The Cowboy Earns a Bride (Cowboys of Chance Creek Book 8) (26 page)

“Now what?” Mia asked aloud. She peeled it open as she climbed the stairs to her room.

Yu luk awfull.

“Well, that’s nice.” She tossed the note onto her desk. As she moved to discard her clothing and climb into bed, Mia caught sight of herself mirror and stopped short.

She did look awful.

Now she saw why Autumn had asked if she was losing weight. Her cheeks were gaunt. Her maternity clothes hung on her. Her hair, normally so thick and lustrous, fell in lanky threads. She crossed to the bed and sat down slowly, the ache that constantly nagged at her back making her movements tentative. She thought over the past few days and realized she really hadn’t been eating enough for a pregnant woman in her second trimester. She would have to do better, and she would have to sit down more during the day. She’d ask Fila and Mia if she could buy a stool to keep behind the counter so that whenever the restaurant slowed down a little she could take a load off. And she’d ask them again to hire more help, since they hadn’t managed to do so yet. If she could cut back her hours even a little, it would be much easier to take care of herself.

And to take care of her event planning clients. She wasn’t giving any of them the kind of thought and attention she’d meant to. So far she’d managed to put out all the fires, but she had the feeling the worst was yet to come. Why, oh why had she agreed to do three events in one weekend?

And how were Fila and Camila going to cater all three events and still handle the normal weekend rush? They hadn’t even talked about it yet.

Tomorrow she’d sit down with both of them and figure out a plan.

She checked her e-mail and found a message from Inez.

I heard from Montana Pageants today. There have been other allegations against Warner recently, and the police are involved. We’ll need to make statements to the police and we could be called to testify in the case against him.

A statement to the police? Testify?

Mia didn’t like the sound of that.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up listlessly. Luke was calling.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mia.” He hesitated. “I know it’s late. Were you sleeping?”

“Just going to bed.” She missed the days when he’d sneak into the guesthouse and join her, back before she came upon him kicking the dolls around.

“I think we should talk. What you saw the other day. It really wasn’t what you think.”

“I know.” And she found she
did
know. “The dolls were a practical joke, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Why… why were you kicking them?”

“Because I thought the joker was right—that I’d lost you forever.”

Mia bit her lip. She didn’t know if he’d lost her or not. “Don’t you think those so-called jokes are getting out of hand? Someone mailed Ned a
See Spot Run
book. Fila thinks you did it.”

“It wasn’t me. I promise you that. We talked today—Ned and me. I think we worked it out.”

“Good. Because I’m sick of Fila being angry at me. Anyway, I better go. I need sleep.”

“You sound tired.” His voice softened. “Mia, take care of yourself, you hear?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to.”

“Can we meet tomorrow?”

She thought about her schedule. She wanted badly to see Luke. She wished she could rest her head against his shoulder and close her eyes for a minute. She missed him.

Unfortunately, tomorrow she was supposed to meet Carl on her half-hour break. “Not tomorrow. The day after? Two-thirty at Linda’s Diner?”

Luke hesitated so long she thought he was going to say no.

“Sure,” he said finally. “I’ll see you then.”

The day after
tomorrow. Two-thirty at Linda’s Diner.

Luke did the math. Mia must be meeting Carl again tomorrow, which was why she’d put him off until the following day. Did she want to hear what the millionaire might offer her before she made up with him? The thought made him clench his fists.

He slowly made himself unclench them. His temper hadn’t helped him so far. First things first. He needed to finish cleaning up the nursery. He’d already done the bulk of the work, but there were still details to tend to. It didn’t take long for him to touch up the scuffs and dings on the wall. He patched the one or two places where he’d put serious dents into the drywall. He’d sand the spots tomorrow and give them a coat of paint then.

He did his best to polish the furniture and get rid of the evidence of his temper tantrum. He’d have to take the torn curtain to his mother to fix. He hoped she wouldn’t ask too many questions. By the time he went to bed, the nursery looked fit for habitation again. Too bad it didn’t seem likely there’d be any babies to inhabit it any time soon.

The following day Luke was up before the sun doing his usual parade of chores. It was lunchtime before he could catch a break. He decided to bring the damaged curtain to the main house to see if his mother could repair it, but when he reached his cabin, an envelope with familiar shaky handwriting left on his doorstep brought him to a halt. He picked it up and after a moment’s hesitation, opened it.

Share the load.

He snorted. Who with? That’s what he’d like to know. He crumpled up the note and envelope and tossed them in the direction of the trash can in the kitchen. It missed by a mile, but he was already out the front door.

“Everything all right at your cabin?” Lisa asked when he handed the curtain over and sat down at the kitchen table.

“It’s fine.”

She fetched her sewing kit and joined him. “But you and Mia are still on the outs.”

“So far.”

She shot him a look. “You’re letting it get to you.”

“I want to marry her. And another man’s trying to steal her away.”

Lisa paused. “What other man?”

“Carl Whitfield.”

“Carl’s back in town? Where’s he living now?”

Luke knew what she meant. Since Evan and Bella lived at Carl’s old place there wasn’t anything else nearly as big or expensive in town for the millionaire to buy.

“I think he’s at the motel. Someone said he was looking for property.”

“Hmph. I guess he’ll build another log mansion.” Her tone made it clear what she thought about that.

“A man that rich can do whatever he likes.” Luke frowned. “Except with my girl.”

“When do you have time to even see her these days? You’re working your fingers to the bone. I saw you out until all hours tilling those pastures yesterday.”

“She’s working too hard, too.” Luke sighed. “I don’t get to see her. That’s half the problem.”

“What’s the other half?”

“Me and my damned mouth.” When his mother chuckled, he grudgingly smiled. “I say something wrong every time we get together. If I talk at all.”

Lisa cocked her head at this last bit and considered it. “Maybe you should do less talking and more listening.”

“That’s what everyone says, but at some point I have to tell her what I think, right?”

“I guess.”

“You and dad tell each other what you think.”

Lisa laughed. “I guess we do—for better or for worse. I’ve been telling him what I think about him building that extra house.”

“He’s still at it?”

“There’s a foundation in. Power. Gas. Water, you name it. But he won’t tell me what it’s for.”

“You’ve been married a long time, though. You two have done something right.”

“Well, now, I guess that’s because most of the time we have a common vision. We’re always heading in the same general direction. We might bicker a whole bunch on the way there, but that doesn’t stop us from progressing toward our goal. Do you and Mia have a common goal?”

Luke wasn’t able to answer that.

By the time
Mia’s break rolled around, her back ached so badly she found it hard to walk the two short blocks to Linda’s Diner. She sat down in the booth across from Carl, leaned her head back against the wall and shut her eyes.

“Mia?” Carl’s concerned voice made her open them again. “You okay? You don’t look so good.”

“That seems to be the consensus these days.” She made herself lean forward and look at the menu that lay on the table in front of her, but all of a sudden she couldn’t force her eyes to make any sense of the words. As they blurred in front of her she had the feeling she was falling. She dropped the menu and braced herself against the table.

“Tracey? Would you get us a glass of orange juice? Hurry, please,” Carl called out.

Mia was dimly aware of Tracey rushing away and returning a moment later with a glass of juice.

“Drink it. All of it.” Carl pushed the glass in front of Mia. Mia picked it up. Considered its contents. She wasn’t sure she could.

“Just one sip, then.” Carl leaned forward again. “Come on, Mia. You’re scaring me.”

She took a sip and the tart flavor woke her up a bit. She took another sip and soon found she could drink more of it than she expected.

“That’s better.” Carl sat back. “Your color is perking up.”

“Thanks. I guess I’m dehydrated. It’s so busy at the restaurant.”

“You need to keep drinking. And eating.” He waved Tracey back. “A club sandwich and fries for Mia. I’ll have tomato soup and grilled cheese.”

Tracey hurried away again. Mia kept drinking her juice. “I can’t remember my assignment.”

“Screw the assignment.”

Mia blinked at his tone.

“Mia, you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“Says the self-made millionaire.” She pushed the empty juice glass away. “I have to push myself hard. I have to get my business running.”

“I wasn’t pregnant when I made my millions.”

“It’s not going to get any easier for me. When I’m done being pregnant, I’ll have a newborn. I’ll need to get a sitter all the time. Then what?” She hadn’t meant to sound so angry.

“You’re right. It’s never going to be easy being a single mom.”

A rush of tears filled Mia’s eyes. “I didn’t want to be a single mom. I never meant any of this to happen. I mean—I want my baby, but…”

“I know.” Carl took her hand. “Look, you’re tired. You’re working too hard. You’re not getting enough sleep. It will get better; I promise.”

“You don’t know that. What if it doesn’t? What if I can’t do it? What if I’m a lousy mom? What if I’m a lousy wedding planner?”

Carl handed her his napkin and patted her hand. He didn’t say anything more, just let her cry, for which Mia was eternally grateful. She mopped up her face as best she could. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who should say I’m sorry. I keep trying to slow down—to stop being a businessman all the time—and here I am teaching you to be just like I used to be.” He played with his fork. “When I left Chance Creek, I spent months hiking the Sierra Nevadas. It was easy to be a different person there. Now that I’m back in civilization, my good habits are slipping away.”

“Why do you want to change the way you do things? It’s obviously worked for you.” Mia wiped away the last of her tears and pushed the napkin aside.

“Because it hasn’t worked for me—aside from the millions. I keep getting the rest of it wrong. Look at me—no wife, no children. I can’t even find a house.”

“I bet you could get a wife and kids like that if you wanted.” Mia snapped her fingers.

“I don’t want just any wife. I want a woman to love me. Me—not my millions.”

Mia nodded. “I get that, but there are lots of single women in Chance Creek. I bet you’ll find one.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.” His sheepish grin made Mia smile for the first time that day.

There was Carl
Whitfield, sitting with Mia. Holding her hand. Caressing it.

The slow burn in Luke’s gut grew to a hot flame. This time he could only see the back of Mia’s head from where he sat tucked into a corner booth at the front of the diner, but he could see every expression on Carl’s face. His tender concern. His determination. The man was using every trick in the book to snare her.

A half-hour later, he ducked down and turned aside when Mia rushed from the restaurant, so when Carl dropped down in the seat across from him shortly afterward, Luke jerked with surprise.

“Buddy, you’re a lousy spy.” Carl rested his elbows on the table. “You suck as a boyfriend, too. Mia’s got to slow down. She didn’t look well at all when she came in.”

“Why are you telling me? You’re the one she wants to be with. You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted, didn’t you? You laid the trap and she stepped right in.”

Carl rolled his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you; she doesn’t want to be with me, she wants to
learn
from me—about running her business. Look, if I wanted to seduce Mia I wouldn’t take her to a diner. I’d fly her to Paris or Rome. She’d never know what hit her. Like I said before—she’s too young for me. And she’s too in love with you, God knows why. Why don’t you pull your act together and do something about it?”

“Like what?”

“Like
help
her, you fucking idiot. Like buy in to her dream. Like be her friend instead of spending all your time trying to get in her pants.” Carl stood up. Threw a business card down on the table. “I’m not going to make a play for Mia, no matter what you think, but if you don’t fix yourself up soon, someone else sure will. You want to have a real conversation about what you could do to help her make her business a success, you give me a call.”

‡
Chapter Nineteen