My Cowboy Valentine: Be Mine, Cowboy / Hill Country Cupid

“That was five years ago, Cade—”

“Maybe. But I was wrong. I was a selfish ass, and I ask your forgiveness—”

“Cade.”

“Please, Rachel, forgive me.”

“I do,” she whispered. “I did. A long, long time ago.”

He exhaled and glanced around the kitchen, still able to see them all here. Sally, Rachel and him, having dinner, lingering over dessert, teasing and talking and telling stories. Sally had a nice dining-room set, but she preferred the kitchen table. He did, too, and he’d cherished those meals in here. They were warm and real and special. And he felt like one of those kids on TV who’d grown up with a normal family, a nice family...

“Things have worked out the way they were meant to,” she added kindly.

He nodded, his gut cramping, his chest hot and tight. He was glad she was happy. Glad everything in her world was good. “You deserve every good thing, Rachel,” he said, placing the flowers gently on the table. “You really do.”

And then he was walking out of there, fast, needing to escape the little house and all its memories before he said or did something stupid.

Chapter Two

Cade shoved his hat onto his head as he headed to his truck, his boots thudding against the pavement.

That had been a disaster. His timing couldn’t have been worse. Showing up on her doorstep the day before her wedding? Awesome. It was bad enough seeing the fancy cake and hearing the ceremony details. Thank God he hadn’t caught her in her actual wedding gown. That would have pushed him over the edge.

Starting his truck, he pulled away from the ranch house, his gut churning as he drove.

Hot, sharp emotions surged within him. Emotions he hadn’t felt in God knew how long. Disappointment and regret, but relief, too. Relief that she was okay. Relief that she was cared for. Not by him—which hurt—but by someone better. Because Cade King might be a champion on the rodeo circuit, but he was no prince in real life. He had problems...issues...for God’s sake, he was an alcoholic.

True, he hadn’t had a drink in over two years, and he continued to go to his AA meetings, even when he was traveling, but once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. You could put recovering or recovered before the word alcoholic, but it still meant the same thing.

Cade exhaled, trying to ease some of the pressure in his chest, but his deep breaths did nothing to ease the ache.

That was his girl, back there. His woman. And it was damn hard to walk away from your woman, even if it was the right thing.

But she was okay, he reminded himself. Better than okay. She was happy and in love and getting married tomorrow. Everything had worked out for her. And while the way he left her would never be right, at least she’d found someone who would treat her the way she deserved to be treated—like a princess. No, make that a queen.

Cade glanced at the clock on his dash. He still had an hour and a half before his appointment with Jeffrey Farms, a horse farm that was interested in using Cade’s stallion Orion as a stud. Adam Jeffrey had offered to come to him, but Cade had been thinking about Rachel lately—couldn’t get her out of his mind these past few months—and he’d thought that by coming to Mineral Wells he could kill two birds with one stone. Meet Adam, discuss the stud fee. See Rachel, make sure she was fine. Go home, business accomplished, mind at ease.

And his mind should be at ease. His conscience could rest easy. But his heart sure felt like hell.

He’d always thought he’d be the one to marry her. From the moment they met, he’d known she was the one for him. And it might have been five years ago, but he still remembered the day they first met as clear as anything.

He’d been crossing the street in downtown Mineral Wells and a girl on a bike—one of those old-fashioned bikes with a big wicker basket attached to the handlebars—turned the corner and crashed into him. He’d been surprised but unhurt. But she, and her bike, had gone flying, straight into the curb.

Cars slammed on brakes, and between the screech of brakes and rubber tires squealing, he’d rushed to get her out of the street.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as he scooped her up into his arms. “I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry—”

“It’s all right,” he said.

She shoved dark glossy hair from her eyes. “No, it’s not. I could have killed you—”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “No, you couldn’t have,” he said, stepping onto the sidewalk and glancing down at her. She was bleeding everywhere—her cheek and chin, her elbows and knees—but thankfully, nothing looked broken.

“Yes, I could,” she retorted irritably, looking up into his eyes. “Cyclists kill pedestrians all the time.”

Her fine dark brows had pulled, and she looked so cross and serious that his lips had twitched, fighting a grin. “How ’bout you? You okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, dabbing her cheek where she’d skinned it. “And you can put me down. I’m tough. I’m not your average girl.”

He’d held her a moment longer, just because he could, and then gently he’d placed her on her feet, keeping a close eye on her in case she wobbled. But she didn’t.

“See?” she demanded.

“Not your average girl,” he agreed.

And then she laughed, her light gray eyes crinkling at the corners. Her eyes looked so cool and clear, they made him think of a summer rain. He’d stared into her eyes trying to find the bottom.

She let him look, too. She let him drink her in as if she were a refreshing glass of ice water on a humid afternoon. Until he soaked her in, he hadn’t realized how thirsty he had been.

No, he thought, she wasn’t his average girl. She was far from average, could never be average, not in her faded yellow cotton sundress, the soft mustard-hued fabric sprigged with blue flowers, the neckline edged with tired lace. It wasn’t just because she was pretty—there was something else in her that called to him. Something about her that felt right...familiar and new, exciting, terrifying, but also right. Looking down into her light gray eyes he suddenly knew why he’d left home at fifteen to find his way in the world. He knew why he’d been through hell and back. It was for her, this girl. To love her and protect her and keep her safe...

He’d put her bike into the back of his truck and driven her home, and he’d returned the next day to check on her, and her grandmother had invited him to stay for dinner. And he’d returned for dinner every night that he wasn’t on the road, competing.

But later his demons caught up with him, and what started out as a drink now and then turned to drinking 24/7, and all of Cade’s good intentions were drowned out by his need for Jack Daniel’s.

Once in one of his AA meetings, after he’d shared his story, someone said to him, “Thank God you sobered up before you hurt someone,” and Cade had nearly puked right there in the middle of the church basement where the meeting was being held. Because he had hurt someone. He’d trashed Rachel. And maybe it wasn’t a drinking and driving accident, but it was just as destructive. Maybe even more so because it was personal.

* * *

NEEDING TO KILL TIME, CADE stopped for dinner downtown in his favorite diner. It was still early, almost five, but the place was half-full with seniors who’d come in for the early-bird special.

Cade ordered coffee and chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes, then picked up a paper somebody had left behind in another booth and sat back down to read while he waited for his food. He scanned the headlines before flipping to the business section, checking the agriculture report and then the NASDAQ to see where his stock closed the day before.

His dinner arrived before he finished reading the business section, so he folded the paper and continued to read as he ate.

Midway through his meal, a strong hand clapped his shoulder. “Cade King, it’s been a while. How are you? What brings you back to Mineral Wells?”

Cade pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth as he looked up at Larry Strauss, a burly rancher in his early sixties. He smiled warily and extended his hand, knowing that Larry was close family friends with the Jameses. “It has been a while,” he agreed. “Care to join me? Do you have time?”

“I’ve already eaten but I will sit for a minute.” Larry slid into the booth seat across from Cade. “Quite a year you’ve had, son. Third straight All-Around title in a row, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve been lucky.”

“That’s not luck, that’s skill. And you won easily this year.”

“I drew some good bulls. Two of them were yours.”

The older rancher inclined his head. Strauss Ranch was known on the circuit for their outstanding rough stock, including their bucking bulls. “But you knew what to do with them, and that’s what counts.” He gestured to the waitress that he’d have a cup of coffee, too. “So what brings you to town?” His narrowed gaze raked over Cade, his expression a little less friendly. “Haven’t seen you in years.”

Cade noted the coolness in Larry’s tone. He wasn’t surprised. Larry would have known that Cade had callously given Rachel the boot, and Larry being the old-fashioned rancher he was, wouldn’t have liked it. “Haven’t been back in years,” he answered evenly. “But I’m meeting with one of the Jeffrey brothers from Jeffrey Farms a little later. They’re interested in one of my horses.”

“Have you stayed in touch with any of the folks here?”

Cade knew exactly what Larry was asking, and he shifted on the vinyl booth. “Not the way I should have.”

“Did you hear that Sally James passed a couple years ago?”

“Found out today.”

“She was a good woman.”

“Yes, she was,” Cade agreed. There were few people he’d liked as much as he’d liked Sally. She was born to nurture, and she’d been kinder to him than any of the foster-care mothers he’d known in his seven and a half years under the state’s care.

“Rachel took her passing hard,” Larry added, glancing up, staring Cade straight in the eyes.

Cade nodded. “I can imagine.”

Larry’s light blue eyes bored into his. “She hasn’t had an easy life.”

“Who?”

“Rachel.”

Gut knotting, Cade stretched his legs out under the table. “She seems like she’s doing all right now.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Yes. Today. Stopped by the house. Thought she looked great. Thinner, but still the prettiest girl in Texas.”

“So you know what’s going on with her?”

“She told me.”

Larry looked skeptical. “Doesn’t bother you?”

Cade shrugged uneasily. He didn’t want to talk about Rachel, or think about her getting married tomorrow. He was glad for her. He was. But it didn’t give him cause for celebration. “Things didn’t work out the way we’d imagined, but that’s life. You don’t always get what you want.”

Larry’s bushy gray eyebrows lifted. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for heartless, King.”

“Not heartless, just realistic. Things don’t always go as planned. So you move on and, frankly, things have worked out the way they were meant to be.”

“You sound like the rest of them, judging her. But everybody makes mistakes and Lord knows, she’s had her hands full. First with Tommy, then Sally’s cancer—”

“You’re misunderstanding me. I’m not judging her. I’m happy for her. Happy that things have turned out the way they have for her.”

“Which part makes you happy, son?” Larry asked slowly, dragging the words out.

Cade’s right hand clenched into a fist under the table. What was the point of this? What did Larry want from him? “I’m glad she’s found happiness—”

“You’re joking, right?”

Cade drew a sharp, deep breath. “Why would I joke about something like that? I care about Rachel, and I’m happy she’s getting married tomorrow, and I hope he’s a great guy. He better be a great guy—”

“Rachel’s not getting married tomorrow.”

“Yes, she is. We talked about it, and she showed me the flowers and the cake.”

Larry laughed shortly. “Rachel showed you a cake because she’s a baker. She supports herself by making cakes, works out of her home, and this cake was for Mia, who is getting married tomorrow afternoon over in Weatherford at the botanical gardens, not Rachel.”

The cake was for Mia...

It was Mia getting married, not Rachel...

Cade’s brain worked to process this information but it didn’t make sense, and he found himself frowning, feeling stupid. Something wasn’t right. “If Rachel’s not getting married, why is she moving?”

Larry didn’t immediately answer. Instead he took a big sip from his coffee cup and then slowly set the cup back down in the saucer, his expression hard and scornful as he met Cade’s troubled gaze. Silence stretched, heavy with disapproval. “Maybe, cowboy, you should ask her.”

* * *

RACHEL MOVED SOUNDLESSLY through her house, picking up a few toys, turning out a table lamp in the living room, washing up Tommy’s dessert plate and cup from his milk.

Tommy had fallen asleep earlier tonight than usual, but frankly, it was a good thing. He’d come home from Mrs. Munoz overly exhausted, stressed and needing to decompress, which for him meant opening and closing his bedroom door thirty some times. She’d tried to distract him, but it’d only made him more determined to bang, so after a while she left him to his door activity. She folded a load of laundry, and then unloaded the dishwasher, trying to stay busy, trying to stay calm, trying not to worry about Tommy or think about Cade.

But now Tommy was in bed, and the house was tidy, and the laundry put away, and she couldn’t keep Cade from intruding on her thoughts any longer.

Cade had once been her world. She’d loved him so much, and she knew he wasn’t perfect, knew he had his fair share of demons...not that he talked about them. No, Cade was private and a bit of a lone wolf. But he’d loved her and Grandma. He’d really loved Grandma, and her grandmother had loved him, too.

She opened a flat empty box and was taping the bottom when the doorbell rang. Rachel tore the tape, sealed the flaps and hurried to the front door, hoping that the doorbell wouldn’t wake up Tommy. Wondering who’d be stopping by now, Rachel peeked through the window and saw a big black pickup truck with a huge cab and lots of shiny chrome parked out front. Rachel dropped the curtain, tensing. Cade’s truck.

He was back.

Stomach knotting, she unlocked the front door. “Cade,” she said, opening the door.

His head tipped. “Rachel.”

Her heart was racing, thudding so hard her hands shook, and suddenly she couldn’t do this. Make conversation with him again. Act as though everything was all right. Everything wasn’t all right. She was exhausted, frazzled and overwhelmed, and seeing him just made it worse. Seeing him made her realize how much life had happened in the past five-plus years. How much had happened to her. She’d changed. She wasn’t the same girl he’d left behind, and there was no place in her life for him now.

And so instead of letting him into the house, she stepped out onto the porch, quietly closing the door behind her, not wanting to wake Tommy. But joining Cade on the small stoop put her in close proximity with him, reminding her with a jolt that he wasn’t just tall, but broad shouldered, lean hipped and handsome. Heartbreakingly handsome. But looks had never been his problem. Drinking was his problem. Drinking and control...or lack of.

But she didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to feel all that again. Deliberately she pushed the past away and glanced out to the street where the lamp shone yellow on Cade’s big glossy truck. “That’s a nice truck.”

“Bought it two years ago with some of the prize money, and now it’s got close to 100,000 miles on it.”

“You do a lot of driving.”

“That I do.” He hesitated, cleared his throat. “Just saw Larry Strauss. At the diner downtown.”

“How’s he?” she asked, crossing her arms tightly over her chest to keep from shivering. It was a clear night and cold, but she wasn’t going to be out here long enough to need a sweater.

“Good.” Cade paused. “But concerned about you.”

“Oh? Why?”

“He said you’re moving.”

“I’m not allowed to move?”

“But this was your grandmother’s house, and your house—”

“Not anymore.”

“She didn’t leave it to you?”

“No, Grandma did.”

“Then why would—”

Cade never finished. He couldn’t because he was cut off by a piercing shriek from inside the house.

Rachel threw open the door, racing inside to Tommy, who stood in the middle of the hallway in his pajamas.

“Ma! Ma!” he screamed, even as she crouched in front of him.

“Hey, Tommy, Momma’s here. It’s okay.” She tried to smooth his dark hair back from his forehead but he flinched and pulled away.

“Ma.” He batted her hand away.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

But he wasn’t listening to her. He was looking past her to Cade, who’d followed Rachel inside.

“Man,” he said, staring at Cade.

She glanced over her shoulder, her stomach falling. Cade’s jaw had dropped. He looked stunned. She swallowed hard, wishing none of this was happening. “That’s Mommy’s friend. Cade. Cade King.”

Tommy shook his head. He didn’t like strangers, and he especially didn’t like them in his home. “Go.”

“Tommy, can you say hi to Mr. King?”

“Man. Go. Leave.”

“That’s not nice,” she rebuked gently, reaching up and trying once again to soothe him by smoothing a fistful of hair off his brow. This time he let her, and her palm lingered on top of his head, his hair silky smooth and reminding her of rich, dark chocolate.

“Leave,” he insisted, pointing at Cade. “Go. Leave.” Then he pushed her hand away and ran back to his room.

Rachel watched him go, heart heavy, before standing and looking at Cade, her lips curving in a tight smile. “And that was my son, Thomas James.” Her gaze met Cade’s and held. “And no, he’s not yours. He’s four and a half. He’ll be five in July.”

Then she, too, walked away, but headed in the opposite direction, going to her kitchen where she pushed in the chairs around the small kitchen table, the legs scraping the old linoleum floor, and knocked an imaginary crumb off the scratched table surface.

Cade entered the kitchen, too, but she ignored him, continuing to straighten things that didn’t need straightening, but it was better than looking at Cade and seeing whatever it was he was thinking.

“He has developmental delays,” she said jerkily, adjusting the faded terry-cloth dish towel hanging on the handle fronting the old oven. “Autism. Which isn’t actually a single disorder, but a spectrum of closely related disorders—” She broke off, took another breath. “And he doesn’t mean to be rude. He just doesn’t have strong verbal skills.”

“That’s all right.”

She heard his flat tone and shot Cade a quick glance. He looked pale, almost sick, and she looked away just as swiftly. It’d been so difficult getting Tommy diagnosed...none of the Mineral Wells doctors agreed on his exact diagnosis. Obviously Tommy had PDD, pervasive developmental disorder, but was it classical autism or autism with Asperger’s syndrome, or PDD-NOS? “People don’t understand that he has special needs. He’s not a bad boy, and he’s not a problem. He just gets agitated easily. Overwhelmed by change and too much stimuli. Kind of a sensory overload.”

“You don’t have to explain to me. I wouldn’t judge him or criticize him.”

Her head jerked up again, and her eyes searched his. She knew Cade had had problems, knew he’d gotten in plenty of trouble growing up, and wished she could believe him. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Her shoulders twisted. “You wouldn’t like how he acts in public. You’d say he was out of control. And you know, he does get out of control. He’ll throw something in a store—a can of soup or frozen orange juice—and it’ll hit someone or something, or he’ll knock over a display and send a hundred packages of toilet paper all over the store. And you’d be like everyone else. ‘Why don’t you give that boy some discipline?’ It’s embarrassing, but it’s not his fault. He didn’t ask to be born this way—” She stopped, gasping for breath, horrified to discover she was close to tears. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

Cade didn’t say anything and after a long moment Rachel glanced at him. He was leaning against one of the counters, big arms bracing his weight, his jaw set, his brow furrowed, his gaze resting on the cardboard box she’d just begun to pack, looking every inch the bull-riding champion he was. Not just All-Around champion, but a bull-riding champion, too. In the past seven years he’d won four national bull-riding titles in one of the world’s most dangerous sports. Four. The man was fearless. Tough as nails. Stronger than anyone she’d ever met, but also more dangerous, too.

“Where’s his dad?” he asked roughly.

“Not in the picture.”

“Why not?”

She drew a ragged breath. “His dad didn’t want him.”

Cade was slow to respond and hot emotion rolled through her, blistering her heart. “But that’s okay,” she said fiercely, “because I do. And I love him. I love him more than anything in this world and he is perfect to me. Absolutely perfect and just the way God intended him to be.”

His lips curved but his eyes were shadowed. “I bet Sally doted on him,” he said quietly.

Rachel blinked back tears. “Loved him to pieces.”

He nodded once, as if thinking. “So if Sally left you the house, and this is where you’re raising your boy, why are you moving, Rache?” he asked, looking up at her, his voice gentle.

“I couldn’t pay the property taxes.” There, she’d said it. Now he knew. She didn’t feel much better, but the truth was out in the open. “So we lost the house.”

“The taxes couldn’t have been much—”

“Grandma had deferred taxes for eight years, and even though it’s deferred, you’re accumulating interest and fines, and a little bit of money turns into a lot of money. By the time it was brought to my attention...” Her voice faded and she shook her head, sickened all over again by her inability to save her home. “It was too late.”

“Let me pay the taxes for you, Rachel.”

Of course this was what he’d say. This had always been Cade’s way. Cade was generous to a fault, and she knew he’d help her. Cade liked helping people. Cade had once loved being the good guy...rushing in, playing hero, being Mr. Wonderful—and he was Mr. Wonderful, he could be incredibly wonderful—until he started craving his buddy Jack Daniel’s again. “You can’t,” she said huskily. “I don’t own the house anymore. That’s why we’re moving.”

“Who bought the house? And how much did they pay you for it?”

She blinked, but couldn’t hide the tears. “Some company in Fort Worth bought it. But they didn’t pay me—they paid the county. Turns out all they had to do was go in and pay all the back taxes on Grandma’s house, and the house became theirs.” She put a hand to her mouth, fighting to hang on to her composure. And then when she was sure she could speak without falling apart, she added, “That’s why we’re moving. Another family is moving in middle of the month.”

“So they got Sally’s house for what...twenty-five thousand? Thirty?”

“Twenty and some change.” She laughed even as she cried, because it was ludicrous—it was. And Larry Strauss had offered to help her. Mia’s parents had wanted to help her. Even Mrs. Munoz had tried to give her some money but she couldn’t take it. Not from any of them. She was proud, and it was a fault of hers, but she couldn’t bear to go through life pitied and whispered and talked about. It was better to lose the house and maintain some self-respect, than take loans from people she’d never be able to pay back.

“You told me earlier today that everything had worked out the way things were meant to work out.” Cade’s voice was hard. “But that’s not true—”

“Yes, it is.” Rachel jerked her chin up. “I have Tommy and I love being a mom and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”