Lone Star Daddy (McCabe Multiples) (17 page)

Pages rustled.

The exec continued, “Basically, it says we reserve the right to send in a professional team to trim and manicure the blackberry fields at the Double Creek Ranch next spring, prior to and during the filming. And to make any visual or artistic adjustments necessary for filming.”

Beside Rose, Clint stiffened, clearly displeased. “I thought we were done with that.”

Rose had thought so, too. Especially since she knew how he had loathed having to stand around posing for the cameras.

Ted smiled. “For this year, yes, we are done with the on-location work at the Double Creek Ranch. But next year, we’re also planning to send out teams of local news reporters and journalists to see a live and in-person demonstration of the berry picker.”

His eyes narrowing, Clint told everyone, “But the fields won’t be there.”

Everyone stopped.

Gasping inaudibly, Rose felt herself freeze. She hadn’t felt this blindsided since Barry had told her he didn’t want kids, after all.

Yes, the clues had been there all along—then.

Had they been there this time, too?

She just hadn’t wanted to notice them?

Given the hard, unyielding look on Clint’s face, this was indeed the case.

Everyone looked at her as if to say,
Do something! Work your magic!
But how could she, when Clint clearly was of such a different mindset than everyone else in the room?

He continued, “I’m mowing down all hundred acres with the tractor I just bought. That’s all going to be pastureland for my cattle and horses. So if you want to use footage of the Double Creek Ranch, that’s fine with me, but it will have to be footage that’s already been filmed this year.”

A stunned silence fell.

“No one told me anything about this!” Ted said angrily. “We’ve designed a whole publicity campaign around that hundred-acre blackberry field! It was going to help us show how a former rodeo star turned successful farmer without losing an ounce of his sex appeal or lust for life in the process!”

Rose’s heart sank. She had thought that to be the case, too.

But had it all been an illusion? Something she had needed and wanted to see for them to be a couple, but wasn’t really there after all?

Rose did not have the answers to those questions.

However, she did know when a business arrangement she’d worked so hard to negotiate was about to implode.

Determined to salvage the deal before it went even further south, Rose stood, matter-of-factly made eye contact with everyone in the room, then said graciously, “I’m sorry for the confusion.” She implied with a glance that it was all a simple mix-up that could be easily corrected. “Could I have a moment alone with Clint, please?”

She had been in stickier situations.

She could fix this, too.

With disgruntled sighs, everyone filtered out.

Finally she and Clint were alone in the elegantly appointed conference room. She walked over to where he now stood, at the windows overlooking downtown Dallas. “What are you doing?” To this deal? To himself? To
them
?

Hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers, he swung around to face her. “Exactly what I said I would do all along. Turning my family ranch back into a cattle and horse operation.”

Maybe it was the fact that they were both in business clothes—a dark suit for him, a sheath and jacket for her—instead of their usual ranch attire, but suddenly he looked like a stranger to her. Worse, he seemed to be regarding her the same way.

Rose tipped her chin up. “You know the worth of the blackberry bushes. How unique and wonderful they are.”

“I do. Which is why I asked Amy to come out and take a look and figure out what would be required to keep the line going.”

Okay. That was
something
.

Handsome jaw set, Clint continued, “She’s working up a proposal as we speak. To take root cuttings and plant some on your farm, and as many others as you like—or can arrange for—elsewhere, too.”

Just not on his land.

Rose could not deny that her cousin’s wife had not just an amazing plant nursery, but a way with growing and engineering plants that was unparalleled. “That’s great, Clint, but it takes several years for new canes to produce a decent crop of blackberries.”

His voice dropped persuasively. “But once they do, the plants can produce for fifteen to twenty years.”

He was right. Long-range, his plan was fine, assuming they could duplicate the soil conditions at his place elsewhere.

He took her hand in his. “I know losing those fields is a temporary hit financially, Rose. For both of us. But there will be other monetary gain to be had by the sale of the root cuttings. And the work you’re doing for Farmtech.”

If that were all it was, it would be one thing. If she’d even seen this coming. But she hadn’t. She’d thought the two of them were of the same mind and heart.

Only to find out she and Clint were as far apart in what they wanted as she and her ex.

She’d made a mistake that inadvertently involved her kids once. Was she about to make another?

Rose swallowed. She withdrew her hand from his and stepped back. Still feeling terribly betrayed, she pointed out, “Except there won’t be any work for Farmtech for either of us if there’s no berry patch at Double Creek.”

“Sure there will. It may not be as the Farmtech team envisions it right now, but there will still be a berry picker to sell and a couple to sell it.” His lips twisted in a rueful smile. “You heard them. We’re like honeymooners. We have a chemistry that’s at least unique and highly watchable, if not darn near iconic.”

His joke citing the words of the ad execs fell flat.

She frowned at him, struggling not to cry. “Except that chemistry is a fake.”

The rims of his eyes darkened. It was his turn to be nonplussed, but she took no pleasure in that. “How do you figure that?” he asked gruffly.

Tension throbbed between them.

“Because if that chemistry were real, Clint, I wouldn’t have to tell you how much those blackberries have come to mean to me.” She spun away, unable to bear his nearness any longer. “I wouldn’t have to explain to you how you are hurting and disappointing not just me but legions of other people. Our business colleagues. Our friends and neighbors. All our customers.”

Nor would she be so shocked to find out the depth and breadth of the differences between them.

She balled her hands into fists at her sides. “You would know how much those berries mean to everyone who has enjoyed them this year. You would know it would be almost criminal to destroy them! Never mind give up the only reason you and I have to be together...”

Abruptly he looked as if he’d been the one blindsided with a punch to the gut. “Did you just say that those berries are the only reason we have to be together?”

She guessed she had. And for good reason. “That ad campaign for the harvester was going to have us working and traveling together all year long!” Bitterly she admitted to herself how much she had been looking forward to that, too.

He huffed in disgust. “So without it, we’re over. Is that it?”

Were they?

Sadly, Rose realized that was indeed the case. Her shoulders hunched in defeat, she acknowledged, “I can’t be involved with a man who doesn’t want what I want again, Clint.” It was just too miserable and ill-fated a situation. Because even if it didn’t end now, it would surely end later.

A muscle worked in his jaw. “And I can’t be involved with a woman who will be with me only if I meet her demands and adhere to whatever narrow definition of our life together that she has.”

So their love affair was over.

Why was she not surprised? Maybe because all along she had known it was too good, too wonderful and special to be true.

Wearily she tried to salvage what they could. “Okay, fine. We won’t be lovers anymore.” They could keep a small part of what they had built, however, assuming she could figure out a way to salvage the deal with Farmtech. “We could still have a business partnership, Clint.”

His gaze hardened. “No, Rose, we can’t,” he returned. “Not if we’re not friends. And given the way we both feel, well, let’s just say maybe we both should have seen this coming.”

Giving her no chance to reply, Clint turned on his heel and walked out.

Chapter Fifteen

“Is that the contract?” Violet asked Saturday afternoon, shortly after closing, when she stopped by Rose Hill Farm to pick up a fresh supply of locally grown produce.

Putting the legal papers aside, Rose nodded and took the reusable mesh crate her triplet handed her.

Still in the scrubs she’d worn for her thirty-six-hour hospital shift, Violet followed Rose around the barn. “Did you get everything you wanted?”

Rose picked out several lush green zucchini and two equally delectable crookneck yellow squash from a colorful display. “From the Farmtech tractor company? Yes.” It had taken ten days of nonstop negotiating between the execs and the lawyers and the “talent,” but finally everyone was happy, and a new plan was in place.

Looking as peaked as usual after one of her long shifts, Violet added a head of cabbage and two large sweet onions to the stash. “So they agreed to let you be the sole spokesperson for the berry picker?”

Rose picked up another mesh basket for fruit and tried not to think about what a lonely prospect that was going to be. “Unless Clint changes his mind and decides to do it with me, and we both know that’s unlikely.” Sighing wearily, Rose pushed away the dreams of what might have been. “The truth is, he never wanted to do it in the first place.” So the creative team behind the advertising had wisely decided to make do with what photo and film footage they had and let him out of the rest of his contract.

Violet added new red potatoes and a bunch of carrots to her basket. “Why do you think he agreed, then?”

“Because I pushed him into it,” Rose said, guilt tightening her chest.

Violet made a dissenting face. She walked over to the cucumbers and selected a few. “Clint McCulloch doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who gets steamrollered into anything he doesn’t want to do, even if a pretty woman is doing the asking.” She added a head of baby lettuce. “So why did he really say yes?”

Rose added strawberries, raspberries and blueberries to her basket, then paused in front of the new crop of yellow peaches. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t have a clue why he ever agreed.”

Regret lashed through her. It would have been so much simpler if he hadn’t. They wouldn’t have become friends. Or lovers. She wouldn’t have fallen so hard and so fast for him. Wouldn’t have wanted more... Violet carried her crate over to the cash register and set it down with a thud. She turned to Rose, hands on her hips. “Yeah, you do. You just don’t want to say it.”

Rose felt her breath hitch. Her sister was right. She didn’t want to voice it because hearing it aloud made it real.

Irreversible.

Nor did she want to lament all she had lost.

And she had lost a tremendous amount, behaving as she had, insisting that he forget what he wanted for his ranch and do what she wanted for the Double Creek.

Her selfishness had gotten her in trouble before, when she’d wanted a baby despite her ex-husband’s disinterest, and ended up raising triplets completely on her own.

She could have had a limited partnership with Clint.

Without any more Double Creek blackberries.

Instead she had stubbornly demanded it all.

And look where that had gotten her.

Utterly alone...and heartbroken.

Again.

Aware Violet was still waiting for an explanation, Rose sighed. “He agreed because he knew it would benefit us both financially.” And at the end of the day, he was a businessperson, too. She had been counting on that fact from the very beginning.

Violet added a bunch of grapes to the fruit stash and carried it to the checkout counter. “Clint doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would do anything for money, either.”

“Which is perhaps why the whole endeavor rubbed him the wrong way,” Rose responded irritably. “Because he’d rather be true to himself and his own goals than toe someone else’s line.”
Like mine.

Violet shrugged while Rose weighed and rang up the produce with mindless efficiency. “He looked pretty happy at the family barbecue. I heard the two of you were even caught making out behind the barn.”

Rose stopped in her tracks. “Dad said something?” she asked, blushing furiously.

“To Mom,” Violet confirmed with a nod. “Who in turn said something to me. She wanted to know how serious the two of you were.”

Rose turned away from her sister’s searching gaze. “Very, I thought at the time.”

Violet paid what she owed. Together they carried her stash out to the car. “So what changed?”

It all would have seemed so foolish now, had it not been a concrete sign that she and Clint were all wrong for each other, and always would be. “He decided to mow down the hundred acres of prime blackberries on the Double Creek.”

Violet lounged against her vehicle, arms folded in front of her. “Wasn’t that his plan all along?”

Yes. And that was what made her own involvement with Clint so ridiculously futile.

Rose scrambled for the sunglasses she had hooked in her Rose Hill Farm co-op T-shirt and slid them on just in time to hide the sudden onslaught of moisture in her eyes. “I thought he’d changed his mind, that he’d come to see the value in them. Instead—” she swallowed around the lump in her throat “—it was just like it was with Barry. All along, Clint was paying lip service to what I desired while keeping his reservations to himself. Until suddenly I found out we don’t want the same things after all.”

“Clint’s not interested in having kids and raising a family?”

The last thing she needed was her sister playing devil’s advocate. “You know he wants that more than anything,” Rose said, exasperated.

“Oh, then he doesn’t love your kids?”

Rose pushed away the poignant memory of the five of them playing Superheroes together, of Clint reading stories to them while she made dinner, of him happily taking on the challenge to entice them to eat veggies again. “Actually, he loves them,” she said thickly. And they all adored him, too.

“Then he doesn’t love
you,
” Violet presumed.

Wasn’t that the gist of it? Because if he had, he would have been more than willing to meet her halfway and negotiate a happy ending for both of them. Rose wiped at a tear spilling over her cheek. “I guess not.”

An awkward silence fell. “But you don’t know for sure.”

“How can I?” Lounging against the car next to her sister, Rose replied in a rush, “He never said he loved me.” He wanted her. She knew that. Just as she wanted him. But was wanting someone and making love the same as loving someone in that forever-and-ever way?

Violet laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Did you tell him how you felt?”

“He knows I enjoyed spending time with him.”
Making love with him.
“Working side by side with him...”

“Wow.” Her sister snorted. “That must have rocked his world. Had him all ready to propose.”

Rose glared at her, demanding, “Whose side are you on?”

Violet took her by the shoulders and forced her to listen. “Yours. And Clint’s. Listen to me, Rose.” This time, it was her voice that broke a little. “When I was with Sterling, I thought we had all the time in the world. I assumed he knew how much I cared about him by the way I looked at him and how passionately we made love. I mean, he had to know, right? So, for fear of sounding hokey or jinxing it in some way, I didn’t say all the things I felt in my heart.” Tears welling, she went on thickly, “And then the cancer got worse, he was fighting so hard for his life, and...I just never got the chance. Now I have to live with that regret every day, every moment of my life. You don’t.”

“But what if it was all just infatuation...and Clint really doesn’t love me back? Or he sort of does, but he still thinks we’re all wrong for each other?” She didn’t want to put him on the spot only to have it all blow up in her face again.

“Then at least you’ll know you tried.” Violet folded her in for a long, sisterly hug. “Love is all about taking risks, Rose.” She drew back to look into her eyes. “You’ve come this far. Why not go the rest of the way?”

* * *

“I
THOUGHT
YOU
were going to mow the blackberry bushes down,” Gannon said.

Clint went back to the tractor he’d all but given up on but decided to resurrect. “Are you here to nag?” he muttered to his friend and neighbor. “’Cause if you are...”

“Grouchy, hmm?”

Clint scowled at him “So. Is there a reason for this visit?”

“Lily sent me to talk sense into you.”

Clint wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. “About what?” It wasn’t like Rose’s triplet to mind anyone else’s business but her own.

“What do you think, knucklehead? Rose.”

Clint removed the spark plug he’d just loosened. Like the others he had already removed, it looked fine. “We’re over.”

“Really? Because you still look like a lovesick calf.”

Clint moved around to the other side of the engine. “Funny.”

Gannon followed him lazily. “And Rose isn’t looking any better, in case you’re wondering.”

Clint glared. “That didn’t stop her from signing a contract with the tractor manufacturer.” Without him. “And negotiating my release from further duties and responsibilities.”

A small smile. “So you are keeping tabs on her.”

More than he wanted to admit. Clint shrugged. “It was in the Laramie newspaper.”

“Dallas, Austin and Houston papers, too. She also had a radio interview the other day that went particularly well. Did you hear it?”

He had, if only to savor the sound of her sweet, melodic voice. Clint went back to working on a particularly stubborn plug that was corroded to the base. “I’m happy for her.”

“Just not interested in making her happy?”

Clint tossed his tool into the box and headed for the ranch house. He stormed across the porch, through the front hall and into the kitchen. Plucked two beers from the fridge and handed one to his ornery visitor.

He twisted off the cap, lounged against the counter and took a long, thirsty drink. “I’m not interested in fame and fortune. I want to ranch, not farm, and I want a quiet, satisfying family life on the Double Creek.”

And he wasn’t negotiating that, period.

“So, basically, it could be any woman and any children filling the bill, as long as they don’t ask you to drive a berry picker.”

Clint flexed his jaw, trying to keep his temper in check. But the truth was...his days driving that damn thing, with Rose close by, helping out, had been among the happiest days of his life.

He took another drink. “Obviously, I’d need to be attracted to whoever I marry.”

“That’s it?” Gannon asked with a lawyerly lift of his brow. “No love required.”

Clint knew that, as one of the state’s premier divorce attorneys, Gannon had seen his fair share of passionate relationships go bust. He had also witnessed families that had found a way to survive despite the odds.

Clint sobered. “Love would be great, if it happened.”

Gannon studied him. “But it might not.”

That wasn’t the point. Not here anyway. “Rose thrives on adventure and excitement,” he reminded the other man impatiently.

“All the McCabe women do. You can’t lasso one unless you’re willing to generate a few sparks.”

He and Rose had done that all right. He’d never made love with anyone that way, with all his heart and soul. Never had a woman given back to him so completely, either.

A pain that had nothing to do with the physical stabbed his chest, in the region of his heart. Sorrow tightened his middle. “If I thought that were enough—”

“Did you ask her if it was?”

“What was the point when I’d already let her down just by planning to turn the best acreage on my ranch back to pasture?” He raked a hand through his hair. “She wasn’t going to get past that, no matter what I did to try and lessen the impact.”

“You didn’t give her a chance to get past it.”

“Because at the end of the day, the common financial interest in the blackberry harvest—” and a staggering amount of passion “—was all that we had.”

He had hoped it was more. Rose’s reaction, simply accepting his dictum instead of trying to meet him halfway and negotiate a solution—the way she would have with anyone else—had showed him that it wasn’t more after all.

Gannon shook his head in exasperation. “If you think she wanted you only for what you could do for her professionally and financially, then you really are a fool. But the fact you still have yet to mow down even one of those berry bushes, even with a brand-new tractor sitting in the barn, tells me you know different—” he pointed to the center of Clint’s chest “—in here.” He paused to let his words sink in. “The real question is, what are you going to do about it?”

* * *

R
OSE
HAD
JUST
slid the strawberry-rhubarb cobbler into the oven to bake when the front screen door slammed open. “Mommy! Mr. Clint is here!” Scarlet shouted from the bungalow’s front porch.

Oh, no, Rose thought, grabbing a dish towel to dry her hands. Not now. Not yet! She wasn’t ready for her big mea culpa.

Stephen bustled in, his little chest puffed out. “He says he’s got somethin’ for you.”

“But he can’t give it to you until you come outside,” Sophia finished breathlessly.

Rose caught her reflection in the glass front of the microwave. In a pretty T-shirt and shorts, her hair and make-up done, she looked fine. It was just her heart that was ailing. Her vulnerability that made her want to stick to the best-laid plans, and not try to wing it again.

“Mommy,” Scarlet reminded her, bossy as ever, “Mr. Clint is waiting!”

“Yeah.” Stephen grabbed one of her hands.

Sophia held the other. “Let’s go see him!”

In for a penny, in for a pound.

Rose took a deep breath and let the children lead her out to the porch.

Clint was standing there, handsome as ever. Recently showered and shaven, he wore an older, snug-fitting pair of dark denim jeans, boots, and the lucky shirt the triplets had nearly ruined before she’d erased the stains and brought it back to life. A tan Stetson slanted across one brow. He cradled a beribboned seedling in his big, strong hands. He looked at once hopeful and wary.