A Texas-Sized Secret
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Maureen Child
Letto da
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Capitoli
11
One
“What did I ever do to this Maverick?” Naomi Price kicked at the dirt, then gave a heavy sigh. “Why’s he after me?”
Toby McKittrick glanced from the horse he was saddling to the woman standing on the other side of the corral fence. Even furious and a little scared, Naomi made quite the picture.
She was nine inches shorter than his own six feet two inches, but she had a lot of interest packed into her five-foot-five frame. Her long, copper-brown hair draped over her shoulders like fire, and her chocolate-colored eyes snapped with intelligence and, at the moment, worry. She wore white summer slacks and a loose, pale green shirt with some white lacy thing over it. The boots she wore were ankle-high, pale cream and fit only for walking down clean city sidewalks. Here on the ranch, they’d be ruined in a day or two. But Naomi was a city girl, so no worries.
“This Maverick,” he said, “he—or she, for all we know,” Toby pointed out, “is after everybody, it seems. Guess it was just your turn.”
“Maverick” had been creating turmoil in Royal, Texas, for the last few months. Exposing private bombshells, taunting people with their innermost worries and fears, whoever it was not only knew the people of Royal, but didn’t give a good damn about them.
Somehow this person—whoever—uncovered people’s darkest secrets and then published them. Toby had no idea what the mysterious Maverick was getting out of all this—okay, some people had paid Maverick to keep his mouth shut—but Toby had the feeling the whole point was simply to try to destroy people’s reputations. If that was it, he was batting a thousand.
“Great,” Naomi muttered. “Just great.”
“What exactly did he say to get you running out here first thing in the morning?” Toby gave her a long look. Usually, Naomi wasn’t up and moving until the crack of noon. She didn’t go anywhere unless she was completely turned out from the top of her head to the toes of her stylish shoes.
She sighed, then reached into her shoulder bag for her cell phone. “Look at it for yourself,” she said, handing it over.
Toby gave the horse a pat, took the phone and keyed it up.
“It’s ready to go,” she said, “just push Play.”
Frowning, Toby tipped the brim of his hat back and tapped the phone screen. Instantly, he saw what had Naomi as jumpy as a spider on a hot plate.
For the last year or so, Naomi had been the star, writer and producer of a small-town cable fashion show. She was making a name for herself, doing what she did best—advising women on how to look good. Naomi was proud of what she’d accomplished, and she had a right to be. She’d built herself an audience and she worked hard every day to put out the best show possible.
He scowled at the screen as the video played. Maverick had turned what she did into a parody. He’d found an actress who resembled Naomi to star in it, and the woman was cooing and sighing over a rack of dresses like she was having an orgasm on camera. Then she stepped out from behind that rack and Toby knew instantly what had really set Naomi off.
The actress looked about two years pregnant. She waddled across the stage, both hands supporting a belly so huge there might have been a baby elephant tucked inside.
“Oh, man…”
“Wait for it,” Naomi ground out. “There’s more.”
A deep frown etched on his face, Toby watched and listened as the actress began talking with a slow, overblown Texas accent.
“And for summer,” she said, simpering at the camera, “maternity wear just got more exciting! Our big ol’ bellies won’t keep us from looking stylish, ladies.” She flipped long reddish-brown hair behind her shoulder, then rubbed both hands over that comically distended belly before slipping behind that rack of dresses again, still talking. “Remember, accessorizing is key. Drape a pretty belt around that baby belly. Draw attention to it. Be proud. Show the world what a fashionable pregnant woman should look like.”
Toby’s own temper was starting to spike for Naomi’s sake.
She stepped out from behind the dress rack again to model an oversize tent dress with a gigantic black belt enveloping that belly. “Tell the world, Naomi,” the woman said, smiling into the camera. “Do it fast, or Maverick will do it for you.”
Gritting his teeth, Toby turned the phone off and handed it back to her. “Okay, I see what’s got you all churned up.”
She tucked her phone back into her purse and then reached out to grab the top rail of the corral fence. Her hands tightened on the weather-beaten wood until her knuckles went white.
“It’s not just that he’s threatening to tell everyone I’m pregnant, Toby,” she said, her voice tight but low enough that he had to lean in to hear her. “It’s that he’s making fun of me. He’s turning my show into a joke. He’s laughing at me.”
Toby laid his hand over one of hers and squeezed. “Doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, Naomi. You know that.”
“Of course I know,” she said, giving him a grim smile that was brave, if not honest. “But I watched that video and wondered if I really sound like that. All know-it-all and prissy. Am I prissy?”
One corner of Toby’s mouth quirked up. “I wouldn’t say so, but you’ve had your moments…”
She looked at him for a long minute, then let her head fall back and a groan escape her throat. “You’re talking about the mean girls thing, aren’t you?”
He shrugged and went back to tightening the cinch on his horse’s saddle. Naomi had been his best friend for years. But that didn’t make him blind to her faults, either. Of course, nobody was perfect. Toby knew Naomi better than anyone else, and he knew that she had spent a lifetime hiding a tender heart beneath a self-protective layer of cool disdain.
“You, Simone and Cecelia have a reputation you more than earned. You’ve gotta admit that.”
“Wish I didn’t have to,” she muttered and dropped her chin on top of her hands.
Shaking his head, Toby let her be, knowing her thoughts were racing. So were his own. Naomi and he had been best friends for years now. They’d grown up knowing each other in a vague, from-the-same-small-town kind of way. But in college, they’d connected when he was a senior and she a freshman. He knew her in a way not many people did, so Toby also knew that Naomi was shaken right down to her expensive, useless boots.
“Things are different now,” Naomi insisted a moment later. She straightened up, and Toby was glad to see a fierce gleam in her eyes. “People change, you know.”
“All the time,” he said, nodding.
“Cecelia and Deacon are together now—she’s pregnant, too,” Naomi pointed out unnecessarily. “And Simone and Hutch have worked things out and she’s pregnant with triplets, for heaven’s sake.” She threw up both hands and let them fall to her sides. “It’s a population explosion with the three of us. We’re not the mean girls anymore. We’re…” She sighed. “I don’t know what we are anymore.”
“I do,” Toby said, watching her with a smile. “You’re Naomi Price—the woman who wears useless boots that cost more than my saddle…”
She laughed, as he’d meant her to.
Staring directly into her eyes, he continued. “You’re also the woman who started her own television show and worked her behind off to make it a success.”
“Thank you, Toby.” She smiled at him, and he felt a sharp tug inside in response.
“Okay,” she said, nodding to herself as she pushed away from the fence, giving that top rail one last slap. “You’re right. I’m strong. I’m ready. I can do this.”
“Yes, you can.” Finished saddling his horse, Toby stroked the flat of his hand along the animal’s sleek neck.
“I don’t know how to tell them,” she said, all the air leaving her body in a rush. “The whole strong, independent feminist thing just goes right out the window when I know I have to face down my parents and tell them I’m pregnant.”
Toby turned, braced his forearms on the top rail of the fence and tugged the brim of his dark brown hat down low over his eyes. “You should have already told them.”
“This is so not the time for cool logic,” she snapped. Pacing back and forth along the fence line, she crossed her arms over her middle like she was hugging herself. “What happened to Mr. Supportive?”
“I’m being supportive,” he argued. “I’m just not patting your head, because you don’t need it.”
She muttered something he didn’t quite catch and kept pacing. If she’d stop walking so damn fast, he’d give her a hug himself. But the minute he considered it, Toby pushed the thought aside. Hell, he’d been burying his attraction for Naomi for years. He was a damn expert. She’d come to his ranch looking for a friend, so that was what he’d be for her. Which meant telling her what she didn’t want to hear.
“Naomi,” he said, “you knew you couldn’t keep this a secret forever.”
She stopped directly opposite him, with the fence separating them. A soft summer wind lifted the ends of her hair, and she squinted a bit into the sunlight, those beautiful brown eyes of hers narrowing. “I know, but…”
“But nothing,” he said, yanking his hat off to stab his fingers through his hair. “Somebody else took the reins from you. You don’t have a choice now in when to tell your folks. Time’s up.”
“How did Maverick even find out?” She took a breath and exhaled on a heavy sigh. “You’re the only one—or so I thought—besides me who knows about the baby.”
That sounded like an accusation. His gaze snapped to hers. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
“I know that.” She waved that away with such casualness he relaxed again. Toby was a man of his word. Always. The one thing he always remembered his father saying was, “Without his honor, a man’s got nothing.” That had always stuck with him, to the point that Toby never made a promise unless he was sure he could keep it.
“You know, you’re the only man in my life who’s never let me down, Toby,” she said softly. “The one person I can always count on.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything, because knowing Naomi, she had more to say.
“I tried to contact Gio again.”
And there it was. Irritation spiked inside him, and Toby didn’t bother to hide it. Gio Fabiani, a one-night stand who had left Naomi pregnant and wasn’t worth the dust on her fancy boots. But Naomi being Naomi, for the last couple of months she’d been trying to track the man down to tell him about the baby. Even if she did finally find him, though, Toby was sure that Gio wouldn’t give a flying damn.
“You’ve got to let that go,” he ground out. “Just because the man fathered your child doesn’t mean he’s good enough to be its father.”
“I know, but—”
“No buts,” he said, interrupting her. “Damn it, Naomi, you told me yourself that sleeping with that sleaze was a mistake. You really want to make another one by bringing him back into your life?”
“Shouldn’t he know that he has a child?”
“If he hadn’t blown in and out of your life so fast, he would know,” Toby said, though in truth he was damned grateful that Gio hadn’t been more than a blip on Naomi’s radar. She deserved better. “I did some checking of my own when you first told me about this.”
“You checked? Into Gio?”
“Who else?” He calmed himself by stroking his palm up and down the length of his horse’s neck. “The man’s a worthless user. He goes through women like we go through feed for the horses.”
She flushed, and he knew she didn’t like hearing it, but true was true.
His voice low and soft, Toby added, “He’s never going to stand with you, Naomi.”
She took a breath and huffed it out again. “I know that, too. And I don’t want him to, anyway.” Shaking her head, she started pacing again. “One night of bad judgment doesn’t make for a relationship. But I should tell him about the baby before this Maverick person sends that video out into the world and it goes viral.” She stopped opposite him again and laid one hand against her belly. “Viral. People everywhere will see that awful video. People will be laughing at me. Feeling sorry for me. Or, worse, cheering, because like you said, I haven’t always been the nicest human being on the planet. Oh, God, my stomach’s churning and it has nothing to do with the baby.”
“You’ll survive this,” he said.
“Why should I have to survive? Who is this Maverick? Why has nobody found him yet?”
“I don’t know—to all those questions.”
Shooting another speculative look at his friend, Toby wondered exactly what she was thinking. With Naomi it was never easy to guess. She’d long since learned to school her features into a blank mask that could convince her disinterested parents that all was well. But usually with him, she was more forthcoming. Still, things were different now. She was more shaken than he’d ever seen her. It wasn’t just the pregnancy—it was how her life seemed to be spinning out of her control.
And Naomi liked control.
“The video he sent me was just…” Her sentence trailed off as she shook her head. “If he puts that out on the internet like he threatened, everyone in town’s going to know my secret in a few hours.”
Toby sighed, braced both forearms on the top rung of the corral fence and waited until her gaze met his to say, “Honey, they were all going to know within another month or two anyway. It’s not like you could hide it much longer.”
He was repeating himself and he knew it, but sometimes it took a hammer to pound the truth into Naomi’s mind when she didn’t want to admit to something. That hard head of hers was one of the things he liked most about her. Which made him a damn fool, probably. But there was something about the look she got in her eye when she was set on something that twisted his guts into knots. Knots he couldn’t do a damn thing about, since she was his best friend. But he did wonder from time to time if Naomi’s insides ever twisted over him.
Naomi stopped pacing, spun around to look at him and blurted, “You’re right.”
That surprised Toby enough that his eyebrows lifted high on his forehead. She saw it and laughed, and blast if the sound didn’t light fires inside him. Fires he deliberately ignored. Hell, of course his body responded as it did. She was a beautiful woman with a laugh that sounded like warm nights and silk sheets. A man would have to be dead six months to not be affected by Naomi.
“I’m not so stubborn—or delusional—I can’t see the truth when it takes a bite out of me,” she said. Leaning her arms on the fence rail alongside his, she said, “That’s really why I came out to see you this morning. I know what I have to do, and I wanted to ask you to come with me to tell my parents.”
He frowned a little, because he didn’t much care for Naomi’s folks. They were always so prissy, so sure of their own righteousness they put him off. Their house was like a damn museum, quiet, still, where a dust speck wouldn’t have the nerve to show up. Always made him feel like a clumsy cowboy.
But he knew how they made Naomi feel, too. She’d never quite measured up to parents who probably shouldn’t have had a child to begin with. From everything Naomi had told him and from what he’d seen firsthand, they’d been showing her for years in word and deed just how disappointing she was to them. The announcement she had to make today wasn’t going to help the situation any.
She was watching him, waiting for an answer, and Toby saw a flicker of unease in her eyes. He didn’t like it. “Sure,” he said, “I’ll come along.”
“Thanks, Toby,” she said, reaching over to lay one hand on his forearm. “I knew you’d do this for me. You really are my best friend.”
A best friend probably shouldn’t experience a jolt of lust with just a touch of her hand on his arm. So he’d just keep that to himself.
* * *
Naomi was nervous. But then, she’d been nervous since opening the email with the subject line Your Secret Is Out. She’d known the moment she saw the blasted thing in her inbox that Maverick had finally turned his talons toward her. For the last few months, she’d watched as people she knew and cared about had had their lives turned upside down by this malicious phantom. And somehow she’d managed to keep hoping he wouldn’t turn on her. Now that he had, though, she was forced to tell her parents the truth and live through what she always thought of as the “disappointment stare.” Again.
Her entire life, Naomi had known that she was continually letting her parents down. Oh, no one had actually said anything—that would have been distasteful. But parents had other ways of letting their children know they didn’t measure up, and the Prices were masters at silent disapproval.
No matter what Naomi had done in her life, her mother and father stood back and looked at her as if they didn’t have a clue where she’d come from. Today was going to be no different.
Thank God Toby was coming with her to face them. She glanced at his stoic profile as he drove his Ford 150 down the road toward her family’s mini mansion. He was the only one who knew her secret. The only one she’d trusted enough to go to when she realized two months ago that she was pregnant. And didn’t that say something? She hadn’t even told Cecelia Morgan and Simone Parker, and the three of them had been close for years.
But when she was in trouble, she always had turned to Toby. Even though telling him she was pregnant because of her own stupid decision to spend one night with the fast-talking, too-handsome-for-his-own-good Gio made her feel like an even bigger idiot.
Naomi still couldn’t believe that one night of bad judgment and too much champagne had brought her to this. Toby was right, though. Even without Maverick shoving his nose into her business, she wouldn’t have been able to hide her pregnancy for much longer. Loose tops and a strategically held handbag weren’t going to disguise reality forever.
She shuddered a little in her seat. Naomi hated being pushed around by some nameless bully.
“You okay?” Toby asked, shooting her a quick look before turning his gaze back on the road in front of him.
“Not really,” she admitted. “What the hell am I going to say to them?”
“The truth, Naomi,” he said, reaching out to cover her hand with his. “Just tell them you’re pregnant.”
She held on to his hand and felt the warm, solid strength of him. “And when they ask who the father is?”
His mouth worked as if he wanted to say plenty but wasn’t letting the words out. She appreciated the effort. He couldn’t say anything about Gio that she hadn’t been feeling anyway.
When she told Toby about the baby, he’d instantly proven to be a much better man than the one she’d slept with. Toby offered to help any way he could, which was just one of the things she loved most about him. He didn’t judge. He was just there. Like the mountains. Or the ancient oaks surrounding his ranch house. He was sturdy. And dependable. And everything she’d never known in her life until him. Now she needed him more than ever.
The Prices lived in Pine Valley, an exclusive, gated golf course community where the mansions sat on huge lots behind tidy lawns where weeds didn’t dare appear and “doing lunch” was considered a career. At least, that was how Naomi had always seen it. Growing up there hadn’t been easy, again because her parents never seemed to know what to do with her. Maybe if she’d had a sibling to help her through, it might have been different. But alone, Naomi had always felt…unworthy, somehow.
Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Toby stopped at the gate. When he lowered the window to speak to the guard, a wave of early-summer heat invaded the truck cab.
“Who’re you here to see?” the older man holding a clipboard asked.
Naomi knew that voice, so she leaned forward and smiled. “Hello, Stan. We’re just coming in to see my parents.”
“Naomi, it’s good to see you.” The man smiled, hit a button on the inside of his guard hut, and the high, wide gate instantly began to roll clear. “Your folks are at home. Bet they’ll be happy to see you.”
He waved them through, and she sat back. “Happy to see me? I don’t think so.”
Toby, still holding her hand, gave it a hard squeeze. She held on tightly, even when he would have released her. Because right now she needed his support—his friendship—more than ever.
The streets were beautiful, with big homes, most of them tucked behind shrubbery-lined fences. Even in a gated community, some of the very wealthy seemed to want their own personal security as well. Of course, not everyone’s home was hidden away behind a wall of trees, hedges or stone. The palatial homes were all different, all custom designed and built. And the closer Toby’s truck drew to the Price mansion, the more Naomi felt the swarms of butterflies soaring and diving in the pit of her stomach.
God, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt at ease with her parents. It had always seemed as though she was putting on a production, playing the part of the perfect daughter. Only she never quite measured up. She wished things were different, but if wishes came true, she wouldn’t be here in the first place, would she?
The driveway to her parents’ house was long and curved, the better to display the banks of flowers tended with loving care by a squad of gardeners. The sweep of lawn was green and neatly trimmed, and trees were kept trained into balls on branches that looked as though they were trying to remember how to be real trees. The house itself was showy but tasteful, as her parents would accept nothing less—it was a blend of Cape Cod and Victorian. Pale gray with white trim and black shutters, it stood as graceful as a dancer in the center of the massive lot. The front door was white without a speck of dust to mar its surface. The windows gleamed in the sunlight and displayed curtains within, all drawn to exactly the same point.
It was like looking at a picture in an architectural magazine. Something staged, where no one really lived. And of course, she told herself silently, no one did. Instead of living, her parents existed on a stage where everyone knew their lines and no one ever strayed from the script. Well, except for Naomi.
Naomi herself had been the one time anything unexpected had happened in her parents’ lives. She was, she knew, an “accident.” A late-in-life baby who had caused them nothing but embarrassment at first, followed by years of disappointment. Her mother had been horrified to find herself pregnant at the age of forty-five and had endured the unwelcome pregnancy because to do otherwise would have been unthinkable for her. They raised her with care if not actual love and expected her not to make any further ripples in their life.
But Naomi had always caused ripples. Sometimes waves.
And today was going to be a tsunami.
“You’re getting quiet,” Toby said with a flicker of a smile. “Never a good sign.”
She had to smile back. “Too much to think about.”
She stared at the closed front door and dreaded having to knock on it. Of course she would knock. And be announced by Matilda, the housekeeper who’d worked for her parents for twenty years. People didn’t simply walk into her parents’ house.
And her mind was going off on tangents because she didn’t want to think about her real reason for being here.
“You’ve already made the hard decision,” Toby pointed out. “You decided to keep the baby.”
She had. Not that she cared at all about the baby’s father, Naomi thought. But the baby was real to her. A person. Her child. How could she end the pregnancy? “I couldn’t do anything else.”
He reached out and took her hand for a quick squeeze. “I know. And I’ll help however I can.”
“I know you will,” she said, holding on to his hand as she would a lifeline.
“You know,” he said slowly, his deep voice rumbling through the truck cab, “there’s no reason for you to be so worked up. You might want to consider that you’re nearly thirty—”
“Hey!” She frowned at him. “I’m twenty-nine.”
“My mistake,” he said, mouth quirking, eyes shining. “But the point is, you’ve been on your own since college, Naomi. You don’t have to explain your life to your parents.”
“Easy for you to say,” she countered. “Your mom and sister are your own personal cheering squad.”
“True,” he said, nodding. “But, Naomi, sooner or later, you’ve got to take a stand and, instead of apologizing to your folks, just tell them what’s what.”
It sounded perfectly reasonable. And she knew he was right. But it didn’t make the thought of actually doing it any easier to take. She dropped one hand to the slight mound of her belly and gave the child within a comforting pat. If there was ever a time to stand up to her parents, it was now. She was going to be a mother herself, for God’s sake.
“You’re right.” She gave his hand another squeeze, then let go to release her seat belt. “I’m going to tell them about the baby and that the father isn’t in the picture and I’ll be a single mother and—” She stopped. “Oh, God.”
He chuckled. “For a second there, you were raring to go.”
“I still am,” she insisted, in spite of, or maybe because of, the flurries of butterflies in her stomach. “Let’s just go get it over with, okay?”
“And after, we’ll hit the diner for lunch.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said.
