The Texan's Little Secret

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_48c880dc-4040-592e-8da4-9c1e53239b49)

It didn’t take Carly Baron long to figure out coming home to the Roughneck just might have been the worst decision she had ever made.

Every minute she stayed on the ranch, every second spent in her family’s farm store, every moment anywhere near her dad pushed her closer to a confrontation with his ranch manager, the one man she never wanted to see again.

At the worktable in the back room of the Peach Pit, her thoughts shifted from the images she’d rather forget to the cartons she was filling with jars of preserves. She’d spent days out here at the store helping with new orders and most of this afternoon lending a hand to package them up. Finished with the final carton, she slapped the top of the box. “That ought to get these to their destination in good shape.”

“I can’t believe we’re finally done,” her older sister Savannah said. “I owe you, Carly. I’ve been so wrapped up in day-to-day business lately, I let the plans for expansion slide. That was a brilliant idea of yours for the targeted ad. This was my biggest order yet.”

“No big deal.” Carly shrugged. “Marketing 101. I need to get some use out of my degree. Selling Western wear wasn’t exactly part of my five-year plan when I got out of college. And I’m glad you stuck to your guns about the store.” The Peach Pit offered fresh produce and baked goods made from peaches and pecans grown on their farm, part of the Baron family’s ranch.

Turning the small roadside stand into a full-fledged store had been Savannah’s idea, one she had managed to implement and keep going despite resistance from their dad. Brock Baron never liked the thought of sinking capital into any endeavor he didn’t control himself. His focus was—and always would be—on their North Texas ranch and on Baron Energies, the oil company he ran from the executive offices in a downtown Dallas high-rise.

“Daddy’s got to see that this farm store’s a little gold mine,” she assured Savannah.

“Well, it’s nowhere near there, yet. But it has the potential. Thanks to the ads, we’ve now got almost more orders than we can handle.”

Carly put the tape dispenser back into its spot on the shelf and rested her hips against the worktable. “Speaking of orders, it’s probably time for me to head back to the house to get mine.”

Savannah shook her head. “And I’m sure Dad will have an entire list. You know we were all thrilled to have you come to visit a couple of months ago when Lizzie was in the hospital. But I’ll confess we were overjoyed when you decided to come back again to stay for a while.”

“I’ll bet.” Unwilling to think about her reasons for not returning to the ranch, Carly focused on what had finally brought her home—she was here to play nursemaid.

Seventy years old and as bullheaded as ever, Brock Baron also couldn’t accept that the time had come for him to give up rodeoing and just let his kids continue to carry on the family tradition. His last seniors’ event had left him with a broken leg and more aches and pains than he would ever admit to. Now, his enforced inaction was giving everyone else major headaches. “He was driving y’all nuts from the beginning, I’m sure.”

“Oh, that’s an understatement. Lucky for us, you’ve always been able to stand up to him.”

“Another understatement.” She’d be the first to acknowledge she had more than a little of their dad’s hardheadedness in her.

They both laughed.

“Really, though,” Savannah said. “How are you holding up?”

“Just fine. But I have to say, now that Daddy’s reached the point he can get around by himself in that wheelchair, it’s nerve-racking. I can never tell where and when he’ll turn up in the house.”

“Trust me, I know. It’s only the fact he can’t travel too far with it that’s keeping me safe here at the store.”

They smiled at each other.

Carly pushed away from the workbench, and Savannah reached out, surprising her with a hug. Her next-to-oldest sister had always been the quietest of the three girls in the Baron family.

“As much as I appreciate all your help this week,” Savannah said, “I’m even happier just to have your company.”

“Same here.” To her surprise, she meant it. With a family of six kids, four of Brock’s own and two stepsons, she had grown up lost in the middle of the crowd. Somehow, she had felt cut off from her sisters long before she’d left the Roughneck for college. With another young stepson of Brock’s added to the mix shortly after that, the situation hadn’t improved at all.

She still sometimes felt lost around the family but, on her past few visits, she had enjoyed spending more time with Savannah. “It’s my pleasure to help you out here.” She shook her head and laughed. “I need to do some manual labor. Sitting around the house is turning me soft. I can feel myself losing muscle tone.”

“You’re entitled to time off from babysitting Dad, you know. Don’t you have any events coming up?”

Carly shook her head. “Not right away.” They both barrel raced, though her sister made it out on the circuit less frequently than she did. “And I’m thinking of taking a break from racing, anyhow.” Lately, it had become harder and harder for her to ramp up the enthusiasm for rodeo.

Or for anything else.

She forced a grin. “But enough about me. I imagine you’re getting soft yourself. Although, maybe not.” Tilting her head, she looked Savannah up and down. “After all, you’re a newlywed. You ought to be getting plenty of another type of exercise to keep you in shape.”

“Carly!” Savannah’s cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled.

“Hey, don’t play innocent with me. You know my so-called crazy advice helped you get what you wanted.”

Otherwise known as a brand-new husband.

Savannah and their older sister, Lizzie, had both found their true loves recently. Carly swallowed a sigh. A forever relationship wasn’t in the cards for her. Not now, maybe not ever, and she’d just have to live with that. Still, she wished her sisters—wished the four of them, counting their new significant others—all the best in the world.

“Will I see you over at the house at supper?” she asked.

Savannah shook her head. “No, I’ve got a stew going in the slow cooker.”

“Smart move, moving into the apartment upstairs when Daddy expanded the building.”

“Believe me, now that he’s home full-time, I’m thanking my lucky stars I made the decision.”