His Tomboy Bride. Leanna Wilson
Jake’s funeral he’d offered to stay and help with the ranch, but Billie had wanted—needed—to prove she could handle it as well as any man. But she hadn’t known about the money Jake had borrowed. She hadn’t known a lot of things then. It had been an uphill battle ever since to stay in operation.
Martha patted Nick’s arm as if he was her own son. “We’ve missed you.”
“I was negligent,” he said, his voice thick. “I should have come back sooner.”
Billie lifted her chin and met his questioning gaze. “We managed fine. We didn’t need any help.”
And we don’t need anything now.
A wry chuckle escaped his tense mouth. “You always could take care of things.”
Her heart lurched. She hadn’t managed very well with the ranch. Good ol’ Billie Rae—strong, capable, dependable—she’ d always prided herself on her good qualities. But did they really describe her or a well-bred stock horse?
Irritated at her own comparison, she wanted to believe Nick’s words were a compliment. But in her heart they taunted her. For a moment she wished she could melt into a helpless puddle of tears instead remaining stoic and practical in the face of adversity. But she hadn’t. She couldn’t.
More than ready for him to leave, she asked, “What brings you back here?”
“You.” Something suggestive in his tone made her toes curl under.
“Me?” Her voice squeaked.
With the swiftness of summer lightning, she remembered the burning intensity of their one shared kiss, the awareness sparking between them, the heat searing her to her very feminine core. The texture of his mouth, firm yet gentle, as rough and tempting as raw silk, had awakened her like Prince Charming had stirred Sleeping Beauty from sleep. She had suddenly been proud of her softer curves, grateful finally that she was a girl... woman.
At sixteen she’d suffered a bad case of puppy love. But it had been more, she’d realized as time had passed, as she’d matured, as the feelings had lingered and intensified. It had been real, true. From the very depths of her soul. She’d wanted to marry Nick, have his children. Loving him had outshone all her other dreams. When hit with his captivating gaze, she’d have done anything for him. Then he’d splintered a small part of her heart.
So she’d focused with laser beam precision on her hopes of becoming a vet. It hadn’t taken long for that dream to crash beneath the weight of her father’s death and be buried beneath the burden of her brother’s. Years of hard, backbreaking work and shoulder-scrunching responsibility had demolished the rest of her innocent hopes. Once she’d had grand plans for her life. None of them had come to pass. But she hadn’t given up on all of them yet.
As abruptly as she’d been set back on her heels that day when Nick had told her of his impending marriage, now again she pulled herself up short from her steamy memories. She reminded herself with a quick mental kick that she didn’t want Nick. She had other plans, plans that resurrected her dreams. Plans that didn’t include him.
The cold, wet glass cooled the skyrocketing temperature that burned inside him like a high-pitched fever. Nick felt hotter than the hundred-degree weather outside. He sipped the sweetened tea, and the ice clinked together. The ceiling fan sifted cool air over his heated skin.
Wedding! He still couldn’t believe it. Billie the Kid was really getting married. His world turned upside down as if E no longer equaled mc2. He felt the foundation under him collapsing.
But Nick couldn’t concentrate on anything except Billie. And her vibrant blue eyes. Her golden hair teased her smooth, bare shoulders and made him think of things he didn’t ordinarily associate with Billie, like satin sheets on hot summer nights. Her faint tan line, outlining the opening of a work shirt, brought a smile to his heart as he remembered the rough-and-tumble girl she’d once been. And now she was all grown-up.
For the first time he noticed her very distinctive, patently feminine and too-damn-sexy curves. His “kid sister” had become a woman. A part of him was more than grateful there wasn’t an ounce of blood relation between them.
His throat went bone-dry. He coughed, uncomfortable with his blatant, sexually charged reaction to her. “Tim Cummins told me your good news. I ran into him yesterday in Houston.”
One part of the rumor had been true enough. But he still held out hope the rest had been false.
“We should have called,” Martha said, “but it’s been so rush-rush, with all the plans and everything.” She touched a trembling hand to Billie’s veil. “I wish your father could see you like this. He would have been so proud.” She turned away and sniffed again into her handkerchief.
Billie’s features contorted, the muscles along her neck flexing. Nick wondered if her father’s absence took away part of her wedding joy. Mr. Gunther wouldn’t be there to walk her down the aisle or twirl her around the dance floor. Didn’t a woman want that emotional support, those tender moments?
None of the Gunther men were alive to offer guidance to Billie. Nick knew neither of them would approve of the groom Tim Cummins had said won Billie’s hand. Nick wouldn’t, either. It had to be some mistake. The Billie he knew would be more discerning than that. That’s why he’d dropped everything, including work, and raced back to Bonnet—to make sure she knew what she was doing.
She met his gaze. A sparkle glinted in her eyes, making them look as dazzling as sapphires. One minute she looked childlike—lost, alone, bereft—and the next, she appeared ready to take on the world. Billie had always surprised him with her quick-flash change of emotions. What the hell did he know about women, anyway? They were an enigma. His divorce was a blatant reminder.
She broke the fragile silence with, “Jake would have gotten a good belly laugh about all this.”
Something familiar and warm passed between them, but a new spark ignited, something disconcerting and way too hot. Ignoring his very male reaction to her obvious feminine charms, he matched her smile with an unsteady one of his own. “You’re right. He would have.”
Then her eyes flashed. Her smile faltered. She tipped her chin higher. He recognized that old challenge.
Jake might have laughed at her all dressed up like this. But Nick couldn’t. His lungs constricted, trapping his breath. Words lodged in his throat. She looked so damn different...so grown-up...so beautiful. When had all these changes taken place? At her father’s funeral five years earlier she’d looked like a frightened child, her eyes wide, but unable to shed a tear. At Jake’s funeral two years later, she’d looked thin as a rail. She’d stood strong for her mother, brave, controlling her trembling lip.
He’d missed the gradual transition from girlhood to a full-fledged woman. Somehow she seemed softer than he’d expected, vulnerable, yet he knew she was tough enough to handle a Texas cattle ranch on her own. Still, a trace of that uncertain, freckle-faced girl could still be seen in her wild, blue gaze.
“Jake would have been a fool not to see how beautiful you are,” he managed.
Uncertainty darkened her eyes to the turbulence of a stormy sea. She glanced down at the yards of lace swirling around her. “I feel like I got walloped with confectioners’ sugar.”
Nick chuckled.
“You’re a lovely bride,” Martha reassured her daughter.
“Lovely” was a simple word that didn’t do Billie justice. She was a vision. The dress pinched in her waist, accented her full breasts, showed off her honey tan.
As if the years scrolled backward, he remembered the boldness of the kiss she’d given him. He could feel her creamy-smooth lips seasoned with innocence brushing his. It had taken every ounce of strength to set her away from him then. He’d belonged to someone else. And Billie had been way too young. But now, when the four-year difference between