Frisco Joe's Fiancee. Tina Leonard
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Mason wondered if he missed Mimi, hellion that she was. He’d as surely miss an ingrown toenail, right?
Fortunately, he had this unwelcome thought while he was sitting in a beer joint, listening to old country tunes on an out-of-whack jukebox. The proper antidote to thinking weird stuff like he was thinking was another beer and a two-step with a cute, obliging regular.
Otherwise, he’d have to start riding rodeo again to knock some sense into himself. He’d been alone way too long if he thought he was missing Mimi Cannady.
Of course, if he wanted to play devil’s advocate with himself, there was the night of the big storm. Remembering the feel of Mimi as she jumped into his arms made his chest spread with warmth. Shaking his head, he swallowed some more beer.
Mimi would drive him crazy sooner or later.
At least for now, things were under control at the ranch. He’d thank her for that later. And the cattle auction had gone better than he’d hoped. Another week, and he’d be home.
His blood picked up as Mimi’s face appeared in his memory. She was laughing at him, the way she always did.
Another beer, another dance, and then surely he’d be tired enough not to think about his nutty little neighbor.
“WE NEED A BATTLE PLAN here,” Frisco told his brothers as they conglomerated in the kitchen of the big house. “We gotta get these women out of here tomorrow.”
“Sh-h,” Laredo said. “They might hear you.”
They’d long since said good-night to the ladies and sent them down to the third house on the property—the one farthest from the other two and his brothers. Mimi had gone down to see to the ladies’ comfort—except for Annabelle, who was upstairs with Emmeline, sound asleep in his bed.
How that particular arrangement had passed Ms. Delilah Honeycutt’s military-style sensibilities, he wasn’t certain. For a moment, he’d thought she might stay herself, but then she’d apparently decided the other group of women needed her chaperonage more. But she’d given him a severe stare that had said, Don’t even think about it. If he’d been hot for Annabelle, the good Ms. Delilah and her icy stare should have cooled him off.
Annabelle and the baby, upstairs in his bed. Sleeping soundly, he hoped. She’d probably pulled off her blue jeans to sleep in…what, exactly? His mouth dried out. He’d never brought a woman home to sleep in his bed. The nice thing about willing women was that they were always willing to take him home to their houses. The upside to this was that he didn’t have to shoo anyone out of his house, didn’t have any messy reminders of the night before, such as makeup in the bathroom, earrings on the side table or perfume in his sheets.
There was a baby—and a woman—in his sheets now. He couldn’t figure what she might be wearing to bed. Something. Maybe nothing. He couldn’t identify the sudden surge of emotions he felt at that thought.
“Why?” Last asked. “Why do they have to go? What are they hurting?” The other brothers murmured, as well.
Frisco decided his brothers needed a cold bucket of water upside their heads. But then, they didn’t have a pile of diapers and a bottle on their bedside table. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, and if a storm is coming in, they need to get back to their families. They don’t want to stay here for a week until the back roads clear,” he said sternly, as much to be sharp with them as to clear his head from the realization that he heard water running upstairs. He held his breath, waiting for the water to shut off, but it didn’t.
Water running upstairs meant Annabelle had helped herself to his shower.
She was now definitely naked.
Chills ran all over him. “Don’t ask questions,” he snapped. “Just help me think how we’re going to transport them all back to where they came from!”
“They might be worth keeping,” Tex suggested. “Have you ever considered that?”
Frisco shook his head, ignoring the butterflies he suffered at the suggestion. “Out of the question.”
Suddenly, the sound of a baby crying drifted to the kitchen. Frisco stiffened.
“Sounds like Emmeline’s colic has started back up,” Ranger said. “That poor little baby doesn’t give her mother much of a break, does she?”
Frisco glanced at the stove clock. Annabelle had been naked for approximately three minutes. Showering for approximately three minutes, he amended.
“I’ll go see what’s going on,” he said.
ANNABELLE SIGHED, unable to remember the last time she’d been able to enjoy ten minutes to herself. Em was a wonderful baby and she loved her dearly, but the colic kept her so upset that it was hard to snatch a moment alone.
Even though Tom left me for a Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurl, I’ve still got Em, she thought.
It was worth it.
The pediatrician had said Em would grow out of her colic—these things just took time. She just needed a lot of love and comforting, and reassurance that she didn’t have to suffer alone.
Annabelle completely understood her daughter’s needs, because she felt the same way sometimes herself.
Anyway, Tom was, as Delilah called him, a louse. She had a family of women to rely on now, and she had Em. Life was so much better than it had ever been for her.
Turning around for an extra stolen moment of bliss, she let the hot water pour down her back. The truth was, she didn’t want Tom back.
He hadn’t wanted Em, and she’d never forgive him for that.
Never.
TO FRISCO’S SURPRISE, the baby had managed to worm a piece of blanket over her head as she flailed. “That’s easy enough to fix,” he said quietly to the infant, with a hurried look at the bathroom door. The shower was still running, so it was safe. Annabelle wouldn’t come out in a state of undress he was certain they’d both rather avoid.
He was pretty sure the petite blonde looked good in a towel, though.
“Hey, baby, don’t be so upset,” he said, reaching out to stroke the tiny back. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Baby Emmeline—had Annabelle called her Emmie?—seemed to hesitate in her wails, either at the sound of his voice or the human contact. “Hm. I barely know what to do with an angry woman, but maybe it’s something a man has to work up to. Starting small might be the way to go.” Gingerly he reached to cradle Em in his fingers, and then balanced her in his palms until he was certain he had her positioned properly. Then he lifted her to his chest, cradling her as he hummed.
The crying completely ceased.
“Like falling off a log,” he sang to her to the tune of a low country song. “A man never forgets how to make a woman feel good. At least not if he’s smart.”
She snuffled against him.
“You like my singing, huh? You’re the only one who likes it, then. My brothers show no respect for my vocal attributes.”
Em didn’t object, so he hummed to her and stood, about to leave the room in case Annabelle should put in a towel-clad appearance. “Since you’re obviously a lady who likes late-night excitement, let’s go watch some Classic Sports Channel. I bet if you learned young enough, you’d love football.”
But when he slid into his leather recliner and turned the TV on softly, he realized Em was asleep. “You just wanted to know you’re not alone,” he murmured. “We all feel like that sometimes, little baby.”
LAREDO AND TEX STOOD beside the recliner, staring down at Frisco. The chair was tipped back, his mouth was open, his boots were pointed tips to the ceiling, and there was a baby on his chest. The remote, which would usually lie where the baby was, had fallen