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Catie had brushed her clean and soft hair until it shone and applied just a touch of blush and reddish lipstick. She never used mascara. Her black eyelashes were long and thick. But today she made an exception. She wanted to knock Chad McCray’s Stetson off his head, and she couldn’t help but notice that Amber had painted the stuff on last night. Maybe Chad liked that.
Her nails she kept clipped short, nothing like Amber’s long red acrylics. Was that what Chad liked? Well, she’d find out, and if so, maybe she’d pay Miss Amber a visit.
Then again, taking care of Ladybird and her other ranch duties wouldn’t allow for long fake nails. Chad would just have to take her as she was.
She donned a red sheath sundress that showed lots of thigh and red sandals with three-inch heels. Took her from five-nine to six-feet, but Chad was six-feet-four. Wouldn’t matter an iota. Catie had grown comfortable with her height in Europe. She’d been mistaken for a model more than once. She smiled. Freckle-faced Catie-bug Bay, mistaken for a model. Did her heart—and her ego—good.
Guests had begun arriving a half h
our ago, but Catie wasn’t in a rush. She’d make an entrance, truth to tell. If only she knew whether Chad had arrived yet.
She sighed. It’d be rude to keep her guests any longer. After all, her mother had planned this shindig as a welcome home for her. She bit her lips to plump them, ran the brush through her dark waves once more, and left the security of her bedroom.
She walked down the stairs, her heart thumping at the thought of seeing Chad. Of kissing him again. She ambled through the sprawling ranch house to the patio doors, where friends and neighbors were milling about in the giant backyard. She noticed the oldest McCray, Dallas, and his wife, Annie, with two little toddlers who must be their twins, Laurie and Sylvie. Something else she’d missed. The birth of Chad’s nieces. Why on earth had she stayed away?
“Catie, my God!” Annie McCray said, her New Jersey accent as pronounced as ever. “You look gorgeous, hon.”
“Speak for yourself,” Catie said, smiling. She liked Annie. And Annie was the picture of gorgeous. Long black hair that fell in ringlets and violet-blue eyes. Dressed in her signature peasant skirt and blouse, she could have walked right out of a gypsy harem. “It’s so good to see you.” She gave Annie a quick but firm hug. “This must be one of your twins.”
“Yep.” Annie picked up the pretty little girl at her feet and balanced her on her hip. “This is Sylvie.”
“She’s beautiful, Annie.”
“She looks just like Dallas,” Annie said. “The other one’s more of a Dallas-Annie combo, but they both really look more like their pop. Dallas!” She waved him over. “Bring Laurie over here to see Catie.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Catie said, admiring the pretty child. “I see a lot of you in her. Look at all that hair.”
The child’s hair fell in dark ringlets, like Annie’s, but her black eyes were all McCray.
“It’s not as curly as mine, thank God,” Annie said. “That’s what Dallas’s hair would look like if he grew it longer.”
Dallas walked over, holding the other twin. He was as ruggedly handsome as ever, his black hair reaching his collar, the gray at his temples strangely appealing. Several days’ growth of beard covered his jawline. “Hey, little bit,” he drawled, “sure is good to see you home.”
“Good to see you, too,” Catie said. “So this is little Laurie?”
“Yeah, this is ma’s namesake. She’s a beauty, isn’t she? Like her mama.”
Annie rolled her eyes. “I already told her they’re both dead ringers for you.”
“Nah. Laurie, here, she has Annie’s cute little nose.” Dallas smiled, his eyes crinkling.
Annie laughed, loud and boisterous, like the Jersey girl she was. “They both have your hair and your eyes.”
“I’d’ve loved them to have Annie’s pretty eyes,” Dallas said. “But heck, we’re not done yet, honey.” He winked at his wife.
Catie should have been embarrassed by the innuendo, but Annie was so open and fun, there was no reason to be. She laughed as Dallas took Sylvie from Annie’s arms and led the two girls inside the house to get them a drink.
“They’re both beautiful,” Catie said, and they were. Beautiful little McCray girls. A sigh, louder than she wanted, escaped her throat. What she would give to bear the next McCray baby.
As if she’d read Catie’s mind, Annie said, “Chad’s here, hon.”
“Is he?”
Annie had always known about Catie’s crush, and she was the only person in whom Catie had confided about it.
“But he came with the new manicurist in town, Amber something.”
Annie put her hand on Catie’s forearm—a gentle, comforting gesture, but it embarrassed Catie. She shrugged away.
