Tina Leonard - Triplets' Rodeo Man (7 page)

Jack stared down at her, nodding. “Yes, I do,” he said. “It's crazy, but it just might work.”

“What?” Cricket demanded. “What just might work?”

“I'll be a tea-shop cowboy,” he said with a wink and a grin, “Coffee, tea or me?”

That would cause a stir. There'd be more women hanging around the tea shop and her cowboy than she could bear. Cricket raised a cool brow in response to his deliberate teasing. “I don't think you could handle the heat in this kitchen, Jack Morgan.”

Jack knew the moment Cricket said she didn't want to leave Fort Wylie that he had to convince her to let him live in her world. It was the only practical solution that solved everything except money.

“A million dollars is a lot to give up, anyway,” Cricket told him, all teasing spirit fleeing. “You'll resent me later for missing the opportunity of a lot of wealth.”

Jack shrugged. “Don't try to understand me and we'll both be fine.”

“It's not a matter of understanding you,” she shot back. “It's a simple matter of understanding human nature. I don't see you being happy passing out cookies and cakes to moms with school-age children.”

“It was your idea,” he said, and Cricket blinked.

“How so?”

“You're the one who said it was the perfect way to be a stay-at-home parent, and that's what I'd like to do.” Jack kissed her on the nose. “Two can live as cheaply as one. Surely five will be a snap.”

“You haven't done much grocery shopping lately.” Cricket shook her head. “Jack, do not use me and the babies as an excuse to get out from under your father's thumb.”

“A thumb is a terrible thing to be under,” he said.

“You're just exchanging his thumb for mine. Eventually, that's the conclusion you'll come to.”

“You make me sound shiftless,” Jack said. “I'll have you know, I'm responsible to a fault.”

“This is a bad idea,” Cricket said. “Even in my less-wild dreams, I thought my marriage would be more about love and less about business.”

“You wanted to be an excellent businesswoman,” Jack reminded her. “I'm just offering a partnership since we've already started parenthood together.”

He had a point. The blue-ribbon prize she barely allowed herself to contemplate was that she'd win the rodeo man she wanted if she went along with Jack's proposal—and wasn't that worth doing for her children?

She looked at Jack's long, lean body and wondered if she was really thinking about her children or herself.

“So you'll marry me, Cricket?” Jack asked.

“Perhaps,” she said, still worrying about the wisdom of marrying a man who'd never wanted to be married. “Something tells me nothing good can come of this. No tea-shop cowboy for me.”

Jack grinned. “You make getting married sound so dangerous.”

She looked at him—and wondered.

 

I
N HIS SLEEP
Josiah was visited by ghosts. Or maybe they were angels, he couldn't be certain. They floated into his subconscious, three strong, lean, well-muscled Templar knights dressed in armor, looking very much like pictures he'd seen. Only these knights were serious, annoyed and bored, clearly out of sorts to be on this particular quest. He hoped they were angels coming to rescue him from his plight, but the possibility that he deserved disheveled, disheartened ghosts more than angels couldn't be overlooked.

“You abandoned us,” the one he named Serious complained. The man could use a good shave and a respectable haircut. “You left us in the templary without so much as a kind word.”

“Sorry,” Josiah said. “I wasn't aware you were there.”

“You wouldn't have said goodbye anyway,” Bored said. “You don't like to say goodbye.”

“It's a bad habit,” Josiah agreed. “Why are you here?”

Annoyed looked at him. “For moral support. You asked for guidance and comfort, so here we are.”

“I don't remember that,” Josiah said. Maybe he had. He'd been terribly nervous about the surgery, a fact he hadn't wanted to share with his family since he felt he always had to keep the tough-old-lion face on.

“We wish you hadn't sold the templary,” Serious said. “You didn't even give us a quest.”

“Aren't you on one now?”

Bored waved a chalice at him. “This is a snap of the fingers. We need something important to do.”

“But I'm pretty sure you're a figment of my drug-induced fears. Dr. Moneybags loaded me up pretty good on antianxiety dope, though I told the nurse I wasn't anxious. I'm more pissed than anything.” Josiah felt that was a waste of his hospital bill. An aspirin was likely to cost fifteen bucks, never mind the amount of tranquilizers it would take to “antianxiety” him.

“We think we'll move onto the ranch with you,” Annoyed said.

Josiah said, “I won't be there. Only my eldest son and his mother will live there.”

Bored scrabbled around in his tunic for something, booze Josiah figured, to fill his chalice. “I'd help you out with that but they took my whiskey from me,” Josiah said.

“Listen,” Bored said, “a knight has to fight. It's what we do. You never gave us anything to fight for. We need you to figure that out now.”

Josiah blinked, shaking his shaggy head. “I don't have anything to fight for.”

“Aha!” Serious exclaimed. “But you do. You wanted this family. Now you have to stick around to raise it.”

“I'm trying to,” Josiah said. “Can't you see I'm getting a new kidney?”

Bored scrunched his face. “Good to hear that you have no plans to chicken out just because your son is.”

“What does that mean?” Josiah demanded.

“It means Jack plans to be married at cock-crow in a faraway town,” Annoyed said, “to a woman of prayer.”

“Cricket,” Josiah said. “That's a good thing.”

“Nay,” the annoyed Templar said. “He plans to move away, thereby thwarting your wishes.”

“Has he no respect for his mother?” Josiah demanded, and Bored hunched his shoulders, probably depressed about his empty chalice.

“He is farther away from her than ever, and therefore you—” Bored said “—you forced him to go away.”

“Look,” Josiah said, “I'm just trying to keep my family together.”

Serious nodded. “Follow us,” he commanded.

“Where?” Josiah asked, feeling a twinge of fear. Should he be journeying with ghostly knights while he was being operated on? It didn't seem to bode well. They appeared as real as Dr. Moneybags and just as unpleasant, as far as Josiah was concerned. Why would he conjure up imaginary companions at this late stage of his life, when he had everything he wanted?

“Follow us,” Serious repeated, and Josiah left his body and followed his trio of knights.

“This is the Cave of Fears,” Serious told him as they stood inside a strange cavern of many colors. “You have to face fears or they become your reality.”

“Shoot,” Josiah said, “I'm not worried about my fears. They work themselves out in time.”

“Because you avoid them,” Bored said. “You can't avoid the fear of your son leaving you for good.”

“Oh, hell,” Josiah said, “I'm too tired to face that fear. Can't I beg off?”

“Knights don't beg,” Annoyed intoned, “and you
were born to be a knight. You raised your sons to be stronger men than you had been.”

“I was born to be a knight?” Josiah asked, suddenly feeling stronger.

“What did your father and mother tell you?” Annoyed asked, his face etched by a scowl.

“That big boys don't cry,” Josiah said, remembering. “But I cried often.”

“Why?” Annoyed asked him.

“Because I hated being alone. I wanted brothers and sisters.” It was painful remembering living alone in the country with no siblings. He'd never gotten over the loneliness, never.

“Face your fears in order to finally live the life you want. You have to change, not change your sons,” Serious told him, and the three knights disappeared.

“Mr. Morgan,” a faraway voice said. “Mr. Morgan?”

He blinked his eyes. His eyelids were almost too heavy to open. “I'll just nap awhile longer,” he told the insistent voice, “if you'll be kind enough not to pester me.”

“Mr. Morgan, you came through the surgery just fine,” the voice told him, but Josiah knew he was really on the brink of his last chance at being the father he'd always dreamed of.

 

J
ACK WASN'T SURE
how his mother could forgive his father for secreting her letters over the years—he wasn't sure he forgave Josiah for that. It would have made a huge difference in how Jack had perceived himself. He'd always thought it was his fault his mother had left,
though later on in life he'd known that was not the case. Still, as a child, he'd only known she'd left, and he hadn't been able to keep her from going. He watched his siblings file in one at a time to visit Josiah and wished he was off in a bedroom with Cricket somewhere. The strangest itch had come over him to feel her stomach. He wanted to touch the soft mound where his children were. When would they kick? Were their hearts beating yet? He had no idea about babies. He supposed they did whatever they liked, whenever they liked. Cricket sat beside him anxiously watching the doorway, completely unaware of his proudly possessive paternal thoughts that soon turned to a more lustful nature.

He was in trouble. Maybe she didn't want to make love with him anymore. He had gotten her into quite the jam. Though his brothers congratulated him for his “good shooting,” the fact was, she wouldn't be sitting there contemplating the hugeness of triplets if he'd obeyed the simple rule:
No love without a glove
. Among his friends on the rodeo circuit, everyone promised themselves they could touch, but not without proper protection.

He wondered if she would have ever come to him on her own to tell him about the pregnancy. Cricket was pretty independent. She had her life all set up without him.

Now that he knew, he had no intention of missing a moment, not one expanding pound, of her pregnancy. Naked, as much as possible. “Cricket,” he said suddenly, “let's go.”

She turned, staring at him with astonished eyes. “We haven't seen your father yet.”

“He's going to be fine,” Jack said, but Cricket shook her head.

“Relax, Jack, this family stuff isn't going to kill you.” She patted his arm and turned back to staring at the hallway, waiting for one of his brothers to come out and share some news about Josiah. Laura, Suzy and Priscilla sat nearby her, clearly already counting her into their circle. He was the only one who was antsy.

It was probably because his mother sat with the women. Her boys were waiting their select turns to see Pop. Sara sat near Gisella, but Jack hung back.

“Hey,” Pete said suddenly, sticking his head through the doorway, “Pop wants to see you, Jack.”

Jack blinked, startled. Cricket squeezed his arm to comfort him. “Sure thing, Pete,” he said, not wanting to seem like a wuss, and walked into Pop's recovery room.

He wasn't really prepared for the sight of Pop so still, so groggy. His father barely opened his eyes, but when he saw Jack, he made more effort.

“Jack,” he murmured.

“Take it easy, Pop,” Jack said, trying to ignore all the emotions suddenly swimming around inside him. “You need to rest.”

“Don't leave,” Josiah said.

Jack hesitated. “I'm right here.”

Josiah barely shook his head. “Don't leave Union Junction. Don't leave the ranch. We need you here.”

Oh, boy. Pop had no idea what he was asking. Maybe it was the drugs, or the new kidney talking. “Hey, Pop,” he said, “you go back to sleep, okay?” He backed away from the bedside, wondering how his father had known he planned to forfeit his million dollars. He had to marry Cricket; he needed to be in Fort Wylie with her. Pop would just have to understand.

Josiah watched Jack's retreat through half-lidded eyes. “Please,” Josiah said, and Jack didn't think he'd ever heard his father use that word to him in all his life.

Cricket saw the change in Jack the moment he left his father's hospital room. Jack made a beeline for her, grabbed her by the hand, barely said goodbye to his siblings and mother and Sara and left as if his heels were on fire.

“What's going on?” Cricket asked. “We need to stay here with Josiah.”

“We need to go home and let you rest,” Jack said.

“What happened in there? Is your father all right?”

“He's all right,” Jack said. “He's not going to be any different because there's a young kidney inside him.”

“Then why are we leaving? It feels like we're ditching the family when they need us the most.”

“No.” Jack looked both ways before he dragged her across the street. “Visiting hours are over, I promise.”

“Then I need to head back to Fort Wylie. I have a lot to do.”

“Great. Where are you parked?”

“Right here.” Cricket stopped, looked up at him. “Are you all right?”

“I've never been better.” Jack gestured at the car. “I think it's best if I drive you home.”

“No,” Cricket said. “I'm fully capable of driving myself. And you can drive your truck home to your ranch and do what your father asked of you.”

“I'm going with you,” Jack said.

“No,” Cricket said, her tone as stubborn as his, “you're not dealing with your mother being here.”

Jack shook his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you only want to marry me to get out of what you need to do. It's the big excuse, Jack.”

“I'm going to be a father. I don't think there's anything disingenuous about marrying the mother of my children.”

“Maybe not with anybody else, but with you, it is.” Cricket looked at him. “Prove that you're not just running off with me like I'm your new rodeo gig.”

“That's not fair,” Jack protested. “And besides, how would I prove that I'm not avoiding something?”

“Tell me what your father said to you in his hospital room,” Cricket said.

Jack's eyes hooded. “He said he felt fine.”

“And?” Cricket was positive she was onto something because he was acting like a snake, coiled and waiting for danger to pass him by.

“I don't remember.”

“I believe that,” Cricket said. “And I believe that there'll be a lot of things you conveniently forget when we're married.”

“You don't have a very high opinion of me,” Jack said.

“On the contrary. I admire a man who constantly backs down.”

His gaze narrowed. “No, you don't.”

She raised her brows. “Tell me what happened in there, and don't tell me nothing did, because it was obvious by the way you flew out of there that something had.”

Jack sighed. “This isn't going to work if you keep trying to read my mind.”

She tapped a toe, waiting.

“Pop said,” Jack told her reluctantly, “that he wanted me to hang around. He said he needed me here.”

Cricket gasped. “And you're trying to hoodwink me into giving you a ride out of town! Shame on you, Jack Morgan! Your father said he needed you!”

“Yeah, but that's Pop,” Jack tried to explain. “In the last year, he decided he needed all of us. He doesn't really
need
us. He's just—”

“A man who wants his family around,” Cricket said. “Jack Morgan, how could you desert your father?” She stared at him. “It doesn't bode well for our future, that's plain to see.”

“It has nothing to do with our future,” Jack said, grabbing her and kissing her until Cricket thought her breath was going to give out. It was a wonderful kiss, a soul-stealing kiss, and Cricket very much wanted to fall in with his plans and let him hitch a ride in her Bug to Fort Wylie.

But she knew this was a pattern with Jack.

“That's what bodes well for our future,” Jack told
her. “I'm going to kiss you every day of your life, there's not going to be a day of our married life when I don't.”

Cricket shook her head. “I'm not marrying you. You can't desert him in his darkest hour.”

“Pop always has dark hours when he's trying to get what he wants!”

“We just can't do this while he's recuperating.” Cricket got into her car, rolled down the driver's-side window. “You stay here and take care of family business. I'll be back in a few days to hang drapes.”

He noted her change of subject and sighed. “Pop gave the ranch and land to Gisella. You probably better check with her about curtains and stuff.”

Cricket nodded. “I will. It'll give us a chance to get to know each other, which will be a pleasure.”

“I want you to get to know
me,
” Jack said.

Cricket started the engine. “Marry in haste, regret at leisure,” she told him. “Bye, Jack.”

Jack stared after Cricket as she drove off in the little Volkswagen. She thought he wanted to be with her to get away from Pop. And his mother. His family, in general.

She was right.

He got in his truck and followed her.

 

C
RICKET WAS COMPLETELY
aware that Jack was following her down the highway. In a way, she hadn't expected anything less from him. Jack lived by his own rules. This time, however, he was going to have to bend,
although she had to admit to a tingle of excitement that the man was so persistent in his pursuit of her. She had never been the object of a man's focus before, and the fact that the man was Jack would be enough to make her pulse pound with giddy pleasure under normal dating circumstances.

Yet they weren't dating. They were rushing down the road toward parenthood, which for Cricket took some of the romance and giddiness out of the equation.

By the time she got to her house in Fort Wylie, she'd figured out what she was going to say to him.
Go home, Jack, we need some time apart.

“Hey,” he said, pulling up next to her and getting out of his truck, “if you invite me in, I'll buy you the biggest diamond I can find in Fort Wylie.”

Cricket shook her head. “I don't need a big diamond.”

“For triplets, you do. I'd say you deserve a medal of honor.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Jack Morgan, sweet-talking me isn't going to get you in my house. I need to be alone for a while.”

“Why? I can be good company, sometimes.”

“While that may be true, I suffer terribly from morning sickness. You do not want to be around for that.”

“I'll watch TV. Don't worry about it.” Jack grinned. “You think I've never seen a sickly woman before?”

“I'm not sickly!” Cricket frowned at him. “I'm pregnant. This phase will pass eventually, according to the doctor.”

“Let me carry you over the threshold,” Jack of
fered. “I need practice for carrying you over when we get married.”

Cricket opened her front door and waved him in. “I don't want to be carried.”

“You're not the most romantic girl,” Jack told her as he scooped her up anyway and set her gently down in the foyer. “I'm a romantic guy, however.”

“It can't all be your way,” Cricket told him.

Jack sighed. “True, otherwise you'd be a lot easier to get along with. I never thought that the woman I asked to marry me would turn me down. It's a blow to my ego, I don't mind saying.”

Cricket turned on a few lamps, filling the room with soft light. “Make yourself at home on the sofa in front of the TV, keeping your hands to yourself and your thoughts fairly pure.”

“Wow,” Jack said, “did that come out of the
How To Scare a Guy To Death
dating guide or something that deacons keep on hand for couple's counseling?”

Cricket sighed. “I'm going to change into something more comfortable.”

“That sounds more promising.” Jack sat on the sofa.

“If you think baggy kimono robes are promising, you may be in for a surprise. It's hardly Victoria's Secret.”

“Next time,” Jack said. “Anyway, I could romance you if you were wearing a paper bag. As a matter of fact, I'd find that really sexy.”

Cricket shook her head and slipped into her bedroom to change. All the talk of marriage was making her
nervous. “Was your father in a lot of pain?” she called to him from the bedroom.

“No, he's just a pain,” Jack said. “It'll take more than surgery to slow him down.”

Cricket wrapped the silky kimono robe around her, found some cozy slippers—not the high-heeled mules a woman who had a hot cowboy in her living room might prefer—and put her hair up in a ponytail. She walked back into the living room, finding Jack lounging on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “Cowboy, what are you doing?”

“Thinking about how strange life is. Did you ever think when we met that we'd end up together?”

“Absolutely not. You weren't in my car twenty seconds and I knew you were bad news.” She went into the kitchen, fishing around for some tea and crackers. “You should have stayed with your father,” she said as Jack followed her into the kitchen.

“I should be with you,” Jack said. “You're having my children. My father is merely having fun planning my future.”

“Was he?”

“He never takes a break from plotting.” Jack ran a hand through his hair and seated himself on a kitchen bar stool. “I need to meet your parents, you know. I'm very behind in my duties as a father.”

“Oh,” Cricket said, “I guess.”

“Hey,” he said, “I'm going to get my feelings hurt if I continue perceiving a decided lack of enthusiasm on your part toward my courtship.”

“I'm sorry.” She set a glass of tea on the counter that separated them. “I've got motherhood on the mind, not matrimony.”

Jack drank some of the tea. “If you were counseling us as a deacon, what would your advice be?”

She looked at him.
I'd want to say, “Girlfriend, you better hang on to that sexy cowboy with all your might.”
“I'd advise that rushing into things is a bad idea when two people don't know each other very well.”

He shook his head. “Terrible advice.”

“What would you say?”

He hopped over the counter, landing in front of her, and took her in his arms. “I'd say get me in bed as often as you possibly can, you lucky woman. Life's too short to miss out on the good stuff, and I am definitely good stuff.”