Randall Pride

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She spun around to stare at him. “Did it ever occur to you that I might figure out my own problems? That I’m not that little girl anymore? If I were, how would I have managed since you disappeared from my life? I’ve only seen you about half a day at Christmas each year since I was sixteen.”

“I know I haven’t been—I had my reasons for not hanging around the ranch. I couldn’t make the money I’ve made if I rodeoed only half the time. I had to dedicate myself to rodeo to do well.”

“Right. And the perfect Toby Randall couldn’t do anything only halfway. But don’t expect me to hang around waiting to follow in your footsteps again. I make my own decisions now, and you can tell my father the same thing. I don’t need a man telling me what to do.”

Again she headed for the house, and this time he didn’t try to stop her. It had been a disaster, just as he’d foreseen.

ELIZABETH STOMPED back to the house, pausing only once on the way to her bedroom. She stuck her head into the den where the parents were watching a movie. “Mom?” she called softly.

Her mother came to the door. “Yes?”

“I need to talk to you. Can you come by my room before you go to bed?”

Megan studied her face. “I’ll come now,” she said, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind her.

“I don’t want you to miss your movie,” Elizabeth protested.

Megan took her hand and headed for the stairs.

Once they were in Elizabeth’s bedroom, with the door closed, Megan asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Dad asked Toby to talk to me about Cleve.”

“He didn’t!” She stared at her daughter. “I guess he did. But darling, you know it’s because he loves you.”

“I know, Mom, but it’s a little embarrassing.”

“Better to be embarrassed than to ruin your life,” Megan said quietly.

“Oh, Mom, not you, too?”

Megan grinned. “Yeah, me, too. I haven’t said anything because I think you’ll figure it out soon, unless…well, unless you’ve gotten too involved with him? You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Mom!” Elizabeth protested. “Absolutely not!”

“Thank goodness.”

“Look, I just need some time. Will you please trust me to do the right thing?”

“You mean you’re going to—”

“I’m going to do the right thing for me. I’m asking you to trust me.”

“Of course I trust you, darling. Did Toby’s talk help you decide—”

“No! Mr. Arrogance himself called the kettle black, but I couldn’t tell much difference between the two of them.”

“Oh. Then how did you—”