Making A Texas Cowboy (Home at Last Texas #1)

Chapter Seven

W hen she’d made the impulsive invitation, Nic hadn’t really thought about all the ramifications. She’d just seen that too-thin little boy with the sad history light up when Joey had told him about her and what she did.

Maybe his sister would come with them. Then she remembered he’d said they’d used her car while she was working, and Joey had mentioned she was a teacher. She’d almost forgotten that, because inwardly, she’d been surprised that he hadn’t just rented some snazzy car while he was here. Or bought one outright. Another jab in the image she had of the Hollywood big shot.

The big chestnut she was working in the arena snorted and shook his head, as if he knew her mind was wandering. And he probably did; he was one of the most sensitive horses she’d ever worked with, and all it took was the slightest change in tension on the reins and he was alerted, waiting for a command. She made herself focus because this clever animal deserved her best. He was going to be an amazing show horse someday, had the potential to be the second coming of What A Wave, the horse that had won the world reining championship three years running. Wave’s rider might have been Belgian, but that horse was an all-American Quarter Horse. Just like this one. And their workout today did nothing to change her mind.

She was just finishing up grooming him when her father rode in at the end of the barn. And just like that she was back face-to-face with a task she dreaded. She had to tell Dad, who didn’t like Stonewall for the same reasons she didn’t, that the star of the thing was going to be dropping in on them tomorrow. And she didn’t know how to even bring it up.

Then her gut kicked out an answer. Tell him the same way it happened to you.

“How’d he do today?” Dad asked as he tied up Spike and began to unsaddle him.

“Great, as usual. He’s going to be really something.”

“Thanks to you.”

She laughed. “I think he’d be amazing for anyone. He’s just one of those great ones, Dad.”

“That’s my girl. Don’t take the credit, even when you should.”

She couldn’t deny the obvious pride in his voice warmed her. But she couldn’t let the wonderful feeling of it divert her.

“I met a little boy at the library this morning,” she began.

“Always nice to know kids still read,” he answered dryly, as he started to brush down Spike.

“This one does. But it was really sad. His mother was killed in a horrible car accident when he was only five, and apparently he’s never been the same since.”

Her father stopped his brushing and turned to look at her. “No wonder he got to you,” he said quietly, and she knew he was thinking of how close they’d come to being in the same boat. She’d been twenty, and just the thought of maybe losing Mom had darn near wiped her out.

“Yes, he did. I’ve never seen eyes so sad.” His father’s had been sad, too, but that had been nearly overshadowed by worry. “Anyway, he kind of lit up a little when Joey Highwater told him about our place, and that I train horses. So...”

A warm smiled flashed across her father’s face. “Let me guess. You invited him out here?”

She nodded. The smile was great, and she knew he meant it. At least he would until she told him the rest. “I did. How could I not, when it’s apparently the first thing that’s really interested him since his mother died, the idea of coming and meeting our horses? So he and... his father are coming tomorrow morning.”

“Good. But what’s the catch? I can see in your face there is one.”

She let out a long breath and her mouth quirked at one corner. “His father is Jackson Thorpe.”

Dad’s brow furrowed. “Jackson—Wait, the actor? Stars in that show they try to pass off as set here in the Hill Country?”

“With the snow-covered mountains in the background of the intro, yeah.”

Her father let out a disgusted snort. “Hollywood. Typical.”

“Yeah.”

She saw the moment when he got back to the matter at hand. “And he’s coming here?”

“His little boy is, Dad. He’s the reason. His father’s just... required to get him here.” She paused. “Actually, I was a little surprised he wanted to come along. Figured he’d send the kid off like it was summer camp. But he seems really, genuinely worried about him.”

“Not acting?”

“Not about this.” She said it with a certainty that surprised even herself. “I think he genuinely loves and is worried about his son. Besides, it’s Jeremy who matters, not who his father is.”

The smile he gave her then was such a potent combination of pride and love it made her throat tighten. “And that, my girl, you got from your mother.”

She smiled back at him. “The highest of compliments. Speaking of Mom, I suppose I’d better go tell her.”

Her father rolled his eyes. “Yes, do. I suspect you’ll make her day.”

“Why?”

“She won’t admit it, but she likes the guy. Or the character he plays, at least.” He frowned. “Speaking of which, why isn’t he back in Hollywood, playing?”

She hadn’t actually thought of that. “He must have taken time off. He can probably write his own ticket.”

“While they what, shut down production?”

“They must have other stuff they can do while he’s gone. He isn’t in every single scene, is he?”

Her father’s mouth quirked. “Ask your mother. She’s been watching it on the sly.”

Nic’s brows rose. Then she smiled. “Well, I may have to suspend my distaste, then.” She was all for anything her mother actually enjoyed, after the hell she’d been through.

When she went into the house, her mother was at her computer in the living room. When it had become obvious the wheelchair was going to be a permanent fixture, her father and Logan Fox, who apparently had many other hidden skills besides blacksmithing and horse whispering, had built a desk area for her in the corner of the living room, where she had more room to maneuver the chair. And as hard as it was not to constantly want to help, she and Dad had consulted the therapists and been told that unless she might be in danger of hurting herself, letting her handle as much as she could on her own was the best option.

It had worked, because now, besides the tutoring duties the former teacher still took on, Mom was the co-founder of a message board that connected thousands of wheelchair-using people around the world, to share stories, helpful hints, and hope. In her refusal to allow her accident to be the end of her productive life, Barbara Baylor was Nic’s greatest inspiration.

She was clearly in the middle of something, typing up a post or a response, so Nic went and got herself a Dr Pepper out of the fridge. Mom looked over her shoulder at her, and she held up the can with a questioning look. She got a smile and a “Yes, please, honey,” so she grabbed a second one.

By the time she got back across the room, Mom had finished the post and closed out the program. She spun the chair around to face her as she took the proffered can.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You may be thanking me for more,” Nic said with a warning grin.

Her mother’s brows rose. “What? Why?”

Nic sat down so they’d be eye to eye. “I understand you’ve become a Stonewall fan on the sly.”

Mom sighed. “Your father’s been complaining?”

“Not really complaining, just . . . mentioning.”

“Look, I know you don’t like the show, and the way it’s done, and I see your point.”

“My only point is saying it’s Texas doesn’t make it so.”

“I know that. But I enjoy it for the story, not the trappings. For the people.”

“Including the star?”

She nearly laughed when she saw the faint tinge of pink rise in her mother’s cheeks. “Well, even you can’t deny he’s an amazing-looking man. But that’s not why I like him. Did you know that after his wife was killed, he went back to the hospital that tried to save her and spent a lot of time personally thanking the staff? And the other person who was killed that night, the man in the car that was stolen? He set up a trust fund for his two children and never said a word about it until the man’s widow spoke up, months later.”

Nic was staring at her mother now, a little stunned.

“And then he came back to the hospital several times, going around and talking to patients, and their families, whoever was there. Brought attention to the needs of the hospital, which brought in donations. Along with what he gave them himself.”

She stared at her mother. “I... no, I didn’t know any of that.”

“One of the people in my online group met him that way while she was in the same hospital. He told her it was the only thing that helped, seeing people still fighting. And he came back several times to the children’s ward. With his little boy, hoping it would help him too.”

This was yet another puncture in her balloon of dislike, and it took her a moment to make herself focus on the reason she’d come in to see her mother. “Well, in that case, I have a surprise for you. He’s coming here.”

“To Texas?” Mom asked. “I’m not surprised he’s coming again.”

That interrupted Nic’s train of thought once more. “Again?”

“Well, yes, he’s been here a few times, I’ve read, to get the feel, he said. And his best friend, his stuntman, is from Fort Worth. He says he relies on him a lot.”

She was shaking her head with amusement now. “Any more star gossip you’d like to spill before I clarify what I meant?”

“Clarify?”

“He’s coming here , Mom. To the ranch.”

Her mother stared at her. “What?”

She drew in a breath and told the whole story again. And she saw the moment when her mother’s reaction changed from one of shock to one of sweet concern. “Oh, that poor child. That was a good thing you did, Nicky. I know you don’t like the man.”

Instead of repeating that it wasn’t the man, it was the misrepresenting of this state she so loved that she didn’t like, she repeated what she’d said to her father. “It’s Jeremy who matters, not who his father is.”

“And that’s the daughter I love,” her mother said with a warm smile.

And as she leaned over to hug her mother, all she could think of was the little boy who no longer could.