Cathy Gillen - Lone Star Daddy

“Then why were you kissing him?”

Knowing it would be futile to deny they had been making out, just a little, Rose stated cagily, “Impulse. A bad one at that, and one that won’t happen again. So...to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Poppy raised her glass of sparkling water in toast. “I finally got Trace Caulder to agree to adopt with me!”

Everyone clinked glasses. Rose asked, “But you’re not planning to get married to the Lieutenant?”

The thirty-five-year-old Poppy waved off the possibility. “It’s not really necessary these days. At least through the private agency we’re using.”

No one knew better than Rose how hard it could be to raise a family as a single mother. On the other hand, she had all the McCabes behind her, helping out as needed. And so would Poppy, whose interior-design business was based in Laramie.

Poppy tore her hunk of French bread into bite-size pieces. “I’m not cut out to be a military wife. And Trace doesn’t want to give up flying jets for the Air Force. But we’re best friends—”

And lovers, whenever the good Lieutenant was stateside, Rose thought.

“—and we both want a family, sooner rather than later,” Poppy continued, practical as ever. “So this is the best option for both of us. The problem is, the agency wants photos of me and Trace together that exemplify us as potential parents. And the last time we had any taken was at Lily’s wedding. Prior to that, it was Callie and Maggie’s double wedding.”

Though, Rose thought, only one of their older twin sisters had actually gotten married that day.

“We’ll all help you look,” Violet promised. Although the search was likely to produce an upsetting number of photos of Violet’s late fiancé, Sterling, and Rose and her ex-husband, too.

Nevertheless, as soon as their meal was over, Rose put on a pot of coffee. Together, they all went through the pictures.

“None of these are right,” Poppy said finally with a defeated sigh.

“Maybe I have something on my computer of the two of you,” Rose told her, glad to move away from remnants of her disastrous romantic past, too.

“Why don’t we all go through our picture files?” Violet suggested. “And get back to each other when we find more to choose from.”

Anything, Rose agreed, to keep her mind off the unexpected turn her own life had taken and the mistake she had recklessly made. She’d had one relationship based on passion—and little else—that had crashed and burned. She wasn’t going to embark on another.

* * *

“SO YOU DO know who Rose has been dating,” Clint said to Gannon several days later when the two got together to repair a line of fence that ran between their ranches.

Gannon chuckled and shoved a post-digger into the ground. “The question is, what is it to you?”

Clint shrugged, trying not to think about the fact that Rose had been avoiding him like the plague, not coming out to his ranch once since he’d kissed her. Nor had she been the one driving the refrigerated truck back and forth from Rose Hill Farm. She had Swifty doing that for her. And for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, her absence really irked him, knowing he was on her Out List. Just for making his intention of pursuing her clear.

He set a new wooden post into the foot-deep hole, packed it tight with the displaced dirt, then turned to his happily married friend. “Let’s just say I don’t want to unwittingly repeat some other dude’s mistakes.”

“I wouldn’t, either, if I were you.” Gannon moved on down the line to the next post in need of replacement. Using a crowbar and shovel, he worked it out of the dirt. “Although I don’t know what precisely those missteps were.”

The way cleared, Clint used both hands to center a new wooden post squarely in the hole.

“Just that she dumped him?” Clint asked.

“Them,” Gannon corrected.

“There’s been more than one?” Clint blinked in surprise.

Gannon paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with one gloved hand. “Three or four, at least. But she dumped every one of them after one date.”

Not much of a chance to succeed or impress.

“Any idea why?”

Gannon cut a strip of barbed wire from another weak post. “That you would have to ask her. Maybe the next time you’re putting the moves on her, you could bring it up.” He dropped the wire into the bed of the pickup truck with the rest of the metal, then added with a smirk, “I heard about the condiments on the shirts. Smooth.”

Clint winced. Were he and Rose ever going to live that down? It seemed the twins had mentioned that incident to everyone in their preschool, who in turn had gone home and told their parents. Hence, a lot of the co-op moms had joked about it when they’d come out to work on the Double Creek blackberry patch harvest.

Muttering under his breath, Clint took a turn with the digger. “You think Rose is mad at me about that?”

“Only one way to find out,” Gannon drawled.

Clint nodded his understanding. “I’m going to have to ask her.”

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