Daddy with a Deadline Read online

  A wry grin tugged at his mouth. “Far from it. The woman thought I’d come to attack her.”

  “Well, you can be intimidating at times. Even gruff,” Rosa added, not cutting him an ounce of slack.

  Trent shook his head. “Annie Samuels wants nothing to do with me. I’ll never see her again.”

  “But the lady has suffered a great loss and needs help. And you owe your friend this favor.”

  When Rosa was right, she was right.

  “So you’ll visit her again?”

  “I’ll wait a few days and see.”

  “Is she pretty, this Mrs. Samuels?” asked Rosa, the eager matchmaker.

  He scowled. “What difference does that make?”

  “It’s just a question. Is she pretty?”

  An image of Brad’s widow flashed into Trent’s mind. Blonde curls, a peaches-and-cream complexion, and eyes brighter than a field of bluebonnets. “Annie Samuels is very pretty,” he said.

  “What does she look like?”

  Trent raked a hand through his hair. If he didn’t supply a description, Rosa would pester him for days. “She has blue eyes and blonde hair. And she’s probably got a great smile, but she never showed it to me.”

  “Why don’t you invite her to the ranch for lunch?”

  Trent choked on his quesadillas. After catching his breath, he said, “Absolutely not. I’ll have enough trouble working my schedule around Brad’s widow and the babies’ birth. But I won’t bring her here. You know I like peace and quiet.”

  Rosa shook her head as she cleared dishes from the table. “You must move on, Mr. Trent. Dawn took advantage of you, but there are good women out there. Women that would make wonderful wives.”

  “I’m sure there are. But I’m not in the market.”

  “This could be an omen,” Rosa said, as if he hadn’t spoken a word. “Maybe you need Mrs. Samuels as much as she needs you.”

  Trent should never have confided in his housekeeper. When would he learn?

  “Don’t get any ideas,” he warned. “Do you hear me?”

  But Rosa ignored him. She started running water in the sink and singing loudly in Spanish.

  ...Heavy thunderstorms are expected throughout the afternoon...

  Annie switched off the car radio after hearing the dire forecast. As she drove to her obstetrician’s office, she reviewed the surprise visit from the cowboy. The man hadn’t looked like a criminal. But lots of folks get bilked by con artists who pose as honest people.

  After the appointment, Annie decided to have lunch at a new tearoom in town. She’d driven half the distance to the Peace and Plenty when her ancient Honda named Eloise choked and—to Annie’s horror—died.

  “Don’t do this, Eloise,” she moaned as she steered her car to the curb. “I have enough problems.”

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. Annie tried to restart the car, but Eloise wouldn’t cooperate. Who could she call? Most of the friends she’d made in Ash Grove were kindergarteners.

  Annie pulled her cell phone from her purse and called her best friend Sara, but the line was busy. Her gregarious friend, who was also pregnant, might chat on the phone for hours.

  Next she tried her neighbor Frieda Higginbotham. No answer. Mrs. H, an older widow, kept busy volunteering and might not be home till late. Annie sighed. Only two phone calls, and she’d exhausted her possibilities.

  “I have no backup,” she said aloud. While she’d known this for some time, it now hit especially hard. She was alone in the world. No family, one neighbor, and one friend, who was chatting on the telephone. Even her car had deserted her.

  You have Trent Madison. It seemed a voice whispered those words into her ear.

  How ludicrous. Just this morning, the cowboy had scared her half silly. And she still questioned his motives.

  A flash of lightning cut through the darkening sky. Dragging her pregnant self through Ash Grove in a downpour wouldn’t be pretty. Annie rifled through her purse, searching for the cowboy’s business card. As her fingers closed around it, she breathed a relieved sigh.

  Trent Madison had claimed to be Brad’s childhood friend. If his story was true, how could she refuse the only help available? The help her deceased husband may have sent by way of apology?

  Trent sat brooding over his second cup of coffee. Instead of honoring his friend’s request, he’d frightened Brad’s widow half to death. “Sorry, buddy,” he said quietly. “I let you down.”

  Trent took a fortifying sip of coffee and decided to head for the corral to work with Wildfire. While women weren’t his forte, he managed wild horses just fine. His cell phone rang and he snatched it up. “Hello?”

  “Um, yes, well, hello,” said a female voice.

  Probably a wrong number. Not many women called the ranch.

  “This is Trent Madison. May I help you?”

  “I hope so. It’s Annie. Annie Samuels.”

  Trent scooted back his chair so fast he spilled coffee down the front of his shirt. “Uh, yes, hello,” he said, picking up the stuttering where she left off.

  “Sorry to bother you. I just left the doctor’s office, and I’m afraid...”

  Static caused her voice to cut in and out. Trent listened hard, trying to decipher her words.

  “...unfortunately, Eloise died,” she concluded.

  Trent’s stomach clenched. Had Annie lost one of the twins? “Did you say Eloise died? That’s terrible.”

  “It’s not so bad. Eloise has lots of problems. And she is fifteen years old.”

  For the life of him Trent couldn’t make sense of this conversation. “I’m confused. Who is Eloise?”

  “My car. Oh dear. I’m not explaining this very well.”

  Trent felt a rush of relief. “You’re doing fine,” he assured, as if everyone named their cars Eloise. “Where did it die?”

  “On Maple near Fourth Street. I managed to steer her to the curb.”

  “Stay where you are. I’ll pick you up.”

  “Would you? That would be great.”

  The relief in Annie’s voice stirred up a warm feeling in Trent’s chest. “I’ll be there shortly.” He hung up and grabbed a towel to dab at his coffee-soaked shirt.

  “Was that the mysterious Mrs. Samuels?” asked Rosa, the perpetual eavesdropper. “The lady you told me about?”

  “One and the same.”

  “You said you’d never see her again.”

  “Looks like I was wrong.”

  Rosa’s forehead pleated with concern. “Who died? A friend of hers?”

  Trent shook his head. “Her car died. Eloise is the name of Mrs. Samuels’s car.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. Not kidding.”

  A grin spread across Rosa’s face and she burst into giggles. Trent ignored his giddy housekeeper and headed for his truck.

  In spite of the confusing conversation, he was glad Annie had called. And surprised she’d turned to him for help. He whistled as he put his truck in gear and headed for Maple and Fourth Street. Maybe he could help his childhood pal after all.

  CHAPTER 2

  TRENT MADISON MANEUVERED his truck to the curb. When he climbed out and approached Annie with long, sure strides, her heart skipped a beat. What was it about this cowboy that caused her heart to misbehave? She’d learned the hard way that men couldn’t be trusted. Her marriage to Brad had made that painfully clear.

  But Trent looked like a man who could handle emergencies. Annie sighed. These days her life was one emergency after another.

  “Thanks for coming. I couldn’t reach my friends or neighbors,” she said, as if a dozen or so waited in the wings.

  He shoved back his Stetson. “Mind if I try to start your car?”

  “Go ahead. The keys are in the ignition.”

  The cowboy tried repeatedly to revive poor Eloise, but each attempt failed. Finally he joined Annie at the curb. “I’m not much of a mechanic. Horses are my specialty.”

  He whipped
out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Wes? Trent. Can you pick up a Honda at Maple and Fourth Street and check her out?”

  Before Annie could protest, he’d made all the arrangements. How dare the man take charge without consulting her! Her budget was stretched thin and did not include car repairs.

  As she opened her mouth to object, Trent said, “Wes will take good care of you. He’s the best mechanic in town.”

  “Will the best mechanic in town accept small payments?” she asked crisply. “Over a long period of time?”

  “Wes will work with you. He’s honest and fair.”

  Annie sighed, knowing she couldn’t very well leave Eloise sitting at the curb of a stranger’s house. She bit back her pride. “Thanks for your help.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Trent tipped his Stetson and flashed a smile with serious dazzle power. The smile made his eyes dance and etched laugh lines around his mouth. And caused surprising flutters around Annie’s heart.

  Would she ever learn? Brad’s smile had affected her the same way. Just looking at him had made her heart race and her stomach turn cartwheels. During their courtship Brad was charming, but when they married everything changed. If Annie had an ounce of sense, she’d avoid charming men.

  “Where were you headed?” Trent asked.

  “To the Peace and Plenty Tearoom for lunch. But you can drop me off at home.”

  He glanced at his scuffed boots, then met her gaze. “I’ll drop you at that tearoom if you like. You’re eating for three, and you need a good meal.”

  Annie couldn’t believe his offer. She wasn’t used to considerate gestures. “I’d like that,” she admitted.

  Trent helped her into his truck, and his hand gripping her arm felt strong and reassuring. And his aftershave tantalized her senses.

  It’s just loneliness, she told herself. These days loneliness proved Annie’s worst enemy. It confronted her each morning when she awoke and each evening after school. And with classes dismissed for the summer, the days stretched endlessly before her.

  Trent swung his pickup onto a side road leading to the Peace and Plenty. He parked in the tearoom’s gravel lot and Annie climbed out. “Thanks for the ride. My friend Sara will pick me up later.”

  If Sara ever gets off the phone, Annie thought.

  To her surprise, the cowboy climbed out and stood beside her. He didn’t say a word. After an awkward pause, Annie said, “If you haven’t eaten, you’re welcome to join me.”

  He nodded. “That would be fine.”

  Annie stifled a gasp. Brad would never set foot in a restaurant unless he chose it. And he’d avoided tearooms like the plague.

  Trent raked a finger around his collar as if it suddenly felt too tight. He probably hated tearooms too. “Would you rather eat at Ned’s Bar-B-Q?” Annie asked.

  “Nope. This will do.”

  Annie’s distrust dimmed a little. But was the cowboy who he said he was? And had Brad really written him a letter?

  A smiling lady in a calico dress met them at the door. “I’m Mae, the owner of the Peace and Plenty. Table or booth?”

  “Table,” Annie affirmed. Booths were cozy places for friends or lovers to occupy. This man didn’t fit either category.

  Mae brought menus, and they studied them. Annie’s conscience, rarely off duty, made an appearance. You shouldn’t be out with a stranger. What are you thinking? Annie sighed. Loneliness had caused her to take a risk.

  Even though her marriage to Brad had failed, she’d always hoped he would change. But his accident had slammed the door on reconciliation.

  Annie had to face facts. She was alone now. She had no one.

  No one except the two little people growing inside her.

  Trent’s palms felt clammy, and perspiration skittered down his back. How had he ended up in this haven of teacups and lace? And why had he offered to accompany Brad’s widow on this froufrou lunch when he’d just stuffed himself on Rosa’s quesadillas?

  The last woman he’d taken to lunch was his wife, Dawn. But six months after their marriage, Dawn ran off with a ranch hand. And cleaned out his checking account in the bargain. Since then, Trent had kept a safe distance from women.

  He glanced at Brad’s widow, and his breath caught in his throat. He’d heard pregnancy brought out a woman’s inner beauty, and it must be true. Annie Samuels positively glowed. A flush colored her cheeks and a few freckles dotted her perky nose. Her sky-blue eyes were captivating. And those springy curls framed her face to perfection.

  The woman didn’t look like any widow he’d ever met! Most were short, elderly women with wrinkles and blue hair.

  A waitress brought water glasses. “I’m Daisy. Do you want tea?”

  Annie smiled. “Yes, please. How about you, Trent?”

  “I reckon.” It was a tearoom, after all.

  As Trent watched the woman fill his cup, he wondered how he’d lift the tiny thing without courting disaster. His hands were made for lassoing and saddling horses—not for tea parties.

  He squirmed as he studied the menu, looking for something he recognized. Tomato aspic, pureed cauliflower soup, artichoke pizza? Had he stumbled into a health-food store? He glanced over the top of the menu, and when his gaze crashed into Annie’s he nearly knocked over his water glass. Looking into those eyes made him skittish as a newborn colt.

  He cleared his throat. “What do you suggest?”

  She cocked her head. “I’m having cucumber sandwiches. But that’s not enough for a man.”

  “It’s more than enough,” Trent affirmed. The quesadillas lay like a rock pile in his stomach.

  After they placed their orders, Annie shifted in her chair and eyed him cautiously. Did she think he was a serial killer who’d strangle her right after lunch?

  “Sorry I upset you this morning. I guess my story sounded far-fetched.”

  “Straight from the Twilight Zone.”

  “Thanks for calling when your car broke down. I didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”

  Annie shrugged. “Sometimes you have to take a chance.”

  They fell silent again. This was the time for chitchat, but Trent had forgotten how. Finally he said, “How was your doctor’s appointment?”

  “Doc Newsome says I’m doing well. The babies should arrive in four weeks.”

  “Can you take time off work?”

  “I teach kindergarten, so my summer’s free.”

  Daisy placed two small bowls on the table. “Here’s your bouillon,” she said, as if that made an ounce of sense to him.

  Were these finger bowls? Trent wondered. You’d expect that in a girly place like this.

  “Go ahead. Try it,” Annie said.

  “Go ahead and what? Do I drink the stuff or wash my hands in it?”

  Annie Samuels laughed. The musical sound of her laughter rippled through Trent’s body, causing major upheaval. Why hadn’t Brad married a homely woman? That would have made this assignment much easier.

  “Bouillon is soup.”

  “Impossible. There’s not a noodle or hunk of meat in sight.”

  She laughed again. If Trent thought the woman radiant before—and he had—her laughter doubled the effect. And the glow on her cheeks reminded him of the sunrises he watched from his bedroom window each morning.

  Daisy brought another tray. “Here are your cucumber sandwiches and some freshly baked scones.”

  Trent gazed at the paper-thin bread cut in triangles and topped by transparent slices of cucumber. And those lumpy things must be scones. If his fellow ranchers saw him eating scraps of bread and sipping tea, they’d laugh until they howled.

  “Scones are biscuits made with raisins and currants. Very tasty,” Annie explained.

  Trent took a cautious bite. They tasted like wallpaper paste. Not that he’d actually sampled any.

  When they finished eating, Daisy brought a tray with chocolate squares. “Petits fours,” Annie said. “Sponge cake dipped in chocolate. I promi
se you’ll like them.”

  Since they weren’t big enough to nibble on, Trent popped one into his mouth. “Not bad.”

  “Told you.”

  After dessert, Annie said, “It’s getting late.”

  “Before we leave, I have something to show you.” Trent pulled Brad’s letter from his pocket and passed it to her.

  When Annie glanced at the handwriting, her hand flew to her heart and color drained from her face. Instead of opening the letter, she stared at it and shook her head. “I can’t deal with this.”

  “Should I read it to you?”

  After a pause she nodded.

  Trent cleared his throat and started to read.

  “I know we haven’t seen each other since seventh grade, when I moved to Chicago. I planned to call you when I moved back to Ash Grove but didn’t get around to it. Yesterday I was in a car accident and I may not make it. So I need a favor. My wife Annie is pregnant with twins and we’re new in town. Would you help her during the last month of her pregnancy?”

  Trent looked at Brad’s widow to see how she was coping. Tears slid down her cheeks, and she dabbed at them with a tissue.

  “Should I stop?”

  “No. Go on.”

  Trent read the suggestions Brad had made and then read the last paragraph.

  “If I recover, you won’t get this letter. If I don’t, my attorney will mail it to you a month before Annie’s due date. If you can help, I’d appreciate it. I wasn’t much of a husband. Annie deserved better. Thanks, Trent. Sincerely, Brad.”

  Trent glanced at Annie. Her lower lip quivered and her face was ashen. “I can’t believe Brad wrote that.”

  “I’m sure he wanted you to get some help.”

  “You don’t understand. Our marriage...” She paused and took a deep breath. “Our marriage wasn’t working.”

  “Lots of couples hit hard times. But they pass.”

  Annie drew in a sharp breath. “There’s more. Brad didn’t want the twins. He told me to get an abortion.”

  The words hit Trent like a sucker punch to the gut. “You must be mistaken.”

  She shook her head and the pain that showed in her eyes intensified.