Not Their First Rodeo Read online

  “Your sons are very caring and kind and wonder...wonderful.” Violet’s voice quivered and she drew in a deep breath before she continued. “You’re very lucky to have them.”

  “That’s what everyone told me after Brie died.” He looked up at the afternoon sky, the sun starting to make its way closer to the Teton mountain range. “How lucky I was to still have a piece of her.”

  “No, I meant you’re lucky to have them period. Even if your wife was still here, I would tell you the same thing. Your children are a blessing. You’re a very fortunate man, Marcus. Not everyone will get to have that same experience, let alone twice.”

  His heartbeat stopped before picking up speed. “Back at the church, right before you, uh...threw up...you seemed really surprised that I had twins.”

  She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him, as though the answer should have been obvious. “Because we were supposed to have twins. There were two babies when I miscarried.”

  Marcus’s knees buckled and his hand propped against the hood of the SUV was the only thing that kept him from going down.

  * * *

  TWIN KINGS RANCH: A homecoming to remember...

  Dear Reader,

  When I ventured out of my fictional town of Sugar Falls to start the new Twin Kings Ranch series, there was one character I couldn’t leave behind. Freckles, the owner of the Cowgirl Up Café, has a big personality and dispenses advice as quickly as she dispenses hot buttermilk biscuits. She’s almost like a fairy godmother of sorts, but with way more sass, formfitting clothes and hair spray.

  My own godmother is a lot like Freckles in that she always shows up. Aunt Bonnie (who is technically my mom’s cousin) rarely misses a baby shower, a birthday party, a graduation or even a funeral. She is not only front and center with a side dish and a happy smile, she’s usually behind the scenes, as well—organizing the meals, assisting with the planning and giving rides to the aunties or whoever else needs a lift. Aunt Bonnie might not match Freckles when it comes to eyeshadow layers, but she definitely brings the fun-loving attitude and the sage advice.

  In Not Their First Rodeo, Marcus and Violet finally get a chance to have their story told. And just like the first two books in the Twin Kings Ranch series, Freckles is showing up for the King family with her comfort food, her matchmaking skills and her irreverent humor.

  For more information on my other Special Edition books, visit my website at christyjeffries.com or chat with me on Twitter at @ChristyJeffries. You can also find me on Facebook and Instagram. I’d love to hear from you.

  Enjoy!

  Christy Jeffries

  Facebook.com/AuthorChristyJeffries

  Instagram.com/Christy_Jeffries/

  Not Their First Rodeo

  Christy Jeffries

  Christy Jeffries graduated from the University of California, Irvine, with a degree in criminology and received her Juris Doctor from California Western School of Law. But drafting court documents and working in law enforcement was merely an apprenticeship for her current career in the dynamic field of mommyhood and romance writing. She lives in Southern California with her patient husband, two energetic sons and one sassy grandmother. Follow her online at christyjeffries.com.

  Books by Christy Jeffries

  Harlequin Special Edition

  Twin Kings Ranch

  What Happens at the Ranch...

  Making Room for the Rancher

  Sugar Falls, Idaho

  A Marine for His Mom

  Waking Up Wed

  From Dare to Due Date

  The Matchmaking Twins

  The Makeover Prescription

  A Proposal for the Officer

  A Family Under the Stars

  The Firefighter’s Christmas Reunion

  The SEAL’s Secret Daughter

  Montana Mavericks: What Happened to Beatrix?

  His Christmas Cinderella

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  To my own fairy godmother, Bonnie Johnston Holbrook. You have boundless energy and the biggest heart. You’re the glue that keeps our extended family together and my heart smiles every time I see you. Thank you for always showing up (and for always buying my books). Love you to the moon and back.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from The Night That Changed Everything by Helen Lacey

  Chapter One

  Marcus King hated funerals.

  As the sheriff of Ridgecrest County in Wyoming, he even avoided traffic details for cemetery processions, often assigning a junior deputy for the task, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with the painful reminder that death could happen to anyone at any time. A fact he knew only too well, having lost his wife five years ago.

  However, Marcus hadn’t been able to avoid this particular memorial service, with thousands of mourners lined up outside the crowded church and millions more at home watching live on their televisions. Celebrities, national heroes and world leaders were all crammed into the too-small First Congregation of Teton Ridge, watching somberly as the president of the United States gave the eulogy for her second-in-command.

  Vice President Mitchell “Roper” King had been many things to many people, but to Marcus he’d simply been Dad.

  And how did one escape his own father’s funeral while hundreds of news cameras were strategically placed both inside and outside the church to capture every tear, every sniffle, every flicker of emotion that crossed the faces of those who had known and loved Roper King the most?

  Well, not everyone in attendance felt that way, Marcus thought as he shifted in the tight confines of his pew to angle his head toward the opposite side of the building.

  “Stop squirming in your seat,” his brother Duke whispered out the corner of his mouth. “You’re not five anymore.”

  “I’m checking on my sons,” Marcus replied before giving a curt nod to his twin boys sitting with their younger cousin in the pew behind them. “They’ve got to be bored out of their minds.”

  Six-year-old Jordan and Jack were hanging in there like a couple of champs, though. Sad, but hiding their restlessness way better than their old man. Probably because their aunt had promised all the kids doughnuts and brand-new iPads loaded with their favorite video games if they could keep still during the nearly one-hour service.

  Marcus glanced past his sons’ honey-blond heads to the packed pews behind them and caught a glimpse of the upper corner of a woman’s face.

  No. That couldn’t be...

  Surely she wouldn’t come to the funeral, especially knowing Marcus would be there. He craned his neck to get a better look and felt his brother’s elbow ram directly into the cold piece of steel secured in place below his rib cage.

  Duke stifled a curse, and their mother gave them both a withering stare through her sheer black veil. When she returned her attention to the president speaking in front of the flag-draped casket, Duke muttered, “Did you seriously wear your duty holster to the service?”

  “I always wear it,” Marcus said, tugging on the lapels of his uncomfortable suit. “Just in case something comes up and I need to respond to a call.”

&
nbsp; “You’re allowed to take the day off.”

  Yet Marcus never took time away from work. At least, not mentally. This was his home, his county. These people, most of them visitors, were ultimately his responsibility until they all returned to their own worlds. He glanced down at his watch. Hopefully, that would be in less than fifteen more minutes. They just needed to get through the video montage and then the procession before he could—

  “Where’s Tessa going?” His brother nodded to where their sister was rushing down the center aisle toward the small vestibule that led to the front doors.

  “I’ll go check.” Marcus began to rise, but his mother, who was on his opposite side, quickly shot her arm across his midsection, just like she used to do when she’d driven him to school or baseball practice and had to slam on the brakes.

  “Don’t you dare stand up and cause a bigger scene.” She spoke quietly, but firmly. “We have people stationed outside who can see to her.”

  The Secret Service agent positioned in the shadows behind the organ put his hand over the clear wire of his earpiece. Marcus had attended the pre-op briefing earlier today with several deputies from his department, as well as numerous other law-enforcement personnel from neighboring counties. Right now, he would’ve given anything to know what was being transmitted over the radio communications. The agent made eye contact with Marcus and gave a very discreet thumbs-up before resuming his stance.

  Which meant he had to stay put and actually deal with the grief of losing his father. Instead of thinking about something simple like logistics and security perimeters, he had to think about how much he was going to miss seeing his dad’s proud, but crooked smile. How he was never going to hear that rugged, but reassuring voice give him any more words of advice. Damn it. Marcus wanted to mourn in private, on his own schedule. Certainly not in front of a crowd.

  The final ten minutes of the ceremony seemed to last longer than the first fifty, but finally the pallbearers, consisting of members of each branch of the armed services, carried the casket down the center aisle. His mother followed, supported by the president who’d been sitting in the front pew on the opposite side. That left Marcus to walk next to the first gentleman while mourners nodded their condolences at them as they passed each row.

  If there was anything Marcus avoided more than funerals, it was politicians. Sure, the president and her husband were polite enough, and his father had made numerous friends with elected officials and cabinet members over the years. But there were plenty of people who’d traveled all the way to Roper King’s small hometown in the middle of Wyoming just for the opportunity to be seen rubbing elbows with some of the most powerful leaders in the country.

  Like the senior senator from the great state of Texas. And wherever Senator Cortez-Hill went, her famous husband followed, causing even more of a stir with his celebrity status as a member of the Baseball Hall of Fame.

  Perfect. The only thing that would make this day even more unbearable was if they’d brought...

  Oh, hell. There she was.

  Violet Cortez-Hill.

  Marcus’s lungs seized, and his knees threatened to buckle as his eyes locked on hers. It had been her sitting way back here, after all. And she was even more beautiful than she’d been the last time he’d seen her—almost fourteen years ago. Her black hair was still silky straight, but slightly shorter, and framed her heart-shaped face. Her light bronze complexion still smooth and flawless, and her narrow nose still regal. But her cheekbones were sharper and more defined, and her green eyes held more wisdom and cynicism. His gaze flickered lower to her lips, which were drawn tight, as though she was holding her breath as she boldly returned his stare.

  He should’ve listened to his instincts earlier and volunteered for traffic detail. Funerals didn’t just force people to publicly confront their grief and their own invincibility. They often forced people to confront mistakes from their pasts. And now he was face-to-face with his.

  Why had Violet come? Didn’t she know how uncomfortable this would be for all of them?

  A hand clasped his shoulder and propelled him forward.

  “Keep on moving, Lover Boy,” Duke grunted from behind. Marcus hadn’t heard the nickname in years, and instead of sending him on a trip down memory lane, it immediately snapped him back to the present.

  Putting one foot in front of the other, he squared his shoulders and followed the procession down the aisle, outside the church and into the bright January sunshine and the even brighter lights of the news cameras. He shoved his dark sunglasses on just in time, once again wishing he could be anywhere but here.

  As the casket was loaded into the back of the hearse, he felt the small hands of his boys, each on one side, taking his bigger palms in theirs. Marcus couldn’t afford to think about anything but taking care of his children, being the support that they needed through the devastating loss of another family member. He’d told his children that it was okay to cry, that it was okay to be sad. They’d both been so young when their mother had died, their grieving process had been somewhat delayed. As though they’d known they were missing something but didn’t quite understand who or what until later. Losing their beloved grandfather, though, had the potential to stir up all sorts of feelings they’d yet to deal with about their mom’s death.

  Marcus’s dad had once been his rock, and now more than ever he was determined to provide the same stability to his own sons.

  “Where’s Aunt Tessa?” Jordan whispered, concern permanently etched across the serious boy’s brow. “She left real quick, and her face was all white.”

  “Maybe she was hungry and wanted to get something to eat,” Marcus replied, doubting the excuse before he even said it.

  “Well, I have to go pee, and I don’t think I can hold it,” Jack announced much louder. Despite being older by three minutes, Jack was the free-spirited twin. The impulsive one that counterbalanced his brother’s tendency to worry about every little thing. “She better not eat all the sprinkle doughnuts before we get there.”

  Marcus bit back a groan, yet he couldn’t help but also feel a sense of relief. His sons were actually handling the funeral crowd much better than expected. Being a single father, he’d dealt with plenty of tears and tantrums in the past and knew it came with the territory. Today, though, he’d much rather deal with doughnuts and bathroom breaks.

  He squeezed their hands and said, “Let’s go back inside and use the restroom. Then we’ll go see if they have any more snacks left in the MACC staging tent.”

  In fact, it felt good to have something concrete to focus on, to have a task at hand. Plus, it didn’t hurt that his sons’ requests gave him the perfect excuse to get away from everyone in the crowd and check on his sister all at the same time. While he was there, he could ask his deputies stationed in the Multi-Agency Command Center temporarily set up behind the building if they needed anything from him.

  Marcus chanced a glance behind him at the guests spilling onto the church steps to see if anyone was watching them, then told his kids, “Come on. Let’s hop over those bushes by the sidewalk and double back to the side door. It’ll be the quickest way.”

  It would also be the only route that guaranteed he didn’t come face-to-face with the woman who’d made him stop in his tracks earlier.

  The woman who used to hold his heart in the palm of her hand.

  * * *

  Violet Cortez-Hill knew when she’d landed at Jackson Hole Airport it would only be a matter of time before she’d see Marcus King, the man who’d once been her best friend and her first love.

  Everyone probably would have understood why she couldn’t find time to attend the funeral in Wyoming. But she was in between high-profile cases right now, and after fourteen years, it felt cowardly to use work as an excuse just to hide behind all those emotions that belonged in the past. And nobody had ever accused Violet of being a coward.


  Besides, she’d spent so much of her adolescent summers with the older King children when their parents had forced them to attend the same political events, and she had adored their father, Roper. How could she not be here to pay her respects in person? To offer any support she could.

  Yet, when her eyes had locked on Marcus’s during the final procession, she’d been slammed with a million memories. It felt as though a wave had crashed into her, practically knocking her back into the hard, wooden pew.

  How was it that he’d grown even more handsome over the years? That his shoulders had gotten broader and his face had gotten more chiseled? The teenager she’d once dated used to wear ripped jeans, T-shirts with goofy slogans and an old ball cap from Dorsey’s Tractor Supply. Yet the man who’d stopped in the middle of the aisle to stare at her with openmouthed shock wore an expensive tailored suit and a short, neat haircut, looking nothing like the guy she used to know. Unfortunately, his nearness still caused her pulse to spike with the same level of attraction as it had all those years ago.

  His brother Duke had given him a shove and Violet was left to stand there and wonder if the few seconds they’d made eye contact was really long enough for her to conclude that his reaction to seeing her had been just as intense as hers. She fought the urge to rub away the dull ache in her temples, telling herself that Marcus’s response was simply due to his surprise.

  The church was small and the aisle narrow, so it took ages for the rows in front of them to empty. As the rest of the mourners filed out of the church, Violet whispered to her mother, “I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”

  “Now?” Senator Eva Cortez-Hill said through her teeth as she nodded somberly at the other politicians and A-list celebrities making their way down the aisle. “All the networks have cameras outside, and it would be a great opportunity for you to get some coverage before my next election.”

  “Mom, we’ve already been over the fact that I have no intention of running for superior court judge. Now’s not the time to rehash that argument.”