The Rancher's Twin Troubles (The Buckhorn Ranch Book 2) Page 7

  Midway through the tale of a dachshund who hates his brothers and sisters, Natalie entered the room. She carried a steaming, extra-large paper cup from the town’s only coffee shop. As surreptitiously as possible with so many eyes on her, she knelt to whisper, “A certain father of twins left this in the office for you. He said seeing you shiver made him sad.”

  Accepting the drink, sampling it to find hot chocolate so sinfully rich and yummy she felt guilty drinking it in front of her students, Josie tried drawing less attention by getting back to the story. No such luck.

  Still in whisper-mode, Nat said, “Care to explain why a guy like Dallas Buckhorn would even care if you’re shivering?”

  “No.”

  “What about my dad?” Bonnie asked.

  “Nothing, sweetie.” Josie cast Nat her most stern Teacher Glare. It only broadened the size of her friend’s smile.

  “YOU FINALLY WARM?” DALLAS asked when he saw his call was from the girls’ school. He assumed it was Josie, because the girls were in music class at this time on a Monday.

  “Yes. Anyone ever told you you’re crazy sweet?”

  “Not lately,” he said, followed by a laugh loud enough to startle his horse. With a couple of cows ready to calve, despite the rain, he made the long ride out to the south pasture to check them. He could’ve driven, but he liked being out on days like this. Made him feel closer to all of the cowboys who’d worked the land before him. “How have my little deviants behaved this morning?”

  “Surprisingly well. Ever since leaving the fair, I’ve expected to be blamed for them having to go home early, but they never said a word about it.”

  “Good.” He pulled down his hat to protect his phone from the rain.

  “Where are you? It sounds like you’re standing under a waterfall.”

  “Pretty much sums it up,” he said, guiding his horse beneath a stubby oak. With no lightning, it was as good a place as any to take shelter.

  “You’re outside?”

  “It’s my office. Where else would I be?”

  “Duh.” Her laughter brought out the sun. “Stupid question.”

  He couldn’t resist teasing, “I’ve always heard there aren’t any stupid questions, just stupid people.”

  After making a cute little growling sound, she sassed, “You’re going to pay for that, mister.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “On that note, I need to go make copies. But seriously, thank you for the cocoa.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Long after hanging up, a sense of well-being stayed with him. At least until his cell rang again an hour later.

  “Mr. Buckhorn?” asked a woman whose voice he didn’t recognize, though the number was the same as when Josie called.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Marge Honeywell. I’m the school nurse. I have Bonnie in my office and we’re afraid she may have a concussion.”

  Chapter Seven

  “It hurts!” Bonnie wailed, breaking Josie’s heart.

  The tighter the girl clung to her, the more memories of Emma flooded her system. There’d been so much blood. E.R. doctors and nurses had done everything they could, but internal bleeding couldn’t be stopped. Josie had known Emma was gone when her arms slipped from around her neck.

  The mental image was so striking it stole her breath.

  “Miss Griffin, are you okay?” Betsy asked, pressing herself against Josie’s left side. “Your face is really white.”

  “I’m fine,” she assured Bonnie’s shaken twin.

  “Y-you are white,” Bonnie managed between hiccupping sobs. “Thank you for saving me.” When the girl snuggled still closer, resting her head beneath Josie’s chin, the sensation was mesmerizing. It reminded her of how motherhood had changed her in every conceivable way. It’d shown her the magical, healing power of hugs and kisses and tender words. She’d loved Emma to what’d sometimes seemed like an impossible degree. Now that her daughter was gone, Josie knew she never wanted to be a mother again. Suffering another loss would be the end of her.

  “You’re welcome,” Josie said, “but you’re going to be fine.” The rain had stopped just long enough for the kids to have outside recess. Bonnie had taken the opportunity to once again climb the big tree. This time, however, the bark had been slippery and she’d fallen. In the process, scraping her knees, palms and forearms. She’d also gotten quite a bump to her forehead that was already bruising.

  While Josie was busy with the nurse, Natalie was watching her class.

  “Bonnie Buckhorn…” Doc Haven, the town’s only physician, ambled into Nurse Honeywell’s office. “Girl, I believe I’ve spent the better part of my career patching up your whole family—except for your grandma. She’s the only sane one in the bunch.”

  “You gave us shots,” Betsy said. “We don’t like you.”

  The kindly old doctor chuckled. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that.” Gesturing for the girl to move from Josie’s lap to the nurse’s exam table, Doc said, “Hop on up here and let me take a look at you.”

  “No.” Bonnie refused to release Josie’s neck. “I want Miss Griffin.”

  “Sweetheart,” Josie said, “the doctor needs to check your eyes and head to make sure you aren’t seriously hurt. Would it be all right if I carried you to the table?”

  “Is he gonna shot me?”

  “I don’t think so.” Looking to the man in question, Josie asked, “Doc Haven? Any shots in this girl’s immediate future?”

  “I’m sure I could think of something she’d need one for.” His wink told Josie and the nurse he was joking, but Bonnie wasn’t so sure.

  After a thorough exam, the little girl was found to be banged up, but in otherwise good condition. Relief shimmered through Josie, making her ache with wishes that her daughter’s diagnosis could’ve gone so well.

  “You okay?” Dallas burst through the door, gaze landing on Bonnie.

  “Uh-huh.” She raised her arms and he went to her, hugging her against him for all he was worth.

  Doc Haven gave Dallas a quick rundown on Bonnie’s condition, asked him to keep an eye out for dizziness or nausea, then excused himself to make a house call out to Oak Manor, the town’s retirement home.

  Josie hadn’t thought much about it, but in many ways she and Dallas had similar pasts. Having lost his wife, he knew how tough it was coming back from the dark places a loved one’s death can take you. He knew about Hugh—the basics. Like her former husband was dead. But he didn’t know how he’d died, and she certainly wasn’t ready to share Emma with him—if ever.

  “Daddy,” Bonnie said, “I was gonna see Mommy in Heaven, but Miss Griffin saved me.”

  “That was awfully nice of her,” he noted with a grateful nod in Josie’s direction.

  “Yeah,” Betsy said, “Bonnie was all upside down and broken, but Miss Griffin came and brought her to the nurse.”

  “I’m glad.” The sight of Bonnie in Dallas’s arms and Betsy hugging his legs, knotted Josie’s throat. Here was this superrugged cowboy. Every inch manly man from the tip of his hat down to his boots, yet he also had an innate gentleness that appealed to children and apparently kindergarten teachers. Swallowing hard, she looked away. No matter how attractive or kind the man might be, she wasn’t falling for him or his mischievous girls. “You know, since Miss Griffin saved Bonnie’s life, it might be nice for us to have a party for her. What do you think?”

  “Yay!” Betsy danced and Bonnie wriggled. “I love parties!”

  “That’s not necessary,” Josie said. “I would do the same for any student here. All in a day’s work.”

  “Yes,” Dallas reasoned, “but on this day, you happened to save my student. We’ll expect you at the ranch at six Saturday night.”

  AFTER A FULL SATURDAY morning of yard sales in Tulsa, Natalie draped herself across the sofa while Josie grabbed them both Diet Cokes.

  “What’re you going to wear?” Nat shouted into the kitchen.
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  “Don’t have a clue.” Josie handed her friend a drink before collapsing on a lounge chair. “Hasn’t the Buckhorn Ranch main house been featured in Architectural Digest?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nat sipped her cola. “Best as I can recall, it was back when Duke Buckhorn was still alive. When I was a kid, I remember limos driving in from all over the state, filled with bigwigs heading to their holiday parties. Fourth of July, Christmas, New Year’s. Back then, practically any occasion was a good reason to whoop it up.”

  “Thanks for the intimidating history lesson, but that doesn’t help me with tonight. Are we talking ball gown? Jeans? Church dress?”

  “Relax. You’re overthinking the whole thing.”

  “And who made me so stressed? You! My supposed best friend.” Natalie looked so innocent, Josie couldn’t help but laugh, even though she knew her statement to be true.

  “You said you aren’t at all attracted to the man or even remotely interested in dating, so what’s the big deal? Wear sweats.”

  “You’re a lot of help—not. Come on…” Pushing herself upright, she aimed for her bedroom, intent on searching her closet.

  Nat followed. “Given any more thought to cleaning out Em’s room?”

  “Nope.” Opening the door to her walk-in closet, Josie pretended her so-called friend hadn’t even broached the subject.

  “Might be healthy for you.”

  “Drop it, okay?” Snatching a simple black dress from its hanger, she asked, “How about this? Too fancy? Not fancy enough?”

  Lying crossways on the bed, Nat asked, “Have you told Dallas anything about your past?”

  “No. Why would I? We’re friends. Nothing more.”

  “Keep telling yourself that and maybe one of these days it’ll be true.” She rolled over, fluffing her bangs in the mirror.

  “Why are you being so mean?” Returning her dress to the rack, Josie joined Nat on the bed.

  “I’m sorry.” Up on her elbows, she looked to the ceiling. “I worry about you. How you keep your past neatly compartmentalized. But that’s not the way life works. It’s all interconnected and I wouldn’t be a good friend if I encouraged you to keep this up.”

  “Keep what up? Dallas and I are friends. Nothing more.”

  “But don’t you see that if you’d let go of the past, you two could be more? Josie, you could have a family again. Instead of just pretending to mother your students, you may—”

  “Please, go.” Bolting upright, Josie folded her arms.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you. Really.” Nat stood and didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. “But all of that has been on my mind for a while. I want the best for you, and if that means breaking you down in the short run, then so be it.”

  Once Josie heard Nat close the front door, she threw a pillow at the wall. Damn her. How had the day gone from fun to awful in such a short time? How long had Natalie thought hurtful things about her? Months? Years? Was there a statute of limitations on how long you could mourn your dead child and the man who’d accidentally caused her death before killing himself?

  “I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU THIS pumped in forever,” Wyatt said, standing alongside him at the poolside grill. Whereas Cash, Dallas and Daisy were blond like their mother had been before turning gray, Wyatt was dark like their dad. Short black hair and brown eyes that kept more secrets than they told.

  Sweet scents of barbecued chicken, sausage and ribs rose from the flames while the girls, Cash’s wife, Wren, and Josie splashed in the heated pool. With slow country playing on the stereo and fireflies lighting the dark sky, Dallas couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so content. Cash was inside, helping their mom bring out potato salad and condiments to the cloth-draped picnic table.

  “Gotta say, I’m feeling pretty good.” Dallas used tongs to flip the chicken, then brushed on more sauce.

  “Josie Griffin have anything to do with that?”

  “Maybe.” Dallas cast his brother a sly smile. The more he was around Josie, the more he liked her. Trouble was, she reminded him of a skittish colt. He so much as hinted at maybe wanting to be more than friends and she’d bolt.

  “She’s pretty. Wholesome.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “Are you gonna go for her?”

  “None of your business. Chicken’s done. Get me a damned plate.”

  “Yessir,” Wyatt said, tipping his straw cowboy hat’s brim.

  “Ladies!” Dallas shouted above the splashing in the pool. “We’re about ready for dinner.”

  The twins grumbled, but Wren and Josie helped them dry off, wrapping them sarong-style in thick towels before sitting them at the table. With both women in Buckhorn logo robes, they joined the girls. Wren and Cash’s baby, Robin, was sound asleep in her blanket covered carrier.

  “Here we go.” Georgina set a bowl of pasta salad and napkin-wrapped silverware on the table. “Who’s hungry?”

  “Me!” Betsy cried.

  “Me, too!” Bonnie was never one to be outdone.

  “Thank you for putting on such a beautiful spread.” Josie forked a chicken breast onto her plate. “This all looks delicious.”

  “Dallas does amazing things with his grill,” his mom said. “His kielbasa is always perfectly done. A little hard on the outside, but soft and juicy inside. Overall, a really lovely taste.”

  “That’s enough about my sausage.” A glance toward Josie showed her eyes to be smiling.

  “I don’t know…” Cash speared his meat, holding up the link for all to view. “My wife has always enjoyed a nice, long sausage over the more stubby varieties.”

  Wren elbowed his ribs. “You’re horrible.”

  “Yeah, but I’m damned good-looking and all yours, my beauty.” When Cash kissed his wife, Dallas fought a jealous twinge. All of a sudden, he missed what his brother had—not his striking good looks, self confidence or playful attitude that drew folks in like moths to a flame, but the intimacy he and Wren shared. The turning over in the middle of the night and having someone he loved right there beside him. He wanted it with a keen, cutting edge that tore through him, but he’d already had his chance at love and had lost.

  “Earmuffs,” Josie said to the twins, laughing along with Wren.

  “Huh?” Having been so engrossed in buttering her corn cob, Bonnie had missed the entire conversation.

  Betsy raised her chin. “Uncle Cash was being bad and Aunt Wren had to yell at him.”

  “Oh.” Used to this occurrence, Bonnie returned her attention to flavoring her corn.

  With dinner finished, the girls grew bored with conversations centered on brood mares and how late in the season they were in baling the hay in the east pasture. With them scurrying off to their playhouse, Dallas’s mom opened white wine for the ladies and Wyatt grabbed beers for the guys.

  “Thought Henry was joining us?” Wyatt helped himself to the few potato chips left in the bowl.

  Cash shrugged. “I told him. Don’t know what he could’ve found more exciting than hanging with us.”

  “More exciting than you, hon?” Wren pushed up from the table’s bench. Robin had started to fuss. “Dominoes? Reading the phone book?”

  “Ha, ha.” Cash stood to help her while together they cooed over their creation. “Somebody’s sleepy.”

  “Me,” Wren admitted with a yawn. She wore her long, red hair in a high ponytail. Throw in her freckles and she looked all of twelve. As an intern at Saint Francis Hospital in Tulsa, she worked long enough hours that she was sometimes forced to stay over. This was one of her rare free weekends.

  “I guess since my glass is empty, I’ll head off to bed, too.” His mom hugged Josie. “It was so nice meeting you. Please come again soon.”

  “Thank you.” Josie smiled.

  With Cash and Wren making their goodbyes, that left Dallas alone with Josie and Wyatt.

  Dallas’s younger brother cleared his throat. “Now that I’m officially the third wheel, how about I track down your girls and
put them to bed.”

  “Sounds great to me. Thanks, man.”

  “No problem.”

  “Should we clean up this mess?” Josie asked, surveying what little was left from dinner.

  “Probably, but I’d rather take our drinks over to that lounger.” He nodded toward the cushioned seat built for two. On his way to the girls’ playhouse, Wyatt had lit the built-in gas torches. Combined with the glowing pool lights, though the evening had turned nippy, the patio flowers were still fragrant and lush. His brother had also put on one of Cash’s Garth Brooks compilation CDs. Countless times, Cash bragged he’d never used it without sealing the deal.

  “It’s getting late. I probably should just head home.”

  After consulting his watch, Dallas said, “It’s nine thirty and not even a school night.”

  “True, but…” Standing, she reached for the empty potato salad dish.

  He stood, too, promptly taking it from her, putting the bowl back on the table. “Play with me. It’ll be fun.”

  “The word isn’t in my vocabulary.”

  Shifting deeper into her personal space, he asked, “Play? Fun? Be?”

  “Stop.” Her breathless giggle told him he was on the right track.

  “Why?” Taking her hands, he placed them around his neck. His hands low on her hips, he swayed her in time to the music.

  “Dallas…”

  “You look awfully cute in that robe.” He especially liked her messy pile of crazy-corkscrew hair. How the deep V at her throat guided his eyes to naughty places.

  “I’m thirty-three. Hardly in the right age bracket for cute.”

  “Says who?” Pulling her close enough that even air couldn’t squeeze between them, he nuzzled her neck.

  “Dallas, please…” She made a halfhearted effort to push him away, but then he slipped his hand beneath her chin, drawing her lips to his. Their kiss was awkward and tender and the most exciting thing to happen to him in years. “…I can’t.”