Redheaded Stranger: A Cowboy Love Story (Bluebonnet, Texas) (6 page)

The door opened and Alex grimaced slightly at the sight of Betti’s sister. How two sisters could look so different and yet not, he had no clue. Betti was blonde, tall and full-figured while Angelina was a brunette with a more slender build, and darker hair. Betti was all curves while Angelina seemed to have more sharp angles, but they both exuded that same sensuality of a woman who was well aware of her worth in the grand scheme of things. If they could have bottled it, they would have made a killing, and despite his words at Thanksgiving, Angelina Blanchard was probably no more a dyke than he was—even if she did wear those thick, ugly-ass crepe-soled boots.

She propped her hip against the door and looked him up and down. "Oh, look—a two-legged donkey."

Great. More crap. Just what he needed. "Is your sister awake?"

"Not for you,
don-ke
!"

He couldn’t help but smile at her exaggerated and poorly done British accent straight out of the movie
Shrek
. And the not so subtle way she’d called him an ass. "Angi, right?"

"You may call me Angelina,
donkey
. Only my friends can call me Angi."

"Alright, Angelina. I’ve come to apologize, and since you’re here, I’ll apologize to you, too. I didn’t mean to call you a dyke. I was out of line. Please accept this sincere and heartfelt apology."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "It’s too late to get on my Christmas list. I’m done shopping."

"Angelina Monique." Apparently, his sister-in-law was still up. "Move." Angelina stepped out of Betti’s way as she appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a dark green velvet robe, her curly blond hair pulled back in a braid. "Delaney  was here earlier. She told me you got hitched,
and
that you have a cute kid. Why the hell anyone would marry you, I have no clue."

Despite the sudden gnawing hole in his stomach at the sight of her, he ignored the dig. "May I come in?"

He caught a low, "Don’t do it," from behind the door, but held steady, hands clasped behind his back.

She studied him, her expression unreadable as she opened the door a bit wider and waved him in. "It's your funeral, Red."

The white Berber carpet was still as shocking now as it had been on his last visit two years ago. He shook his head, wondering what in the hell his ex-sister-in-law had been thinking.

"Awful, isn’t it?" Betti said.

He snorted. "You could say that. Place looks a hell of a lot better than it did though." A southwestern-style table and chairs sat atop an area rug in desert colors—rust, brown, beige and sage green. The clean, classic design of the dining room furniture almost made the carpet bearable and blended well with the denim couch and oversized chair. In the far corner stood a live Christmas tree decorated with an odd assortment of homemade and store-bought ornaments that somehow didn't come off cheesy.

"Sit."

He motioned for her to go first and followed her into the living area, choosing the couch after she curled up in the matching chair. "How are you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, then looked over his shoulder at Angi. "Go find something to wash."

"You sure you want to be alone with
don-ke
?" Angi asked.

"That’s the last time I buy you a kid’s movie, now go."

He choked back a surprised laugh as she disappeared through the swinging door to the kitchen.

"I’m fine. I have some bad days." She adjusted her position, her eyes momentarily on the tree before she turned her gaze back on him. Her sharp green eyes and the stubborn set of her chin belonged to a woman you only made the mistake of underestimating once. He got that now—here. He got it.

He moved to sit on the ottoman at her feet, fisting his cold, shaky hands. "I um...I just want you to know how truly sorry I am."

Her expression was stoic. Unreadable. "Thank you."

"Not just about the stuff I said—I was out of line—but about the baby, too. About everything I said to you. I was out of line." He sighed, struggling for the right words. This shouldn't be as difficult as it was. She shouldn’t be as intimidating as she was. "I sincerely hope that me telling you about Rhea’s...
treatment
of Ty didn’t help cause your miscarriage, but if it did—"

"That’s enough."

He swallowed the lump clogging this throat and pushed on, ignoring her request. "My wife and I; we lost a baby before Darrach. So I would never, in a million years, have wished something like that on anyone, and I hope you can forgive me if I played any part in it."

"That's enough. Stop!"

From the kitchen came the sound of dishes crashing, reminding him they weren't alone.

"I’m not the one you need to look to for absolution."

"I’m not here for you to absolve me of anything. I just wanted to apologize." And who the hell was he supposed to ask for absolution from?

One perfectly arched blonde eyebrow rose. "Sure about that?"

"I just want to take my wife and son home." He couldn’t keep the fatigue or the despair from his voice. It had been a long day, he was tired, and stuck in the last place he wanted to be.

"You
are
home."

"This isn’t my home anymore," he snapped.

"A shame you feel that way," she sighed, adjusting her position. "I don't think I’ve ever felt more like a part of a family than I have since I married your brother. And your sister is a sweet girl."

He cringed at the word
sister
.

"She reminds me of Angi."

"I thought you said she was sweet?"

Betti chuckled. "She is. Rene follows her around like a puppy and begs to go with her constantly, and Delaney never complains. Ever." She stopped and studied him until he was ready to squirm. "She’s the closest Rene will ever have to a big sister. Maybe even the closest she’ll ever have to a sibling at all."

He stayed silent still, not willing to talk about Delaney when all he’d come here to do was apologize.

"I know your brother and I haven’t been married for very long, so I haven’t been around for very long, but I do know this hasn’t been easy for your family. Hell, your mother is Maggie Kendall, honey. Her grandfather was the mayor. So was her father. She’s practically royalty in these parts."

Always had been. He hadn’t missed that part of living in Bluebonnet anymore than he’d missed the smell of cow shit.

"And you know how people are."

He did. Social media had nothing on small towns for spreading gossip.

"It hasn’t been easy for
any
of them. Of course, you wouldn’t know about any of this since you haven’t been here."

M
aggie had given us the largest empty bedroom, saying it had once been Zander and Zack’s and that it came with a connecting bathroom. Delaney was across the hall in Ty’s old room.

I’d also gotten to meet her and found her to be a wonderful, sweet young woman whose seriousness was balanced by a quirky sense of humor. She’d shown up in time for dinner, shocked, flustered and obviously dismayed at my presence and the knowledge that her archenemy was on his way. I couldn’t say I blamed her after the hateful things he’d said about her and her mother.

I groaned inwardly, wondering what sort of first Christmas Darrach might have, then chuckled to myself at how totally spoiled rotten he’d be by the time I eventually took him home. After five hours in the car, his afternoon nap had lasted all of forty-five minutes. Then he’d spend the afternoon with his grandfather—who’d promised me no riding horses yet—while exploring the barn. Jerrod said he’d squealed and patted the horses noses like a real trooper. Plus there were puppies. Just in time for dinner, he'd handed a hungry Darrach back to me complete with dirt on the knees of his little jeans. And then Alex had shown up.

By the time I'd finished chewing Alex out, pried Darrach from his grandfather’s clutches, got him bathed and stretched out on the quilt-covered bed for his final feeding of the night, I was exhausted. So exhausted I barely moved when Alex moved Darrach to his crib and climbed in next to me, damp and warm from his shower.

So exhausted, we didn’t even talk. Not that we had much to talk about at this point.

I didn’t move again until Darrach’s five a.m. feeding, when I gathered him close and propped a pillow behind him, then dozed while he nursed. He squawked, demanding more, waking me, and I rolled over, taking him with me, and dozed off again.

I watched through drowsy eyes as Alex curled up against Darrach’s back and draped an arm across us both. Curling up in bed together to feed the baby was a weekend ritual we’d practiced from day one. Alex had insisted on it from the minute we brought Darrach home. He'd also done the majority of the burping and diaper changing.

I was still too tired to ask him how things had gone with Betti. Unfortunately, once Darrach finished nursing, he decided it was time to play, rolling over and beating a fist on his father.

"Darrach, no," I murmured, pulling his hand back.

"He’s alright. I got him. Go back to sleep." Alex wrapped one long, sinewy arm around him and held him against his chest, sitting up in one fluid motion that caused the baby to burp.

Smiling, I closed my eyes and burrowed in the comfy bed, listening to the telltale sounds of him changing Darrach’s diaper and dressing them both before the room quieted with a click of the door.

When I awoke for a second time, the sun was up, the room was silent, and for that matter, so was the house. I lurched out of bed, threw on a robe and rushed downstairs, flinging the front door open, my heart in my throat at the thought of Alex taking Darrach back to Dallas without me. At the sight of both our vehicles parked out front, I sagged against the doorjamb for a few shaky breaths. Weak-kneed, I padded back upstairs to check the time my phone. It was only just after eight. I hadn't slept in as long as I'd thought. Once my heart settled back in my chest, I dressed and went back downstairs to pour myself a cup of coffee and find my husband.

"Sleep good?" Maggie asked as she came through the back door. She wore jeans and a thermal undershirt topped with a red flannel shirt a few sizes too big for her.

"Yes, I did. Thank you." I poured a cup of coffee and turned to face her, forcing my tone to stay casual. "Do you know where Alex is?"

One eyebrow quirked, a tiny smile on her lips, she nodded toward the back door. "Outside."

I wondered at the funny, knowing look on her face as I headed for the door, sans coat. The day was cold enough to produce frosty breath as I stepped out onto the porch, arms wrapped around myself. The sight that greeted me made my jaw drop in shock. Maggie grabbed the coffee cup from my fingers before it crashed to the porch.

In a small fenced-off area beside the barn, my husband and son were sitting atop a horse.
A real horse.
A large, spotted, gray animal, and they were going in circles. I hustled down the four steps and across the yard toward them, relief at the sight of them together, and more importantly,
still here
, mixed with a new kind of panic.

"Have you lost your mind, Alex Boudreaux?" I struggled to keep my anxiety in check, afraid of startling said horse and hurting my son.

The bottoms of Alex's normally pristine Nikes were now covered in mud. Both of them wore jeans and flannels under their coats, though Darrach’s shirt was way too big. Completely immune to my distress, Darrach scrunched up his nose, kicked his legs and hollered with happiness.

"He won't get off."

I spun around in surprise, still a little off-kilter from the sight of my husband and son on a horse. "Good morning?"

"Morning, ma’am." The newcomer smiled and tipped his ball cap at me. "Tim Caldwell, at your service." The Boudreaux’s godson, and honorary fourth son, held out his hand, and I shook it slowly. "That’s my daughter, Rene, up there." He pointed to the top of the hay loft, where a willowy girl hung out far enough to make me grimace.

"Aren’t you afraid she’ll fall?"

"Naw," Tim replied. "She’s been doing that since she was old enough to climb."

"I took pictures already." Maggie joined me, handing me back my coffee. The heat felt good on my cold, nervous fingers.

My husband guided the large horse over near us. Despite the previous day’s upheaval, he looked surprisingly relaxed. Secretly, I felt this trip had been, and would be, just what he needed in more ways than one. But the key to all of it was mending the rift between him, his father, and Delaney—a problem I hadn't found a solution to yet.

Just outside the small fenced area, Jerrod sat atop a large reddish-brown horse, a huge grin on his face.

"I thought you were going to take him?"

He shrugged, his expression almost
too
innocent as he said, "I was."

Alex caught my eye, his expression unreadable. "I told him no."

Didn't take a genius to figure out his father had somehow goaded him into taking Darrach for that first ride. I looked up into my husband’s quiet, solemn face, wondering what he was thinking.

Tim chuckled. "You should have seen Zander and Daddy arguing over who was going to give Darrach his first ride."

"I can imagine," I muttered.

"I thought Tim would have to step in," Maggie added.

"I’m surprised you even remember how to sit a horse," Tim said with a chuckle.

"Fu—"

"Hey!" I frowned at Alex, my displeasure clear. "No swearing in front of the baby.
Or
your mother."

"Yes, ma’am. Sorry." He nodded to me, clucked his tongue and the horse picked up his pace. My heart struggled to climb up my throat and come out my mouth, but Darrach just laughed like it was the best thing ever.

"Open the gate, Dad." Alex's voice was gruff and low instead of his usual clear deep tone.

"You sure that’s a good idea?" Jerrod asked, maneuvering his horse around so he could reach the latch.

"I can handle her."

"Been a long time since you got on the back of a horse."

"Open the gate, Dad."

Jerrod did, and I watched as Alex and Darrach took off across the field. My grip tightened on my coffee cup as they disappeared from view.