Texas Baby. Kathleen O'Brien

And I’m too tired to stand up while I do it.”

      Nikki hesitated, but her curiosity overcame her defiance. She plopped down next to Susannah with a heavy sigh. “Okay. Go ahead. Tell me how wrong I am.”

      “You’re not wrong.” Susannah leaned back on her elbows, too tired to care what happened to her expensive party dress. “Chase and I aren’t in love, not the way you mean. We’re very good friends—the best. We always have been, ever since we were kids. You know what a super guy he is.”

      Nikki shrugged noncommittally, which made Susannah smile. Nikki adored Chase, and everyone knew it. He was the only person on earth she confided in.

      “Anyhow, the bottom line is that, because of some weird rules that Grandfather put in his will, I have to get married in order to have any real control of the ranch. And I need control. We’re having money problems. You knew that, right?”

      “Of course. How could anyone not know, the way you always go on about it? What I don’t know is how come. The ranch is huge. And our peaches are like the best anywhere. I don’t know anybody who buys anything else.”

      Susannah thought of all the planning, fretting, investing and pure backbreaking work that went into creating those lush peaches everyone wanted in their pretty cut-glass dessert bowls. But she’d always spared Nikki the details, trying to allow her to grow up carefree, without the worries and obligations that had weighed Susannah down too soon.

      Maybe that had been a mistake, too. Maybe a little responsibility would have been good for her.

      Well, better late than never.

      “It’s a combination of a lot of things, Nik. We’ve had frost two years running. That hurt us a lot. And some of the acres on the west ridge are just about used up. They’ll have to lie dormant for a few years before they can be replanted. Worst of all, though, is that one of our best buyers is in deep financial trouble. They just might go bankrupt.”

      “So? Can’t you find another buyer?”

      “Believe me, I’m trying. But it’s not that easy. There’s a lot of competition. The thing is, we’ve crunched the numbers every way we can think of, and the only answer is to sell some of the land.”

      Nikki’s mouth hung open. “Sell Everly?”

      Susannah put her hand on Nikki’s arm. “Not the whole ranch, honey. Everly has always belonged to the Everlys, and it always will. Just a couple of hundred acres, not enough to miss really. But enough to put us back in the black.”

      Nikki rubbed the pad of her thumb over the glossy pink polish on her index finger. Susannah knew that habit. It meant Nikki was thinking hard.

      She hoped she wasn’t overloading her with too much scary information. There was a mighty fine line between character-building and spirit-crushing.

      “I guess I still don’t understand what this has to do with marrying Chase,” Nikki muttered, staring down at her finger. “Grandfather left you the ranch, right? Can’t you do whatever you want?”

      “Not unless I’m married, and even then my husband gets to make the decisions. You know how Grandfather was. You know how he felt about women.”

      Nikki looked up with a half smile. “Totally chauvinist? Totally caveman?”

      “Yeah, pretty much.”

      Susannah sighed, remembering the fights, the rip-roaring yell-fests as she tried to keep an ornery ninety-year-old man from running the ranch into the ground. Arlington H. Everly had a true Texas-sized ego. No one told him what to do. But take advice from a woman? “Not unless my wits get up and go prancing in the pepper patch,” he’d vowed.

      Tragically, toward the end, it had come to that.

      “Does Chase know all this stuff?” Nikki’s upturned face looked pale, and, although Susannah might be imagining this, she looked a tiny bit older already.

      “Yeah. He knows. He’s doing me a favor. You can see that I couldn’t risk marrying just anyone. They’d get control of the ranch, and…”

      She couldn’t even finish the thought.

      “Anyhow, I trust Chase. After we’ve been married a year, he can sell the acres we need to unload. Grandfather didn’t stipulate how long the marriage had to last beyond that first year. So then we’ll end it, and we’ll go back to being friends.”

      She looked down at Nikki, and to her surprise realized that the girl’s eyes were glistening in the light from the overhead chandelier.

      Susannah felt her heart squeeze. Damn it. She really had screwed up. Nikki must actually have hoped that the “marriage of convenience” might turn into more than that.

      She must actually have hoped Chase might become her big brother for real.

      “Oh, honey, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about all this sooner—”

      “Don’t be,” Nikki said roughly. She stood, yanked on the hem of her short-shorts, stretching them out just enough to cover the lacy white underwear. “I don’t care what you do.”

      She headed up the stairs. Susannah watched her go helplessly.

      “Nikki…”

      The girl reached the first landing, then turned furiously, her face set and white. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. You tell me I shouldn’t hang out with Eli. Well, at least we really love each other.”

      “Love?” Susannah rose instinctively to her feet. “Love?”

      “That’s right. And you can say whatever you want about how young I am, or how stupid I am. At least I know how to love somebody. So I guess I’m not as stupid as you are.”

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHASE HAD MADE IT crystal clear. Under no circumstances was Josie to get up before Dr. Marchant came in the morning, checked her out and gave her the green light.

      But by nine, she was too restless to stay put a minute longer, even in this comfortable guest suite, a bedroom and bath that together were nearly as big as her whole apartment.

      She’d been awake for hours, since the first bout of morning sickness swept through her around dawn. During the night, someone had placed a tray of soda crackers and a pitcher of ice water beside her bed, and by six she felt strong enough to nibble the edge of one of the little saltine squares.

      After that, the house had been too full of noise, doors banging and people calling to one another, trucks pulling up in the drive, horses whinnying and phones ringing. The ranch was coming awake for the day.

      A few minutes later, the sun woke up, too, and her pretty room filled with clear lime-colored light that danced on mirrors and curlicue silver picture frames, and even on her water glass.

      But she remembered her promise and tried to sit still, waiting for the doctor. She pulled one of the chairs up to the window and sat for an hour, just drinking in the beauty of the ranchland. It seemed to stretch out to forever. The hills rolled softly into the distance, going from green to gray to foggy blue.

      She’d been right about where the little hand-carved headstone should be. From her window, she could just see it, beneath the sparkleberry tree, which was shedding its starry white flowers all over the collie’s grave.

      Funny, that one spot of the Clayton Creek Ranch had been as vividly real to her as her own kitchen. Her lover—she no longer found it comfortable to call him Chase—had described it so perfectly, down to the way the headstone had been set crooked in the grass.

      She tried to picture him standing there, staring down at the sweet, silly inscription and thinking, Yes, I can use this someday. Some brainless bimbo will fall for this like a pile of rocks.

      After that, she’d paced the room for a while, testing out her legs. In spite of a roaring headache and her purpling bruises,