Читать книгу The Rancher's Expectant Christmas - Karen Templeton - Страница 10

Chapter Three

“But I don’t want the ranch,” Dee said later, after everyone else had left so she and Josh could ostensibly hash things out. She shifted in the corner of the tufted leather couch in the office, clearly miserable. Physically and emotionally, Josh guessed. “I never did. And Dad knew it.”

Leaning his butt against the edge of the Depression-era desk, Josh crossed his arms. He’d initially assumed her shock had been because Gran had left half the ranch to him. Apparently not. “You told him that?”

“Yes!” Then, rubbing one temple, she sighed. “Or at least I thought I did. In any case—” her hand dropped to what was left of her lap “—I never made a secret of how much I hated being stuck out here. Why on earth would I want the place?”

“And what’d you think he was gonna do? You’re his kid, Dee. The ranch was his most valuable asset. Of course he’d leave it to you. I’m only surprised he didn’t leave you the whole thing.” Because she hadn’t been the only one in shock there. Truth be told, Josh still was. And would be for a good long while, he suspected.

Dee’s eyes lifted to his before she shoved out another sigh. “I can’t...this isn’t my home anymore, Josh.”

“Well aware of that.” His forehead pinched, he glanced down at the floor, then back at her. “But it’s been mine all my life. And the breeding operation...sure, I was only an employee and all, but your dad hadn’t had a hand in it for some time. He’d left all the decision making to me—”

“I know, Josh. I know.” She paused. “He obviously trusted you. And it’s not as if you don’t deserve it. But—”

“Look, you don’t want to stick around and help me run the Vista, I completely understand. We can still be partners, if you trust me enough to handle things on this end, and we can split the profits. There’s money to be made with the cabins, too, plenty of hunters would be happy to fork over the bucks during elk season. You know Steve’ll look out for your interests, make sure I’m not screwing you over—”

“It’s not that,” she said, sagging into the couch’s deep cushions. “It’s...” Her mouth thinned. “Okay. It’s not as if I’d really given this much thought, since I didn’t figure it’d be an issue for a long, long time. But since he did leave me half the ranch...oh, Lord. I can’t even say it.”

Josh’s veins iced over. “You want to sell it.”

A long moment passed before she said, “It’s more that I need to.”

“You sound like you’ve got gambling debts.”

She almost smiled. “No. But I do have a baby on the way. A baby who’s going to be applying to colleges eighteen years down the road.” Her mouth twisted. “Would be nice to have one less thing to worry about. Sure, the place might be profitable now. But there’s no guarantee it’ll stay that way. Not in this economic climate. If we sold it...”

Birds in the hand and all that. Yeah, he got it. Josh sighed, realizing he could hardly argue with her. About that, at least. God knows plenty of ranches went under, through no fault of their owners. And he’d be a fool to guarantee her that the Vista wouldn’t. Also, out of curiosity Granville had had the property appraised a couple years back, information he’d apparently shared with Josh because he’d been too stunned to keep it to himself. Even taking into account normal fluctuations in the real estate market, the figure was staggering. To somebody like Josh, at least.

Still, for him, it wasn’t about the money. It was about the ranch itself. It was about home.

“What about her father? I know you said you’re not together, but—”

“He’s not even part of the equation,” she said quietly, then heaved herself to her feet and walked over to the window facing the mountains. “For reasons I’d really rather not get into right now.”

Anger spurted through him. “Or ever, right?”

A frown crumpling her brow, she turned. “My situation is really none of your concern—”

“You want to sell the only place I’ve ever called home, Dee. A place I’d never, ever in my wildest dreams thought might be mine someday. So now that I’m this close—” he held up one hand, finger and thumb a quarter inch apart “—to seeing those wild dreams come true, you want to yank it from me. So tell me how the reason behind that isn’t any of my concern?”

Her arms folded, Dee pivoted back to the window. “You could always buy me out.”

“Seriously? Like I’ve got that kind of cash lying around. For a down payment, maybe, but no way in hell would I ever qualify for a loan big enough for the rest of it—”

“But if we sold it and split the proceeds...” She faced him again, a thin ridge between her brows. “You could buy your own place, right? No, it wouldn’t be this big—”

“It wouldn’t be the Vista.”

“—but you don’t need this much acreage to start up your own operation. And you’ve already got a great reputation, I’m sure everybody knows it’s you behind the breeding business. It’s you who’s won all the rodeo titles. And besides, then it’d really be yours. Yours and Austin’s. And who knows? Maybe someday down the road you can buy the Vista back from the new owners. Especially since you know as well as I do how few outsiders stick around once the romance of owning a ranch wears off. And you can take whatever livestock you want, nobody’s talking about selling the horses. Only the property.”

“Except I know for a fact there’s nothing available in the area.”

“Then broaden your parameters, for heaven’s sake!”

Josh’s knee-jerk reaction was to say But I don’t want to do that! Except even he knew he’d sound like Austin having a hissy fit over not wanting to put on a coat, or go to bed, or anything else the kid decided was against his druthers at any given moment. Even so...

Even so.

He swept a palm across his hair, then hooked both his hands on his hips, trying to ignore the plea in her eyes, for him to understand. Probably similar to what was in his.

“I hear what you’re saying. I do. But home isn’t just about place, it’s about people. Family. Although maybe that doesn’t mean the same thing to you it does to me.”

Deanna jerked. Sonuvabitch.

“Crap, Dee, I didn’t—”

“No, you’re right. I mean, of course I loved Dad, but...” She angled back toward the window, where the stark, late fall light brought the worry and exhaustion on her face into sharp relief. “But we definitely didn’t have the kind of relationship you and your brothers did—do—with your parents. My aunt and uncle have always been...concerned for me, and my cousin Emily’s a good friend, but...” A tiny, sad smile curved her mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

A quick shrug accompanied, “It’s what I know. Although...” The smile grew as her hand went to her belly. “Although my plan is to do better by this kid.” She almost laughed, but her eyes told an entirely different story. “At least I can dream, right?”

Josh slugged his hands in his front pockets, waiting out the next, even stronger, wave of sympathy. At least he’d had great examples in his parents, when it came to his own relationship with his son. And that still didn’t stop the fear that he’d screw up...

Ah, hell. Because sometimes it wasn’t about what you wanted, it was about what was best for everybody. And tying Deanna down to someplace she’d never wanted to be to begin with, simply because Josh had other ideas...

And those eyes...

“Okay,” he pushed out.

“Okay, what?”

“You wanna sell, we’ll sell.” She seemed to sag in relief. “Although...” He glanced around before meeting her eyes again. God, this was shredding him. All of it. “No sense putting it on the market without sprucing it up a bit first. Otherwise we’re likely to get a bunch of lowball offers. I’m sure you don’t want that.” At her wide eyes, a tight grin stretched across his face. “Yeah. Not as dumb as I look. I’d also like to do one last Christmas party. For the community. If that’s okay with you.”

Like the annual Fourth of July party, Granville had also hosted a Christmas bash at the house every year, even playing Santa for the children. To yank that out from under everybody this close to Christmas...well, it just didn’t seem right.

And judging from Deanna’s slow nod, she apparently agreed.

“Except...” Her brow knotted. “Who’s going to bankroll the fixing up?”

“Doubt we’re talking anything major. I can probably do most of the work myself, in fact. Since it’s my slow season.”

Still frowning, she cupped her hands under her belly, like she was trying to ease the weight of it. “And you do realize my window for getting back home is getting narrower by the second?”

“I figured as much. So if you’ll trust me to oversee the reno, let us throw that last party...” Josh waited out the sharp pain in his sternum. “We could list her right after the New Year. Shouldn’t take long to sell. Especially since your dad regularly got offers for the ranch—”

“I know,” she said on a breath. “That much, he did share.” Another beat or two passed. “You’re really good with this?”

“Good?” Josh slipped his hands into his pockets again. “Not at all. But you taking care of that little girl,” he said, nodding toward her middle, “is far more important than me being nostalgic or whatever. Besides, kinda hard to regret losing what was never really mine.”

Her eyes glittered. “I’m so sorry, Josh...”

“Nothing to be sorry for. I swear.”

A moment passed before she waddled over to wrap her arms around him and give him as much of a hug as her belly would let her. “Thank you,” she said softly, then returned to the desk to rummage through the drawers until she found a legal pad and a pen, after which she awkwardly lowered herself into her father’s old swivel desk chair and started making lists.

As Josh felt a dream he hadn’t even known he’d had slip from his grasp.

He grabbed his coat and gloves off the hall tree on his way outside, getting all the way over to the stables before he slammed his gloved fist into the splintered siding, making Starfire turn her head and give him a What the hell are you doing, boy? look. Just once in his life, it’d be nice to have something go—and stay—his way.

And maybe one day he’d discover a hitherto unknown immunity to a pair of sad female eyes.

Today, however, was clearly not that day.

Muttering an ugly curse, Josh slammed the wall again, then leaned his forehead against the cold, unyielding wood, trying desperately to steady his breathing.

* * *

“Uncle Granville did what?”

Deanna eased back a little more in her father’s desk chair to almost smile at the computer screen. Or rather, the completely flummoxed expression in her cousin’s bright blue eyes. “You heard me. Left the property to me and Josh equally.”

Emily swept a hunk of soft, sorority-sister-perfect golden brown hair behind her perfect little ear, looking both curious and concerned. “So what now? You’re hardly going to move back there, are you?”

“Not to worry.” Although, strangely, she wasn’t nearly as thrilled with Josh’s acquiescence as she would’ve expected. Then again, living with a tiny skull lodged against her spine tended to leech the joy out of most things these days. She loved this baby more than life itself, but she’d be extremely glad when they no longer shared a body. “We’re going to sell the ranch and divide the proceeds. Well, Josh is, I’ll be home in a few days.”

Em frowned. “And he’s okay with that? Selling, I mean?”

“He...agreed it’s for the best.”

“Huh.” Emily delicately bit off the end of a raw baby carrot. “So how is Josh, anyway?”

“Good,” Deanna said, deciding not to go into the whole he’s-got-a-kid-now thing. Because, pointless?

“I remember him, you know.”

Of course she did. As one tended to remember when that first, blinding hormonal rush swarms your brain so hard and hot and fast you can barely breathe. Like a simultaneously thrilling and scary-as-hell amusement park ride.

“He’s changed, though,” Deanna said.

“I’m sure. It’s been...oh, gosh. About eleven years, huh?”

“Yep.”

Only once had Emily and her parents visited the ranch after Deanna’s mother’s death, the summer before Deanna turned fifteen. Why, she never had figured out, since it’d been no secret Aunt Margaret thought her sister insane for hooking up with “that cowboy” after—or so the story went—Deanna’s grandparents had taken their two daughters skiing at the nearby resort, and there’d been a dance, or something, where the twenty-one-year-old Katherine Alderman had met a handsome, older rancher and fallen in love. And then chose to live in the middle of nowhere. So to say that last visit had been unexpected was a gross understatement.

In any case, her thirteen-year-old cousin immediately crushed on the sixteen-year-old Josh, following him around like a puppy dog. And Josh had been the epitome of patience and kindness, which had melted Deanna’s heart—even as it drove her aunt straight to Crazyville, clearly panicked that her daughter would somehow suffer the same fate as her baby sister. But although Deanna had rolled her eyes—since Emily was an eighth-grader, for heaven’s sake—considering her own feelings about living on the ranch, and what she remembered of her mother’s chronic wistfulness, she sympathized with her aunt’s concerns more than she might’ve otherwise.

She therefore could only imagine Aunt Margaret’s relief that Emily was now engaged to a senator’s son, thus realizing the proper happy-ever-after so rudely snatched from her younger sister.

“Anyway,” Deanna said, “I need to go—” Literally, before she peed right there in the chair. “So I’ll be back a week from Sunday, I’ll take a taxi in—”

“Like hell. I’m coming to get you. And don’t even think about arguing with me.”

Deanna smiled. She really did love her cousin. Even if she was...Emily. The poster child for impeccable social graces and never putting a foot wrong. Then again, Emily put up with Deanna, too, so there you were. “Fine,” she said, laughing. “I’ll see you soon—”

“That designer from Santa Fe is here,” Gus said from the office door, not even trying to hide his disgust. As far as the housekeeper was concerned, designers and decorators and their ilk were for outsiders who wanted to make sure their ridiculously overpriced houses looked authentically Southwest. Gus thought the place was fine as it was. Gus thought she and Josh were nuts to hire someone to fix something that didn’t need fixing.

But mostly, Gus was ticked as hell they were selling. In fact, he’d barely spoken to either her or Josh for a good twenty-four hours after they told him. Yes, they. Since even though Deanna tried to take blame for the decision, Josh insisted it was mutual. Never mind that more than once over the past couple days she’d catch him staring at the mountains, or one of the paddocks or barns, with a pensive expression that pulverized her heart. And if she hadn’t had this baby to think of—if she wasn’t the only person to think about the baby—maybe she would’ve rethought things.

But not only was she her little girl’s only champion, she’d let her heart rule her head for far too long. So this time, it was about being logical. Practical. A grownup. And Josh was a big boy, he’d land on his feet. Or someplace even better than the Vista.

If there was such a thing.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said. “Did you offer her coffee?”

“Since I didn’ fall down a well in the last little while,” Gus said in his heavy New Mexican Spanish accent, “yes, I did. You wan’ me to call Mr. Josh? I don’ think he’s far.”

“Please. Thanks. Since the Realtor should be along any minute.”

The old guy tromped out on bowed legs that attested to his many years as a ranch hand before opting for inside duty, and Deanna felt a rush of affection for the man who’d done his fair share of mothering her, too, once her own was gone. Another, much sharper rush of feelings followed, as it occurred to her once she left she’d probably never see him again.

Then, as she came out of the powder room she caught Josh in the entryway, brushing fresh, light snow off his shoulders, and she realized she’d probably never see him again, either. Which logically shouldn’t’ve bothered her, considering how little she’d seen him, anyway, in the last several years. Hadn’t even thought about him all that much, to be truthful. But in the past few days...

Deanna released another breath. Just another hyperemotional preggo, nothing to see here, move along. Sure, being back had stirred a lot of memories—how could it not? And she was vulnerable and shaky and more grief-stricken than she probably even realized, and not only about losing Dad, although that would’ve been enough by itself. And dammit, Josh was about to sacrifice something for her that obviously meant the world to him—

“Dee?” he said, frowning. “You okay?”

“You bet,” she said, girding her achy loins. And back. Lord, if the kid would move, already, that would be good—

The doorbell rang. Josh let the Realtor in, shaking his hand, polite as hell. Even when the man’s cold blue eyes swept over the great room with the practiced ease of a lion checking out the savannah for prey. Honestly, the dude was practically licking his chops.

The designer—a dark-haired beauty swimming in suede and turquoise—stood as they entered, grinning for the Realtor, who’d actually recommended her. “Toby!” she said, opening her arms for the much taller man to walk into. “So nice to see you!” Then, still smiling, she turned to Deanna, and something in her deep brown eyes put Deanna immediately at ease. Unlike her sidekick whose presence sent chills down her spine.

“Ohmigoodness,” the other woman said after introductions were made, her gaze landing on Deanna’s middle before lifting again. “We don’t have much time, do we? Before the baby comes?”

“Oh. No. I mean, yes, she’s due soon. But I’ll be home long before that happens—”

“And I don’t mean to rush you folks,” Toby said, making Deanna blink in the glare of his too-white teeth. “But unfortunately I’ve got a showing at eleven in Taos, so if you don’t mind...?”

The smile lit on Josh, standing off to one side with a scowl so deeply etched it took a full two seconds to let go of Josh’s face. At which point he smiled—not as brightly, thank God—and gave a little nod. “Of course. Right this way...”

* * *

An hour later, his head spinning with words like comparables and resale value and vintage charm, Josh sank onto the sofa in the office, his arms tightly folded over his chest and his mood the darkest since the day he watched Jordan walk out to her truck without even looking back.

On a sigh, he leaned into the cushions to glare up at the hand-forged chandelier, half wishing it would drop on his head and put him out of his misery. Out in the hall he could hear Deanna and Tessa the designer softly laughing. The gal seemed nice enough, and at least she hadn’t wanted to “update” every damn thing in the place, although she did have some valid suggestions to make things look a little less like you might find Billy the Kid’s bones behind one of the doors. Even if he was gonna stay, he’d probably go along with most of her suggestions.

The Realtor dude, though...jeebus. Like a villain right out of a Disney cartoon, complete with dollar signs in his eyes. Said he’d have an appraiser come give them an accurate number, but the ballpark figure he’d suggested was even more than Josh had figured on. No wonder the man was practically drooling. Hell, maybe Josh should ditch the horse business and take up selling real estate. At least houses didn’t kick if they got pissed at you.

Finally he heard the front door close; a moment later Deanna joined him in the room, carefully lowering herself into a wingback chair a few feet away.

“That went pretty well, don’t you think?”

Josh grunted.

Deanna tapped her fingers on the arms of the chair for a moment, then said, very gently, “At least they didn’t think we needed to change much.”

“Not sure what difference that makes if we’re selling it, anyway.”

“True, I suppose. And why are you looking at me like that?”

“You really have no attachment to the place? None at all?”

A long moment passed before she said, “No. I don’t. But even if I did, I’m in no position to let the past bog me down about decisions I need to make now. For the future.” She smoothed an oversize plaid flannel shirt over her belly for several seconds before looking over at him again. “For her future.”

“And I still say her father—”

“He’s married,” she said softly, and the rest of his sentence logjammed in his throat.

“Oh, jeez, Dee—”

“I didn’t know. Obviously. He was—is—French. Older. A diplomat. And yes, that much was true. Why he was in the States, I mean. I sold him a painting, he asked me out...” She blew a short laugh through her nose. “We even talked about marriage at one point. Or maybe it was only me talking about marriage and he didn’t have the guts or whatever to stop me. In any case, it was all fun and games until the diaphragm failed.”

“And don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

Her gaze slammed into his. “He didn’t seduce me, Josh.”

“No, he just lied. Same thing. So if you think I’m gonna judge you, you are definitely barking up the wrong tree. Seriously. Like I’ve got room to talk?”

She almost smiled at that. “Austin?”

“Yep. And Jordan and I were being careful, too. Or at least thought we were. Having a kid had definitely not been on the agenda. But at least I wasn’t involved with someone else. Let alone married. And when she told me she was pregnant...let’s just say I grew up real fast.”

“And she took advantage of your big heart.”

He felt his brows shove together. “What else would I have done?”

She almost laughed. “Really? After what I just said?” Then her eyes watered. “I’m so sorry, Josh. You deserve so much better than that.”

Her sincerity, her kindness, stole his breath. Not to mention a good chunk of his earlier irritation, if not his disappointment.

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You’re a prince, dude. Own it.”

Clearing his throat, Josh leaned forward, linking his hands between his knees. “Hardly a prince. In fact, looking back, it was probably stupid, her and me hooking up to begin with—okay, so no maybe about it, I knew better and I did it anyway—but at least I acknowledged my kid. Took responsibility for him. What that jerk did to you...” He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence.

“Oh, it gets worse.”

From her tone alone, he knew what she meant. “He asked you to get rid of it.”

“Demanded, actually.”

“Before or after he told you he was married?”

“After. But before he admitted he already had three kids. Yep,” Dee said to Josh’s softly uttered obscenity. “However, no matter how much I might wish I hadn’t let myself get caught up in the fairy tale, that I’d been more alert to the signs I now realize were there all along, the fact is I still made my own decisions. And now I have to deal with the consequences of those decisions. Same as you did...crap,” she said, her breath suddenly catching.

Josh jerked to attention. “What?”

“Nothing. Well, not nothing, my back’s killing me. But it’ll pass.” Then she frowned when he dug out his phone. “What’re you doing?”

“Calling Mom. Because I’ve heard way too many going into labor stories not to know a hurting back’s not a good sign—”

“Then I’ve been in labor for the past two weeks. So put your phone away—”

“Hey, Mom,” he said when she picked up. “Deanna says her back’s hurting pretty bad.”

“Oh?” Mom said, her voice kind of echoey. “How bad?”

“Bad enough she’s making faces—”

“I’m not in labor, Billie! Your son’s overreacting!”

Mom laughed in his ear. “You probably are. But if it makes you feel better, I’m on my way back into town—I had clinic this morning—so I’ll swing by, no problem. If that’s okay with Dee?”

“You’re on the phone while you’re driving?”

“Hands-free, not an idiot. And no other cars for probably ten miles. Well?”

He looked up from the phone. “Mom’s gonna come check you out, if that’s okay.”

She glared at him. “If it gets you to shut up, sure. But I’m not. In. Labor.”

Mom chuckled again. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she said, then disconnected the call.

* * *

Billie stuffed her stethoscope back in her bag, then straightened, her hands on her hips. “You’re not in labor,” she said, and Deanna released a half relieved, half annoyed sigh.

“Thank you—”

“You are, however, about fifty percent effaced and a couple centimeters dilated. Not to mention that baby’s sitting real low. As in, engaged already. Probably why your back’s been giving you grief.”

Deanna felt her forehead crunch. “I thought none of that happened with first babies until much closer to the due date.”

“So either your date’s wrong—”

“Two ultrasounds. Not wrong.”

“Or this child has a mind of her own. In which case, steel yourself, because that’s not gonna get better once she’s out. Which might happen sooner rather than later,” she said to Deanna’s undoubtedly horrified expression. “In any case—and you’re really not going to like this—you might want to rethink getting on a plane right now.”

The horrified expression instantly morphed into panic. “I can’t stay here, Billie.”

“You might not have a choice. Unless you want to risk giving birth at thirty thousand feet with a couple hundred strangers as witnesses.”

Struggling to her feet, she shook her head. “Nonononono... I have an installation to oversee, and I haven’t finished setting up the baby’s space—” Such as it would be, a corner in her dinky little bedroom. “And...” Deanna sagged back onto her bed, defeated. “Really?” she said in a small voice.

Billie sat beside her, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders and tugging her close, like she used to after Deanna’s mom died. “I know, sweetie,” she whispered into Deanna’s hair. “Like you didn’t already have enough on your plate. And it’s not like we know you’d go into labor—could be you’d make the trip just fine. But it’s not a chance I’d want to take. Or want you to take. And if you do give birth early, at least you’ll be back home by Christmas, right? Maybe even Thanksgiving, who knows?”