The Cowboy's Twins. Tara Quinn Taylor
her ma’am. He couldn’t get the sound of his son’s reply to her out of his brain. What had she done with his boy? And how did he get it done, too?
“I’m taking advantage of your good nature, and your fire, to give me an excuse not to go back out to the cabin earlier than I have to.”
Her words knocked him back. Almost literally. Wow. Talk about getting what you give out. The whole honesty idea...it had been a bad one.
“Life on a ranch can get lonesome,” he said, “especially if you aren’t used to it.”
“I actually kind of like the quiet,” she said, surprising him again. Why had he ever thought he was a natural with women?
“Something wrong with the cabin? It’s the largest, and most newly remodeled, but we’ve got others a little closer together...”
“It’s fine.” She shook her head. “I’m being ridiculous. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”
He didn’t know her well enough to make a guess. Not that he wanted to.
“It’s just... I had a call from my mother this morning...” She glanced at him again. But differently. Uncertainty didn’t look right on her. Or normal.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. At least, according to her it isn’t.”
Okay. So now things were starting to make sense. She was out of her element, away from her friends, stuck in the middle of nowhere. And she’d had bad news.
Now, that he could wrap his mind around.
And deal with, too. After all, except for when city women cramped his space, he really was a nice guy.
“You want to talk about it?”
“No.” She laughed, but there was no amusement now. “I generally keep my own counsel.” She picked up her water bottle. “It’s probably just some manifestation of jitters because my first show on the road has its official start tomorrow...”
“I’m a good listener.” Wait. He was getting exactly what he wanted. Her taking her departure. “It’s not like you’re ever going to see me again,” he reminded her. “After our six weeks are up, that is.”
The first week of filming was just preliminary stuff. Introductions. Some interviews. She’d given him a complete schedule so he’d know. Then, starting the next Saturday, four weeks of competition would follow. The sixth week was the final round, a cook-off between any and all contestants who won the preliminary rounds. That winner would receive, among other things, a contract to have one of his or her recipes mass-produced and packaged with national retail distribution.
Dropping her water bottle onto her lap, she relaxed against her chair. “My mom called to tell me that she was breaking up with her boyfriend.”
“She’s not married?” He gave himself a mental kick as soon as the words slipped out. Of course, if she had a boyfriend, she wouldn’t be married. He really did need to get out more.
“No.”
“How long has she been divorced?”
“She isn’t divorced. She’s never been married.”
“Oh.” The ensuing silence felt awkward, and he said, “Not that I’m judging. Just...”
“My father was a fellow law student at Georgetown. He had an interest in her, in hooking up, but not in marriage and children. Not until he’d established himself in Massachusetts law and politics.”
Okay, now he was out of his league.
“The thing is, my mom said she wouldn’t have married him if he’d offered. She claims that, like him, she’d had goals and didn’t want to be tied down, either.”
Wait... “I kind of know firsthand that when you’re a parent, that’s exactly what happens. Your wants and needs take second place to your children’s...”
“At home, yes. Emotionally, maybe. But not professionally. Look at you. You’ve got this ranch. It’s obvious that you love it. And that you give it, professionally, everything it needs.”
“I inherited the ranch. You know, from my parents. Who inherited it from their parents...”
Legally, anyway. Legally he’d inherited it from his parents. Sort of.
Legally the ranch was all his. That was what mattered. Why he’d suddenly thought of old news, he had no idea. And had no intention of doing so again.
Longfellow Ranch was his without question. Fairly. Legally. And morally, too. Just as it would one day belong to Justin and Tabitha...
“My mom had career goals. She cared more about them, has always cared more about them, than she’s ever cared about a partner relationship.”
He’d invited the conversation. Proclaimed his listening skills. Finding no response to her statement, he nodded.
“She’s strong-minded. Knows what she wants. But it’s not so much a selfish thing as it is that...she’s right. She’s accomplished everything she’s set out to do. Including raising me in an environment where I never, ever had to doubt her love for me.”
Now she had his attention. Having not had that kind of assurance in his own formative years, he wanted more than anything to get it right for his kids.
“Because she paid someone to watch out for you?”
“No. Because she was always there for me. And anytime I was otherwise involved, she focused one hundred percent on her career.”
“Which is?”
“She’s a trial court judge in New York City.”
Wow. He was so far out of his league, he was surprised he was still sitting there with her.
“It suits her, being the boss. Making the decisions. She’s good at it. Happy doing it. And I know in my heart, if she’d had to live side by side with another adult all her life, compromising her needs and ideals to fit another’s, she’d have been miserable.”
“But she had a boyfriend.”
“Another judge, in appeals court. They were suited because there was no need for compromise. They both had their lives. And happened to enjoy doing the same things. It was perfect. At least, I thought so...”
Now he had to wonder: What did it do to a girl, growing up with such a strong female influence, and no male influence whatsoever?
Unless... Had the boyfriend been around all those years? She clearly cared about the guy.
“How long were they together?”
“Ten years.”
“Were there boyfriends before that?”
“Not that she actually brought home.”
Her eyes had that sheen again.
Prompting within him another tug that he didn’t like.
“So, what happened?” Best to get through this and move on down the road. She did, that is. She needed to move on down the path to her cabin. And the next evening, when that week’s filming was over, ideally she would drive her SUV and her crew right back to Palm Desert until the following Friday. “Did they have a fight? Was he unfaithful to her?”
“He asked her to marry him.”
And they broke up.
Spencer studied her in the firelight. Could see her struggle. If he let himself, he was pretty sure he’d feel her pain.
And do something stupid, like give her a hug.
Yep. He was having a seriously bad day.