The Cowboy and the Princess Page 24

  Annie sat up, her hair mussed, eyes bleary. She looked as worn out as he felt.

  “Hello?” He pressed his lips together to suppress a yawn and darted a glance at the clock. Nine-thirty.

  “Is this Brady Talmadge?”

  “It is.” He’d been too foggy to think of checking the caller ID.

  “This is Mary Jameson.”

  His body tensed. For one brief moment, he’d forgotten about the child he might have fathered with Kelly Deavers. “Yes?”

  “The results of the paternity tests have come back. I put a rush on it. I thought you’d want to know immediately.”

  “Yes, yes.” He gulped, clutched the phone tighter.

  “Mr. Talmadge, it’s been confirmed. You are indeed Orchid’s father. Are you prepared to do everything I asked of you in order to claim your daughter?”

  Annie watched Brady switch off his cell phone and toss it back on the bedside table.

  His skin paled, his hands shook, and an unmistakable grin stole over his face. “It’s official. I’m a dad.”

  “How do you feel about that?” A strange jittery sensation bumped along her nerve endings.

  He splayed both hands to the top of his head, smoothed back his hair. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you want her?”

  His eyes met Annie’s. “More than anything in the world, but I get the impression that Mary Jameson isn’t going to make it easy for me to get custody.”

  “What does she want you to do?”

  “I have to quit traveling. Find a place to live. Get a job and establish a support system.”

  “I can help with that,” Annie blurted without weighing the consequences. What have you done, Princess? You can’t make this man promises you can’t keep. There is no fairy tale here in Jubilee. No happily-ever-after for you with Brady Talmadge.

  His eyes lit up. A shift of emotions moved across his face—bewilderment, excitement, gratitude, disbelief. “How? You’ve told me over and over that you can’t stay in Jubilee, that—”

  “I can’t.”

  Disappointment frosted his eyes. “So how in the hell could you possibly help me?”

  She didn’t blame him for the spurt of anger in his voice. He was overwhelmed. So she calmly and efficiently spelled out a plan that she hadn’t even known she’d been planning. “You will move in here,” she said. “I will help you fix the place up. Turn that big storage room into a nursery. You will go to work for Joe. Mariah told me he asked you to run their equine center.”

  “And where are you going to live?”

  “Right here with you until it is time for me to leave.”

  “Does that mean . . .” He trailed off.

  “That we will finally and fully become lovers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Buttercup, I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you, but I’m a dad now and—”

  She forced a smile. “This will be your last chance for a no-strings-attached relationship. Let us make the most of it.”

  “Annie.” He reached for her, pulled her into his arms.

  Helplessly, she sank against him.

  “I’m afraid that if we take that last step, I’ll never be able to let you go.”

  Tears clogged her throat, but she swallowed them back. “Sure you will. Orchid will keep you busy and you’ll forget all about me.” She took a fortifying breath and continued outlining her plan. “When Mary Jameson comes to inspect your living situation, I will be your support system. You can tell her I am your girlfriend or that we’re engaged. Whatever you need to say to convince her.”

  “You mean lie?”

  “Do you want custody of your daughter? Besides, I am your girlfriend. For now. She doesn’t have to know it’s temporary.”

  “What happens when you’re gone?”

  “Once you have custody of Orchid, it will not matter. You already have a support system. I have seen the way your friends look after each other. They will look after you and Orchid too.” Even as she was laying out her sensible plan, little pieces of her heart were breaking off.

  He hooked a finger under her chin, tilted her face up, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Why?”

  “Why what?” Her pulse quickened and her knee weakened.

  “Why are you doing this for me?”

  The answer to that question was an easy one, but she could not tell him the real reason. That she was in love with him. So in love with him that she would do anything in her power to make sure he was happy. But it was more than that. By helping him get Orchid, she hoped it would perhaps meliorate the lies she had told, the secret she had kept. And there was a small part of her that believed this had been her destiny all along. The role she’d been meant to play. Reuniting a father with his daughter. The thought made her feel less guilty.

  “Because,” she said. “That little girl needs you.”

  After he got the news about Orchid, Brady went up to the ranch house to speak to Joe about the job offer, and as Annie predicted, Joe was thrilled to hire him. Mariah was equally excited when Brady told her that he was moving into the cabin with Annie.

  “I knew it,” Mariah crowed. “I hear wedding bells in your future. Oh, this is so wonderful.”

  He didn’t have the heart to tell her that if she was hearing bells it was nothing more than ringing in her ears. Annie had made it quite clear that her secret was too big of an obstacle to overcome. Their relationship could never be long-term. He’d accepted that in the beginning, but now? He was confused and he didn’t like feeling that way.

  Then he dropped the bombshell about Orchid and his friends were all over him. Mariah hugged him. Joe pounded him on the back. “You’re a dad!”

  Joe started going on about how wonderful parenthood was and Mariah kept asking about Orchid and he just had to get out of their house. There was only so much enthusiasm a solitary man could take. This whole thing was new to him and he felt uncertain about the future.

  Seeking refuge, he headed for the barn. It was here among the horses that he felt safest. Everything was changing. Nothing would ever be the same in his world again. Part of him was excited. A bigger part was terrified. A single dad. He was going to be a single father.

  Only if you can convince Mary Jameson that you’re man enough for the job.

  Uncertainty pressed down on his lungs. Was he man enough for the job? The fear of not getting custody of Orchid knotted him up worse than the thought of getting her, and he hadn’t even met her yet.

  His daughter. He had a daughter.

  He needed to ride, to clear his head, whip his fears into submission. And Miracle was the horse for the job. It was time the stallion got the remainder of his fears out of his system too. He saddled the stallion and trotted him from the barn. The horse tossed his head, chuffed out his breath. Brady could feel his own nervous energy transfer to the stallion.

  With a click of his tongue, he urged Miracle to go faster. The stallion galloped full-out across the pasture, his mane streaming back, whipping against Brady’s fingers. They raced together, horse and man, each one trying to outpace the demons in their heads.

  For a time, as the ground sped away beneath Miracle’s hooves, Brady felt rangy and freewheeling, connected to nothing but the powerful horse. A song played in his head. “Born Free.” The creaking sound of the leather saddle seemed to keep time with the tune. But there was no escaping the past. History had made both him and the horse who they were now, shaped the pattern of their lives.

  He had a primal impulse to keep riding and never stop. In the Old West days a man could do that. Get on a horse and ride as far and long as the horse could hold up. But now there were roads and vehicles and cities and people. The country might have been tamed, but not the cowboy spirit.

  It occurred to him that he could go back, get into his trailer, and drive away. Take a modern route to liberty. He did not have to claim Orchid. He could take off and just keep going. A sense of slit
hering, evading, crawled across his skin.

  The wistful, immature part of him toyed briefly with the idea. He’d spent a lifetime trying to escape the pain of confinement, commitment, long-term relationships, but Brady knew there was no way he could turn his back on his own child.

  He saw her in his mind’s eye, a round baby face, bright as a new silver dollar. Oh shit, oh shit, he was ill equipped for this. He thought of Jake Moncrief and how life could change in the blink of an eye. He thought of Annie. How good she’d been with the kids at the Fourth of July party.

  And then he wished . . .

  Brady wished for something he’d never wished for in his life. A wife, a real family of his very own, a place where he truly belonged.

  How was that? The itinerant cowboy finally wanted a home.

  Annie paced the cabin. She couldn’t seem to settle down or focus her thoughts.

  Brady was building a life without her in it. This was good. This was right. This was how it should be. She could help Brady get his child and walk away guilt-free. She should be happy.

  She was not.

  Get over this. You cannot have him. Do something productive.

  Taking a deep breath, she gathered up her jumbled emotions, stuffed them down deep inside the way she’d been taught a good princess did, and started cleaning out the storeroom. If Brady got custody of Orchid, he would need a nursery.

  The work did her good. Even though she had to keep shooing the dogs out from underfoot. She moved boxes out to the outside storage shed, swept the floors, knocked down spiderwebs, cleaned the lone window that looked out over a field of scarlet paintbrushes. Sweat—no, perspiration; horses sweated, princesses perspired—pearled between her nose and her upper lip and ringed the collar of her shirt. Her hair was mussed and she was feeling a bit like a happy Cinderella when a knock sounded on the door, setting the dogs to barking. From the enthusiastic tone of their barks, she could tell that her caller was Brady.

  Setting her broom aside, she smoothed away the cobwebs clinging to her jeans and went to throw open the door.

  Brady stood on the porch holding a pizza box in one hand, a gallon of paint in the other. “It’s pink,” he said as her eyes strayed to the cans. “I hope I picked the right color.”

  Joy zipped through her. He was moving in! “I just cleaned out the storeroom.”

  Their eyes met.

  “Great minds,” he murmured. “I thought we could have a nursery-painting pizza party.”

  She looked over his shoulder. A party suggested more people. “Anyone else with you?”

  “Party of two,” he said, stepping over the threshold only to be mobbed by the dogs. “Or maybe party of four.”

  “Time for you two to go outside and play,” Annie said, shooing the dogs out and closing the door behind them. Her heart fluttered like a trapped parakeet in a cage and she couldn’t say why. She turned back to find Brady grinning at her.

  “Food first?” he asked. “I hope you like pepperoni.”

  “If you like pepperoni, I like pepperoni.”

  He frowned. “You’ve never had pepperoni?”

  She’d never had pizza. It was not exactly a culinary staple in the palace kitchen, but she could not tell him that. She shrugged.

  “One of these days, Annie Coste, you’re going to have to come clean about who you are and what you’re running from.”

  She took two plates from the cupboard and pretended she had not heard that.

  She sat down opposite him, suddenly aware of how she must look with mussed hair and dirty clothes.

  Brady didn’t seem to mind. He slid a slice of pizza onto her plate and his smile lit her up inside. His eyes crinkled at the corners. Toasted pecans. They were the color of toasted pecans. Dumbfounded by how happy he looked, how peaceful, she shifted her attention to her plate, concentrated on discovering the joys of pepperoni, all the while listening to the sound of her pulse pounding through her eardrums.

  They finished their pizza and got down to work, painting the walls the soft dusty rose of a Texas sunset. It was the perfect color for a cowboy’s baby daughter. Just as she’d never eaten pizza, Annie had also never painted a wall. She was familiar with canvas—all well-bred princesses took art lessons—but not textured sheetrock. Brady showed her how to prep the wall. How to put spackle in the cracks and holes. How to prime first.

  The paint smelled of hope. Of the future. A future Annie had no place in. That made her sad, so she shifted gears, working vigorously to roll on the pink, watching the shabby storage room transform before her eyes. She understood this task was special. She understood it now. One day, this would all be but a faint memory. Maybe when she saw this color again, smelled paint, she’d close her eyes and be back here.

  She glanced over at Brady. He had stopped working and his hot eyes watched her. That’s when she realized they had prepped, primed, and painted the walls in a little over two hours.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.” She smiled.

  “Anyone ever tell you that you look absolutely beautiful with your hair spotted pink?”

  “What?” Her hand went to her hair, but he moved across the floor to encircle her wrist with his fingers.

  “No,” he said, “leave it. I love you in pink.”

  Then he was kissing her as he’d never kissed her before. Full of gratitude, hope and . . . love?

  No, no, you can’t think like that. He can’t love you. You can’t love him. This isn’t real. It’s all a fantasy. A game.

  Except it was not.

  He picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his neck. He kissed and kissed and kissed her.

  They forgot about the paint. Left the brushes to dry in the paint trays. He was unbuttoning her blouse and she grabbed the back of his T-shirt.

  “Arms up.” She laughed, and he raised his hands to the ceiling.

  She stripped the T-shirt from his body, tossed it in the corner, and then when he clasped her again, she ran her hands down his back, feeling the raised edges of his faded scars.

  He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth and carried her to the bedroom, his fingers yanking the shirt free from the waistband of her jeans. She was quite mad for him. Insane for his touch, his taste, the expression in his eyes when he looked at her.

  Annie was ready to fully and completely make love to the man of her dreams, to this handsome cowboy who had captured her heart. The time was right and she wanted it for the right reasons. Not merely because she wanted an adventure, but because she cared about him deeply. Wanted to please him. Wanted him to please her.

  Brady made her feel safe and cherished and ready to explore.

  Serenity started deep inside her, spread out, bathing her in a calm, soothing glow of love. She loved him. Would always love him. She couldn’t tell him, but she felt it through every cell in her body, through every breath she took.

  He laid her out on the bed, then stepped back to stare down at her. He was trembling and his trembling made her tremble. The moonlight shining through the open curtains glinted off his smooth, muscled chest and she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.

  “Annie,” he whispered, leaned over, and unsnapped her jeans.

  She responded in kind, unsnapping his.

  Down went her zipper.

  Down came his.

  He grabbed the hem of her jeans. She arched her hips to help him tug them off her. He stripped off his pants and fell onto the bed beside her. It had been more than four weeks since that first night they had almost made love in his trailer. Four weeks of waiting.

  “No more waiting,” she said.

  “No more waiting.”

  She felt the shape of his love mold her and she took him in. Embraced him with everything she had in her.

  The room was silent now, except for the sound of their breathing. Brady poured kisses on her face, her arms, her belly. Her bra disappeared. Then her panties. His underwear evaporated and there were no more barriers betwee
n their skin. Annie was entranced with the preciousness of it all. She breathed in his scent, her scent, the smell of the world. This world. Paint and hay and horses and home.

  Her heart fluttered heavily in the still air as more and more sensations peppered her. Brady looked into her and she looked into him and she was ill with happiness. Too much pleasure. She lost her way because of it. Princess Annabella Farrington of Monesta had completely vanished, shed from the skin of Annie Coste.

  She could not bear the joy any longer. It was too much. Like stolen cotton candy. Far too sweet to be acceptable. She felt elation or anticipation or something she didn’t even know how to describe, but it was all through her, dominant as blood and bones. She was ready to laugh and shriek, sounds that came staggering out of her like drunken magic. A virgin intoxicated.

  He took care of everything. Heating her to the right temperature, preparing the condom. He was part of her and she was a virgin no more. She burned brilliant, bright, fragile; an ordinary princess, a royal goddess of love.

  She was ready to reign, but Brady held her back.

  There were more sensations. Wavy spirals of pressure and heat. Crumbly prickles of textures and shapes. Crescent moons and saw-edged lace. Her body burst with unbelievable stimulation.

  Annie could not bear it, Brady was so potent, and she was, in that moment, wrapped in the sweetness of unity.

  All at once it was there.

  A vortex of everything she had ever felt converged in a spurt of laughter that took her breath, took her heart, took all of her. Busted. Blinded. Bankrupt. And along with her, she took Brady, falling, tumbling, stumbling into the most perfect landscape of shattering release.

  And that was how it happened, the unplanned seduction. The breaking of her heart as Annie surrendered both her virginity and her undying love to Brady Talmadge for now and forever.

  Brady woke the following morning to find himself spooned around Annie. He buried his face in her paint-spattered hair, inhaled her talcum-powder scent, and smiled so wide it hurt his mouth. It was the first time he’d ever woken up beside a woman and not experienced at least a slight urge to run.