Suzannah Davis - The Rancher And The Redhead

Something in the tone of his voice made her glance at him sharply. “What, Sam?”

He sighed, bouncing his fist on the steering wheel. “If I’m doing the right thing. That social worker, Mrs. Veatch, asked some pretty tough questions.”

A trickle of fear made Roni’s voice querulous. “Like what?”

“Like if I’m ready to be a single parent. If taking Jessie, even with the best of intentions, is right for her.”

“What else would it be?” she demanded, her eyes growing wide with a premonition of disaster.

“Selfish.” Sam’s blue gaze flicked to Roni, then snapped back to the highway. “Am I doing this for myself or for her? Maybe Jessie deserves a real family, with a mother and father, somebody who can offer her something more stable than a cowboy’s life.”

“What are you saying?” Roni whispered. “You’d put her in a foster home?”

“That was one suggestion. But there are plenty of couples who’re dying to adopt. She could have all the advantages....”

“Give her up completely?” Roni couldn’t hide her dismay.

“It’s not something I’d do lightly. But, dammit, Curly, I just don’t know if I’m cut out for this, and Jessie needs two parents.”

Rather desperately, Roni said, “You might get married again.”

“Old bachelor like me?” Sam grimaced. “Not likely. And I don’t exactly have a sterling record in the marriage department anyway.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” she muttered, chagrined anew that her presence might have played a part in his failure to find another partner. And now Jessie could pay the price, as well. “And what about your promise to Alicia?”

A muscle worked in Sam’s lean jaw, and his eyes narrowed, picking out the turn to the Lazy Diamond. “I said I’d take care of Jessie. Finding a stable home environment where she can grow up secure and loved is the best way for me to keep that promise.”

“You don’t have to decide right now, do you?”

Her words were so strangled with tension that Sam glanced sharply at her.

“Do you?” she demanded, feeling brittle.

“No.” They’d reached the ranch house, and now he parked the truck and turned on the seat, meeting Roni’s anxious gaze across the top of Jessie’s car seat. “But I’m going to think on it hard.”

Roni slumped with relief, then hid her reaction by releasing Jessie from her harness. The exhausted baby was limp, her cherub’s mouth parted in the soft breaths of slumber and she made scarcely a murmur as Roni lifted her free. Sam had come around to the passenger side by this time and helped Roni climb out. His hand was warm on her upper arm, holding her still as he looked down into her face.

“I’m depending on you to help me figure this out, Curly. No matter that I’m already crazy about the kid, I’ve got to do what’s best for her in the long run.”

Roni caught a tremulous breath. “I know, Sam.”

He gave her arm a brief squeeze that was part thanks, part encouragement, and they went inside. Roni hadn’t made it halfway down the hall when the phone rang. The baby on her shoulder jumped, then begin to mewl fretfully. Sam cursed and hurried to the kitchen, catching the receiver up before the next ring. Gratefully, Roni sought out the platform rocker in his bedroom. Rocking and singing softly as daylight fled and the room grew shadowy, she was much relieved when Jessie gave a tired sigh and settled back down.

After a while, Roni heard Sam hang up, and when he appeared in the doorway a moment later, a peculiar expression etched his rugged features. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

She gave him a curious look. “What? Who was that?”

“Maybe the answer.”

Roni’s voice was soft, to avoid waking the child she cradled in her arms, but her tone was wry. “Spit it out, Sam. You know your laconic cowboy persona drives me bats.”

“About Jessie.” He crossed to where Roni sat and swept callused fingers over the tiny girl’s russet curls. “That was Mrs. Veatch. She says the Newtons have reconsidered. They’re missing Jessie like crazy and want to begin adoption proceedings.”

“No.” Roni’s heart lurched, and her arms tightened involuntarily around the child.

“Curly, we’ve got to be practical about this.”

“Cold-blooded, you mean?” Roni’s expression was fierce. “I won’t believe it of you, Sam. Tell me you don’t care about Jessie. I dare you.”

“I’ll be damned if I let my emotions cloud what’s best for her,” he said.

“See? You can’t deny it, because you already love her as though she was your own flesh and blood.” Gazing down into the sleeping child’s rosebud face, Roni felt a wave of emotion pulling her under, forcing her to admit the truth. She gave a small, breathless cry of surrender. “And so do I.”

Sam’s expression was suddenly full of worry and concern. He squatted down on his heels beside the rocker so that their eyes were on the same level. “Curly...”

“I want this child. You can’t give her away, Sam. I won’t let you.”

He groaned. “But we’ve got to think about what’s right for Jessie.”

“How about what’s right for you? For me?” Roni demanded.

Sam threw up his hands. “So what do you want me to do?”

Cheeks pale, Roni hesitated, then met his gaze. “The right thing. Marry me, Sam.”

When Sam was seventeen, he’d been kicked in the head by a half-broken saddle bronc Kenny had dared him to ride. Roni’s words produced the same stunning sensation, the impression of falling endlessly until you hit the ground—hard.

“What did you say?” The huskiness of his own voice startled him.

Rosy color flooded Roni’s face, but she held his gaze unwaveringly. “I—I think I just proposed, Sam.”

“I’m not in the mood for your teasing, Curly.”

“I’m dead serious.”

Sam rose abruptly. Roni’s warm brown eyes seemed huge in her pale face, and he was suddenly struck by how pretty she was, even disheveled with her dark hair curling about her shoulders, and how absolutely right she looked, cradling a baby to her bosom. Carefully he lifted Jessie from Roni’s arms, then laid the sleeping child down in the middle of his king-size bed and propped pillows on either side of her. He knew that Roni had risen and was watching him closely.

“I should get busy assembling her baby bed.” The pieces of the white Jenny Lind bed he’d brought back from Alicia’s apartment in Abilene still lay stacked in a heap in the front parlor among the other debris of Jessie’s arrival.

“She might sleep better,” Roni agreed cautiously.

He knew they weren’t really talking about baby beds. “Come on. I need a beer.”

With Roni trailing after him, he stalked into the kitchen, pulled open the refrigerator door and reached for a dark brown bottle. “Want one?”

She shook her head, moving about his kitchen with easy familiarity, automatically putting away the forgotten sacks of groceries. She set the kettle on the stove and opened a box of herbal tea.

“I’d rather have this.” Though she tried to keep her voice light, he could hear the strain in it. “And it’s rather unflattering, you know, for you to be so flabbergasted. Hadn’t you ever thought that you and I—that we...”

“No,” he said flatly, twisting open the beer bottle. “I hadn’t.”

She threw a tea bag into a mug and turned to him with a belligerent tilt to her chin. “Well, how...how very unchivalrous of you. All the same, it makes perfect sense, if you’ll just think.”

“Sense?” He snorted. “Curly, you’ve gone loco.”

Her cheeks brightened again, but she went on doggedly. “It’s the solution you need for Jessie, Sam. We both adore her. Together we can make the kind of home she deserves, and frankly, there are worse ways to start off married life than by being good friends.”