Randall Pride. Judy Christenberry

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Randall Pride - Judy  Christenberry

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made straight As, period.” He glared at her.

      “Well, everyone can’t be perfect like Toby Randall!”

      Toby turned his back to her. The temptation to grab her and kiss any thoughts of Cleve out of her head was too tempting. “I told your dad this wouldn’t work.”

      “What wouldn’t work?”

      “He thought since you used to follow me around, you’d listen to my opinion on your choice.”

      “I followed you around when I was a child. And if I remember correctly, I stopped following you around because you made it plain you wanted me to go away so you could neck with your girlfriend!”

      Toby couldn’t hold back a rueful chuckle. “Well, you and Caro did kind of hamper my love life for a while.”

      Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed the night air in disgust. “I can assure you I won’t do so again. But I have the right to ask the same promise from you.”

      “Honey, we’re all only thinking of you. If there’s one change in you I’ve definitely noticed, it’s your stubbornness. But life with Cleve may take all your independence away. Because he’s definitely that kind of man.”

      “And you’re not?” she asked. “What do you call what you’re doing now?”

      “I’m asking you to think about what you’re doing. To think about what you’ll do when the man wants to move away. And you know he will. He’s not going to be happy here. He won’t be able to work with Bill Johnson. Then what are you going to do?”

      She huffed and turned to head for the house. He grabbed her arm without thinking, then quickly released it. Touching her wasn’t safe.

      “Elizabeth?”

      She spun around to stare at him. “Did it ever occur to you that I might figure out my own problems? That I’m not that little girl anymore? If I were, how would I have managed since you disappeared from my life? I’ve only seen you about half a day at Christmas each year since I was sixteen.”

      “I know I haven’t been—I had my reasons for not hanging around the ranch. I couldn’t make the money I’ve made if I rodeoed only half the time. I had to dedicate myself to rodeo to do well.”

      “Right. And the perfect Toby Randall couldn’t do anything only halfway. But don’t expect me to hang around waiting to follow in your footsteps again. I make my own decisions now, and you can tell my father the same thing. I don’t need a man telling me what to do.”

      Again she headed for the house, and this time he didn’t try to stop her. It had been a disaster, just as he’d foreseen.

      ELIZABETH STOMPED back to the house, pausing only once on the way to her bedroom. She stuck her head into the den where the parents were watching a movie. “Mom?” she called softly.

      Her mother came to the door. “Yes?”

      “I need to talk to you. Can you come by my room before you go to bed?”

      Megan studied her face. “I’ll come now,” she said, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind her.

      “I don’t want you to miss your movie,” Elizabeth protested.

      Megan took her hand and headed for the stairs.

      Once they were in Elizabeth’s bedroom, with the door closed, Megan asked, “What’s wrong?”

      “Dad asked Toby to talk to me about Cleve.”

      “He didn’t!” She stared at her daughter. “I guess he did. But darling, you know it’s because he loves you.”

      “I know, Mom, but it’s a little embarrassing.”

      “Better to be embarrassed than to ruin your life,” Megan said quietly.

      “Oh, Mom, not you, too?”

      Megan grinned. “Yeah, me, too. I haven’t said anything because I think you’ll figure it out soon, unless…well, unless you’ve gotten too involved with him? You’re not pregnant, are you?”

      “Mom!” Elizabeth protested. “Absolutely not!”

      “Thank goodness.”

      “Look, I just need some time. Will you please trust me to do the right thing?”

      “You mean you’re going to—”

      “I’m going to do the right thing for me. I’m asking you to trust me.”

      “Of course I trust you, darling. Did Toby’s talk help you decide—”

      “No! Mr. Arrogance himself called the kettle black, but I couldn’t tell much difference between the two of them.”

      “Oh. Then how did you—”

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