C is for Cowboy (ABCs of Love Sweet Romance Book 3) Page 17

  He set them at her side then knelt in front of her and took her hand. “I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I was stupid to think you would and stupid to think where I’ve always lived is where I always need to stay. There are ranches in California. Or houses by the beach. Or anywhere else you want to live. The only place I need to be is with you.”

  “Are you declaring your intentions for me, Mr. Murdock?” She was only half-joking. He’d said exactly what he needed to.

  “Very much so.” He wasn’t anywhere near joking.

  “Then I suggest you figure out how to get my bags so we can go home.” She stood, but Cash stayed where he was, a confused look on his face.

  When he did stand, he took it slowly. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Home is where you are.”

  Cash answered Madi with a smile before cupping her face in his hands. Their kiss lasted too long for them to stop her baggage from going to LA, but not too long for them to book her a one-way ticket straight to Bozeman. She wasn’t too worried about when she’d get her stuff, because all she really needed anymore was Cash…

  And a few weeks a year at a time-share on a beach.

  “I don’t think you really know how ranching works,” he said to her when she mentioned this plan.

  Madi looped her arm through his as they walked toward their gate. “I don’t think you’ve seen me in a bikini.”

  He thought about this for around a millisecond. “Time-share on a beach is definitely negotiable.”

  “I just added Everything’s Negotiable to my Rules of Positivity.”

  With that they were ready to negotiate the life they were determined to share.

  Epilogue

  Cash held up his arms and helped Madi down from her saddle. Since the wedding, she’d become an excellent rider. But Cash never tired of finding reasons to touch her, whether it was brushing her hair from eyes when she woke in the morning or helping her down from her horse.

  “Happy anniversary, Mrs. Carter.”

  She slid her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. “I can’t believe it’s been a year already.”

  He tightened his arms around her waist. “Best year of my life.” He gave a her a kiss that told her how much he’d enjoyed it, and it wasn’t very long before their breaths grew short and she pushed lightly against his chest.

  “Hold on, Mr. Carter. Rule Number One: be present. We need to make camp before any of your shenanigans.”

  He grinned and let her go, and they each worked to unload the horses and set up their site.

  “I made a playlist for us. Some classic country music, even.” She unpacked a Bluetooth speaker first, fiddling with it to sync with her phone. He smiled when he recognized the harmonies of The Oak Ridge Boys song, “Thank God for Kids.” She was taking it waaaay back.

  He’d begun staking the tent when the next song came on. Sara Evans. He loved her voice and hummed along to “Always Be My Baby.” But when the third song came on, he stopped dead and dropped the tent, the tension pole springing away from him as the nylon sagged to the ground. It was unmistakably Allison Krauss’s beautiful voice, and he lunged for Madi’s phone to check the title. “Baby Mine.” He scrolled through the rest of her playlist, his hands shaking the slightest bit.

  “Madi?”

  “Hmmm?” she answered.

  “Every one of these songs has the word baby in the title.”

  “They do?” She sounded innocent, but he spotted the telltale twitch of her lips that meant she was trying to hide a smile.

  “There a reason for that?” His heart had already sped up, and he wasn’t sure it could handle what he guessed she was about to say.

  She crossed their small campsite to stand in front of him, the smile playing on her lips now as she looked up at him. “Just that I’m pregnant. Thought you’d like to know.”

  He stared down at her, thunderstruck. Or maybe that was just the sound of his blood pounding in his ears. He gave his head a small shake to clear it.

  Her smile dimmed. “Is . . . that okay?”

  “Is that okay?” he repeated. How was he supposed to put into words all the emotions that had suddenly welled up in him like the creek after a spring rain? They were all fighting to get out at once.

  Madi reached toward him, her hand brushing his before she let it fall away, like she wanted to pat him the way she sometimes patted Brownie when the horse needed soothing. “Maybe this is a good time for Rule Number Four. We’ll make the best of it.” Her voice wobbled, and she turned away, but before she could even take a step, he reeled her back into his arms.

  “Wrong rule,” he said, softly into her hair, almost scared by how tight he wanted to hold her. “This is purely Rule Number Three. Practice Gratitude. But I don’t need any practice, because I’ve been an expert in it since you came down that escalator. I didn’t think I could be any happier than I’ve been for the last year.” He leaned his forehead against hers and rested his hand lightly on her stomach. “Turns out I was wrong.”

  She smiled up at him, her smile full and joyous. “Time for Rule Number Five.”

  “Trust Your Instincts?” His forehead wrinkled. Like his fatherhood instincts, or—

  “I was thinking more like letting them take over.” Now her grin was pure mischief.

  As soon as she leaned up for a kiss, he knew it would be a good long while before he even thought about setting up that tent again, and he didn’t care, because he was going to Be Very, Very Present with Madi for the next little while.

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  C is for Cowby

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  Chapter One

  Avery Middleton stood at the corner of Marshall Blvd and Station 29, grocery bags in hand, and watched her new neighbor hoist a sheet of plywood onto the front porch of his new home.

  She glanced over her shoulder as Melba Newberry, Avery’s neighbor on the other side, stopped beside her, her tiny Yorkie, Jasper, cradled in her arms. “What do you think he’s up to?”

  Avery reached over and scratched Jasper under his chin. “I’m guessing he probably watched the weather this morning.”

  Melba scoffed. “That storm’s still two weeks out. It’ll turn north before the end of the week anyway.”

  “Probably. But even if it doesn’t, does he really want to live in the dark for the next two weeks?”

  “Better question,” Melba said, “does he know there are panels in the shed out back to cover his windows? There’s no reason to be messin’ with plywood.”

  Avery lifted her ponytail off her neck, letting the early summer breeze coming off the ocean cool her skin. “Where’s he from?”

  Melba would know. She walked up and down Marshall three times a day. If there was anything to notice, she’d notice it.

  “His license plate says Illinois, and he’s got an MUSC parking permit.”

  “You talked to him yet?” Avery asked.

  “I haven’t seen him outside until now.” Melba shifted Jasper onto her shoulder. “He’s younger than I thought he was going to be.”

  He did look young. And completely clueless.

  Avery sighed. “You want to go talk to him, or should I?”

  “You go,” Melba said. “He’ll enjoy talking to you more than he will this old bag of bones.”

  Avery rolled her eyes. Melba couldn’t be more than sixty. And she looked ten years younger. “Whatever, Melba. You know you’re still a fox.”

  Melba huffed a laugh. “Maybe, but even I can’t com
pete with those mile-long legs of yours. Jasper’s hungry. You go introduce yourself and help the poor fella out.” She leaned down and put Jasper on the ground, tugging him toward home. After a few steps, she turned back. “But go easy on him, Avery. Not everybody is a child of this island like you are. Don’t make him feel dumb for what he doesn’t know.”

  Avery waved at Melba and nodded her understanding as she crossed the street and approached the new guy. She paused at the end of his driveway, setting her grocery bags on the ground before pushing her hands into the back pockets of her cutoffs. “Hey,” she called out. She lifted her sunglasses and slid them back onto her head.

  The man turned, the sheet of plywood he’d been holding sliding to the porch at his feet. “Hello.” His voice was low and mellow, but Avery wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone look quite so uncomfortable in his own skin. He shifted, looking at his feet for a long moment before raising his eyes back to her.

  Avery looked at the sky, clear and brilliant blue, overhead. “You, uh, expecting a storm?”

  “There’s a hurricane,” the man said, a hint of irritation in his voice. “I know it’s still a few days out, but with work, I just . . .” His words trailed off. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Avery’s eyes went wide, and she fought to hide her grin. She schooled her features into something a little more neutral. She hoped. “Like what?”

  “Like you’re about to tell me something that’s going to make me feel like an idiot.”

  Avery bit her lip. “Sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel stupid. I promise. Where are you from?”

  The man’s shoulders rose and fell. “Chicago.”

  Avery stepped a little closer. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t have the first clue how to handle a Chicago snowstorm. I’ve heard they’re brutal.”

  “Not as brutal as hurricanes,” he said, his tone indignant.

  Avery squelched a laugh. He seemed so affronted when all they were talking about was the weather. She climbed the porch steps to where he stood, trying not to flinch when she noticed a sand dollar sitting on the porch railing, a faint yellow stain against the white paint just barely visible underneath. Poor guy. He probably had no idea he’d killed the thing when he’d brought it home.

  The guy was super nerdy up close. His pants were neatly pressed, and he wore a collared shirt with all the buttons done up, but no tie. His sandy blond hair was perfectly parted and smoothed to the side, and he wore glasses that would maybe feel hipster with the right outfit but on this guy just felt old school. And yet, he was still kind of adorable.

  Avery moved to the window. “Look,” she said, pointing. “See these here? There are hurricane panels in the shed out back that are pre-fitted to the windows. The bolts on them screw in here, and all around the frame. It’s easier than plywood.”

  “Oh. Got it. Thanks for pointing that out.”

  “Sure. My dad built this house.” Avery shrugged. “Actually, he built most of the houses around here. I’m sorry the realtor didn’t show you the panels. They normally do. Especially for people that move in during hurricane season.”

  “I never actually met the realtor,” the man said. “I bought the place sight unseen.”

  “Wow. That’s brave.”

  “It’s closer to the water than I thought it was.”

  Avery glanced toward his back yard. Had he seriously bought oceanfront property without knowing? “Hard to get much closer.”

  “My sister picked it out.” He leaned against the house, his shoulders slumped. “She only showed me the pictures of the inside and told me it was downtown. Close to the hospital. Obviously, I shouldn’t have believed her.”

  This guy’s story just kept getting better and better. “Well,” Avery said, a laugh floating through her words, “welcome to Sullivan’s Island.”

  He scoffed. “Thanks.”

  Avery held out her hand. “I’m Avery.”

  “David Daniels,” he said. His handshake was firm—that was good, at least—and he offered the tiniest of smiles. He was definitely adorable. In a nerdy little brother sort of way.

  “You’re a doctor over at the hospital?”

  “Yes,” David said. “In the ER.”

  Avery nodded. “I’ve got a few friends who work there. You’re a new resident?” If he was, he was sitting on family money, cause no resident she knew could afford to buy ocean front on Sullivan’s.

  “No, actually. I just finished my residency in Pittsburgh. This is more permanent.”

  Avery froze. The guy couldn’t be a day over 25. “What, did you start medical school when you were sixteen?”

  A blush crept up his cheeks and he coughed into his fist before mumbling something Avery almost couldn’t hear. “Something like that.”

  “For real?” Avery asked.

  David sighed, like he’d answered the question a million times before. “College at sixteen, med school at nineteen. I’m twenty-seven now. And yes, I’m old enough to practice medicine, I did pass all of the same exams every other doctor takes, and no, I’ve never watched Doogie Howser.”

  “Sorry. I bet you get that a lot, huh?”

  He shrugged dismissively. “I’m used to it.”

  “Do you like it?” Avery owed the guy a subject change. “The job?”

  “The job, yes. But I’m not sure I would have taken it had I known hurricanes were part of the deal.” David tossed a nervous glance toward the ocean.

  Avery grinned. “Listen. We haven’t had a major storm hit Charleston since Hugo back in ‘89. It seems like there’s always something brewing off the coast during hurricane season, but odds are against anything hitting us head on. I think what’s out there now isn’t even a hurricane yet. It’s just a tropical storm. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  David ran a hand across his forehead, then back through his hair, mussing his perfect part. “Really?”

  “Most of the people on this stretch of the island have lived here a long time. When you see us getting our houses ready? That’s your clue to do the same.”

  “Do people evacuate?”

  Avery shrugged. “Yeah. Sometimes. When we have to.”

  “I don’t understand why anyone would voluntarily live in a place that a hurricane could destroy in minutes.”

  “It’s a small price to pay for living in paradise. Honestly, I’d rather take my chances with hurricanes than deal with snow every winter.” Avery moved to the stairs. “I gotta get my groceries inside, but I live right next door if you need me.” She pointed to her house. “The one on that side. With the blue door.”

  She was halfway down the steps when David spoke again.

  “Is it always this hot?” he called.

  When she reached the gravel path at the foot of his porch, she turned and smirked. “Nah, it’s only June. It’ll be hotter in August.”

  She thought she heard him groan, which was totally understandable. Charleston summers were brutal even for people born and raised in the South.

  She’d only made it a few more steps before he called out to her again.

  “Avery, wait.”

  Avery like the way he said he said her name—with three distinct syllables. A-va-ree. Her southern friends mostly mushed her name into two. A-vree. She turned around.

  “I’m sure you can tell I feel a little out of my element. Is there anything else I need to know about the island? About Charleston, in general?”

  Avery smiled. At least he was trying. “If you want good pizza, try the Obstinate Daughter. Kinda touristy, so get it to go if you want to avoid the crowds. The Co-Op over on Middle Street has great coffee, and groceries, if all you need are the basics. I can walk it in half an hour.” Avery racked her brain. What else could she tell him? “The next time you have a free morning, go take a walking tour of downtown. It’ll hit all the historic high points and teach you the basics about the city, which are worth knowing if you’re going to call this place home.”

&nbs
p; Of all the adorable things, David had pulled a little notepad out of his pocket and was scribbling down notes as she talked. “Got it. Anything else?”

  Avery thought for a second. “Um, don’t kill the sand dollars?”

  David’s eyebrows went up, his gaze landing on the sand dollar sitting on his porch railing. “What?”

  “If they have purple fuzz on the bottom, they’re still alive. It’s technically against the law to bring them home, but you shouldn’t want to anyway. If they’re still living, they’ll die quick and then they’ll smell like death.” Avery crossed back to his porch, taking the steps two at a time. “See?” She picked up the sand dollar. “The yellow stain here says this one was alive when it hit the porch. It’s a toxin they release when they’re handled, harmless to humans, but a good indicator that it’s alive and shouldn’t leave the water.”

  “Well, that sucks,” David said. “I killed it.”

  “Don’t feel bad. They’re all over the beach so it happens a lot. But now you know, right?”

  “You grew up here?” David asked.

  “Yep. Born in your hospital and raised right here on the island.”

  “I guess that’s reason to trust you as an authority on marine life.”

  Avery smiled. “That, and I’m also the education coordinator at the Charleston Aquarium.”

  David sank onto his porch steps and dropped his head into his hands. “Which makes you doubly qualified to make me feel like an idiot.”

  “I told you not to feel bad! Seriously. I promise you’re not the first person to make the same mistake.”

  David cupped his hands around his knees. “Any other innocent crustaceans you need to warn me not to kill?”

  “I mean, unless you’re the kind of guy that goes around pulling legs off of crabs . . . ”

  “Not that guy,” David said. “I promise.”