I’ve lived in Texas all my life. I own Blue Horizon Ranch some twenty-five miles from here.”

“Horses?”

“Cattle, but we have a string of Arabians and cutting horses on the ranch, too.”

They spoke about horses and Texas for a while, and Wyatt came away thinking that Dylan McKay wasn’t a stereotypical prima donna celebrity. It was on the tip of his tongue during the conversation to ask him about Brooke. But that didn’t happen. Dylan had been called away. Just as well. Wyatt had come to the conclusion that he needed to speak to Brooke himself.

Sure, she’d lied to him about who she was.

But he’d left her alone in a hotel room after a wild night of sex, without much of an explanation.

He marched over to the honey wagon with a clear vision of what needed saying, but as he came close to knocking on the trailer door, his mind began to blur. Visions of Brooke slapping his face a good one flashed in his head. She might call security to toss him off the property.

He’d like to see them try.

But his hand clenched into a fist and he rapped on the door regardless. Things needed saying. It was as simple as that.

The door opened, and he was shell-shocked when a pretty, pregnant redhead stood facing him. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Uh, sure. I wanted to speak with Brooke. I’m Wyatt Brandt.”

“Okay, Wyatt. Let me see if Brooke is available. What can I tell her this is about?”

Hell, the wagon wasn’t that big. Brooke was probably hearing this whole conversation. “Just mention my name. Tell her I hope she’ll see me.”

“I’ll see him, Emma.” Brooke said, her voice stony. And then she appeared in the doorway. She wasn’t happy about seeing him, yet her beautiful brown eyes widened a bit when she looked at him, turning his brain to mush. The words he wanted to say fled him faster than a jackrabbit running from a hound.

“Hello, Brooke.”

“Wyatt.”

Emma gave them both a curious glance. “You know, I just remembered I have an errand to run.”

Out here? There wasn’t a town for miles.

“You don’t have to leave, Emma. This won’t take long,” Brooke told her.

“No, no. I’ve really got to, to, uh...talk to Dylan. He’s waiting on me to meet him down by the river.”

Emma ducked her head and scooted down the steps quickly, giving them privacy.

Brooke’s curvy body blocked the doorway. “I’m not inviting you in.”

“There’s no need for that. I just wanted to say...” Brooke’s arms were folded and any minute now, she’d be tapping her foot, schoolteacher style. “Listen, I have some explaining to do. But so do you. You lied to me.”

“About what?”

“About your name. You faked your identity.”

“I have my reasons for that. But you skipped out...and oh, never mind.”

“Can we talk?”

“I thought that’s what we’re doing.”

“No, I mean really talk. I feel badly about how I had to leave you that morning. I do, and I want to make it up to you.”

If body language had anything to do with it, she’d surely refuse him, but something stopped her. Instead, she seemed to be considering it. “What did you have in mind?”

“Come out to the ranch and have dinner with me. We can talk there, uninterrupted.” Well, that depended on two little rascals and their sleep schedule, but he couldn’t offer her anything more right now. His sense of honor was at stake. He didn’t usually treat women the way he’d treated Brooke, and he wanted to make amends. “I can pick you up later and take you to the ranch.”

“No. I don’t think so,” she said, and he felt the disappointment all the way to his toes. “I’ll drive out. Just give me directions...easy directions, or I may not find it,” she said.

She was agreeing? Why was he so damn happy about that?

“Great. It’s about half an hour’s drive from here and it’s practically a straight run. I’ll write down the directions. But I’d be happy to pick you up.”

“No, I’ll drive to you,” she said, in a tone that meant business.

He got it. She wanted to be able to leave at a moment’s notice. He didn’t care. At least the nagging thoughts plaguing his mind would be put to rest after he explained the whole one-night-stand business.

The trick was trying to sort it all out in his own head first.

* * *

With her windows rolled down and a light drizzle dotting her windshield, Brooke was actually enjoying the ride. The muggy Texas day had given way to an evening of fresh scents and cooler temperatures. Her windshield wipers clicked on and off and her driving arm was hit with an occasional raindrop as she steered over remote terrain toward Wyatt Brandt’s ranch.

If it weren’t for the baby she was carrying, she wouldn’t be making this drive, but the opportunity to tell Wyatt the truth presented itself today when he shown up on the set of The Price of Glory. Seeing pigs fly would’ve shocked her less than having Wyatt Brandt appear at the river.

But as luck or bad karma would have it—she wasn’t sure which—Wyatt had come out of nowhere again, her not-so-miraculous cowboy. Talking to him had become inevitable. She certainly couldn’t speak with him on Dylan’s set; there were too many opportunities to trigger gossip and speculation. And at Zane’s home, there’d be too many eyes and ears around to have a private conversation, namely her brother’s and Emma’s.

Country music filled the silence of the road. Brooke sang along with Reba to keep her mind off what she was about to do. The words of “Cowgirls Don’t Cry” poured out of her as she traveled over a lovely wooden bridge, the creek below surging with water. Alongside the water’s edge, a carpet of healthy bluebonnets stretched out as far as the eye could see.

The picturesque image stayed with her and gave her a sense of peace. Soon white fences lined with Mexican oaks standing tall and probably designed for privacy came into view. Long branches with leathery leaves waved at her as she drove by. Within a minute, she came upon brick columns and iron gates and a pretty metal sign embossed with the sun rising over the land, welcoming her to Blue Horizon Ranch.

She sighed. Grateful to have made it without getting lost or running out of gas, she now had to contend with the fact that she was here. And one way or another, her life was going to change forever when she revealed her pregnancy to Wyatt Brandt.