Life After Wife (Three Magic Words Trilogy, #3)(4)

Her father, Donnie, smiled up at Hart, who towered above him by several inches. “Grandma McSwain gave it to her. She was full-blood Irish and just about as feisty as our Sophie.”

Hart continued to stare. “You really don’t even look like you belong with the family.”

“She doesn’t,” Layla laughed. “Momma found her in a bar ditch out on the other side of Albany and took pity on her since she was so ugly.”

“And then she grew up to be the beautiful swan, didn’t she?” Kate said.

“I’m standing right here,” Sophie said.

“What did I miss?” Fancy raised her voice as she scooted her pregnant body out of the limo. Theron waited by the door and offered her his arm. Tina reached up to take Fancy’s hand in hers. Even after living with her dad and stepmother for several months, Tina still felt more comfortable if she was touching Fancy. She’d spent the first three years of her life shifted from one place to the other, only to be finally abandoned by Maria, her biological mother. Fancy was her security blanket, and it was plain that all the people bewildered the little girl.

“Thought for a minute there I was going to have to call for a forklift to get you out of that thing,” Theron said.

Fancy poked him on the arm. “You are so romantic.”

“Momma, when are you getting that baby out of there?” Tina asked.

“Real soon,” Fancy said.

Theron changed the subject. “Who was the motorcycle feller?”

“That would be Elijah Jones. He’s the other half of the ranch now. He and Sophie have to share it. She wants to buy him out. He says he’s staying and she’s leaving.”

“Elijah Jones? I’ve heard of that name. Hart mentioned him, I think.”

“Hart knows him?”

“I just remember him saying something about Elijah. Can’t remember the details. We’ll have to ask him.”

When they were inside the house, Sophie patted the place on the sofa next to her, and Fancy eased down between Sophie and Kate, the three women presenting their usual united front.

Mess with one and all three were there.

That’s the way Elijah found them when he opened the front door and stepped inside the cool house from the blistering heat. He removed the bandanna from his head and stuffed it into his hip pocket. His thick, black hair was wet with sweat, and the black T-shirt had sucked up the sun’s rays until he felt like he’d been baked inside the thing. He barely glanced at the women before heading down the hallway to the bathroom.

He found a washcloth in the same place Aunt Maud kept them when he came to the ranch as a teenager to work in the summer months. Thank goodness some things never changed.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. No visible scars even though he’d put in three tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. He’d been one of the lucky ones that brought all his limbs home intact, but when he looked into Sophie’s steely gray eyes, a niggling little voice said that his luck might be running pretty damned thin.

He’d hoped that Sophie would be the same whiny kid he remembered. If she’d been that girl, she would have taken his first offer for her half of the ranch and headed for the nearest shopping mall. She hated the ranch back then and carried on like she’d been sent to prison the whole time she spent there. Maybe she was playing hardball and had a higher figure in her head. Well, he wanted the ranch, and he’d have it if it took every dime in his bank account. She could just get used to the idea.

He washed his face and hands and combed his hair back into the ponytail. Using the damp cloth, he brushed the road dust from his black T-shirt. He wasn’t wearing the traditional black suit, but Aunt Maud had asked that he ride his cycle to the funeral in her last letter. Somehow dress slacks, a vest, and a black suit coat didn’t work with that image.

He’d wanted to come see her one more time, but he’d been undercover in one last military mission and had only gotten home from Central America two days before. He’d signed his retirement papers and made arrangements for his belongings to be moved to Baird. Then he’d driven out of Fort Hood, Texas, and headed northwest. That was the day before. He’d stopped at a motel in Fort Worth the night before and rode the rest of the way that morning.

“Here I am. Thought I’d fought my last battle, but it looks like the biggest one yet is ahead of me. I won’t let you down, Aunt Maud. I’ll fight her to the last breath for what you’ve entrusted me with. And Miss Gray Eyes can get ready to lose the war,” he whispered to the man in the mirror.

Aunt Maud had left him a dream he’d never dared think about: the solitude of his own ranch. No more bombs or wars to fight. He could worry about catching a rangy, old longhorn instead of a member of the drug cartel. Sophie could either sell him her half or stay out of his way, because he wasn’t budging an inch. Elijah had come home to the only stable thing he’d ever known.

He checked out the bedroom situation while he was in the hallway. Aunt Maud’s was still exactly as he remembered from the last time he came for a visit. Sophie had taken up residence in the one right across the hall. That left two others. He looked into both and chose the larger one, hoping it would accommodate his furniture. He stepped off another foot on either side of the bed and determined there was room for his king-size bed that would arrive that afternoon.