he’d given his word to Miss Marshalyn Simmons and he aimed to keep it. Miss Marshalyn had been the town’s librarian and expert cake baker for special events. She was also the most stubborn pigheaded woman ever to wag a finger at him and the closest thing to a mother he’d known since his own had passed away when he was five years old. He’d promised her that he would slow down and settle down in time for her going-away party—she was moving down to Florida to live with her sister. While the old woman wanted proof that he’d changed, she didn’t expect him to find and marry someone before she left. She merely wanted to see him with a serious, suitable candidate. In return, she’d pledged one hundred acres of prime pastureland.
While he was more than willing to buy the land, she’d refused to sell it to him. She wanted peace of mind, not money, and so she’d made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
The land wasn’t the only reason for his decision. While he’d reached a brick wall in his professional life—he needed that land to expand and beef up his herd—he’d also hit a big one in his personal life. A man could only work so much. When the sun set and the day was done, he had to head home.
But Austin didn’t have a home. Sure, he had his own place, bought and paid for with his own sweat. But he didn’t have a home—a warm, comforting place filled with plenty of laughter and good smells and warmth. Miss Marshalyn’s house had had all three, and it had been the closest thing to a real home he’d known way back when.
He wanted his own now and a family to go with it, and that meant finding the right kind of woman. The kind who taught Sunday school and helped old ladies across the street. The kind who planted a vegetable garden and shelled peas and made candied sweet potatoes. The permanent kind who had more on her mind than one night.
All the more reason he should be anywhere but inside Cherry Blossom Junction.
“Hey, buddy. Over here!” The familiar voice drew Austin’s attention.
His gaze shifted to the group of men clustered at the bar. Stetsons bobbed as heads turned and hands waved.
Austin couldn’t help but grin at the group, particularly the cowboy wearing a foam ball and chain around his neck and a Kiss Me I’m The Groom button.
Jack Beckham was one of Austin’s oldest friends and he was tying the knot tomorrow afternoon. Austin couldn’t very well miss giving his buddy a grand send-off just because he was on a time limit to find himself a suitable wife.
“You’re the last person I expected to see here. Shouldn’t you be cruising the bingo hall right now?”
Austin turned to see his younger brother grinning back at him, a buxom blonde hanging on his arm.
“It’s for a good cause. Besides, it’s seniors’ night and I’m looking for a woman a few years younger. I’m guessing you’re not taking Miss Marshalyn up on her offer?”
Houston Jericho, Austin’s middle brother and one of the best damned bull riders on the pro rodeo circuit, winked and pulled the blonde closer. “’Fraid not. I’m in no hurry to slow down and rope cows from now till kingdom come. That’s your dream, bro.”
“A man’s got to grow up sometime.”
Miss Marshalyn had made the same proposition to Houston when he’d surprised everybody and driven into town yesterday morning.
He’d been busy hitting every major rodeo in the United States, working his way up to the pro rodeo finals in Las Vegas in a few weeks. No one had expected him to take time off between rides to attend the wedding. But Houston and Jack went way back, as well. The man had been one of the few friends to all three Jericho brothers when they’d been kids.
And so Houston had come home.
But not to settle down, as he’d been quick to point out to Miss Marshalyn. Houston liked his life minus any roots. He was free, going where he wanted, when he wanted, and he intended to stay that way.
“I’ll leave the growing old to you,” he told his brother as he sipped a beer with his free hand.
“That’s growing up.”
“Same thing.” Houston winked. “I’ve got more bulls to ride, and at least one woman I haven’t had the pleasure of getting to know better.” He winked at the woman on his arm. “Ain’t that right, sugar?” He gave the blonde a quick kiss. “Besides, I like things just fine the way they are. Moving away from this place was the best thing I ever did.”
“You mean running away, don’t you?”
“I don’t run from anyone or anything,” he drawled, then turned and steered the blonde toward the dance floor. “Later, bro.”
Austin stared after Houston. He was running, all right. From the past. From the legacy that had haunted all three of the Jericho brothers since birth. Dallas, the youngest, had made peace with his past last year when he’d married his childhood sweetheart. He and his wife were expecting their first child, and they were happy. Content.
Austin wanted the same.
That’s what he told himself. But then he heard the soft, sexy, familiar voice. He felt a jolt of heat rush through him and suddenly he wanted something altogether different.
“Excuse me.”
He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find himself staring into a pair of bright green eyes. The same eyes that had stared at him over an extralarge box of lubricated condoms earlier that day.
For the first time since Austin had vowed to find a wife, he actually wondered if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t making a big mistake. Because suddenly hot and heavy sex in the here and now seemed a heck of a lot more appealing than peace and contentment somewhere in the far-off future.
3
EASY, HOSS.
Austin took a deep breath and tried to steady himself as one all-important fact registered—this was Maddie Hale. The bookworm who’d spent class time listening rather than writing notes back and forth with her friends.
Actually she’d written one note, but he’d done his damnedest in the past twelve years to forget all about the poetic declaration of love he’d happened upon purely by accident. He’d also tried to forget those few tension-filled moments standing near the concession stand when he’d looked at her, really looked at her, for the very first time.
Love note aside, she was still the shy girl who’d blushed at him from the safety of an algebra book and brought him homemade muffins.
The innocent who’d never once ventured behind the bleachers during a football game.
He knew the backside of those bleachers by heart. Hell, he’d carved most of those names himself and hers was not among the bunch. He’d be willing to bet his finest horse that she didn’t even know about the conquest bench. What’s more, he would lay down his entire spread that she’d never set her fine little bottom down and kissed up a Gulf hurricane with one of the locals, either.
Maddie had been too nice and wholesome and respectable for bleacher smooching. And that afternoon at Skeeter’s he’d been wrong to think she was anything but the same sweet girl now.
The
