Tina Leonard - Frisco Joe's Fiancee

“We hitched a ride with the driver of an eighteen-wheeler who loaded us into the back of his truck. He’d stopped across the highway at the truck stop.”

He stared at her, trying to imagine that.

“Twenty minutes in the truck wasn’t bad. Any further than that and we’d have had to spend the night in the bus station,” she admitted. “That would have been miserable. But Jerry made certain we were comfortable.”

Frisco blew out a breath as he looked around at all the women. He wouldn’t have wanted them spending the night in a bus station, especially not since they’d come to Union Junction to apply for a job at the ranch. There was some responsibility involved, he admitted to himself, if not chivalry.

“There’s plenty of room here,” he said begrudgingly. “We have three houses on the property that the twelve of us share. We’ll divide you up…” He hesitated at the black look in the spokeswoman’s eye. Clearly there’d be no dividing.

“On the other hand, Navarro’s house should sleep all of you just fine.”

Navarro straightened but wasn’t going to disagree with the pointed look Frisco shot him. “I’ll go pack.”

Three of his brothers went out the door with him, fairly peacefully for four men who’d just given up their home. Frisco was suspicious about the lack of protest. He watched Last shoot a smile toward the ladies and realized he had a bigger problem on his hand.

His brothers saw an advantage to all these women being stuck on the ranch for the night.

He’d have to keep a tight eye on them to make certain there were no shenanigans.

Navarro came back inside, escorting a stranger. “The truck driver was still outside.”

“Hey, Delilah, ladies,” he said to the spokeswoman and her companions, astonishing Frisco, who hadn’t even thought to ask her—or any of them—their names. There were simply too many women, and he’d never remember them all. Nor had he expected to see them again.

Delilah clapped a hand to her forehead. “I forgot all about you, Jerry! I’m so sorry! Come on into the kitchen, and I’ll fix you a nice cup of whatever Mr. Jefferson’s got on hand.”

“Miss, er—Ms. Delilah—” Frisco began.

She gave him a straightforward eyeing that said she didn’t think much of his manners. “It’s Ms. Honeycutt.”

At this unspoken verbal wall that was suddenly erected, all the ladies seemed to straighten their backs.

“Delilah,” Jerry said, taking off his cap, “these men haven’t done anything to offend you, have they?”

Frisco shook his head, realizing his brothers had already gained their feet. The females crossed their arms.

“I can take you right back into town. There’s bound to be a place where all of you can hole up. I was under the impression that this was where you wanted to be,” the stocky white-haired-and-bearded Jerry said.

“We merely wanted to come back and rescue our Annabelle and little Em,” Delilah said, her gaze on Frisco. “But we know when we’re not wanted.”

“Now, wait a minute—” Frisco began, then halted as he wondered why he was bothering to argue. He really didn’t want them here. But a look from his brothers hinted that his manners had somehow aggravated a delicate situation. “We were not expecting guests, that’s true, but there’s plenty of room for the girls here at the ranch.”

He was proud of his offer. Jerry gaped at him. “These are not girls, son,” he said sternly. “Haven’t you even made proper introductions with these fine ladies?”

Proper introductions before what? Frisco wanted to demand. He’d wanted them gone. What difference did the niceties make?

“This here’s Delilah Honeycutt,” Jerry said, undertaking the duty of explaining Frisco’s lack of manners to him. “And the rest—first names only, since you don’t seem too interested, and alphabetical, to make it easy for you—are Beatrice, Carly, Daisy, Dixie, Gretchen, Hannah, Jessica, Julie, Katy, Kiki, Lily, Marnie, Remy, Shasta, Tisha, Velvet, Violet. And you apparently already know Annabelle and baby Emmeline, or we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

His expression gave no doubt that he figured Frisco and his brothers were up to something heinous.

“How’d you do that?” Frisco demanded.

“Do what?”

“Memorize all their names so fast?”

Jerry looked at Delilah apologetically. “This may not be the brightest light on the truck, Delilah. You might want to think over your options for the night.” He sighed. “I’m a truck driver, son. A good memory helps me when I’m driving transcoastal. And memory games keep me from being bored.”

“That boy appears to be the surly one of all these gentlemen,” Ms. Honeycutt said. “If you were my boy, you’d approach company with much better deportment. Come on, Jerry,” Delilah said, with a slight sniff Frisco’s way. “It’s time you were given a cup of cocoa.”

Frisco’s jaw dropped as the tougher-than-cow-hooves truck driver docilely followed her into his kitchen, some of the ladies following.

“Good going, big bro,” one of his brothers said, but he didn’t pay any attention to the snickers and general laughter. His brain felt short-wired.

For the short term, it appeared that life as he’d known it was going to be very different.

He needed a plan, and some organization. Glancing at Mimi, he saw her trying not to giggle. Well she might laugh, since this was yet another one of her schemes with combustible results.

Vowing not to let it bother him, Frisco realized there was only one thing he could do while he was playing host.

For the first time in his life, he was going to have to be a good sport.

ANNABELLE WAS GLAD her friends had returned, even though Frisco looked very grim about it. Frankly, she’d been afraid when she’d discovered she’d allowed herself to get left behind. Frisco didn’t want her here, and she’d been happy for Mimi’s invitation—even though she sensed Mimi’s invitation wasn’t because she was anxious to get her hands on a baby. There was something else going on with Mimi.

Yet as long as Annabelle had all her friends, she’d be fine. They’d been her support ever since Tom had left her.

Her friends were the reason she hadn’t hesitated to come out here, at the urging of Delilah and the other ladies of the Lonely Hearts Beauty Salon. Darn Dina at the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls Salon anyway.

But no, it was Tom who had left her, and that couldn’t be blamed on Dina. Annabelle knew she’d picked the wrong man to fall in love with, if he could be so faithless.

“I’ll never let that happen again,” she said against Emmeline’s soft head. “I always heard three strikes and you’re out. I only intend to strike out once.”

IN FORT WORTH, Mason had a lot of time to think. One of the things he couldn’t stop thinking about was Mimi. She’d been in his thoughts long before he’d told Frisco to call her to solve the minor problem that had cropped up at the ranch.

Mason wondered if he missed Mimi, hellion that she was. He’d as surely miss an ingrown toenail, right?

Fortunately, he had this unwelcome thought while he was sitting in a beer joint, listening to old country tunes on an out-of-whack jukebox. The proper antidote to thinking weird stuff like he was thinking was another beer and a two-step with a cute, obliging regular.

Otherwise, he’d have to start riding rodeo again to knock some sense into himself. He’d been alone way too long if he thought he was missing Mimi Cannady.

Of course, if he wanted to play devil’s advocate with himself, there was the night of the big storm. Remembering the feel of Mimi as she jumped into his arms made his chest spread with warmth. Shaking his head, he swallowed some more beer.