Page 63 of Any Cowboy of Mine
When Sophie sawMarge in the large window in the front of the house—her arms clasped to her body and her lips a thin, indiscernible line—her heart fluttered with nerves. This woman was all that stood between her and everything she’d ever wanted. Brad thought he meant what he said about being there for her no matter what happened between him and his mom, but Sophie knew firsthand how impossible it was to stay away from a parent, to have them torn from your life because of a third party.
Her dad had remarried right after his divorce from Sophie’s mom, and though they’d always been close, his new wife had never wanted kids of her own. She made it clear to Sophie’s dad this included stepchildren. Her dad walked away from Sophie without a second thought, and it had almost killed them both. Though it eventually wrecked her dad’s marriage and he reached out to Sophie again when the step-monster was out of the picture, her relationship with him never recovered. It was the only dark stain on Sophie’s otherwise joy-filled childhood.
That was why—if he and his mom couldn’t come to grips with this—she knew what she would have to do. Even if Brad still wanted her. It might come close to killing her like leaving her dad had, but over time, it would be better than Brad resenting her for coming between him and his mother, whether it had been her fault or not. It was also why she was so nervous. She didn’t have much faith that this conversation would make any headway, but she had to believe that morning wasn’t the last time she’d make love to the man she loved and would forever.
Brad put his hand over hers and squeezed. His wan smile matched how she felt; he wasn’t sure how this would go either. She squeezed back, appreciating Brad’s hand in hers. It was strong and capable—something her body knew all too well—and she wanted him to know she could match that strength when he needed it. This time when he smiled at her, it reached his eyes, and Sophie’s blood quickened. Damn, this guy could get to her with just a turn of his lips. Probably because she knew what those lips could do…
Her mind was somewhere less-than-appropriate when Brad led her up the steps to where his mother now stood on the porch. Sophie shook her head free from the thought of Brad’s lips on her breasts and smiled as politely as she could, hoping her flushed cheeks could be taken as chafed by the cold wind that wrapped around them.
“Mrs. Connors, it’s nice to see you again.”
“Hmmm.” Her lips were pursed into such a fine line, Sophie wasn’t sure the skin below her nose didn’t extend all the way to her chin. She reasoned that Marge could be pretty, sexy even, for an older woman, if only she didn’t look like she would scowl at a puppy taking a bath in a field of flowers.
“Mom, be polite.” Brad’s voice was serious. Sophie’d never heard him stand his ground, and somehow found him sexier than ever when he took charge. “I’d like to talk to you if you have a few minutes.”
“I was going to head down to the barn, work on the windows,” Marge said. “The winterizing is going bad on the two south facing panes.” She turned on her heels to go back inside, but Brad cut her off, not giving her the satisfaction of walking out on them.
“Good. I’ll grab Dad’s gloves and meet you down there,” he said. Marge looked visibly frustrated, but she nodded. Clearly, she’d expected him to ask to come back when she wasn’t so busy.
“Meet me down there, then,” Marge conceded, taking her coat from the stand by the door and turning back down the porch steps.
“Come with me,” Brad told Sophie as his mom walked the short path they’d just taken, turning off just before the garage down a separate path to the barn. “If I’m right, my dad will be making cookies in the kitchen, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a little help.”
“I’m more of a help making the dough disappear than anything else,” Sophie said. “Most of the baking I try to put in the oven comes out a darker shade of brown than I hoped.” Brad laughed.
“I think he makes double the recipe for just that reason.” Brad’s hand was still in hers, and Sophie couldn’t help but notice Marge glancing back from the barn entrance as Brad led her into his childhood kitchen. For a moment his mom didn’t look angry when she gazed at her son, just sad. Sophie recognized the look from the last time her dad had shown up unexpectedly at her office since he didn’t know where she lived. His eyes had sagged at the corners, his forehead lined with worry. It was the same way Marge watched Brad, and it tugged at Sophie’s heart, knowing the woman wasn’t just a tall, sinewy ball of anger.
At her core, she was just a mother who wanted the best for her son. Even if her actions were a bit misguided.
Inside the front door was an entryway that was grander than Sophie expected from the modest brown siding. White wainscoting lined the vaulted ceiling, leading to soft green walls that Sophie loved the moment she saw them. Especially because covering each inch of them, in a train that wound up the stairs to the right of the front door, were photos of Brad and his sister, Paige. She looked exactly the same, only the stunning, wild woman Sophie met at the wedding was a more grown-up version. She paused at the photos, taking her time with each sliver of Brad’s history.
He let her hand go and kissed her cheek tenderly.
“I’ll let my dad know you’ll be in to help him in a bit. Take your time, but no judgment, Kellerman. There was an 80’s hair band phase I’m not particularly proud of but that my mom refuses to take down.”
Sophie nodded, mesmerized. She barely registered the front door as it opened behind Brad, or the cold burst of air he let in as he went to find his mom.
Instead, she focused on a little blond boy with long hair that cascaded down his neck in a torrent of ringlets, with dimples she wished she could reach through the glass and pinch. She watched him grow into a teenager with only a little bit of a wave in his hair, the dimples gone, but replaced with a sly smile that told anyone looking he would be a force to be reckoned with. In those photos, Sophie saw a bit of the hair band phase Brad had alluded to, but instead of wanting to tease him for his outdated look, she found a glimpse of the young man she’d met and fallen for in college.
Sophie also watched as Paige, Brad’s sister, grew into the woman she’d met and admired at the wedding. In the photos of them as children, Paige’s eyes and hair were wild and unruly, no glimpse of the successful pediatrician she would one day become. Every strand of her then-blonde hair stood ramrod straight, up on its ends like she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket. Her eyes said she was up to mischief, and the dirt and grass littering the nest of hair told where.
Sophie figured that Paige’s travels as a college student had led to her wanting to work as a physician for Doctors Without Borders after med school, a way she could tame her bohemian spirit enough to pursue her life’s dream while maintaining a little of the gypsy she’d once been. According to Brad, when she’d come home after her four-year stint in Africa, followed by another in Turks and Caicos, she’d met their parents’ neighbor, a former Marine, and fallen in love with him, despite her promise to herself to never, ever come back to Banberry. Paige was proof that people could change, and in doing so, change their circumstances.
Seeing the two siblings mature before her eyes gave Sophie a new appreciation for what the Connors had gone through, what bonded them together. She wondered how Brad’s talk with his mom was going when she felt a presence behind her. Somehow in her reverie, Sophie had missed Alan’s approach, not to mention the aromatic sugary air that emanated from the kitchen in his wake. It smelled like a patisserie.
“He wasn’t always the handsome lady killer he is today, was he?” Alan chuckled, his portly belly shaking with his shoulders. Sophie loved that he laughed with his whole body.
“Oh, I don’t know, Alan,” Sophie retorted, “he looks pretty dapper in this sailor’s outfit.” Sophie pointed to a photo where Brad couldn’t have been more than six, a surly look on his face, his sailor whites highlighting his pale complexion and soft, blond hair.
“That’s one of Marge’s ideas. Never mind that the nearest ocean is hundreds of miles away, she saw it in a catalog and just had to do it. That woman is stubborn, to say the least.”
“I’ve seen evidence of that,” Sophie said, shoving her hands in her front pockets and rocking back on her heels.
“Oh, honey, you haven’t seen anything yet. When she’s on your side, you appreciate her formidable strength. It moves mountains. But don’t you mind her. Marge’ll come around when she realizes that Brad means business this time. The only thing she worries about more than losing her friends, is her family. I’ve warned her what she stands to lose.”
Sophie turned to face Alan, whose nose was almost up against the pane of glass, his face covering an adorable photo of the whole Connors clan in matching red Christmas sweaters.
“This gem was my mistake,” Alan said softly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Those damn sweaters were itchy and hot as the devil’s toilet. But doesn’t she look happy?” Sophie had to admit the smile Marge wore fit her face perfectly. She didn’t add that the woman should wear it more frequently. She had the feeling Alan already knew.
