Twins For The Texan. Charlene Sands
toss it away. The paper was crumpled and creased, but the words rang out loud and clear. Wyatt had blown her off.
The morning after the wedding, when she’d woken up alone at the inn, she’d read his words and been baffled. She’d been certain Wyatt wasn’t the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. She’d been certain they’d wake up together and exchange phone numbers, at the very least. Maybe have breakfast together. Their connection had been powerful, so strong, in fact, it sort of scared her. She’d been sure it wasn’t one-sided. Had her BS meter gone on the fritz?
After what Royce Brisbane did to her, she’d turned on her protective radar with all shields up. She’d come to Texas partly to forget about men and romance. And then Wyatt appeared, seemingly out of the blue, and gave her one miraculous day...and night.
Maybe that’s all there’d ever be for her, snippets of passion, spread out here and there, but nothing real, nothing permanent. Oddly enough, it was the “thank you” at the end of the note that pissed her off more than anything. As if she’d done him a service.
If you ever need me for anything, you can find me at the Blue Horizon Ranch.
Hell, yeah, she needed him. But right now, her pride interfered with good judgment. Tears entered her eyes. Tears she didn’t want. Tears that embarrassed her. She wasn’t a teary-eyed romantic fool, but her hormones were out of whack and had been pretty much since she’d missed her last period.
She knew what it meant. She’d taken the test yesterday. She was going to have Wyatt’s baby—a result of too much passion and not enough good sense.
She’d slept on the news last night, hoping when she woke up today it would’ve all gone away, like a bad dream you eventually forget. She hadn’t told a soul, but Emma was raising her eyebrows at her lately, asking her why she was tired and looking pale. She blamed it on the Texas heat and humidity. She wasn’t used to the sweltering temperatures, but Emma was five months pregnant and having just gone through these early months, she knew the signs all too well.
Dylan popped his head into her room. “Are you gonna come out to the set today, sis?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. But thanks.”
“What are you gonna do? Stay alone here all day?”
Zane and his new wife, Jessica, had graciously offered for the three of them to stay as his houseguests in the glorious new home Adam Chase had designed as a wedding present, while Dylan shot a Western movie here. Zane had been a neighbor for a time back in Moonlight Beach, California, and Dylan, Zane and Adam were all good friends now. But newlyweds Zane and Jessica were inseparable, and a few days back, they’d left on Zane’s spectacular tour bus, heading toward New Orleans to do a round of country music concerts.
Now Dylan, Emma and Brooke had the house all to themselves for the next few weeks.
Emma barged into the room, her growing belly covered by a breezy floral handkerchief dress. “No, she’s not spending the day alone. She’s going to help me pick out baby girl clothes!”
Brooke forgot about her own problems and jumped up. “You’re having a girl?”
Emma nodded, her laughter infectious. She lifted the pointed hem of her dress with both hands, and danced around the room singing, “Yes, yes, we’re having a baby girl.”
Brooke caught her midstride and hugged her tight. “Oh, this is wonderful. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter, but now we know!”
She peered over Emma’s shoulder at her brother. His eyes were gleaming with love for his wife and new child. One would never know the child Emma carried wasn’t his. But he loved both mother and child with all of his heart. And that’s all that mattered.
Brooke stepped away from Emma and with arms reaching up, walked over to Dylan to give him a giant warm hug. Her big brother was happier than she’d ever seen him. “Congratulations.”
Dylan kissed her forehead. “Thanks. We’re excited.”
“You’re going to be outnumbered, you know, with all these women around.”
“He’s used to it,” Emma said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“That’s right, the big mega movie star has women falling at his feet,” Brooke said.
“Not anymore. They know I’m taken.” Dylan went to Emma and took her hand. She smiled and then both of them looked Brooke’s way. “So, you’ll drop by the set with Emma later?” he asked.
“Sure, we’ll come by and see you.”
She couldn’t burst his bubble. She’d been a downer lately, and hadn’t been able to concentrate on having a good time. They sensed something was up with her, but hadn’t pried. Not yet, anyway. She didn’t want to raise any more suspicion. She was having enough trouble accepting the fact that Emma wouldn’t be the only new mother around here. And she had no clue of how or when to tell Wyatt Brandt he was going to be a father.
* * *
Wyatt sat upon a black gelding with white socks named Oreo and faced the rushing waters of the Willow Springs River. Twenty miles north of Beckon and even farther from his ranch, he was doing Johnny a favor today by coming here. Aside from Johnny Wilde, no one else in the area had as much commonsense knowledge about horseflesh and cattle as Wyatt did. Not that he’d wanted this job. Hell, he was no consultant, but his friend had called him in a panic. Johnny had come down with the flu, hopefully just the twenty-four-hour kind, and he’d needed a replacement, pronto. “You’re the only one I trust to do the job,” he’d said.
It wasn’t the plea, but the weakness in Johnny’s voice that had Wyatt agreeing to haul his butt away from Blue Horizon Ranch and his kids today.
He glanced at the men milling around, decked out in fringed leather chaps, Stetsons and snakeskin boots. Actors.
Dressing room trailers—honey wagons, Johnny had called them—were set up in the outlying area and a crew of about fifty were pulling wires, setting up cameras and shouting orders. He’d already spoken with the director today about the scene they were to shoot along the river’s edge. The horses and cattle would be crossing in shallow waters, but it was a key concern that no animals or actors be hurt in the highly technical shot.
From a distance, he spotted the star of the movie, Dylan McKay, stepping out of his trailer decked out in a chambray shirt, jeans and a red paisley kerchief around his neck. And then Wyatt froze. He blinked and refocused.
Yep, he wasn’t imagining it. Dylan was with a woman.
It was her.
Brooke Johnson.
What was she doing here? She looked awfully chummy with Dylan, laughing at something he’d said and walking along with him as though she was accustomed to being close to the mega superstar.
Seeing her again sent blazing fireworks off in Wyatt’s head. “Uh, Tony?” He took his eyes off Brooke for a second to get the assistant wrangler’s attention. “Do you know who that woman is walking with Dylan McKay?” He pointed. “Is her name Brooke Johnson?”
The wrangler scrubbed his jaw, his eyes narrowing a bit to gain a good look. “It’s Brooke all right. All the single guys on the crew have been eyeing her. But her name’s not Johnson. That’s Mr. McKay’s sister, Brooke McKay.”
“She’s Dylan McKay’s sister?”
“Yep, that’s what they tell me. She’s a looker, but she’s not the friendly type, if you know what I mean.”
No, he didn’t know what Tony meant. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. The woman he’d met on the road had been friendly and fun and sassy. He’d never describe Brooke as unfriendly. But then, he hadn’t known the real Brooke, had he? She’d given him a fake name. Now that wasn’t cool.
And just like that, Brooke turned her head and met his gaze. She halted abruptly, her face going as white as