Ultimate Texas Bachelor (16 page)

“That makes two of us,” she said, too lightly.

Bart came toward Lainey, keys in hand. Brad could tell by the expression on the other man's face that Bart had something serious to say.

Petey, Kyle and Kurt were playing along the pasture fence.
All were glancing their way, as if wondering what was going on. Petey started toward them, but Brad shook his head and put up a halting hand, letting them know that now was not a good time to be joining the adults. Petey continued staring at them for a minute longer, then the little boys went back to conferencing, their heads bent together.

“For the record,” Bart said, “I did not know anything about your car going in for servicing at such an inopportune time. Nor would I have known had I not just happened to be home when the dealership called, saying the servicing was complete and wanting to know if they should continue to keep your vehicle next week. Naturally, I insisted we drive it back to you right away.”

Realizing this was none of their business, Annie and Travis—who appeared to be on their way outside—remained inside the ranch house kitchen with their boys.

“It's just as well we had to come back out here, anyway, given what's been going on,” Bunny said stiffly, glaring at Brad, as the aroma of grilling meat filled the air. “We saw the tabloid photo of you and that—that woman! And for everyone's sake, especially Petey's, I feel we must absolutely insist that Lainey and Petey leave here immediately.”

Brad shot a look at Petey. Although well out of earshot, the little boy looked concerned. Doing his best to protect the child, Brad moved to block Petey's view of the adults, then turned back to Bunny, who was still ranting on.

“…Petey cannot grow up under that kind of influence!”

“First of all, Bunny,” Lainey said angrily, stepping forward and waving her spatula, “Brad is a wonderful role model for Petey. And that photo is a fake.”

“You're saying you weren't kissing a blonde in Dallas two days ago?” Bunny demanded, as Lainey swallowed, taken aback. “I read it in the New York City gossip columns, too!”

“No, that's correct,” Brad answered calmly, looking Bunny straight in the eye. Maybe now was the time to come clean
with his feelings for Lainey. Let everyone—including Lainey—know exactly where they stood.

“Then, if it wasn't that woman…” Bunny's voice trailed off. She looked at Lainey, her blond hair.

“As long as we're being honest,” Lainey cut in, going on the offensive before Bunny could conclude anything else, “let's talk about the ‘tourist' who was just here photographing us with a telephoto lens.” Lainey's eyes darkened. “What do you have to do with that, Bunny? Did you send him to spy on me?”

“Me!” Bunny echoed, sounding outraged.

“You threatened to sue me for custody of Petey. I assume you're not standing around doing nothing about it.”

“You did what?” Bart asked, stunned.

Finally, Bunny was embarrassed into silence.

Thankful for the reprieve, however short-lived, Brad turned to check on Petey. And swore mightily at what he saw. The little boy was over the fence and in the pasture with the bull.

“Oh, my God!” Bunny whispered, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Petey!” Lainey broke into a run.

“Don't move, son!” Brad shouted, running, too.

Petey glared at them, then looked at Kyle and Kurt, who were standing on the other side of the fence, for once urging Petey not to do whatever it was Petey was trying to do. Petey ignored them, too, and kept moving toward Tabasco Red.

Behind them, Bunny was screaming hysterically—until someone—probably her husband, Brad figured, clamped a hand over her mouth to shut off the sound.

Tabasco Red had been chewing grass, his back to the ranch house, but at the sound of all the commotion he turned around. Still Petey edged closer.

“Oh, no…oh, no…oh, no!” Lainey whispered as they reached the edge of the fence. Tears were streaming down her face as her son squared off with the nine-hundred-pound animal.

“It's going to be all right. I'll get him,” Brad said, already vaulting up and over the fence. He landed lightly on the other side. Petey was too far away to hear anything Brad said unless he shouted it, but Brad did not want to yell. Heart pounding, he kept moving.

Tabasco Red stopped chewing and stared at the little boy approaching him slowly and steadily from the front. Brad could see Petey was shaking in his boots. And for good reason, since Petey had never been near the ranch sire. The bull had sharp horns that measured seventy-three inches tip to tip and outweighed him by a good eight hundred pounds or more. Tabasco Red had to look like a behemoth to Petey.

Ten strides later, Brad was even with Petey.

Not about to make any sudden moves under the circumstances, Brad fell in step beside Petey. “Let's turn around, son,” he said, placing a paternal hand on Petey's shoulder.

Petey's chin thrust out. He allowed Brad's touch but ignored the directive and kept moving. “Not until I pet him.”

Brad looked down into Petey's face, saw the stubborn set of his chin, so like his mother's. Brad could see this was some kind of test of courage.

And what the hell, the kid had come this far.

 

B
UNNY
C
ARRINGTON WAS CRYING
hysterically when Petey reached Tabasco Red, held out his hand, let the bull sniff it and then petted him on the nose. There was a brief conference among the three of them, with Brad standing there as calm as could be while Petey said a few words to the giant animal. Then Tabasco Red turned away in boredom and went back to eating grass while Brad and Petey walked over to the fence where Lainey stood, crying her eyes out, next to Bunny and Bart.

By the time both guys had climbed the pasture fence, they were surrounded by everyone in attendance.

Lainey hugged Petey like he'd just come home from the
war. She wiped the tears streaming down her face with the heels of her hands, then squared off with him. “There better be a darn good explanation for what you just did,” she said shakily.

Petey glanced at Bart and Bunny, and then back at Lainey. “I had to prove to you, once and for all, that I was a growned-up man already.”

Lainey blinked. “What are you talking about?” she cried.

Petey swallowed. He waved his small arms expansively. “So Aunt Bunny wouldn't take me away from you and make me go live with them, so's Uncle Bart could teach me how to be a man, 'cause she says only a man can teach a boy how to be a man.”

A hush came over the group.

Bart stared at his wife for a long time, then back at Petey. He knelt down in front of the boy. “Is this why you've been so unhappy lately?” he asked gently, showing fatherly concern. “Because you were afraid?”

Petey nodded. He grabbed on to Lainey with one hand, and Brad with the other, and held tight. “I don't want to leave my mommy,” he told Bart fiercely.

Bart looked Petey in the eye. “You're never going to have to.” He straightened and addressed Bunny. “I understand that you're having a hard time with the girls leaving home for college, but this is not the way to refill your nest.”

Bart turned back to Lainey and continued sincerely. “I apologize with all my heart for everything that's been going on. I promise you, every bit of trouble stops now, including the snooping P.I.”

“But I didn't—” Bunny protested.

“We'll talk about this at home,” Bart said sternly. He took his wife's elbow and steered her toward their Mercedes.

Bunny and Bart departed.

Travis and Annie, who'd been silent up to now, turned back to Kyle and Kurt. “I believe it's your turn to do some explaining,” Travis said to their two youngest sons.

 

“I'
M SORRY YOU WERE FRIGHTENED
about Tabasco Red,” Brad said, hours later, after Petey was asleep and all the guests had departed. Lewis was inside the ranch house, working.

Brad and Lainey were sitting on the front porch of the guest house, enjoying what was left of the summer evening.

“There really is such a thing as a gentle bull?” Lainey asked, for the third time.

Brad wrapped his arm around her shoulders and brought her close. He didn't seem to mind reassuring her. Maybe because he knew how shaken up she still was by all the bad things that could have happened had the situation been just a little bit different. Had Tabasco Red been a rancorous animal. Or Brad not been there.

“You better believe it,” Brad said.

Lainey relaxed into the warm and welcoming curve of his body as the glider rocked back and forth. “I always thought bulls were scary-mean and dangerous.”

“Some are. Travis's aren't, because he breeds them for temperament.” Brad pressed a kiss in Lainey's hair. “And Tabasco Red has lived on Annie and Travis's ranch since he was a bull calf. The boys grew up with him, and they know he's as gentle as a kitten and used to being around little kids. I was going to tell you that when we first brought him here to sire my first generation of calves, but you were so freaked out about cattle in general, I just figured I'd wait and show you later when you got used to being around 'em.” Brad paused, shook his head. “I never had any idea Petey would try and go near Tabasco Red.”

“So he wasn't in any danger?”

“Right.” Brad shifted Lainey over onto his lap. “Although, all the boys know better than to go over the fence unless they are in the company of an adult cowboy. That's what the kids were arguing about before Petey scaled the fence. Kyle and Kurt wanted Petey to do it, but in the company of their older cowboy-brothers. Because they knew that was allowed.”

Lainey sighed. “But in Petey's view, desperate times called
for desperate measures, and he thought Bart and Bunny were here to take him away and it was the only way he and Kurt and Kyle could think to prove Petey's manhood in the nick of time.” Tears welled in Lainey's eyes as she shook her head. “I should have known something was terribly wrong.”

“You did.” Brad lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “You just didn't know what, exactly.”

Lainey laced her arms about his neck. “I should have been able to get him to tell me what was going on.”

Brad stroked her hair. “You're a good mother, Lainey. The best.”

She choked back a sob, and embarrassed she couldn't seem to get ahold of herself, wiped her eyes. “If anything ever happened to him…” she whispered hoarsely.

“I know,” Brad said soothingly. He paused, looked deep into her eyes. “I feel the same way. Which is why, Lainey, the two of you have to leave the Lazy M tomorrow morning, first thing.”

“W-what? Why?” Lainey asked.

“Because,” Brad retorted heavily, his guilt apparent, “Petey's already been through far too much lately and it's the only way I know to protect you.”

Lainey blinked and slid off his lap, onto the seat of the glider. “By sending us away?” she echoed hoarsely. Impossible, how much that hurt.

Brad caught her wrist before she could bolt. His voice was low, intense. “Suppose Bunny is telling the truth and she didn't send that photographer. Then that means he's not after you and whatever dirt he can dig up—he's after me.” The haunted look was back in Brad's eyes. “The last thing Petey needs to see is his mother on the cover of a tabloid.”

Lainey agreed with that portion of Brad's assessment. Her brief experience as a journalist told her something else about the rest. “I don't think the photographer was from a tabloid. A tabloid would have published the photos of us last week, particularly in light of what that New York City newspaper gossip column published. Tabloids don't necessarily wait to get a whole story—they go with whatever they've got. Speed and scooping all other news outlets via actual photos of whatever is going on is the priority.”

Brad frowned. “You think he's freelance?”

“Maybe.” Lainey savored the warmth and tenderness of the
hand encircling her wrist. She moved her hand so her fingers were meshed with his. “If that tourist guy had no legitimate connections, he was just trying to get different pictures of us to sell to lots of places…and that might take a little longer.”

Brad slouched against the back of the glider as he considered that. “And if he's not?”

“Then I don't know who he is or why he was here unless he's just someone who is plain nosy and wants something to show his friends. In any case, the revelation of our relationship with each other is going to be news….”

He shook his head. “Not if it doesn't come out until interest in me dies down.”

Ignoring the feel of his rock-hard thigh pressed up against hers, she looked down at their clasped hands, then back at him. “What are you saying?”

Brad swallowed. He seemed to know she wasn't going to like what came next. “This afternoon I was ready to come clean, go to the press like you suggested, tell my story, and let the dust settle once and for all. But I realize now that speaking out at this point would only generate a whole new wave of public interest in me, and I can't subject Petey—or you—to that, Lainey.”

His mind was clearly made up. “So you're breaking up with me?” She did her best to contain her broken heart. Realizing she was suddenly doubting Brad and his feelings for her, when up until now she'd had absolutely no reason to, she stood and moved to the edge of the porch. Her back to him, she looked out at the broad expanse of the Texas night sky. The summer night was clear and warm. A half moon nestled in the stars winking overhead.

“No.” He crossed to her side and drew her into his embrace. “Just putting what we feel for each other under wraps for a while.” He stroked a soothing hand down her spine. “We'll still see each other.”

“Just not in public.” She sighed. “Not where anyone can find out about it.”

Brad's mood was as pensive as her own. “Right.”

Lainey was silent. She knew it wasn't what Brad was saying, but it felt like he was ashamed of her…and that was devastating. Hadn't she promised herself when she was with Chip that she would never put herself in that situation again? She swallowed, did her best to respond with maturity and grace.

“I see.”

“Do you?” Brad asked gently, his gaze lovingly roving over her. He slid both hands through her hair, lifting her face up to his. His heated glance drifted lower and he massaged her shoulders tenderly. “'Cause I don't think you do. What I am trying to tell you here—” he paused to reassure her with another long, direct glance “—is that I want us to be together over the long haul. But to make that happen, we're going to have to protect what we have and keep it secret.”

 

T
HE ONLY GOOD THING
about Brad's sending Lainey and Petey back to Dallas was that she had the time—and space necessary—to honor her promise to her old college roommate well within the required publishing deadline.

Sybil called her Tuesday evening. “I got the article you e-mailed me.”

Lainey braced herself for what she knew had to be coming next.

“There's nothing in it about Brad McCabe.”

Lainey sighed, glad Petey was already in bed. “Right.”

“Nor do you tell why Brad dumped Yvonne,” Sybil continued, sounding even more displeased.

Lainey winced. “Right again.”

Another pause. Sybil, sounding more boss than friend, continued calmly. “Did you misunderstand what I asked you to do?”

No. Lainey hadn't. She had known exactly what kind of
salacious, groundbreaking, cover-level story Sybil wanted out of her. That was the hell of it. Lainey gathered her professionalism around her like a protective cloak. She knew the work she had done on Yvonne—and even Gil Hewitt—was good. She had to concentrate on that and feel proud of it, while at the same time owning up to her own shortcomings. “I can't write about Brad McCabe with any objectivity. I thought I could. But I can't.” So she hadn't. Problem solved. Sort of, anyway.

Sybil let out a short, impatient breath. “That sweet-talking Casanova got to you, didn't he.”

Lainey told herself Brad's womanizing days were over. Not that they had ever existed beyond his desire not to get emotionally involved with someone he wasn't cut out to be partnered with for life. “What do you mean?”

Sybil scoffed, as blunt and straight-talking as ever. “Brad McCabe has a reputation for making women lose their head, and obviously he's made you lose yours!”

Lainey knew she was in love with Brad. But it wasn't like that. Brad hadn't used her any more than she had used him. It was just a tough situation, that was all. One Lainey was determined to extricate herself from sooner rather than later. “I never should have signed up to write about someone I knew as a kid,” she said, excoriating herself honestly. “It's an insurmountable conflict of interest.”

“It's also your big chance to catapult yourself into the big-time. Or have you forgotten how much you've always wanted to be a journalist?” Sybil demanded, practical as ever.

Lainey wanted to be loved and cared for more—her relationship with Brad held the promise of that.

“You've been seeing him, haven't you,” Sybil pressed, beginning to sound a little angry now.

Lainey didn't want to lie to her old friend, so she said nothing.

“He found out what you're up to and—”

“He doesn't know anything,” Lainey corrected.

Sybil made a low, dissenting sound. “I wouldn't bet on that. From what I've heard, Brad McCabe is one smart cookie.”

Lainey ran her hands through her hair. “Smart. Dumb. Who cares?”

“
Personalities
readers care. They want to know what happened to make TV's sexiest bachelor go berserk and dump a very sweet and loving girl!”

“As the article I sent you attests,” Lainey countered tightly, “Yvonne is anything but sweet and loving.”

“I don't care what the other girls or even Gil Hewitt had to say. I want to know when and how and where did Brad find that out? I'm presuming, of course, that is the reason he broke up with her.”

“I can't tell you that,” Lainey said. She rubbed at the headache starting in her temples.

“Lainey, as it is,” Sybil explained patiently, “I cannot—I will not—publish this article. There is very little in it that hasn't been either printed or speculated about before. We're looking for a great big scoop, not a guessing game and a re-hash.”

She sighed, beginning to feel like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders once again. “It's the best I can do.”

“Well, it's not good enough. You still have another forty-eight hours before deadline. There's still time—”

“I've had all the time I need,” Lainey interrupted firmly.

“Please don't do this,” her friend begged. “Do I need to remind you that you threw away any chance at a career for yourself when you hooked up with Chip? Lainey, honey, I can't bear to see you doing the same thing again!”

“Bear it or not, it's what I have to do,” she said. “I'm sorry, Sybil. I know I let you down. Thank you for the opportunity, anyway.” And she hung up the phone.

 

“I
DIDN'T THINK STAYING AWAY
from each other was going to be this hard,” Brad said, four days later.

Lainey walked into the conference room at McCabe Computer Games testing facility in Laramie. Petey was there to evaluate the latest changes in the computer game he had been testing all summer. Lainey was there to see Brad. She went into his arms, glad Lewis had thoughtfully provided the two of them with a conference room where they could talk privately, without having to worry about being caught by someone with a telephoto lens.

“Although—” Brad drew back after a lengthy hello kiss, then another, and another “—you look like you are faring much better than I am in this situation. You look—” he studied her tenderly “—like a huge burden has been lifted from your shoulders.”

“It has been.”

Lainey smiled at him, feeling a little less sure now.

Nevertheless, she knew what she had to do—tell him everything and then see where they stood, if he was as capable of forgiving her as she deemed him to be. She couldn't go on hiding something this important from him. It was too much to bear. And she needed to make certain that, unlike Chip, Brad could accept that Lainey was not perfect. She made mistakes. Occasionally took a wrong turn. Or made a wrong choice. That didn't mean she was a bad person. Just human. Fallible. Ready and willing to learn from her mistakes and move on.

Lainey was in the market for unconditional love now.

Not a love that hinged on her looking and behaving a certain way, and only that way.

She wanted a love that let her feel free to be.

She wanted Petey growing up the same way.

“How are things with the in-laws?” Brad asked gently.

“Better than you could imagine.” She sat down on the edge of the conference table, braced herself and looked up at
him. “Bunny's decided to hand over the dispersing of the trust funds to one of the attorneys who drew it up.”

“She can do that?”

Lainey nodded. “Chip had a provision built in, in case something ever happened to Bunny or she felt it was too much to handle. She and Bart talked it over and decided it would be best to have the trust administered by a third party from now on.”

“That certainly sounds a lot less stressful for you,” he said.

She nodded. “Claire set up a meeting. We all talked at length about my situation yesterday and agreed it would be best to sell our house in Highland Park. I can use the proceeds to resettle in Laramie.”

“How does Petey feel about that?”

“He's as ready for change as I am—although,” Lainey conceded, smiling ruefully, “he'd prefer to live on a ranch, rather than in town. But I told him he can visit his friends who do live on ranches, so he's happy about that. In the meantime, I'm going to open my own professional organizing business, and probably do some freelance writing on the side, too.” She wanted to start living on what she made, and let the money Chip left them be for Petey's education, and any emergencies that came up.

“I didn't know you wanted to be a writer,” he said.

She studied the hem of her cotton skirt, where it rode up above her knee. It was time to confess all. Her stomach fluttered with a thousand butterflies as she admitted softly, honestly, “For a long time now.”

“Because of what happened to your dad?”

Lainey nodded. “The truth is important. Reporters have the ability to keep things honest and aboveboard.”

“When it's done correctly,” Brad stipulated.

“Right.” Unfortunately, that was a lesson she had learned a little too late when it came to Brad. “Anyway, I studied journalism in college and worked on the Tech newspaper before I dropped out to get married.”

Brad looked impressed with her accomplishments, yet wary of her profession. “You know reporters aren't my favorite people these days,” he teased, “but I guess I could change my mind about that, if you become one again.”

“I hope so,” she said. She gripped the table edge on either side of her, her nerves beginning to get the better of her.

“I know so.” He smiled and sat down on the edge of the table next to her. “Because you'd never be the kind of vulture that's been after me since I went on TV.”

Guilt swept through Lainey, followed by uncertainty. Was this the time to tell him everything? How could she not?

“Lewis and I've been doing some rearranging, too,” Brad said.

Lainey winced, recalling the six boxes she had yet to unpack that were stacked up in the utility room, taking up all the available space. “I'm sorry. I know I'm not quite finished organizing everything there yet.” She'd left in such a hurry, at Brad's behest, that she hadn't had time to complete her tasks. “But I promise I'll get to it as soon as you think it's okay for me to come back out to the Lazy M.”

“Well,” Brad drawled, smiling broadly, looking like he had a secret now, “that all depends.”

“On?” Lainey queried.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box. “How fast I can get you to say yes to the idea of marrying me.”

 

L
AINEY STARED
at Brad, stunned speechless. Her reaction wasn't the one he had been hoping for. Brad gulped and rushed on, telling her all that was in his heart.

“I know it sounds sudden,” he said softly as he guided her to her feet and into his arms. “And I guess in some respects it is.” He paused and looked deep into her eyes. “But I know you're the woman I've been waiting my whole life to meet. And I want you—and Petey—with me. The only way we can
do that in a respectful manner is by making a true and lasting commitment and marrying each other. So…Lainey, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”