"And what have you done about Reid? Anything yet?"
"No. We haven't really had a chance to talk yet. Hopefully at some point today."
But that some point never came around. She hung out with the women until dinner was served. Which, by the way, was amazing. The ribs were sweet and tender and probably the most amazing food she'd ever had. Everyone had brought side dishes, so she had her fill of various types of salad, along with corn on the cob and beans and rolls, and she was so stuffed she didn't think she could eat dessert.
Until she spotted the dessert table filled with her favorites. Not only the things Megan had brought, which she knew would be melt-in-your-mouth incredible, but old-time favorites like hummingbird cake and chocolate sheet cake. Of course she had to have small pieces of each of those. And then Megan had made chocolate chip mini muffins that Sam could swear were made of butterflies, unicorns, and angels. They melted in her mouth and were so good she wanted to weep with joy.
When she finally got up to help clear plates and put dishes back into the refrigerator, she was so full she wanted to die.
But she was happy to see her grandmother in there covering dishes with foil. Grammy Claire liked to stay active and feel like she served a purpose. Sam sent a very grateful smile over to Martha for allowing her grandmother to help out in the kitchen.
Martha came over to hug her. "How was dinner?"
"I don't think I'll be able to eat for a week."
Martha laughed. "I feel the same way. Those boys know how to grill ribs, that's for sure."
"Not just the ribs, but everything else, too." Sam gave Martha a squeeze. "Thanks for looking out for Grammy Claire."
"It was my pleasure. She's told us all a lot of stories today about the early days in Hope. Did you know my great-grandmother was her high school music teacher?"
"I didn't know that."
"Yes. We've had fun talking about that."
"How was she today?--you know." Sam wasn't sure how to reference her grandmother's possible illness, but she had mentioned her grandmother's medical issues to Martha, and she knew Martha understood.
"She was fine. I didn't notice any memory lapses. She seemed sharp as a tack to me today, honey."
Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
"Hey, y'all," Reid said, popping his head in. "Logan wants everyone outside. They're going to start the bonfire."
"We'll be right out."
Grammy Claire and some of her friends decided it was too chilly to go outside for the bonfire, so Sam made sure they were settled in the living room with their card games and the television.
"Are you doing okay?" she asked her grandmother. "If you're tired, we can go home."
Her grandmother waved a hand at her. "Go have fun with the other young people, Samantha. Quit fussing over me. We're all fine here."
"Okay." She kissed her grandmother's cheek and headed outside.
There was a giant woodpile in the dirt, and several of the guys had started the fire. It had already gotten dark and Sam was glad she'd grabbed her hooded sweatshirt. Though the day had been warm, fall in Oklahoma meant cooler nights.
Perfect time for a bonfire.
Sam mingled with the crowd, finding Megan standing among Molly and Chelsea and Jane, who'd finally shown up with Will and their kids.
She snuggled in next to Megan. "I'm cold."
"Me, too," Megan said.
"You both need hot man bodies to keep you warm," Jane said, leaning against Will.
"Oh sure, rub it in, why don't you?" Megan said.
"And yet my hot man is at the edge of the bonfire playing caveman with the other boys," Chelsea said.
"You can come snuggle with us."
"Thanks, Sam." Chelsea inched over to Sam's open side.
Now Sam was definitely a lot warmer.
The fire licked higher and higher, consuming the giant woodpile. Soon the chill left the air and everyone settled into the chairs they'd dragged near the fire.
Logan and Luke brought out more coolers, a couple of the ranch hands following with boxes of glasses. The coolers were filled with . . .
Champagne?
"What's that all about?" Megan asked.
"I have no idea," Sam said.
Logan stood on one of the picnic tables. "Hey, everyone, if I could have your attention for a minute. I have an announcement to make."
The crowd hushed.
Logan looked down at Des. "I'm not a big speech maker, but those of you who know Des and me know that love and family means everything to us. That being said, I wanted to announce to all of you that my beautiful wife, Des, and I are going to have a baby."
"Oh, wow," Sam said, grinning widely and standing and clapping with everyone else.
Cheers went out, and everyone started to move forward.
But Logan put his hand up. "Hang on, hang on. I appreciate the congrats, but my brother has something he wants to say."
Logan jumped off the table, dragged Des into his arms, and planted a kiss on her that made Sam's stomach tumble.
So. Sweet.
Then Luke hopped up on the table.
"Like my brother, I'm not into speeches, and I sure didn't want to steal his and Des's thunder tonight, but timing being what it is, well . . ."
Luke looked down at Emma, who smiled up at him.
"Just say it, Luke," Des said, grinning.
"Well, it looks like there's going to be more than one McCormack baby coming. Emma and I are pregnant. Well, she's pregnant."
"Oh. My. God," Megan said, turning her wide-eyed gaze to Sam.
"I know," Sam said, unable to believe two of her good friends were both pregnant. At the same time. Tears of joy welled in her eyes and she fought them back.
The crowd went crazy with cheers and applause. Luke jumped down off the table and kissed Emma, and everyone made their way to the couple to congratulate them, including Sam and Megan.
Sam waited patiently, not wanting to crowd them. She caught a glimpse of Reid grinning and hugging both of his brothers, and then Des and Emma. Martha was out there crying, and even Ben had tears in his eyes.
Sam finally made her way to Des and Emma and pulled them both into a hug.
"You didn't tell me. You didn't tell any of us."
Emma shook her head. "We didn't."
"I could have sworn I saw you drinking wine the night of the dinner party, Emma."
"It was sparkling cider," Emma said.
Sam laughed. "You keep good secrets."
"I do."
"So did you two plan this?"
"No," Emma said. "I'm three months. I wanted to wait to get past my first trimester before I told anyone. Well, Molly and Mom knew, and, of course, Luke, but no one else. And then I noticed Des wasn't drinking wine the night of her party, so I suspected . . ."
Des nodded. "And she came out and asked me. And I was a little nauseous, so I told her I was. And then she told me she was, too. We're due like two weeks apart."
"That is amazing. I am so happy for both of you. We have so much to talk about, but I know so many people want to talk to you right now." She squeezed their hands, then eased out of the way so Megan could hug them.
Sam had never been more excited. Two McCormack babies.
She turned around and saw Reid standing off to the side. He looked just as shocked as the rest of them, so it was obvious he hadn't known ahead of time.
And then she saw him take a deep breath and let it out.
Was that a sigh of relief, or a deep breath of disappointment?
Sam intended to find out.
She walked over to him, slid her hand in his.
"How about a walk away from all these people?"
He looked down where their hands were joined, then back up at her. "Sure."
Chapter 23
REID WAS STUNNED. Floored. Shocked. Pretty goddamned stupefied. And all those other words he could add in, but just couldn't come up with any more at the moment.
Both
his brothers were going to be fathers. He was going to be an uncle--times two. That was . . .
"So I saw that deep breath you took," Sam said as they walked down the dark path toward the back of the house.
He hadn't even had time to process this yet. "Yeah."
She stopped and turned to him. "Are you upset? About the babies?"
He frowned. "Upset? Hell no. Why would I be?"
"I don't know. I just thought maybe because both of your brothers having babies at the same time . . ."
"Oh, you thought I'd feel like I was being left behind?"
"Maybe something like that."
One of the things he liked most about Sam was that she was very perceptive. Out of all that chaos tonight, she'd noticed him, when he should have been the last person she was paying attention to. He knew both Emma and Des were good friends of hers, so she should have flung herself into that melee of joy and congratulations. Instead, she'd noticed him breathing.
"No, that wasn't at all what I was feeling."
She cocked her head to the side, her ponytail swaying with the motion. "So maybe a little . . . relief?"
Huh. Nailed it. "Maybe."
Instead of recriminations, she put her arm in his and continued walking. "Takes a little pressure off you to produce little McCormacks and continue the family line, huh?"
She read him well. Maybe a little too well. "I think Logan and Luke have the little McCormacks handled for a while."
Or maybe forever.
She stopped again. "Do you want kids?"
"I don't know. Never thought about it."
She gave him a don't-bullshit-me look. "And yet there was that sigh of relief, Reid."
"Okay, maybe I've thought more about not having them than having them. Not that I don't like kids. I do."
"You just like other people's kids?"
He laughed. "Something like that."
They walked again, and got farther away from the party. It was quieter out here, where you could hear the wind whistle through the trees.
"What about you?" he asked.
"What about me?"
"Do you want kids?"
She didn't hesitate, just shrugged. "I've never been one to worry about my biological clock ticking, or have a timeline to get married or whatever it is that some women do in order to have a child. I can't say I've ever had a burning desire to be a parent. But, like you, I really love kids."
Now it was his turn to stop their forward motion. "That was incredibly honest."
"No reason not to be, is there? I don't think my desire to have or not have kids is some deep dark secret I need to hold on to."
"I guess not. Though you'd be surprised how many women have asked me on a first date how many kids I want to have."
She laughed. "No, I wouldn't be surprised. I've known a few women who, instead of being happy to find a man to have deep conversations with, a man who can make them laugh and make their toes curl and whose kisses set their hair on fire, search out someone they think will make the best babies. As if that's the criteria to find the love of your life."
He stared at her.
She laughed. "What?"
"That's pretty deep, Sam."
She shoved at him. "It is not. It's simply logic. Sort of. You either want children or you don't, and I hardly think that's anyone's business on the first date anyway. And if a guy asks me, I give him an honest answer--I don't know. Because right now I don't. Maybe someday. But right now? I don't know."
A gust of wind blew up, and scattered pieces of her hair pulled loose from her ponytail, whipping across her face. He tucked those hairs behind her ears, then left his hands there, framing her face. It felt right touching her like this, as if this was something he should have been doing for the past few days.
He realized now that he'd missed touching her. "It's a good answer."
"Well, thanks." She grasped hold of his wrists, and his pulse rate shot up.
Which made him want to kiss her.
So he did. His mouth lashed across hers, her kiss grabbing him in a fierce hold that flew through him as furious as the wind whipping around them. She clung to him, and he tugged her against him, his arms coming around her to bring his body closer, to feel the heat that seemed to come off of her in waves as he deepened the kiss.
He wished they were alone so he could peel off her clothes and kiss her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. But they were standing outside in his backyard, and he was getting hard as he kissed her, and out front were over a hundred people.
Time to back this up.
He licked her bottom lip and pulled back. "Remember when I told you that I could take you someplace remote here on the ranch?"
She looked at him, her eyes glazed over with passion he wanted desperately to tap into. "Yes."
"Let's go."
She shook her head. "I can't. I have Grammy Claire here with me and I need to take her home."
"Okay. Let's take Grammy Claire home. Then I'll bring you back here."
"Really. You'd drive all the way home with me and back."
He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Yes."
"Is this just to scratch an itch?"
He frowned. "What?"
"You and me. Is it just sex?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Sam." Sex and scratching itches? What the hell was this all about?
"I think you do."
Whatever it was that had fueled up hotter and higher than the bonfire abruptly fizzled out and confusion took over. "No, I don't. But maybe you can explain it to me."
"Well, we had a really great time that night we spent together. Then . . . nothing. And now here we are again. So I want to know if I'm just an itch you're scratching."
Maybe it was the beers he'd had, but he didn't think so, because he'd stopped drinking beer hours ago, and maybe it was just him being obtuse, but he liked having a clear head, especially as it related to women and sex. He didn't want any misunderstandings between Sam and him.
"I'm going to be honest with you here and tell you I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."
"Sex, Reid. I'm talking about sex. And you and me."
"Okay. I like the topic of you and me and sex. I can get behind that. Isn't that what we're talking about doing?"
"Yes. I guess I want to know if there's more than that between us."
He took in a deep breath. "I can't offer you more."
He saw the disappointment on her face, and it sent a deep shot right to his gut.
"I need to go take my grandmother home. Good night, Reid."
She turned to walk away, but he grasped her wrist. "Sam, wait. Let's talk about this."
"Some other time, okay? I'm tired."
He let her hand slip through his fingers and he watched her walk away, desire evaporating in the wind and confusion taking its place.
What the hell had just happened? He'd hurt her. He had seen that, but he wasn't sure how or why. Had she wanted more than just sex? He wished he could offer her more, but right now it was all he could give her.
Dammit, he hated seeing that hurt look on Sam's face, hated even more knowing he'd been the one to put it there.
But he needed to give her some space right now. And maybe give himself some as well.
Then he'd talk to her again.
SAM WOUND HER way around the side of the house. The bonfire was still going strong, and several people were still sitting there, partying hard. But most of the folks had packed up to go home.
She went into the house and found her grandmother sitting with two other women watching television.
"I'm ready to go home, Grammy Claire. How about you?"
Her grandmother looked up at her. "Of course. Whenever you're ready."
"I'll come get you in a few minutes. Let me go say my good-byes."
She went outside and found Des and Emma and hugged them, congratulating them again, as well as Logan and Luke, and thanked them for the barbecue. She didn't see Reid,
so she made her way into the house, grabbed the things she'd brought and bagged those up and put them in her car, then helped her grandmother out and put her in her seat.
She climbed in and backed out onto the road.
"Did you have a good time tonight?" Grammy Claire asked.
"I did. How about you?"
"I had a wonderful time. I can't wait to go home and tell Bob all about it."
Bob. Grammy Claire's husband, who had died two years ago.
Oh, damn.
Chapter 24
SWIPING THE SWEAT from his face with his shirtsleeve, Reid wished for that cold front the weather forecasters kept promising. He was working on the third floor today, and it was so hot up there it felt like he'd stepped into hell.
"You don't have to be up here," Deacon said as he and his team laid the tile in the upstairs bathrooms. "We've got this handled."
Reid shot him a glare. "I told you when we started this project that I was going to be hands-on. This is me, with my hands on the goddamn floor."
Deacon grinned at him. "I can tell you need to get laid. You're grouchy as hell, man."
"Screw you, Deacon."
Deacon straightened. "I don't think I'm the one you need to be screwing."
Reid couldn't help but laugh. "We need a break. How about a cold drink?"
"Sounds good."
Deacon told the crew to take a break as well. They walked down the stairs, and Reid and Deacon took up a spot on the front porch, where Not My Dog was snoozing.
"That dog is going to end up taking up permanent residence on this front porch. He's become a fixture here."
Reid nodded and unscrewed the cap on the jug of water he'd brought, quickly downing half the contents. After a satisfied sigh, he said, "People bring him bones and toys, too. He's even got a favorite blanket now. They're spoiling him. Which is why he likes the porch. He knows a good thing when he's got one."
Deacon rubbed Not My Dog's ears. "Smart dog."
The dog snorted, then rolled over on his back for Deacon to rub his belly.
"He's a master manipulator," Reid said. "He's even got you trained."
"Hey, he's cute. It works."
Reid rolled his eyes and took another couple swallows of water. "Third floor's coming along."
"Yeah. Framing is finished. Bathrooms up there should be done by the end of the week. Then we should be able to start laying flooring."
"The tiles look good," Reid said. "Sinks and fixtures should be in this afternoon."
"Okay."
One of the laborers came over to ask Deacon a question, so he wandered inside, leaving Reid sitting on the stairs with the dog. He decided to take another couple minutes to enjoy the slight breeze.