Those Texas Nights. Delores Fossen
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that includes not having a toilet in the living room. You need to go take care of that now. I’d actually like to have a finished house before I reach retirement age.”
Mick laughed as if it were a fine joke rather than one of Clay’s genuine concerns. Clay would have spelled out his concerns—in both writing and while using sentences with small words—but the sound of a car engine snagged his attention. He got a jolt of relief then anger when he saw that it was April’s powder blue VW convertible.
She stepped from the car as if all was right with the world, and she wasn’t alone. His two-year-old twin nephews, Hunter and Hayden, barreled out the moment their mom freed them from their car seats, and they ran toward Clay as if he were a major prize at the finish line.
That’s exactly how he felt about them.
They owned his heart, and the little shits knew it.
Clay scooped them up, kissed them both and got some sweaty, sticky kisses in return. Judging from the smell and stains on their shirts, they’d been eating chocolate ice cream. Of course, the ice-cream kisses and cuddles didn’t last. The moment the boys spotted the horses, they wiggled to get out of his arms so they could get closer to the animals.
“Don’t climb the fence or I’ll arrest you,” he warned them.
Hunter giggled like a loon, and Hayden immediately tried to climb the fence. Clay took hold of him like a wiggly football and tucked him under his arm while he gave April a once-over. She wasn’t hurt, but she did have new purple streaks in her dark brown hair. And a hickey on her neck.
“Obviously, you’re not dead in a ditch,” Clay growled.
She was still smiling when she kissed his cheek and grabbed Hunter when he tried to climb the fence. “Nope. Not dead. And I don’t go near ditches. According to you, they’re death traps for kid sisters.”
“Then there’d better be a good reason why you didn’t return my calls.” Normally, Clay would have punctuated that with a curse word or two, but he was in the little pitcher, big ear zone.
Still smiling and still with a kid in her arms, April twirled around like a ballerina. She sort of looked like one, too, in her pink dress.
“I do have a good reason.” She stopped twirling long enough to thrust out her left hand for him to see the diamond ring sitting on her finger.
Clay sure didn’t smile. “Please tell me that’s a fashion statement and not what I think it is.”
“No fashion statement.” Another twirl, and she set Hunter back on the ground. “I’m engaged.”
“For shit’s sake.” Clay mumbled it again when he realized he’d said that out loud. “The ink’s barely dry on your divorce,” he reminded her. “And you haven’t been dating anyone that I know about.”
“I’ve been divorced three months. That’s plenty of time for the ink to dry.”
“Yes, but not enough time to meet someone, fall in love and get engaged.”
“Maybe not for a stick-in-the-mud like you, but for me it was like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Love at first sight.”
“More like lust,” Clay grumbled, but he didn’t grumble it softly enough because both Hayden and Hunter started a babble fest with shit and lust. “Where were the boys during all of this?” He snapped his fingers to imitate April’s description of the joyous event.
“With their dad. Spike and I worked out a custody schedule. We’ll alternate weeks.”
Clay thought a week was too long for the boys to go without seeing one of their parents, especially since it would be Spike’s, aka Ryan’s, folks who ended up taking care of the boys when it was his week of custody. Ryan’s folks were decent enough people and were well respected in Wrangler’s Creek, but like April, Spike had some growing up to do. But that was another debate for another day. Right now, Clay had bigger fish to fry.
“Who’s your fiancé?” Because as soon as he had a name, Clay would run a background check on him. He loved his sister—most of the time anyway—but April was a turd magnet when it came to men.
April quit smiling. “Now, before you bad-mouth him, or me, just hear me out. I’m in love with him, and he’s a decent man.”
Hell. That couldn’t be good. “What’s his name?”
“When I tell you, you’ve got to promise not to curse or yell. This could work out good for you, too. Well, since rumor has it that you’re seeing Sophie Granger and all.”
He pulled back his shoulders. “Sophie? I’m not seeing her. And what the heck does she have to do with this anyway?”
Clay looked at the ring. At the hickey on his sister’s neck.
And the answer hit him like a fully loaded Mack truck exceeding the speed limit.
CLAY PULLED TO a stop in the circular drive that fronted the Granger ranch. To say he was dreading this visit was like saying it got a little bit hot in Texas during the summer.
This was his first trip here, but he’d driven past the place plenty of times. Hard to miss it with the sprawling house, sprawling pastures and miles of white fence. It looked the way he wanted his own place to look one day. Scaled down, of course, and with a real house with stuff in places where stuff belonged.
He was betting the Grangers didn’t have a toilet in their living room.
Clay got out of his truck, taking his time and hoping this went better than the scenarios playing out in his mind. Of course, there weren’t any good scenarios in this situation except that maybe Sophie had already moved on with her life and didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything.
He certainly did, and in Sophie’s and his case, they had a rat in common.
Brantley.
Sophie needed to know that Brantley had proposed to April. That didn’t mean the marriage was going to happen. For Clay, this qualified as one of those “over my dead body” situations. Brantley was only a month out of a long-term relationship with Sophie. A relationship he’d apparently ended because of some “love at first sight” shit with April.
Yeah, definitely over Clay’s dead body.
He made his way up the porch steps but before he could ring the doorbell, Clay heard something he didn’t want to hear. It sounded as if someone was crying. He went to the end of the porch and looked in the side yard and spotted the crier.
Sophie.
She was standing beneath a massive oak while she brushed down a bay mare. A tabby cat was coiling around her legs. No wedding dress today. She was wearing jeans and a white top. But like the day of the failed wedding, tears were streaming down her face.
Hell.
That wouldn’t make this visit any easier, and he got out his handkerchief and went to her. She must have heard him coming because when he was still several yards away, her head snapped up, and she immediately started wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. He spooked the cat, too, because it jetted out of there as if Clay had scalded it.
“Don’t tell Garrett,” Sophie said, moving away from the horse.
He handed her the handkerchief. “Don’t tell him what?”
She motioned toward her face. “He feels I should be over this by now, that my ex isn’t worth the tears.”
He’s not.
But Clay kept that to himself for now.
“It’s stupid,” she went on. Since she didn’t ask him why he was there, it was obvious that Sophie had some things she wanted to