Or could she?
* * *
Three days later she was released from the hospital and reunited with her family. Joshua was healthy again, and it felt good to hold him in her arms, to smell his baby-clean scent. Juanita was in her element, fussing and clucking over Randi and the baby, generally bossing her brothers around and running the house.
Larry Todd seemed to have forgiven Randi for letting him go, though he insisted on a signed contract for his work, and even Bill Withers, after hearing of the accident, had agreed to allow Randi to write her column from Montana. “Just don’t let it get out,” he said over the phone. “People around here might get the idea that I’m a softie.”
“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it if I were you,” Randi said before hanging up and deciding to tackle her oldest brother. She checked on the baby and found him sleeping in his crib, then, with her arm in a sling, made her way downstairs. The smells of chocolate and maple wafted from the kitchen where Juanita was baking.
Though Slade and Matt were nowhere to be found, she located Thorne at his desk in the den. He sat at his computer, a neglected cup of coffee at his side. No doubt he was working on some corporate buyout, a lawsuit, the ever-changing plans for his house, or concocting some new way to make his next million. Randi didn’t care what he was doing. He could damn well be interrupted.
“I heard you gave Striker a bad time.” She was on pain medication but was steady enough on her feet to loom above the desk in her bathrobe and slippers.
Thorne looked up at her and smiled. “You heard right.”
“Blamed him for what happened to me and Joshua.”
“I might have come down on him a little hard,” her brother admitted with uncharacteristic equanimity.
“You had no right, you know. He did his best.”
“And it wasn’t good enough. You were nearly killed. So was Joshua.”
“We survived. Because of Kurt.”
A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “I figured that out.”
“You did?”
“Yep.” He reached into his drawer and held out two pieces of a torn check. “Striker wouldn’t accept any payment. He felt bad about what happened.”
“And you made it worse.”
“Nah.” He leaned back in the desk chair until it squeaked and tented his hands as he looked up at her. “Well, okay, I did, but I changed my mind.”
“What good does that do?”
“A lot,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re up to something.”
“Making amends.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“I don’t think so.” He glanced to the window and Randi heard it then, the rumble of an engine. “Looks like our brothers are back.”
“They’ve been away?”
“Mmm. Come on.” He climbed out of his desk chair and walked with her to the front door. She looked out the window and saw Matt and Slade climb out of a Jeep. But there was another man with them and in a pulse beat she recognized Kurt. Her heart nearly jumped from her chest and she threw open the door, nearly tripping on Harold as she raced across the porch.
“Wait!” Thorne cried, but she was already running along the path beaten in the snow, her slippers little protection, her robe billowing in the cold winter air.
“Kurt!” she yelled, and only then noticed the eyepatch. He turned and a smile split his square jaw. Without thinking, she flung herself into his arms. “God, I missed you,” she whispered and felt tears stream from her eyes. His face was bruised, his good eye slightly swollen. “Why did you leave?”
“I thought it was best.” His voice was husky. Raw. The arm around her strong and steady.
“Then you thought wrong.” She kissed him hard and felt his mouth mold to hers, his body flex against her.
When he finally lifted his head, he was smiling. “That’s what your brothers said.” He glanced up at Thorne who had followed Randi outside. He stiffened slightly.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Thorne said. “I made a mistake.”
“What? You’re actually apologizing?” Randi, still in Kurt’s arms, looked over her shoulder. “This,” she said to Kurt, “is a red-letter day. Thorne McCafferty never, and I mean, never, admits he’s wrong.”
“Amen,” Matt said.
“Right on,” Slade agreed.
Thorne’s jaw clenched. “Will you stay?” he asked Striker.
“I’ll see. Give me a second, will you.” He looked at all the brothers, who suddenly found reasons to retreat to the house. “It’s freezing out here and you’re hurt...” He touched her wrist. “So I’ll keep this simple. Randi McCafferty, will you marry me?”
“Wh-what?”
“I mean it. Ever since I met you...and that kid of yours, life hasn’t been the same.”
“I can’t believe this,” she said breathlessly.
“Do. Believe, Randi.”
Her heart squeezed. Fresh tears streamed from her eyes.
“Marry me.”
“Yes. Yes! Yes!” She threw her good arm around his neck and silently swore she’d never let go.
Epilogue
“I do,” Randi said as she stood beneath an arbor of roses. Kurt was with her, the preacher was saying the final words and Kelly was holding Joshua as Randi’s brothers stood next to Kurt and her sisters-in-law surrounded her. The backyard of the ranch was filled with guests and the summer sun cast golden rays across the acres of land.
It had been over a year since John Randall had passed on. The new stable was finished, if not painted, and Thorne and his family had moved into their house. Both Nicole and Kelly were nearly at term in the pregnancies.
“I give to you Mr. and Mrs. Kurt Striker...” The preacher’s final words echoed across the acres and somewhere from Big Meadow a horse let out a loud nicker.
Randi gazed up at her bridegroom and her heart swelled. He had healed from the accident, only a small scar near one eye reminding her that his peripheral vision had been compromised.
Both Patsy and Sam Donahue had been tried and convicted and were serving time. Sam had agreed to give up all parental rights and Kurt was working with an attorney to legally adopt Joshua.
They lived here at the ranch house and Randi was able to keep working, though Kurt thought she should give up her column entitled “Solo” and start writing for young marrieds.
“Toast!” Matt cried as she and Kurt walked toward the table where a sweating ice sculpture of two running horses was melting and pink champagne bubbled from a fountain.
“To the newlyweds,” Thorne said.
Randi smiled and fingered the locket at her throat. Once it had held a picture of her father and son. Now John Randall had been replaced by a small snapshot of her husband.
“To my wife,” Kurt said, and touched the rim of his glass to hers.
“And my husband.”
She swallowed a glass of champagne and greeted their guests. Never had she felt such joy. Never had she felt so complete. She held her son and danced on a makeshift floor as the band began to play and shadows began to crawl across the vast acres of the Flying M.
“I love you,” Kurt whispered to her and she laughed.
“You’d better! Forever!”
“That’s an awful long time.”
“I know. Isn’t it wonderful?” she teased.
“The best.” He kissed her and held her for a long minute, then they walked through the guests and she saw her brothers with their wives... Finally all of the McCafferty children were married. As John Randall McCafferty had wanted. More grandchildren were on the way.
She could almost hear her father saying to her, “Good goin’, Randi girl. About time you tied the knot.”
As she danced with her new husband, she could feel her father’s presence and she didn’t doubt for a second that had he been here, the old man would’ve been proud.
Another generation of McCaffertys was on its way.
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781460300404
Copyright © 2013 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holder of the individual works as follows:
THE McCAFFERTYS: SLADE
Copyright © 2002 by Susan Crose
THE McCAFFERTYS: RANDI
First published in 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited under the title BEST-KEPT LIES
Copyright © 2004 by Susan Lisa Jackson
Reissued April 2007
This edition published January 2013
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Lisa Jackson, Disclosure: The McCaffertys
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