Callahan Cowboy Triplets Page 7

“You just want to make love to me before I get big as a house.”

  “Indeed. And then, too.” He kissed her neck, stole across to her lips. “I promise that no matter how large you become, I’ll always be able to handle it.”

  “You’re about to get yourself in big trouble, cowboy,” River said. But he noticed she wasn’t pushing him away, so he decided kissing her needed to be done at once.

  She opened up to him like a sweet flower. A groan escaped him, and she giggled.

  “You see? You’re the noisy one.”

  He slid a hand up, captured a breast. “Give me a couple hours. If I don’t yell, you can come back tomorrow night. How’s that for a deal?”

  “We’ll see,” River said.

  * * *

  AFTER THE NIGHT River spent in Tighe’s arms, she knew she had to take the path the other Callahan women had journeyed.

  There was no reason to wait. Either she and Tighe were a one-night fling that had resulted in children, and therefore she’d had no business being in his bed last night—or they were meant to be together. Either way, there was no time to lose. It felt as if her waistline had already put on a couple inches—though when she measured, it was more like one. Tighe hadn’t seemed to notice, although she did think he’d been much more careful—less wild sexually—than the previous time they’d made love.

  She didn’t believe the treasured family gown would tell her whether Tighe was her man, but she did wonder if putting the silly thing on would make her feel more as if becoming a bride was the right thing to do. That bothered her most of all—the itching, nagging feeling that maybe marrying in haste would mean a lifetime of regrets.

  Her parents had been divorced. She was going to try to avoid that uneasy route.

  “Hello, River,” Fiona trilled. “You’re up bright and early, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  She had a feeling Fiona would be tickled if she learned River probably hadn’t had two hours of sleep last night, thanks to Tighe. “Fiona, you offered to let me try on the magic wedding dress, and—”

  “Oh, my dear!” The older woman beamed. “Are you warming up to my wonderful nephew?”

  “Perhaps. Slowly,” River admitted, not wanting to put Fiona into full-tilt wedding machinations.

  “Slowly is fine. Can’t rush a good thing. The best things in life are worth waiting for and all that.” She pointed with her spatula to the stairs. “You just go on up into the attic, close the door so you’ll have privacy and try it on. I’d show you where it is, but I’m deep into making waffles for the crew.” She smiled again. “I’m so happy you’ve decided to give the dress a try.”

  “Thank you.” River went up to the attic, amazed that anxiety set in as she ascended the stairs. Her steps slowed as she entered the enormous room made homey by window seats and a dangling chandelier. It was only a dress, and a myth. A legend that made the Callahans happy.

  Ana had had a bit of a rocky time with the dress, although River didn’t know the particulars. She just knew the dress wasn’t a panacea, a magic wand, for her relationship with Tighe.

  When he made love to her, it was hard for her to think there was anything wrong with their relationship—which was the problem. It was all about sex, and a purely sexual relationship didn’t last.

  Although she could easily imagine wanting to make love to Tighe for the rest of her life.

  She glanced around the room, noting a cheval mirror, a couple of small chairs and tables, a cozy nook in which one could read—or plot, in Fiona’s case. River opened the door to the long closet, easily locating the bag that contained the gown. It was the only item hanging in the cavernous walk-in space.

  She took the bag—it was surprisingly light for holding a fabulous, magical wedding dress—hung it on a hook near the cheval mirror and with sudden excitement, gently drew the zipper down.

  Chapter Seven

  Tighe hurried into the kitchen, spotting his aunt Fiona with relief. Maybe there was still time to stop River from trying on the magic wedding dress.

  “Hello, favored nephew. How about some waffles?” Fiona asked. “And maybe some eggs?”

  “No, thanks, Aunt Fiona.” He glanced around quickly. “Has River been here?”

  “A little bit ago. But she’s not here now. Bacon?”

  “It looks great, but I’m kind of in a hurry. Did she say where she was going?”

  “She did,” Fiona said, “but I don’t know if I’m to divulge her location.”

  He glanced up at the ceiling toward the attic. “She’s up there, isn’t she? I’m too late.”

  “For what?” Fiona gave him a curious look.

  “To stop her.”

  “Gracious me, why would you want to?” Fiona shook her head, her eyes rounded. “I thought you were all hot to get River to the altar.”

  “I am. But Dante just told me that the dress backfired on him in rare fashion.

  “Oh, pooh. Don’t listen to your twin.” Fiona laid a plate in front of Tighe to tempt him. “You and Dante may be from the same zygote, but truthfully, you’re total opposites.”

  “This is serious, Aunt. Dante said it was months before he saw Ana again after she tried on the gown. He said it messed everything up for him.” Tighe felt very desperate on this score. “I’ve got enough trouble on my hands with River without that kind of supernatural assistance.” He’d just sweet-talked her into his bed, and the pleasure had been mind-bending. He wanted more of that! Intimacy was the way to get his woman to the altar, not a gown. “Trust me, I’ve got this covered.”

  “I believe that’s what you said about Firefreak, and about River,” Fiona observed. “I do believe you could do with a little help in some matters, nephew.”

  His gaze fastened on the ceiling. “I don’t suppose there’s any way to stop her?”

  “You could,” Fiona said, “but I wouldn’t recommend seeing her in the gown. If you go charging up there, that’s what might happen. And I don’t know how that would affect matters.” She shook her head. “Every woman has had her time alone with the gown. Her time to figure out what she really wants.”

  “Damn it.” He sank onto a bar stool, contemplated the delicious eggs, waffle and bacon without enthusiasm.

  “Oh, no! Whatever you do, don’t curse the gown,” Fiona warned.

  “I’m not. I’m cursing myself. I’m sort of cursing why I didn’t just keep her in bed with me this morning. I could have told her my leg was acting up. I could have told her—”

  “Pardon me,” Fiona said, her face wreathed with sudden delight, “not to be indelicate, but you did just let something slip.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to be unchivalrous. I do apologize, Aunt.”

  Fiona cleared her throat. “However, all that being said, you and River have something of a rapprochement, then?”

  “All I can tell you is that I’m gaga for her, and I’m real nervous about her being in your attic of drama.”

  Fiona patted his hand. “Everything will work out.”

  He couldn’t stand it. Dante had scared the heck out of him. Tighe didn’t want to be separated from River for months. He had enough problems—why had he endorsed Fiona’s magic bag of tricks?

  Still, a man couldn’t deny his lady a chance to try on a beautiful gown, could he?

  “I’m scared. I’ve never been scared like this before.”

  “Nephew!” Fiona ladled more food onto his plate, though he hadn’t touched a bite. “I’ve never seen you like this! For a man with a huge adventurous streak, you’re a nervous wreck!”

  He slid off the stool, went to the stairwell. “It’s too quiet up there. I’m going up.”

  “I really cannot counsel you to do so,” Fiona said, worried. She came to stand at his side. “Just call up there, if you’re so concerned, but I won’t vouch for what happens. I’m pretty sure it’s a man-free zone. And I don’t know if River will appreciate you being a Nervous Nelly.”

  Maybe he overestimat
ed the gown’s importance. But what if he had the same misfortune Dante had suffered? Tighe had just lured River back into his arms! He wasn’t letting go of her again, not after he’d waited like a dying man for her to soften toward him.

  Making love to her was the sweetest thing he’d ever experienced in his life and there hadn’t been a whole lot of sweetness in his twenty-eight years. He’d waited a very long time for River to even look his way. Dante and he had waited a long time for the nanny bodyguards to do more than say hello—and the night Tighe had caught River and his siblings plotting to keep him off Firefreak, he’d felt no compunction whatsoever about turning the tables on her and seducing her.

  Only the tables had been turned on him big-time—and he’d tumbled like a rock into a pond. Now he’d been given a second chance, and that second chance had been ever so delicious and tantalizing last night.

  He just couldn’t risk it.

  He charged up the stairs.

  * * *

  RIVER SAT IN one of the window seats, staring out the window, thinking. She’d put the dress bag away, closed the closet door.

  It had been the most amazing thing. Yet somehow unsettling. Very unsettling.

  She’d try again in a moment. Try to work up her courage to do it. She had drawn the zipper down, and just as quickly, zipped the bag back up.

  She heard boots thundering on the stairs and jumped when Tighe burst into the attic. “Tighe!”

  He came to a dead halt. Gave her a funny look when he spotted her sitting in the window seat. “Am I too late?”

  “Too late for what?”

  “To stop you from trying on the dress.”

  Her brows rose. “Why would you want to?”

  He seemed upset, which confused her. “I just had a funny feeling you shouldn’t. It was like something came over the wires, if you know what I mean, that told me this wasn’t an idea that was going to go in our favor.”

  “You told me to go for it.”

  “I know,” Tighe admitted, “but like I said, it was like I received some kind of weird message from the ozone.”

  “It doesn’t entirely surprise me that you’d receive a weird message,” River said with a sigh, “because sometimes you do seem a bit weird. Like the other Callahans, at times.” Still, he did seem bothered about something. “Anyway, I didn’t try it on. I never even looked at it.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I got the same message you did.”

  He seemed relieved. “That’s a good sign, if we’re getting the same thoughts.”

  “Maybe. I wouldn’t put money on it.” She looked at Tighe. “I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind and marry you regardless of what the magic wedding dress might have to say.”

  “Really?” He was obviously surprised.

  “Yeah.” River went to turn off the lamp. “Marriage isn’t a decision to be made by a magic eight ball. I don’t want a gown to tell me what to do—even if I did believe in such things.”

  “You’re going to marry me?”

  She sighed. “Yes, Tighe. But it’s a practical decision, not a romantic thing.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t think we were being practical last night when we made love. In fact, I’m pretty sure we were being romantic. At least I was. And I intend to be even more romantic, especially because in a couple of months, you’re not going to care about romancing.”

  She glared at him. “I don’t know what you mean about last night.”

  “What I mean is that the earth moved for both of us last night. And I was not silent. Neither were you. Birds flew out of trees. Critters ran from the ranch. You, my love, express your pleasure loudly enough that we’re going to have to move into the bunkhouse near the canyons, and even then, I’ll have to soundproof the house.”

  She felt a blush steal up her cheeks. “You’re embarrassing me.”

  “Don’t be,” he said cheerfully. “I liked it.”

  She walked to the top of the stairs. “It’s a practical matter, Tighe. We’re having children. It would be best for them if we married. I’m not repeating last night.”

  He stepped over to her, took her in his arms, closed the attic door. Kissed her long and hard, then his kisses turned gentle. River felt her knees weaken. Her fingers stole into his hair, then gripped his shoulders. He made short work of her skirt, murmured something about “magic wedding dresses being no help,” then sat down and moved her into his lap. She grabbed the zipper on his jeans, and faster than she’d undone the dress bag, had his zipper down, gasping when he entered her. She tried to cover her moans of pleasure by burying her face in his neck while he dug his hands into her buttocks, pulling her tighter against him.

  Glorious heat exploded all through her, and she couldn’t help moving, rocking, hard against him. Tighe groaned, held her tight and still, and collapsed against her, the two of them gasping with pleasure.

  “No more talk of practicality,” he said after a moment. “I can’t stay away from you long enough to be practical.”

  “All right,” River gasped. She felt so bone-meltingly lovely she would have agreed to just about anything at this moment. “But it’s not romance, either.”

  “Not everything is a business decision,” Tighe said, cradling her against his chest, supporting her weight as he relaxed against the window seat. “You just let me make you happy like this every day, and we’ll worry about what to call it later.”

  He wasn’t listening. Their relationship wasn’t romantic. It was sex.

  Yet it wasn’t just sex. She’d been crazy about this cowboy forever. “Whatever you say,” she finally murmured, too satisfied to argue.

  “That’s my girl,” he said, and River giggled.

  “You’re going to get in trouble with me, cowboy. Chauvinism is not romantic nor practical.”

  “I’ll work on it.”

  “You do that.” She fell silent, feeling slightly guilty. She hadn’t been totally honest—not honest at all. She had unzipped the bag. She had looked at the gown.

  But when she’d pulled it from its covering, it had turned black. Black as the ace of spades. And turned into tactical gear, something to be worn in a war zone, or at least a very dangerous place.

  Frightened, she’d stuffed it back in the bag and rudely shoved it into the closet.

  She wasn’t going to tell a soul. But even she knew that a magic wedding dress that turned black was a bad omen. Chills ran over her skin.

  “Cold?” Tighe asked.

  “A little,” she said. “Let’s go downstairs.”

  They moved slowly away from each other, rearranged their clothes. She could hardly look at him, even when he touched her chin, held her close to him. Kissed her, long and sweet. “I’ll talk to Grandfather. We can marry this weekend.”

  “Fine,” River said, and went to the door.

  No enchanted gown was going to cost her the chance to marry the father of her children, the cowboy of her dreams. Maybe he’d regret their marriage later—after all, the gown was a Callahan gown and probably was fine-tuned to Callahan emotion—but after worrying and wondering over what she should do, River decided to catch her cowboy.

  Making love with Tighe had convinced her.

  She wasn’t about to give him up, even if she had to battle a disapproving magic wedding dress to do it.

  * * *

  TIGHE FELT AS IF the world had just smiled on him. Everything was going better than he’d hoped at this stage in the game.

  This was awesome.

  “Let me take you downstairs. Fiona’s made breakfast,” he said, leading River out of the attic. “I’m sure my little boys would love a waffle right about now.”

  “No one has said we’re having boys.”

  He loved teasing her. She probably wanted three little girls. He didn’t care, as long as he was getting three of everything she wanted to give him. How many men could say that a woman gave him three babies?

  He stopped on the sta
irs. “Do you hear that?”

  She stopped beside him. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Exactly. And something’s burning.”

  She grabbed his arm. “It’s the food!”

  He practically broad-jumped the rest of the stairs to hurry into the kitchen. “Find my aunt,” he said. “I’ll put this fire out.” Bacon grease smoked in the frying pan, the bacon black. Eggs lay cold to the side, and the waffle iron held a blackened waffle. He shut that off, too, glancing over his shoulder as River hurried back into the kitchen.

  “I can’t find her,” she told him.

  A horrible feeling crept over him, spreading like spilled ink. Grabbing his phone, he texted an alert to his siblings. Think we’ve got trouble. Can’t find Fiona.

  It didn’t take long for the back door to blow open. Jace and Galen came charging in. They looked at the ruined food, saw River trying to air the smoke out of the kitchen.

  “This is not good,” Galen said. “I’ve never known Fiona to burn anything.”

  “No kidding.” That was the understatement of the year.

  “She can’t just disappear,” Jace said as the door flew open again and Ash hurried in.

  “What’s happened?” She looked at River. “Weren’t you here with her?”

  “I was upstairs,” River said.

  “And you didn’t hear anything?” Ash demanded. “Didn’t smell the kitchen practically burning down?”

  River gave Tighe a startled look, and he said, “Easy, Ash. Neither one of us noticed anything out of the ordinary. Fiona was her usual cheerful self when I walked through, and I was the last to see her.”

  Sloan and Dante hurried through the den into the kitchen. “She can’t have gotten far,” Sloan said. “Someone have Falcon start tracking her.”

  “I’ll do it,” Jace said. “I’m the best tracker in the family.”

  “Not better than me,” Ash said, pushing past him.

  “You two stick together,” Tighe said.

  “Got it,” Ash called back.

  “Okay, fan out. River, you stay here, in case she comes back,” Tighe began, but she scowled at him.

  “I’m a bodyguard, Tighe.”

  “And pregnant,” he said. “Stay here, please. Just in case she returns.”