Frisco Joe's Fiancee

“I’m gonna kill Mimi and Mason for this stupid stunt,” he muttered to Fannin. “Reckon they planned this?”

“What for?” Fannin glanced at him as they walked through the parking lot.

“I don’t know. I just know that when those two get together, there’s always hell to pay.”

“I know. That’s why they can’t stay together in one room very long. It’s spontaneous combustion.”

“I’m going home to have a beer,” Frisco said. “And then I’m going to bed.”

“No poker tonight?”

“Heck no. I’m all played out.” That baby wasn’t going to enjoy a long bus ride back to Lonely Hearts Station, he knew. And the little mother had looked so tired.

Damn Mason and Mimi anyway. “See ya,” he said to Fannin, surly again. Then he got in his truck and drove home, deciding to skip the beer and go right upstairs.

He’d been up since 4:00 a.m., and a lot had happened. If he went to sleep now, maybe he could forget all the events of the day.

Stripping to his boxers, he left jeans, boots and his shirt on the floor, crawling quickly between the sheets to escape the slight chill in the room.

His bare skin made instant contact with something small and soft in the bed. “What the hell?” he murmured, flipping on the bedside lamp in a hurry.

It was the baby, no longer wearing her white bunting and sound asleep in the middle of his bed, peacefully sucking her tiny fist.

Chapter Two

“Holy smokes, Frisco,” Navarro said as Frisco came barreling down the stairs. All ten of his brothers glanced at him. “Your drawers on fire?” Navarro asked.

“There’s a baby in my bed!” Frisco shouted. Remembering that a baby could be loud when it was awake, he lowered his voice to an unnerved whisper. “That little blonde put her baby in my bed!”

“Are you sure?” Fannin asked.

Frisco looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “I think I know a baby when I see one!”

“How do you know it’s hers?” Fannin said patiently.

“Because she was the only one who had a child that young with her.” And the picture of her kissing the baby’s head was still fresh in his mind. “I know it’s hers.”

“Dang.” Bandera threw his cards onto the round den table. “I’m certain she didn’t know it was your bed, Frisco. No woman would give your surly butt her sweet, fragile angel.”

His brothers laughed heartily. The instant fear, which had sent Frisco running down the stairs, began to turn to bad humor. “Where is she?” he demanded of Last.

“How would I know?” the youngest Jefferson shot back. “I thought she was getting in your truck.”

“My truck? Oh, no, she definitely was not getting into my truck,” Frisco insisted. He would have noticed that for certain. “I told you we couldn’t keep her, Last. You go find her, and take her and her baby back. Now.”

Last stood up, angry. “I don’t know where she is.”

Tex sighed. “Maybe she’s not here.”

“What?” Frisco stared at him. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m just saying maybe we’d better search the three houses and have a look for her,” Tex said evenly. “And hope she’s not far from her baby.”

“I’m not,” a woman said quietly, as she stepped into the den from the hallway.

The entire roomful of men rose, half for the sake of good manners and half because she’d startled them.

“I’m sorry to be the cause of so much trouble,” she said, her voice soft and gentle, almost shy. “I was changing Emmeline’s diaper when everyone left.”

Frisco’s mouth had dropped open when she walked into the room, holding a baby bottle. Up close, she was even more adorable. He loved worn blue jeans on a woman; he loved blond hair that hung straight to a woman’s chin. He loved sleepy eyes that stared right at him. There was some silent communication going on between them; there was something she was trying to tell him—

Her gaze averted from his, and Ranger coughed. “You might want to go throw on a pair of jeans, Frisco.”

ANNABELLE TURNBERRY knew what a man looked like without his clothes on, of course, or she wouldn’t have two-month-old Emmie. She’d just never seen a man like the one the other men called Frisco—the boxers only hid enough to keep her from being totally mortified.

And fascinated. She almost couldn’t stop staring until his brother reminded him he was sans jeans.

This was a household of men, and it seemed to be a normal routine to move about the house wearing whatever. She frowned. Her ex-fiancé had taken his clothes off in the dark the one time he took her to bed; she wasn’t sure she knew what he looked like. The fact that she’d just seen more of a stranger than she’d ever seen of her ex-fiancé wasn’t comforting.

Frisco shot up the stairs, muttering an apology. He looked just as good from the backside, she thought, taking a fast peek only because…because—

Well, there was no good justification for it. No excuse. It almost seemed wrong to look at another man, especially since she’d recently given birth, but it wasn’t as if she’d been looking out of lust, more out of admiration. After all, if a man who looked like Adonis took off running suddenly, wouldn’t any woman have to look?

She dropped her gaze, thinking that she was in a houseful of Adonises, and maybe therefore in a precarious position. They didn’t know her; she didn’t know them. Maybe she was guilty of breaking and entering or something else that concerned the law.

“It’s okay,” one of the men said, standing up to come over to her. “Next time you see Frisco, he’ll be fully dressed.”

“Oh. Well. I’m so sorry for the—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The man smiled at her, his gaze full of compassion. Annabelle was relieved because she hadn’t known what to say first, or even what she was going to say. There were so many things to apologize for!

“You’re tired. Why don’t you go lie upstairs with your baby until we can get you back to…where was it, again?”

“The Lonely Hearts Salon in Lonely Hearts Station, Texas.” She swallowed. “My name is Annabelle Turnberry.”

The kind man slapped his forehead. “We have manners, we really do. I’m Last Jefferson.”

He put out his hand to her, and she took it, noticing that his grip was gentle.

“These are my brothers, going from the top to the bottom, not counting Mason, who isn’t here.” They stood when he pointed to each one, as he recited, “Frisco’s upstairs, Fannin, Laredo, Tex, Calhoun, Ranger, Archer, Crockett, Navarro, Bandera, and me.”

“Last,” she repeated.

“But never least.”

His smile was devilish, inviting her to join in the harmless repartee. She could easily see that he never allowed himself to be outdone by his older brothers. “I’ll remember that. Last but not least.”

He smiled. “Good girl. Go upstairs and get some rest.”

“No. I don’t think so,” Frisco said, his voice deep as he came down the stairs. He tucked a denim shirt into jeans, he was barefoot, and Annabelle thought he might be the most handsome man she’d ever seen. But he was obviously a bad-humored rascal, and falling for that kind of man was what had landed her in her current predicament.

Or had given her a baby, anyway. Her predicament of being at the ranch with eleven men was her own fault, a direct result of deciding it was time to take charge of her life, stand on her own two feet. Move away from all things familiar and start over.

My life is more out of control than ever.

“She can’t make a bus now, Frisco,” Last said, his tone reasonable.

“And she can’t stay here.”

Annabelle stared at the tall cowboy, her misgivings growing. As far as he was concerned, she was an imposition, which, to be fair, she was, but it wasn’t all her fault. It was his brother who’d put the ad out over the Internet. She’d just thought to apply for a job where her baby would grow up safe. And in a real house, not a room over the beauty salon. Or at least that’s what Delilah had encouraged her to try for. Emmie would be very safe on a ranch with twelve men, the biggest danger probably being teaching her daughter that cows weren’t big doggies.

“Why not?” Last demanded, having appointed himself her champion. The other brothers began a protest that started out, “Come on, Frisco, lighten up,” but Frisco raised his hand to silence them.

“Because she’s a woman, and it wouldn’t be appropriate for her to stay with eleven bachelors,” he snapped. “Do I have to spell everything out for you lunkheads?”

“Yes. Sometimes,” Last said on a sigh. “So now what?”

“It’s late. The baby’s asleep. I hate to wake her now just to put her in a truck to get hauled off,” the blonde said. Frisco put his hands in his pockets and looked at her.

The dilemma was painful for all. Annabelle realized she was more of a problem than she’d thought. She couldn’t match his nearly-black-eyed stare and glanced at the baby bottle in her hand.

A knock at the front door made everybody turn.

“We expectin’ anybody?” Fannin asked, going to the door.

“Nope,” Frisco replied.

But the door burst open before Fannin could open it, a woman making herself at home as if she always did. “Girl in the house. Everybody decent? Or at least got clothes on?” she called out.

No one yelled back the standard We-got-clothes-on-but-we’re-not-decent line. The newcomer latched a curious gaze on Annabelle.

The room fell silent.

“Two girls in the house, maybe?” Annabelle said. “Decent and fully clothed?” She’d wanted to be light and airy to make a situation that was turning increasingly uncomfortable more easy for all. But by the look on the woman’s face, maybe not.

“Mimi, this is Annabelle Turnberry. Annabelle, Mimi Cannady, our next-door neighbor,” he said.

“How do you do?” Mimi asked politely.

“Fine, thank you.”

“Annabelle’s applying to be our new housekeeper,” Last said cheerfully.

“Housekeeper?” Mimi’s gaze turned worried. “She can’t.”

“Why not?” Annabelle knew she wasn’t in the running for the job—if there was one, Frisco had made it clear she wasn’t under consideration. But maybe Mimi could explain it better, and then Annabelle wouldn’t feel as if she’d simply made another silly mistake in her life by taking off for parts unknown to become a housekeeper.

“You’re not forty-five,” Mimi said. “That was in the ad, if you recall.”

“Forty-five?” Last said. “Why so old?”

“You’d have to ask Mason,” Mimi replied, her tone bright. “He was adamant on the age requirement.”

Annabelle caught the glance that passed between Mimi and Frisco, Mimi’s chin up, Frisco’s gaze narrowed suspiciously.

“Well, Mimi, it seems we agree on one thing,” he said softly.

“Will wonders never cease?” she shot back, her tone too sweet. Yet somehow strong underneath.

Annabelle’s eyebrows raised.

“She’ll have to come home with me,” Mimi said, with a put-upon sigh. “One of you can drive Annabelle back into town tomorrow.”

“Thought you weren’t going to help us anymore,” Last said helpfully. “We sure don’t want to put you out any.”

“That’s okay,” Mimi said, in the voice of a Good Samaritan. “Annabelle will be more comfortable at my house, I feel certain.”

From upstairs, Emmie’s wail floated down, loud and miserable.

“What’s that?” Mimi demanded.

“It’s my baby,” Annabelle said hurriedly. “She suffers from colic and doesn’t sleep well at night. Excuse me.”

She ran off up the stairs, almost glad to be away from whatever unspoken conversation was going on downstairs. One thing she was certain of, Frisco didn’t want her there—and neither did Mimi.

“NICE OF YOU TO GIVE us a hand, Mimi.” Frisco tossed her a wry grin. “We’ll think about you listening to sweet baby tears all night.”

Mimi was about fit to be tied. She’d nearly not come in time! What if these over-eager Jefferson brothers had hired the attractive little blonde? Mason would be back in two weeks, after all, and the last thing she wanted him to find upon his arrival was a dainty housekeeper.

“I’ve never seen you jealous before, Mimi,” Frisco said lazily. “You sure do put on a good show.”

“Shush, Frisco.” Mimi rolled her eyes at him. “If you were only half as smart as you think you are, you’d still only be thinking on a third-grade level.”

“Mimi and Mason, sittin’ in a tree—” one of the brothers started.

She whirled around. “Cut it out, guys, or I leave the lady—and the baby—with you. And none of you will get a wink of sleep tonight, I’ll bet.”

It would be more because of Annabelle than the baby that they might not sleep tonight, but Mimi wasn’t going to let any of them know they’d scored with their baiting of her. She knew how to keep this group of bad boys in check.

It was Mason who threw her for a loop. And she wasn’t about to have him come home to a ready-made family scenario. She didn’t like the fact that her housekeeping scheme had nearly backfired on her.

“We’re just yanking your chain, Mimi.” Frisco grinned at her, eager to make peace.

“I’ll go help Annabelle pack up the baby,” she said with a long-suffering sigh.

A loud pounding sounded on the door, and this time, Fannin waited to see if it would burst open again, with someone else making themselves at home.

No one came in, so he got up and jerked the door open.

To Mimi’s horror, what looked like a sorority stood on the porch, before silently filing into the den. A middle-aged woman stepped forward.

“Annabelle didn’t get on the bus with us,” she announced with grave determination. “And we’re not leaving without her.”

Chapter Three

Desire to get all these women off his property swept over Frisco. “Annabelle and the baby are fine,” he said, somewhat annoyed that the spokeswoman seemed to think some type of transgression might be wrought upon his two short-time house guests.

“We have a right to be concerned. We don’t know you,” she replied.

“Yes, but did all of you have to come back for her? I paid for those bus tickets.” Good money, he could have added, but thought better of it.

“Busses aren’t running.”

Voices murmuring behind her told him that all the women were concurring with her statement. Shock began to spread through his tired brain. “They were running when I left.”

“Apparently, there’s ice on the roads out of Union Junction. Storm on the way in, too. They shut down the station and canceled all outgoing routes. Even Shoeshine Johnson’s school bus-taxi service was closed.”

“How’d you get here?” Bad luck seemed to swirl around him. If the busses weren’t running, he could wind up with a bunch of females—and a colicky baby. The thought was enough to chill his bones. He sent a belligerent glare Mimi’s way so that she’d know this was all her fault. And Mason’s.

“We hitched a ride with the driver of an eighteen-wheeler who loaded us into the back of his truck. He’d stopped across the highway at the truck stop.”

He stared at her, trying to imagine that.

“Twenty minutes in the truck wasn’t bad. Any further than that and we’d have had to spend the night in the bus station,” she admitted. “That would have been miserable. But Jerry made certain we were comfortable.”

Frisco blew out a breath as he looked around at all the women. He wouldn’t have wanted them spending the night in a bus station, especially not since they’d come to Union Junction to apply for a job at the ranch. There was some responsibility involved, he admitted to himself, if not chivalry.

“There’s plenty of room here,” he said begrudgingly. “We have three houses on the property that the twelve of us share. We’ll divide you up…” He hesitated at the black look in the spokeswoman’s eye. Clearly there’d be no dividing.

“On the other hand, Navarro’s house should sleep all of you just fine.”

Navarro straightened but wasn’t going to disagree with the pointed look Frisco shot him. “I’ll go pack.”

Three of his brothers went out the door with him, fairly peacefully for four men who’d just given up their home. Frisco was suspicious about the lack of protest. He watched Last shoot a smile toward the ladies and realized he had a bigger problem on his hand.

His brothers saw an advantage to all these women being stuck on the ranch for the night.

He’d have to keep a tight eye on them to make certain there were no shenanigans.

Navarro came back inside, escorting a stranger. “The truck driver was still outside.”

“Hey, Delilah, ladies,” he said to the spokeswoman and her companions, astonishing Frisco, who hadn’t even thought to ask her—or any of them—their names. There were simply too many women, and he’d never remember them all. Nor had he expected to see them again.

Delilah clapped a hand to her forehead. “I forgot all about you, Jerry! I’m so sorry! Come on into the kitchen, and I’ll fix you a nice cup of whatever Mr. Jefferson’s got on hand.”

“Miss, er—Ms. Delilah—” Frisco began.

She gave him a straightforward eyeing that said she didn’t think much of his manners. “It’s Ms. Honeycutt.”

At this unspoken verbal wall that was suddenly erected, all the ladies seemed to straighten their backs.

“Delilah,” Jerry said, taking off his cap, “these men haven’t done anything to offend you, have they?”

Frisco shook his head, realizing his brothers had already gained their feet. The females crossed their arms.

“I can take you right back into town. There’s bound to be a place where all of you can hole up. I was under the impression that this was where you wanted to be,” the stocky white-haired-and-bearded Jerry said.

“We merely wanted to come back and rescue our Annabelle and little Em,” Delilah said, her gaze on Frisco. “But we know when we’re not wanted.”

“Now, wait a minute—” Frisco began, then halted as he wondered why he was bothering to argue. He really didn’t want them here. But a look from his brothers hinted that his manners had somehow aggravated a delicate situation. “We were not expecting guests, that’s true, but there’s plenty of room for the girls here at the ranch.”

He was proud of his offer. Jerry gaped at him. “These are not girls, son,” he said sternly. “Haven’t you even made proper introductions with these fine ladies?”

Proper introductions before what? Frisco wanted to demand. He’d wanted them gone. What difference did the niceties make?

“This here’s Delilah Honeycutt,” Jerry said, undertaking the duty of explaining Frisco’s lack of manners to him. “And the rest—first names only, since you don’t seem too interested, and alphabetical, to make it easy for you—are Beatrice, Carly, Daisy, Dixie, Gretchen, Hannah, Jessica, Julie, Katy, Kiki, Lily, Marnie, Remy, Shasta, Tisha, Velvet, Violet. And you apparently already know Annabelle and baby Emmeline, or we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

His expression gave no doubt that he figured Frisco and his brothers were up to something heinous.

“How’d you do that?” Frisco demanded.

“Do what?”

“Memorize all their names so fast?”

Jerry looked at Delilah apologetically. “This may not be the brightest light on the truck, Delilah. You might want to think over your options for the night.” He sighed. “I’m a truck driver, son. A good memory helps me when I’m driving transcoastal. And memory games keep me from being bored.”

“That boy appears to be the surly one of all these gentlemen,” Ms. Honeycutt said. “If you were my boy, you’d approach company with much better deportment. Come on, Jerry,” Delilah said, with a slight sniff Frisco’s way. “It’s time you were given a cup of cocoa.”

Frisco’s jaw dropped as the tougher-than-cow-hooves truck driver docilely followed her into his kitchen, some of the ladies following.

“Good going, big bro,” one of his brothers said, but he didn’t pay any attention to the snickers and general laughter. His brain felt short-wired.

For the short term, it appeared that life as he’d known it was going to be very different.

He needed a plan, and some organization. Glancing at Mimi, he saw her trying not to giggle. Well she might laugh, since this was yet another one of her schemes with combustible results.

Vowing not to let it bother him, Frisco realized there was only one thing he could do while he was playing host.

For the first time in his life, he was going to have to be a good sport.

ANNABELLE WAS GLAD her friends had returned, even though Frisco looked very grim about it. Frankly, she’d been afraid when she’d discovered she’d allowed herself to get left behind. Frisco didn’t want her here, and she’d been happy for Mimi’s invitation—even though she sensed Mimi’s invitation wasn’t because she was anxious to get her hands on a baby. There was something else going on with Mimi.

Yet as long as Annabelle had all her friends, she’d be fine. They’d been her support ever since Tom had left her.

Her friends were the reason she hadn’t hesitated to come out here, at the urging of Delilah and the other ladies of the Lonely Hearts Beauty Salon. Darn Dina at the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls Salon anyway.

But no, it was Tom who had left her, and that couldn’t be blamed on Dina. Annabelle knew she’d picked the wrong man to fall in love with, if he could be so faithless.

“I’ll never let that happen again,” she said against Emmeline’s soft head. “I always heard three strikes and you’re out. I only intend to strike out once.”

IN FORT WORTH, Mason had a lot of time to think. One of the things he couldn’t stop thinking about was Mimi. She’d been in his thoughts long before he’d told Frisco to call her to solve the minor problem that had cropped up at the ranch.

Mason wondered if he missed Mimi, hellion that she was. He’d as surely miss an ingrown toenail, right?

Fortunately, he had this unwelcome thought while he was sitting in a beer joint, listening to old country tunes on an out-of-whack jukebox. The proper antidote to thinking weird stuff like he was thinking was another beer and a two-step with a cute, obliging regular.

Otherwise, he’d have to start riding rodeo again to knock some sense into himself. He’d been alone way too long if he thought he was missing Mimi Cannady.

Of course, if he wanted to play devil’s advocate with himself, there was the night of the big storm. Remembering the feel of Mimi as she jumped into his arms made his chest spread with warmth. Shaking his head, he swallowed some more beer.

Mimi would drive him crazy sooner or later.

At least for now, things were under control at the ranch. He’d thank her for that later. And the cattle auction had gone better than he’d hoped. Another week, and he’d be home.

His blood picked up as Mimi’s face appeared in his memory. She was laughing at him, the way she always did.

Another beer, another dance, and then surely he’d be tired enough not to think about his nutty little neighbor.

“WE NEED A BATTLE PLAN here,” Frisco told his brothers as they conglomerated in the kitchen of the big house. “We gotta get these women out of here tomorrow.”

“Sh-h,” Laredo said. “They might hear you.”

They’d long since said good-night to the ladies and sent them down to the third house on the property—the one farthest from the other two and his brothers. Mimi had gone down to see to the ladies’ comfort—except for Annabelle, who was upstairs with Emmeline, sound asleep in his bed.

How that particular arrangement had passed Ms. Delilah Honeycutt’s military-style sensibilities, he wasn’t certain. For a moment, he’d thought she might stay herself, but then she’d apparently decided the other group of women needed her chaperonage more. But she’d given him a severe stare that had said, Don’t even think about it. If he’d been hot for Annabelle, the good Ms. Delilah and her icy stare should have cooled him off.

Annabelle and the baby, upstairs in his bed. Sleeping soundly, he hoped. She’d probably pulled off her blue jeans to sleep in…what, exactly? His mouth dried out. He’d never brought a woman home to sleep in his bed. The nice thing about willing women was that they were always willing to take him home to their houses. The upside to this was that he didn’t have to shoo anyone out of his house, didn’t have any messy reminders of the night before, such as makeup in the bathroom, earrings on the side table or perfume in his sheets.