The Maverick's Ready-Made Family. Brenda Harlen

The Maverick's Ready-Made Family - Brenda Harlen


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and don’t want to go, just say so.”

      Forrest lifted a brow. “Well, I’ve had so many hot dates recently I’d have to check my calendar to know for sure.”

      “You do that,” Clay advised.

      His brother mimed thumbing through a little black book. “I have Skinny Ginny penciled in, but I can reschedule. At least at D.J.’s, I’ll get some meat on my ribs.”

      “I’m glad to see your sense of humor is still intact,” Clay noted. “Even if it’s deeply buried most days.”

      Forrest looked away. “Just ‘cause I said I’d go out with you Friday night doesn’t give you the right to turn this into some touchy-feely moment.”

      “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Clay assured him.

      “Good.” Forrest tipped the bottle to his lips and shifted his gaze back to the television.

      D.J.’s Rib Shack in the Thunder Canyon Resort was usually busy, especially on a Friday night. While Antonia waited for her friend Catherine to arrive, she glanced around the restaurant with its sepia-toned pictures of cowboys and an extensive mural that depicted a visual history of the town. But more than the décor, it was the scent of D.J.’s famous sauce thick in the air that assured the customers packed into the benches and booths that they would enjoy genuine Western barbecue.

      Antonia breathed in deeply, inhaling the rich aroma, and the baby kicked in approval—or maybe it was demand. If Antonia was hungry, it was a good bet that her baby was, too.

      “I feel like Pavlov’s dog,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “I just walk through the door of this place, and my mouth starts to water.”

      Antonia laughed and hugged her friend. “I know what you mean.”

      The hostess led them to a booth against the back wall.

      When the waitress came, they ordered right away, both familiar enough with the menu to know what they wanted. Fifteen minutes later, they were digging into plates laden with saucy ribs, fresh-cut fries and tart coleslaw. Antonia had considered ordering the daily vegetable option rather than fries, but the baby wanted fries and she’d learned not to ignore the baby’s demands. If she indulged now, she wouldn’t find herself raiding the fridge at three o’clock in the morning.

      “I can’t remember the last time I was here,” Antonia admitted, popping a fry into her mouth. “Which proves that it’s been way too long.”

      “I’m glad you finally hired someone else to serve dinner at the ranch,” Catherine said. “We haven’t had a girls’ night out in far too long.”

      “You’ve been even busier than I have. As if getting Real Vintage Cowboy up and running wasn’t enough, you had to go and fall in love with Cody Overton and get married.”

      Catherine grinned. “I guess I have been busy.”

      Antonia sat back, licking rib sauce off of her fingers, and assessed her friend. Tonight she was wearing a lacy white blouse over a long, flowing skirt with well-worn cowboy boots on her feet. Her long, dark hair hung loose over her shoulders and her chocolate-colored eyes glowed with a happiness that seemed to radiate from deep within her.

      “But you look happy, Mrs. Overton. As if married life agrees with you.”

      “I am happy,” Catherine agreed.

      “And I’m glad that Cody turned out to be the real deal,” Antonia said, and meant it.

      She was genuinely thrilled that her friend had everything she’d always wanted—both professional success and personal happiness. But seeing the vibrant glow on Catherine’s face, Antonia couldn’t deny that she felt a twinge of something that might have been envy.

      She had no cause for complaint. She was content with her life, grateful that things had started to turn around at the ranch so that their finances weren’t stretched quite as tight as they’d been a few months earlier. But she was also conscious of the fact that, despite living with her father and her brothers and with a baby of her own on the way, she was alone.

      “I just wish you could find someone like him,” her friend said. “Someone genuinely wonderful and kind and smart and sexy.”

      “I don’t think there is anyone else like Cody.” But even as Antonia said the words, she realized that there was another man who at least came close. A man who doted on his son, who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty in the kitchen, and who had an easy sense of humor and a quick smile. A man whose mere presence made every nerve-ending in her body stand up and take notice.

      And then Clayton Traub walked into the restaurant with Bennett in his arms.

      Not just Clay, she realized, but his brother, Forrest, too. But Antonia knew there could have been a parade of men, all of them tall and handsome, and it still would have been Clay who drew her attention.

      “There’s someone out there for you,” Catherine insisted. And then, aware that her friend’s attention had wandered, she turned her head to see the two men making their way to the private dining room in the back.

      “Oh, my,” she said in a reverent whisper. “Or maybe there’s someone in here for you.”

      Antonia couldn’t blame Catherine for her reaction. The first time she’d set eyes on Clayton Traub, she’d felt the exact same way. And neither time nor familiarity had done much to dim her reaction. But she had learned to ignore the physiological response—most of the time, anyway.

      “I swear, the testosterone level in here just shot through the roof.” Catherine turned back to her friend. “So tell me—which one of those very sexy cowboys caught your eye?”

      Antonia felt her cheeks flush. “Neither of them.”

      “Liar.”

      “I do know them,” she finally admitted. “Clay and Forrest Traub. They’ve been staying at Wright’s Way.”

      “Now I know why you haven’t been coming into town very often. The scenery is obviously much better at the ranch than I remembered.”

      “They are nice to look at,” Antonia acknowledged.

      “Nice?” her friend scoffed. “Those are real vintage cowboys.”

      “How do you know?”

      “You can tell by the way they carry themselves—the strength, the confidence, the swagger.” She fanned her cheeks. “Those men have it in spades. And there’s just something about a man with a baby in his arms that somehow enhances his masculinity.”

      “Newlywed,” Antonia reminded her friend.

      “Newly and blissfully wed,” Catherine agreed. “But the ring on my finger hasn’t rendered me blind.”

      “Proven by the fact that you did notice the baby he was carrying.”

      Catherine winced. “His?”

      Antonia nodded.

      “Married?”

      She shook her head.

      “Then what’s the problem?” her friend demanded. “He’s a single dad, you’re a soon-to-be single mom—”

      “Yeah, and I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t be attracted to me.” Antonia’s dry tone was accompanied by a pointed glance at her round belly.

      “Are you kidding? Do you ever look in the mirror? You’re gorgeous, Antonia.”

      “And that’s why you’re my best friend,” she told Catherine. “Because you can actually say things like that with a straight face.”

      Catherine sighed. “Okay, tell me about him.”

      “I don’t know a lot,” she admitted. “Just that he’s from Rust Creek Falls, he came to Thunder


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