The Boss, the Bride & the Baby

He didn’t have time for reminiscing, especially when some thoughts were so bittersweet they could make a grown man actually choke up like a little boy. Yet as he walked through the house, assessing the work that needed to be done, the still-lingering scents of lemon oil and Granny’s trademark lavender hand lotion assailed him in every room. So it was nearly impossible to escape the memories.

But he wouldn’t allow himself to lollygag in the past. He had too much to do, and he was determined to get the hell out of Dodge, so to speak, as quickly as he could. In the meantime, he’d set up a home office to work remotely. The corporate world didn’t stop spinning just because he had to handle some family business.

He would have to hire a couple of extra ranch hands to help Ian, the foreman, get things done. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have to work along with them. He didn’t mind the physical labor. It actually drew him back to the time when his great-grandma was still alive, when he was a boy who loved to ride the fence line with the cowboys who’d worked on the Leaning R.

Too bad Granny wasn’t here to fix him silver-dollar pancakes for breakfast or to tell him about more of Grandpa Dave’s escapades.

He glanced at the faded blue wallpaper with pictures of straw baskets holding wildflowers. Now yellowed with age, the colors had once brightened Granny’s kitchen.

Damn, but he missed that sweet old woman. She’d been the closest thing to a mother he’d ever had.

The coffeepot gurgled, and he took one last sip of his morning brew before dumping the remainder in the sink. It wasn’t Starbucks, but at least it was caffeine.

He glanced at the cat-shaped clock on wall, its drooping black tail swishing back and forth with each tick-tock. Time to get moving. He had a lot to accomplish today.

Headlights flashed through the kitchen window, and tires crunched on the gravel drive as a vehicle pulled into the yard and parked. He wasn’t expecting anyone this early, but it wasn’t as if this was the Wild West and he needed to protect his homestead.

Looking out the kitchen window, he watched a woman climb from the small pickup, her hair pulled into a topknot. Instead of heading for the front door, she went straight for the back entrance—just as though she owned the place.

Carly?

His half sister had said she’d come out and help him inventory the household furnishings for an estate sale—the most difficult part of the job, which he had yet to face. But he hadn’t been expecting her until tomorrow. What was she doing here now—and at the crack of dawn? She’d never been an early riser, at least not that he could recall.

Jason was already in the mudroom when the door swung open and Carly stepped inside.

“This is a surprise,” he said. “You’re a day early. Want some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I can’t stay.”

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I just got offered a singing gig—an important one—and I have to leave town for a few weeks. But I wanted to let you know that there are some boxes in the attic that Granny was keeping for me. I don’t want you to throw them out or sell them. That’s why I agreed to help you inventory things, especially since I think you’re being way too hasty in selling the ranch.”

He knew how she felt. But it made no sense to keep the Leaning R going when there was no way the three of them could work together. And he had enough on his plate already.

“You could let Braden run things,” she added.

Hell, he and Braden rarely spoke. How in the world were they supposed to be business partners? That was one reason he was in a hurry to get the estate settled—so the three half siblings could each go their own ways. Not that he wouldn’t keep in touch with Carly. But with her heart set on singing and acting, that just went to show that they had nothing in common except the DNA they’d inherited from their old man.

“I also have some things to drop off for Braden,” Carly added, “but since he’s not home, I’m going to leave them here for him to pick up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Braden asked a friend to drop off some stuff with me. I’ve had it a week, but I’m leaving and already gave notice at my place. So I don’t want him to worry about where it is if he needs it.”

Jason kept in closer contact with Carly than he did their half brother. When they’d been kids, Jason had blamed Braden for the divorce that had sent his mom into an emotional tailspin. Of course, as he grew older, he realized Braden had been as much a victim as he’d been. But you couldn’t fix a relationship that had never really developed.

“Slow down,” Jason said. “Where is Braden?”

“I’m not sure. I think he’s in Mexico. It was all pretty cryptic. His friend pretty much just dropped the painting off, along with a couple of boxes. He said it was important that I keep it for him.”

“Why can’t you leave it at Braden’s ranch?”

“There must be a reason why he wanted me to hang on to it. Braden’s supposed to explain more when he comes to pick it up. He said he’d owe me one—but now he’ll owe you.”

Jason was about to object, but it wouldn’t hurt to have his half brother indebted to him, even if none of this made any sense. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

“As soon as he can, apparently. A few weeks at the most.”

“What the hell? I want to get this property listed for sale. I can’t be away from my office while you and Braden are out traipsing around and going on with your lives. It’s not fair. And who’s going to help me pack up all this stuff?”

She blew out a ragged breath. “Talking to you is just like talking to Dad. I knew you’d never understand.”

Her words struck like the flat of a hand against his cheek. For as long as Jason could remember, he’d been trying to win his dad’s approval, by following in his footsteps, by attending the same college, becoming a business major, starting his own company. Yet he’d never meant to become a carbon copy of the man.

“Try me,” he said.

She merely rolled her eyes—big and blue, just like her mother’s.

Jason didn’t blame her for being skeptical. He and Carly had never been particularly close. For one reason, at twenty-four, she was six years younger than he was. She’d also been into music and the arts, while he’d been more interested in sports and, later, getting his MBA.

But since the three half siblings would have to compromise during the division of the estate, a task that seemed nearly impossible considering they couldn’t figure out a way to be in town at the same time, it was imperative that they learn to find some kind of common ground.

“Tell me about your singing gig,” he said.

She unfolded her arms and cocked her head slightly to the side, studying him as though she’d never met him before. Then she slipped her thumbs into the front pockets of her jeans, rocked forward and smiled. “I’m starring in a nightclub near the Riverwalk. It’s a six-week run, but it could work into something bigger—better.”

She made it sound as if she’d been asked to star on Broadway.

So what would it hurt for him to pretend that she had?

“That’s great, Carly. I hope things work out for you.”

She paused a beat, then tucked a loose blond curl behind her ear. “So you’re not going to fight me about storing Braden’s stuff while he’s gone?”

He hoped that didn’t mean holding off the sale longer than he’d planned, but if he really thought about it, his relationship with his half brother was in far more need of repair than his and Carly’s. And if that meant doing Braden this favor now, then how could he refuse?

“Can you stick around until I find someone else to help me go through the household items?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not. I start tonight, and I have to get back to San Antonio for a wardrobe check this afternoon. It’s a long drive.”

Crap. How was he supposed to go through the house on his own, plus supervise the ranch work—and hold down the fort at Rayburn Energy, as well as Rayburn Enterprises, without help?

Besides, he’d been hoping Carly would agree to go through the household items. It was hard for him to do it. Everything he saw, everything he touched, reminded him of Granny, and...well, it was hard. Damn hard. And Carly would know better than he would what should be kept and what should be tossed or sold.

“I’m going to have to find someone to help,” he said. “And quickly. If they can live in, then all the better.”

A slow grin stretched across Carly’s face, and he was struck by how pretty she was, even without any makeup. She’d always favored her mother, a popular country-and-western music star and who’d retired recently to marry a state politician. But he hadn’t realized how much until now.