The Texas Cowboy's Baby Rescue
Cathy Gillen Thacker
Family…By FateBridgett Monroe dreams of adoption – and when she finds an abandoned baby it seems her dreams might come true. Only Cullen Reid McCabe, stands in her way! Cullen needs Bridgett’s help to find the baby’s parents – but could “family” mean the three of them?
FAMILY BY FATE
Finding an abandoned baby and a puppy brings nurse Bridgett Monroe one step closer to her dream of adoption. But Cullen Reid McCabe, aka the gruffest, sexiest rancher in Laramie, Texas, stands in her way. He’s been named responsible for the child—and he needs her help. Together they care for Robby, and grow closer every day.
Cullen knows what it’s like to grow up fatherless. So he’s determined to find Robby’s birth parents, even if it means Bridgett losing her chance to raise a child. Robby belongs with his real family. But could “family” mean the three of them—Cullen, Bridgett, Robby and puppy Riot—not just for now, but forever?
CATHY GILLEN THACKER is married and a mother of three. She and her husband spent eighteen years in Texas and now reside in North Carolina. Her mysteries, romantic comedies and heartwarming family stories have made numerous appearances on bestseller lists, but her best reward, she says, is knowing one of her books made someone’s day a little brighter. A popular Mills & Boon author for many years, she loves telling passionate stories with happy endings and thinks nothing beats a good romance and a hot cup of tea! You can visit Cathy’s website, www.cathygillenthacker.com (http://cathygillenthacker.com), for more information on her upcoming and previously published books, recipes, and a list of her favourite things.
Also by Cathy Gillen Thacker (#u82cf4962-05cf-5fe9-815a-a31ce4b6f28e)
A Texas Soldier’s Family
A Texas Cowboy’s Christmas
The Texas Valentine Twins
Wanted: Texas Daddy
A Texas Soldier’s Christmas
Runaway Lone Star Bride
Lone Star Christmas
Lone Star Valentine
Lone Star Daddy
Lone Star Baby
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Texas Cowboy’s Baby Rescue
Cathy Gillen Thacker
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07756-9
THE TEXAS COWBOY’S BABY RESCUE
© 2018 Cathy Gillen Thacker
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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Contents
Cover (#u557e3cd6-6d36-5b78-a808-aadde2263651)
Back Cover Text (#u54eea143-d92b-571e-901f-9b91ccea8591)
About the Author (#u57984a30-a269-5025-b2f3-1998cf5af3a5)
Booklist (#ub1930fd1-0afc-5f6b-9e47-05c9b467e04b)
Title Page (#u4a471eff-9a50-5a98-aee3-f5bb78ef1207)
Copyright (#ue1f83ca3-14c4-5aca-b4b1-386c9b350d02)
Chapter One (#ue7df35fd-9a7a-50c0-ab4c-f6c290302d55)
Chapter Two (#u581ecc37-5c4d-5488-a46e-6fafc40279c3)
Chapter Three (#ubd355b26-5dca-5336-8778-bbf488a37cf4)
Chapter Four (#u5e040ca3-8eb4-5871-82dd-a3b443395f13)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u82cf4962-05cf-5fe9-815a-a31ce4b6f28e)
It was the day, Bridgett Monroe liked to say, that changed everything. She was on her way to work, same as always, when a puppy galloped out of the predawn shadows and dashed in front of her small SUV.
She slammed on the brakes, barely missing him, then watched as the mutt pranced around her vehicle, barking at her with ferocious urgency before looping back in front of her once again. The adorable beagle/golden retriever mix was splattered with dried mud and burrs, and dragging a tie-out chain and stake behind him.
Clearly, if she didn’t do something, he was going to get hit.
Afraid to move her vehicle at all lest the two of them collide, Bridgett shoved her car into Park, turned on the emergency blinkers and got out.
“Hey there, little guy,” she urged softly, kneeling down in front of the pup and holding out her arms in an attempt to coax him out of the path of her vehicle. “Why don’t you come see me?”
He stared at her with liquid brown eyes, thinking.
“I won’t hurt you, I promise. I just want to be your friend.” Bridgett reached out to rescue the runaway pet.
To no avail. He eluded her grasp, jumped swiftly back out of reach and let out another commanding bark.
Tossing his floppy ears in the direction he wanted her to go, he headed on up the block, still dragging the tie-out chain and stake behind him. Periodically he looked back to see if she was following him.
Worried about what would happen if she left him to his own devices, Bridgett headed up the street after him. The cute little mutt let out a happy woof, raced over several lawns and crossed the street. He waited for her to catch up, then darted past a few more houses, out of the residential area into historic downtown Laramie, Texas, and behind the fire station.
The bays were empty, which meant the crew was out on an emergency run.
Too bad, Bridgett thought, as she stopped just short of the tall brick building. She could have used some help lassoing this frisky pup. Frowning, she glanced at her watch again, debating how much time she could really afford to devote to this when she had a car still parked in the middle of the street two blocks away, and patients in the hospital N-ICU who needed her, too.
And that was when she became aware of a whoosh of frantic activity as the pup dashed up to her once again, caught the leg of her nursing uniform pants between his teeth and pulled ferociously.
Determined, it seemed, to have her continue to follow him.
Curious, she did, the leg of her scrubs clamped in his jaws as he led her along the side of the big brick fire station. Over to a...fairly large cardboard box?
The pup let go abruptly and sat down next to the shipping carton, panting loudly. He stared up at her as if he expected her to know exactly what to do.
Taking a deep, bracing breath, Bridgett leaned over, cautiously opened up the loosely folded flaps and felt her heart stall with a mixture of shock and disbelief. “Oh, puppy,” she whispered in startled dismay as she sank to her knees and reached inside. “No wonder you needed my help!”
* * *
ELEVEN HOURS LATER, the rugged Texas rancher who had been systematically avoiding all of Bridgett’s calls and messages strode purposefully onto the maternity and pediatric floor of Laramie Community Hospital.
She wasn’t surprised that the notoriously unsentimental rancher appeared to have come straight from the range. His short, curly, espresso-brown hair still bore the marks of the Resistol in his hand, his handsome face the burn of the spring wind and sun.
Nor was she surprised that he would want to have this conversation in person, rather than over the phone.
What she wasn’t prepared for was the way her heart was suddenly pounding.
It’s not as if he’s all that much older. He’d only been five years ahead of her in school.
Or more successful. Professionally, both were at the top of their game. Although, she had to admit, given his rising success as a cattle breeder and land owner, he was likely a far sight wealthier.
Not that he flaunted that, either, she realized on a sigh as her knees went all wobbly. He was a man’s man, through and through. The dusty leather boots on his feet were well broken in. And though there was nothing unique or expensive about his rumpled chambray shirt, it still cloaked his broad shoulders and muscular chest as if it was custom-made, and his faded Wranglers did equally showstopping things to his sinewy lower half.
Oblivious to the forbidden nature of her thoughts, Cullen McCabe slammed to a halt just short of her. His dark brows lowered like thunderclouds over mesmerizing navy blue eyes.
Her breath caught in her chest.
“Is this an April Fool’s joke?” he demanded gruffly.
Feeling a little angry about how this all had transpired, too, she gestured at the infant slumbering on the other side of the nursery’s glass window. The adorable newborn had a strikingly handsome face, ruddy skin, short and curly espresso brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes.
Just like the man standing in front of her!
She tilted her head back to better look into Cullen’s face. “Does this look like a joke, McCabe?” Because it sure wasn’t one to her! Or any of the emergency personnel who had been summoned to the scene of the abandonment.
Their eyes clashed, held for an interminably long moment. Cullen looked back at the Plexiglass infant bed, lingering on the tag attached to the front of it, marked Robby Reid McCabe?
His dark brow furrowed. “Why is there a question mark at the end of the name?”
Was he really going to play her and everyone else for a fool? Bridgett folded her arms in front of her. “Because we’re not entirely sure of the foundling’s identity.”
“Okay, then...” He jabbed a thumb at his sternum. “What do I have to do with this baby? Other than the fact we apparently share the same middle and last names?”
Bridgett reached into the pocket of her scrubs and withdrew the rumpled envelope. “This was left beside the fire station along with the child. The infant was in a cardboard box, and the puppy—who had upended his tie-out chain—led me to him.”
Cullen gave her another long, wary look. With a scowl, he opened the envelope, pulled out the typewritten paper and read out loud, “Cullen, I know you never planned to have a family or get married, and I understand that, maybe more than you could ever know, but please be the daddy little Robby deserves. And take wonderful care of his puppy, Riot, too.”
Reacting a little like he had landed smack-dab in the center of some crazy reality TV show, like the one his cousin Brad McCabe had famously been on years ago, Cullen looked around suspiciously. Just as she might have in his situation.
To no avail. The only cameras were the security ones the hospital employed. “I don’t see a puppy,” he gritted out.
Aware she wouldn’t have believed it, either, had it not actually happened to her that very morning, Bridgett returned wryly, “Oh, believe me, Riot was here.” Wiggling and jumping around like crazy.
Cullen shoved a hand through his hair. “In the hospital?” His glare radiated swiftly increasing disbelief.
Bridgett flushed. That little irregularity could get her in a whole mess of hot water. Yet what choice had she had at the time?
Aware he radiated an intoxicatingly masculine blend of sun, horse and man, she stepped back. “It was just temporarily. My twin sister, Bess, came and took him to my apartment until you could get here to claim him.”
“And the baby,” Cullen added in disbelief.
“Actually,” Bridgett told him, “because of the way all this went down, that is going to take a few days. And that’s assuming you want Robby and Riot.” She held up a hand before Cullen could interrupt. “If you don’t, then social services is already working on a solution.”
He stared at her, then the Plexiglas infant bed, then back at her. “You really found this infant next to the fire station in a cardboard shipping box?”
Bridgett nodded as her heart cramped in her chest once again.
“I really did,” she said softly, stepping a little closer. “Why else would I have tracked down your cell phone number and left ten messages over the course of the last eleven hours?”
Cullen fell silent once again and just shook his head.
Bridgett had an idea how he felt. She’d had most of her shift to deal with this, and she still couldn’t get over both the miracle and the horror of it.
She had to keep reminding herself that despite the fact the several-days-old Robby Reid McCabe had been swaddled in a disposable diaper and a man’s old chambray shirt, and his knotted umbilical cord was still attached when he was found, he really was okay.
And that was as much a godsend as the fact that she had been in the right place at the right time, for once in her life.
As Cullen stepped closer to the glass and gave the baby another long, intent look, Bridgett inched nearer and stared up at him. At six foot four, he towered over her five feet seven inches. Quietly, she explained, “Robby was apparently surrendered under the Texas Safe Haven law. Or attempted to be, anyway.”
Cullen swung back to Bridgett, all imposing, capable male. “What’s that?”
“Any infant sixty days old or younger can be surrendered—safely and legally—at any fire station, freestanding emergency medical care center, EMT station or hospital in Texas, but they are supposed to be left with an employee. Not just dropped off and left in the care of a dog who was staked nearby. Although, to Riot’s credit, he did do a good job of insuring that Robby got quick aid.”
Cullen rested a shoulder against the glass and folded his arms against his broad chest. “You found him?”
She nodded. “Fortunately, the baby was sleeping. From the looks of it, little Robby didn’t even seem to know he had been abandoned. So he couldn’t have been there very long at all.” Thank heaven.
Cullen’s expression radiated all the compassion Bridgett had hoped to see. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He stepped forward, inundating her with the mint fragrance of his breath. His voice dropped another notch as his eyes met and held hers. “But unfortunately, I don’t have any connection to this baby.”
“Sure about that?”
He frowned at her. “I think I would know if I had conceived a child with someone.”
“Not necessarily,” she countered. Not if he hadn’t been told.
Briefly, a resentment that seemed to go far deeper than the situation they were in flickered in his gaze.
He braced both hands on his waist, lowered his face to hers and spoke in a low masculine tone that sent a thrill down her spine. “I think I would know if I had slept with someone in the last ten or eleven months.” He paused to let his curt declaration sink in. “I haven’t.”
Neither had she, ironically enough. Although she hadn’t ever really been interested in having sex simply for the sake of having sex. She wanted it to mean something, the way it had with Aaron.
She wasn’t sure a man as unsentimental as Cullen would feel the same. For him it might only be about satisfying a need as basic as eating and sleeping.
Studying her, he scoffed. “Obviously, you don’t believe me.”
Bridgett shrugged, aware this was becoming way too personal, too fast. “It’s not up to me to believe you or not,” she returned lightly as Mitzy Martin, Laramie County’s premiere social worker, walked up to join them, sheaf of papers in hand.
Not sure if they knew each other, Bridgett made introductions.
Laramie County Sheriff’s Deputy Dan McCabe—one of Cullen’s younger brothers—strode up to join them, too.
“Let’s take this into a conference room,” Mitzy said, leading the way down the hall.
Once the door was shut behind them, all four moved to take seats at the table. The windowless space was tight, especially with two big, strapping men in it, and Bridgett had to work to keep from brushing shoulders and legs with Cullen.
“Why are you here?” Cullen asked his brother.
Dan sent his older brother a sympathetic glance. “I volunteered due to the sensitive nature of the situation.”
Cullen nodded his understanding, but he did not look happy. Briefly, he repeated what he had already told Bridgett, then asked in the same gruff tone he’d used with her, “Is there any way I can prove this baby isn’t mine?”
Bridgett called on her training to answer what was essentially a medical question. “Not without the mother’s DNA.”
“So, until then?” he pressed.
Mitzy’s answer was brisk. “Robby is going into foster care.”
Bridgett’s heart squeezed in her chest. Aware she was about to learn of an even more important decision, she looked at her friend hopefully. “Was my request granted?”
With a staying lift of her hand, Mitzy allowed, “Temporarily. As long as you understand that this child is not, and may not ever be, available for adoption.”
Bridgett thought about the emotional connection she had already forged with the infant. The reservations she’d had up to now, about opening herself up to further heartache, faded completely. “I can handle it,” she vowed to one and all. “Furthermore, I’ll do as the note requested and take Riot, too.”
* * *
CULLEN WOULD HAVE figured the social worker would be happy to hear that, since it meant her job here was done. Instead, Mitzy Martin looked as stressed as Bridgett Monroe had when he’d arrived at the hospital to confront her.
She leaned forward. “Are you sure, Bridgett? Up to now you’ve adamantly refused to consider fostering any child not available for adoption because you have a hard enough time saying goodbye to the babies in N-ICU and didn’t think you could do it in your personal life, too.” She reached over to take her friend’s hand. “And I get that. We all do.”
So, Bridgett Monroe had a heart as soft as her fair skin and bare pink lips. Cullen couldn’t say he was surprised. Any more than he was surprised about his reaction to her. Stubborn, feisty women always turned him on.
“This is different,” Bridgett said, color flooding her face.
“How?” Cullen asked, an answering heat welling up deep inside him.
“I know it sounds crazy...but I think I was meant to find these two.”
It was all Cullen could do not to groan. The last thing he needed was another overly sentimental woman in his life. Even on the periphery. Yes, she was graceful and feminine. Pretty in that girl-next-door way, with her glossy, rich brown hair, delicate features and long-lashed pine-green eyes. She wore a long-sleeved white T-shirt beneath the blue hospital scrubs that seemed to emphasize, rather than hide, her svelte curves and long legs.
But she was also an emotional firebrand—at least, when it came to him. Jumping to conclusions. Pulling him in. Then shutting him out, just as quick.
He did not need those kinds of ups and downs.
Especially not now.
Mitzy and Dan exchanged a wary glance.
“Unfortunately, Bridgett,” the social worker put in gently, “even if what you say is true, that this was all destined to happen the way it did, it doesn’t mean your chances of fostering then adopting a baby on your own have changed. At least, as far as the department goes.”
Cullen watched as disappointment glimmered in Bridgett’s eyes.
Gently, Mitzy continued. “The district supervisor and the local family court judge who hears these cases want infants who are in search of permanent placement in a stable, two-parent home.”
“But for every rule or policy there’s always an exception that can be made, especially in special circumstances like these,” Bridgett persisted resolutely.
“Yes.” Mitzy chose her words carefully. “But I wouldn’t count on that happening, long term.”
Except Bridgett was, Cullen noted in concern.
With a sigh, Mitzy continued, “They’re willing to make an allowance for Robby temporarily because you’re a nurse and Robby is just a few days old with health issues that may or may not crop up, but—”
“Whoa,” Cullen put in. “If there is any kind of risk, why not keep the baby in the hospital?”
Bridgett swung around, her elbow nudging his rib in the process. “Because the few problems he had upon admission have been treated. Hence, there’s no reason to keep him here.”
“So—” Mitzy looked at Dan “—unless there has been any further news on the law enforcement front...?”
Dan shook his head. “Sadly, not yet. But the Laramie County sheriff’s department has sent information requests to all the hospitals, clinics and urgent care facilities in the state.”
Cullen’s gut tightened at the thought of all the people who would hear his name tied to this heartbreaking situation. The assumptions they would make about his character, and by default, the McCabe family, could be catastrophic.
He couldn’t believe he was doing it again, bringing shame upon those closest to him.
“Is this going to be on the news?” he asked tensely.
“No,” Mitzy said. “We don’t want to scare off the birth mother if she does change her mind in the next few days and wants to come forward and reclaim her child.”
Looking as shocked and horrified as Cullen felt, just considering the possibility. Bridgett cut in, “Would the Department of Child and Family Services really allow that to happen?”
Mitzy paused. “It’s hard to say. There could be mitigating circumstances behind the mother’s actions.”
“Like what?” Cullen bit out, not surprised to find himself siding with Bridgett on this.
“Like she’s suffering from postpartum depression and isn’t thinking clearly,” Mitzy suggested.
“The note she left with the baby seemed pretty clear-cut to me,” Cullen said.
“In any case, we’re all aware there has to be much more to this story than we know thus far,” Mitzy explained. “So law enforcement and the medical community are all on alert for a woman coming in, having just given birth but without a baby to show for it. If anything the least bit suspicious occurs, we’ll hear about it, pronto. And go from there.”
Bridgett sat back in her chair, looking dejected again.
Cullen could imagine how the dedicated N-ICU nurse felt.
She’d found the abandoned infant and puppy, and the idea of giving Riot and Robby back to someone who had been unhappy or unbalanced enough to leave a baby alone in a cardboard box with only a puppy to guard it had to rankle.
It sure as hell did him.
“So, if you’re sure this is what you want, Bridgett, even knowing it’s only temporary...” Mitzy began.
Bridgett’s expression turned fierce. “I am.”
“And what about you?” Mitzy turned to Cullen.
Not sure what the social worker was asking, Cullen shrugged. “I just told Bridgett. There’s no way on earth that Robby is my baby.”
To his frustration, Mitzy looked as skeptical of that as Bridgett and his younger brother had. “Can you tell us who might want to assign paternity to you, then?” Mitzy asked.
Suddenly, all eyes were upon him once again. Cullen thought a long moment, then, unable to come up with anything, shook his head.
Mitzy pulled a pen from her bag, perfectly calm. Matter-of-fact. “So you’re formally surrendering all claim to this infant, then?” She brought out another piece of paper.
Was he?
Cullen hadn’t expected to do anything except come to the hospital, straighten out the situation and leave. However, seeing the newborn infant, reading the note, changed things. Made him feel that he just might be involved here.
How, exactly, he didn’t know yet.
But he was a McCabe, as well as a Reid.
And unlike the Reids, McCabes did not shirk their obligations, familial or otherwise. So he was going to have to see this calamity through to its resolution.
Aware what Bridgett Monroe probably wanted him to say, so the way would be clear for her, he paused, then finally said, “No.”
His younger brother Dan looked on approvingly, while sharp disappointment showed on Bridgett’s pretty face.
Mitzy simply waited.
Cullen inhaled deeply, then directed his remarks to everyone in the room. “Someone left the puppy and the baby for me. Like it or not, that makes them my responsibility. At least until their real family is found or permanent arrangements can be made to give them a good home. So I’d like to keep tabs on the child while he’s being fostered. Meet the dog.” Who might have more of a connection to him than anyone except his brother yet knew.
Mitzy turned. “Bridgett? Is this going to be okay with you? Because if you’d rather your first ward be a child who has already been released for adoption, I would completely understand. And so would everyone else at the department.”
For the first time since he’d laid eyes on her, Cullen saw Bridgett falter. She turned to glance at the papers that would make her the baby’s temporary foster mother and, for a second, looked so vulnerable he couldn’t help but feel for her. Pushing aside the temptation to take her in his arms and comfort her, he swallowed hard, reminding himself this situation was complicated enough as it was.
Bridgett drew herself up, raised her chin and looked Mitzy straight in the eye. “I can handle this,” she vowed.
Could she? Cullen wondered.
Chapter Two (#u82cf4962-05cf-5fe9-815a-a31ce4b6f28e)
“You really don’t have to walk us to my SUV,” Bridgett said half an hour later, as she got ready to go.
Cullen was clearly skeptical. “You’re saying you could easily manage all this on your own?”
Bridgett looked at the messenger bag she took to work, the diaper bag filled with emergency essentials, and the swaddled infant she was about to pick up. He had a point. It was a lot.
“Okay.” She handed him both bags and her vehicle keys, then gently picked up little Robby.
She’d handled hundreds of newborns in her career. Cuddled and given medical aid and taken care of their emotional needs for as long as they were in the N-ICU.
But this was different. It had been from the first moment she’d gathered the little infant in her arms.
She felt connected to this child, heart and soul.
As if she were already his mother.
“But that’s all the help we need,” Bridgett continued firmly. “Once I get to my apartment and you meet the puppy, to see if that sparks anything, I’ll be able to handle it from there.”
The only problem, she noted ten minutes later as she pulled up in front of her nondescript brick apartment building and saw a furious man pacing outside, was that she still had a few more wrinkles to iron out.
Cullen emerged from his pickup truck. He nodded at the short and stocky man storming their way. “Who’s that?”
Her heart sank as she stepped from the driver’s seat and faced off with the man who had just been peering in her apartment windows. “My landlord, Amos Stone.”
The gray-haired man marched closer. “Miss Monroe! Do you have a dog in your apartment?”
Too late, Bridgett realized she should have found another emergency solution that morning. One that hadn’t involved spiriting a dog who’d had no place in the hospital to yet another place he was absolutely forbidden to be. She fixed the building’s owner with her most winning smile. “I can explain.”
Her landlord did not think so. “Your lease explicitly says no pets of any kind allowed. Ever.”
“I know.” Bridgett reached into the car to gather Robby in her arms. “But—”
“No buts,” the older man huffed. “You’re out of here! Effective immediately.”
Cullen stepped forward. “Surely there’s some middle ground here,” he beseeched cordially, on her behalf.
Amos Stone glared. “Nope. Twenty-four hours to get everything out, or I start formal eviction proceedings. And that mangy mutt goes right this instant. Or I call animal control to take him for you!” He stomped off.
Able to hear the barking from inside her unit, Bridgett handed Robby over to Cullen, then hurried to unlock her front door. What she saw, as the pup barreled toward her and leaped into her arms, was even more dismaying.
Riot had pushed aside the temporary barrier she’d set up between her small galley kitchen and the rest of the unit. He’d wreaked havoc throughout the apartment, knocking pillows off the sofa and upending plants, lamps and a basket of clean laundry. He’d also had several accidents on the wood floor.
Apparently being left alone had stressed the poor little guy out.
But now that the puppy was in her arms again, he was quiet, cuddly and clearly exhausted.
Cullen stood beside her, a drowsy Robby held against his broad chest. He looked around, surveying the damage. “What next?” he said.
Outside the window, she saw her landlord standing next to his car, phone to his ear. She headed outside again, to her vehicle, and Cullen followed. “Mr. Stone is probably on the phone with animal control right now. So we need to get Riot out of here.”
Cullen inclined his head toward the slumbering infant. “Want to switch?”
“Um...let’s not rock the boat just yet.”
Especially since Robby looked as if he were in baby nirvana. She nodded at the safety seat that had been installed in the backseat of her SUV. “If you can settle Robby back in that, I’ll hand off Riot to you and then get the baby strapped in.”
Cullen did as she asked and then took the dog from her. “Where do you want the pup?” he asked.
Good question. To have Riot on the loose while she was driving and Robby was strapped in a car seat did not seem like a good idea.
Cullen understood her indecision. “Why don’t I put him in my truck and drive him wherever you’re going next?”
If only she knew where that was, Bridgett thought, opening the door on the driver’s side to let the pleasant spring breeze circulate through the interior of the car. For the next few minutes, they remained next to her SUV while she scrolled through the hotel listings on her phone and made a few quick calls.
“Any luck?” Cullen asked, after the third.
Disappointed, Bridgett shook her head. “None of the inns in the county allow pets.”
Still holding the puppy against his chest, he used the index finger to tilt his hat a little higher on his forehead. “Doesn’t your family own a ranch?”
“The Triple Canyon. My younger brother, Nick, and his wife, Sage, live there now, but they’re currently putting a commercial kitchen in the ranch house so Sage can do the majority of the baking for her café-bistro on the premises. So they are at Sage’s old one-bedroom in town with their two kids for the next three months.”
He squinted down at her thoughtfully. “What about your twin sister?”
“Bess lives in the same building I do.”
“So that’s out.”
“Right.”
He studied her. “There’s no one else in the area you could call upon in an emergency? Other family?”
Yes and no, Bridgett thought. “I’ve got two more siblings. My older brother, Gavin, and Violet and their two kids live in a shotgun house here in town that is already bursting at the seams. And my sister Erin and Mac are living in the Panhandle now, with their brood, so although they would take me in, I can’t leave the county with Robby until everything is straightened out.”
He edged close enough that she could smell the soap and sun-warmed-leather scent of him. “Friends, then?”
“The ones who live in houses all have kids and pets of their own, and the ones who don’t live in apartments.”
Cullen shrugged. “You could board the puppy at the vet clinic in town temporarily or turn him over to the animal shelter.”
“No!” The force of her response stunned them both.
Bridgett drew in a bolstering breath. “If it hadn’t been for Riot’s determination to get my attention, I never would have known Robby had been abandoned at the fire station. Who knows how long it would have been before he’d been rescued? Plus, the note specifically said the mother wanted the two of them to stay together. I intend to honor that.”
“Do you even know anything about caring for a dog?”
Irked by his doubt, she tilted her chin at him. “No. But I’m sure I can learn. I just made an offer on a house, so all I need is a short-term solution that will hold us until I move.”
He regarded her with new respect. “You’re buying a home?”
Apparently, real estate was a language they both spoke. She nodded, forcing herself to relax. “An adorable little bungalow here in town. I’m just waiting for my mortgage application to be approved. Which unfortunately rules out renting another place. No one’s going to want me in and out for just a couple of weeks.”
“Well, since you are clearly out of options...” Cullen gave an affable shrug. “You could bring Robby and Riot to the Western Cross.”
Bridgett blinked. “Stay with you? At your ranch?”
He nodded.
She crossed her arms and glared up at him. “Why would you want to do that?” she blurted out.
He regarded her calmly. “To fulfill my moral obligation, and to preserve my reputation and that of the McCabe family, of course.”
* * *
CULLEN COULD SEE it wasn’t the explanation Bridgett wanted. Which was too bad, because the blunt truth was the only reason he was prepared to give. “I’ve got a virtual cattle auction coming up in ten days. My first at the Western Cross ranch. If people think I am unreliable on any level, they’re not going to buy livestock from me. So it’s to my advantage, and yours, to get this resolved as soon as possible. And maybe if we’re all together I’ll be able to more quickly figure out who would have wanted me to be responsible for all this.”
“Makes sense. I guess.”
He continued looking her in the eye. “I also don’t want to embarrass Frank and Rachel or any of the rest of my family.” Thanks to his mom, and the way she had selfishly kept his paternity a secret, for years, so she wouldn’t have to share him, they had already been through enough.
Bridgett went still, for a moment giving him a glimpse of the woman she was, at heart. “You call your parents by their first names?”
His attention drifted to her mouth. “Rachel is my stepmom. And Frank didn’t come into my life until I was sixteen.”
She bit her lip, her gaze glued to him. “That explains the Rachel. But Frank...?”
He shrugged, wishing he could table the urge to take down her hair and run his fingers through the thick, silky waves. “I never got the hang of calling him Dad.”
She moved closer. “Did he want you to call him Dad?”
“We never discussed it,” he said curtly. And he sure wasn’t going to dissect his tumultuous early years with the nosy nurse in front of him. “So,” he said, bringing the conversation back around to the current trouble at hand. “Are you going to take me up on my offer or not?”
She looked down at the baby, who was beginning to stir, and sighed. “I’m not sure if I’ll stay the night or not, but I’ll follow you out there, assess the situation and then figure out what I’m going to do.”
Not exactly a yes. But likely the closest he would get.
He gave her the address to put into her navigation system in case they got separated, and then they took off. Twenty minutes later, they were turning beneath the archway to the Western Cross ranch. Both sets of vehicle headlamps swept over the live oaks lining the drive, the fenced pastures filled with cattle and the cluster of brand-new state-of-the-art barns and stables. Finally, he drew up in front of the ranch house and parked behind the Laramie Animal Clinic van.
His good friend, and recent widow, Sara Anderson stepped out. It was hard to tell whether the pale, drawn hue of her face was due to grief over the sudden loss of her soldier husband or the nausea associated with the first trimester of pregnancy. But he appreciated her willingness to help them out today.
He picked up Riot and met her in the middle of the circular drive. “Thanks for coming,” he said.
The willowy blonde smiled, kind-hearted as always. “No problem.” Sara studied Riot with a clinician’s unerring eye, stroked him beneath the chin. “This the little runaway?”
“It is.” And though it had been years since he had held one, Cullen experienced the lure of a puppy all over again.
Bridgett parked and got out, too, a fussy baby Robby in her arms. Cullen made introductions. “Sara Anderson, Bridgett Monroe. Sara’s a neighboring rancher and the veterinarian who sees to all of my cattle and horses.”
Bridgett nodded. “Sara and I talked at the county’s High School Career Fair last fall. And we also both volunteer at the West Texas Warriors Assistance nonprofit.”
“Ah, then no introduction necessary.” Indeed, the two women looked surprisingly chummy. He hadn’t thought about them being friends. But then, he didn’t spend a lot of time socializing with anyone outside the cattle business.
Sara moved an electronic wand over the pup, between his shoulders and neck and from side to side. Then over the rest of his body.
“Anything?” Cullen asked.
“No.” Sara frowned. “I thought he might be a little too young for a microchip, but I wanted to be certain. There were no tags on his collar?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad. I’d like to know more about him.” She opened up the back of her van and pulled out a medium-sized plastic crate with a metal-grill door. “The food, dishes and leash you requested are all in there. You’re also going to need to make sure he gets started on all his vaccinations, ASAP.”
“I’ll make an appointment.”
“Good.” Sara grinned, tossing Cullen a bottle of puppy shampoo. “And you might want to give him a bath while you’re at it.”
Grinning, Cullen caught the bottle with one hand. “Thanks, Sara.”
Sara paused to greet little Robby, who was wide-eyed and squirmy. “Bridgett? Good luck with the baby. I heard about the situation.” She frowned, shaking her head. “I hope you get to keep him.”
Abruptly looking like she might burst into tears at any moment, Bridgett nodded. “I want what’s best for them both,” she said thickly, the strain of the day showing on her pretty face. “And I appreciate your help with Riot.”
“It was my pleasure,” Sara said with a warm smile. “And if you need anything else, just ask.” Then she climbed back into her van, gave a parting wave and took off.
Silence hung heavy between them as they stood there together, cradling puppy and baby.
Bridgett looked up, wordlessly scanning the compact century old farmhouse, whatever she was thinking at that moment as much a mystery to him as the emotion resonating in her dulcet tones.
“So, this is where you live,” she said.
Chapter Three (#u82cf4962-05cf-5fe9-815a-a31ce4b6f28e)
“For the last ten and a half months, it has been,” Cullen admitted as they moved inside.
He hit a button on the keypad by the door, and the place lit up. “And before that?” Bridgett prodded, trying to recall what she’d heard.
He led her through the foyer and shut the door behind them. “Oklahoma, for two years.”
They were standing close. Almost too close. Bridgett swung around to face him, stepping back a pace in the process. She was acutely aware she really didn’t know much about Frank McCabe’s eldest son at all—and she wanted to know more, because of the situation they were in. Noting he looked as inherently masculine as he smelled—like sun and soap and leather—she searched the rugged planes of his face. “And prior to that, where were you?”
The grooves on either side of his sensual lips deepened. “Colorado for eighteen months, Nebraska for four years.”
“Nebraska. Wow, you must have really liked it there.”
He studied her, as if trying to decide how much farther he wanted this discussion to go. “It’s the second-largest cattle-producing state in the country, and I had two different ranches. A small one in the north for about twenty-six months, a larger one in the south, for about the same amount of time.”
“Which you purchased after starting out here, correct?” Her feminine instincts on full alert, she pushed on, curious to hear about the time he’d spent outside of Laramie County. “Somewhere in the Panhandle?”
His gaze roved her upturned face. He looked at her for a long beat. “How do you know that?”
She flushed under his intense scrutiny. “My sister Erin and her husband, Mac, mentioned it when they moved up there for his work.”
He continued holding her gaze for a brief but electrifying moment that swiftly had her tingling all over. “Hmm.”
“Mac said you were a rancher to watch.”
Cullen shifted the exhausted puppy in his arms, cradling it to his broad chest. “I don’t think Wheeler was too fond of me back then,” he pointed out. “I outbid him on a property he wanted for his wind energy turbines.”
Bridgett grinned. “I’m sure Mac forgave you.” If there was one thing her brother-in-law respected, it was business acumen and skill.
A wave of unexpected contentment flowing through her, she snuggled the sleepy Robby, breathing in his sweet baby scent. “Speaking of family, though, yours must be happy to have you back in Texas again.”
His expression darkened and the corners of his lips slanted downward. “They are.”
“Are you?” Curiosity won out over caution yet again.
“For the moment.”
Which meant what? He had one foot out the door? Was getting ready to bolt again?
Not that it was any of her business what his future plans were. Once the current mystery was solved, anyway. She knew what her future was—it was right here in Laramie County with Robby and Riot.
“So.” Bridgett forced herself to concentrate on their surroundings. She inclined her head toward the front two rooms of the thousand-square-foot first floor. The one on the right sported a wall of what appeared to be security monitors showing various areas of the ranch, while the other room was outfitted with a large, masculine mahogany desk, a comfortable chair, built in bookshelves and sleek computer equipment. Framed diplomas and awards adorned the whitewashed wood-paneled walls. “I gather this is where you do all the Western Cross ranch office work.”
“Yep. And there’s never any shortage of it.” He moved forward, leading the way past an iron-railed staircase to the living room in the rear, which also had an open layout. She paused to admire the rustic fireplace, a big comfy sofa and the state-of-the-art entertainment center.
After getting a cursory glimpse at the pristine eat-in kitchen, she followed him to a screened-in porch, complete with cushioned furniture and a chain-hung swing. It overlooked a stone patio and built-in barbecue grill as well as an impressive view of the ranch.
“This, I am guessing, is where you hang out when you’re not working.” She tried not to think about how intimate it would be, sharing such a cozy space, and failed. “And maybe entertain.” She pushed the words through the abrupt tightness of her throat.
He swung back to face her, looking as intrigued by her as she was by him. “Yes to the first. No to the latter.”
Good heavens, her pulse was pounding. She moved slightly away. Pretended to stare out the windows at the fields beyond.
She spun back to face him, pretending a tranquility she couldn’t begin to feel. “You don’t entertain?”
Gesturing for her to follow, he moved back inside toward the centrally located staircase. “I give tours of the ranch to business associates by request. That’s it.” He paused on the first stair. “Why? Is that a high priority for you?”
“Not really. I’ve been spending all my time these days working extra shifts so I could save up enough for the down payment on a house. Which I have finally done.”
Upstairs were three modestly decorated bedrooms, decked out in the same masculine gray-and-white color scheme as the rest of the home, and a full bath off the hall featuring a single pedestal sink, a private water closet and a tiled bathtub/shower combo big enough for a man of his size. “So, what do you think?” He shifted a restless Riot a little higher in his arms. “Will you-all be comfortable here tonight?”
In terms of creature comforts? Yes. In terms of having him sleeping just down the hall from her? Not so much. Yet what choice did she have? She had to make do until she had a better solution worked out.
“Absolutely. If you’re sure it’s going to be okay with you, too?”
He looked at her a long moment. A myriad of emotions came and went on his ruggedly handsome face. “We’ll make it work,” he said cryptically. And in that moment, as they headed back downstairs, she knew they would.
* * *
WHILE BRIDGETT CARRIED the baby and the diaper bag into the family room, Cullen headed outside with the puppy.
Thirty minutes later, she and Robby found them on the screened-in porch. The freshly bathed Riot was getting a rubdown with a towel and she smiled. “He has a lot more white fur than I realized.”
“Yeah, I thought he was mostly brown, too.” Laugh lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Guess a lot of it was mud. Robby okay?”
Trying not to think how easily she and Cullen meshed in the mom and dad roles, she nodded. “He took his bottle like a champ. Now all he has to do is burp a time or two, and I’ll be able to put him down again.”
Cullen brought two stainless steel bowls of food and water over and set them in front of where Riot was leashed to the railing.
The puppy stared at both.
“I know you have to be hungry,” Cullen said, kneeling down to pet the mutt’s head.
Riot still didn’t touch the food.
Cullen took some kibble into his hand and offered it that way.
Riot hesitated, then inched closer, nudging Cullen’s palm and finally eating a few small pieces. Cullen offered the bowl again, but when the pup once again refused, he was forced to go back to the hand-feeding method.
“Are all puppies that fussy?” she asked, walking back and forth, gently patting Robby on the back.
“I wouldn’t know. I only had the one when I was a kid.”
Bridgett caught the low note of emotion in his voice. “What happened to him?”
“He died at age nine. Cancer.”
Clearly, Cullen still missed him. “You never got another?”
Another shake of his head. “Initially, I wasn’t in a position where I could get another dog. After that—” he shrugged “—I was too busy ranching.”
Robby gazed over at Cullen, mesmerized by the low timbre of his voice. As was she. “Too busy?” she asked lightly, inclining her head at Riot. “Or too leery of giving your heart away to another little cutie like this?”
Cullen’s head came up. As he exhaled, his broad shoulders tensed, then relaxed. “Too busy fixing up ranches, adding to my herd and moving from place to place.”
“How big a spread do you want?” she asked, edging closer.
Cullen set the empty bowl aside, then led the still-leashed Riot over to the grass. “Minimum, ten thousand acres and a couple thousand head of cattle.”
“Maximum?”
He shrugged. “Frank has fifty thousand acres on the Bar M.”
“You’d like to equal your family’s ranch?”
He nodded, solemn now. “Yeah, I would.”
There was something oddly sentimental about following in his father’s footsteps that way. Especially coming from such an unsentimental man. She looked out at the fenced acres, all of them spring-green and lush after plentiful March rains. “How many acres do you have here?”
Noting Riot had finished his business, Cullen praised him and patted him on the head. “Four thousand.”
“So you have a way to go.” She watched the puppy and man amble back onto the patio.
“I’ll get there,” he said confidently.
She’d bet he would.
In fact, she’d bet he would get just about anything he wanted. Good thing it wasn’t her.
* * *
BRIDGETT AND CULLEN had dinner together and got the baby and puppy settled, then Cullen excused himself to go check on one of his prize bulls. Bridgett used the momentary quiet to hit the shower and change into a pair of light gray yoga pants and a long-sleeved light blue T-shirt.
That done, she settled on her bed and began making a to-do list for the following day, including all the notifications she had to take care of that very evening. Two and a half hours later, she was still working on the last and most important one. Aware Robby would be waking again soon, and would need to be fed when he did, she headed back down to the kitchen.
Cullen was seated at the kitchen table, laptop in front of him and what appeared to be business materials all around him. To her surprise, he appeared to have had a shower, too. But he had put on jeans and a black body-hugging T-shirt that let her know just how taut and muscular his body was. Clearly, he didn’t sleep in jeans. Those were for her benefit, just like her yoga pants, instead of pj bottoms, were for his. She wondered if he slept in that shirt or went bare chested. Not that she should be conjuring up a mental image of him in boxers or briefs in the first place.
Her pulse kicking up a notch, Bridgett remained in the portal. Her face bare of all makeup, her freshly shampooed hair spilling about her shoulders in damp waves, she felt oddly defenseless. The situation suddenly way too intimate.
“Okay if I come in long enough to warm up a bottle?” she asked lightly.
He glanced up from the laptop in front of him, his gaze raking lightly over her from head to toe. Sensual lips curved into a ghost of a smile, he encouraged her to come in with a tilt of his handsome head. “Mi casa is you-all’s casa...”
Temporarily, Bridgett reminded herself. Very temporarily.
She could not share close quarters with a man she found this attractive. Not for long, anyway. Not without something ridiculously sexy and impulsive happening.
“Not for much longer if the solution I have been working on all evening comes to fruition.”
Was that disappointment she saw etched on his handsome face?
He got up, suddenly. Went to the fridge, got a bottle of water, then held the door open for her so she could help herself, too. “How are things going up there?” His voice was low, polite.
She moved past to retrieve a premade bottle of formula, being careful not to touch him. She inhaled the clean, soapy scent of him. The minty smell of toothpaste. He hadn’t shaved and the evening beard shadowing his face gave him an even more ruggedly masculine air.
Aware she hadn’t answered his question yet, she smiled. “Both little fellas are still sleeping, but Robby should be waking up soon for another feeding, so I figured I would get ahead of the game and warm the bottle.”
He tilted his head, his gaze drifting over her lazily, creating little sparks of awareness. “Before all hell breaks loose,” he guessed.
Because she had no bottle warmer—yet—she filled a bowl with hot water and set the bottle in it. “I haven’t noticed anything being out of control this evening.” She adapted a militant stance. “If you discount the tiff with my landlord.”
He flashed a teasing grin. “That’s because, for the most part, there’s been two of us and two of them.”
It was so true she didn’t want to think—or was it worry?—about that. Adopting the confident, cheerful air she usually used to tackle the problems in life, she asked, “What time do you usually get up and out of here in the morning?”
“Before dawn, usually, but tomorrow I’m planning to hang around here and do office work, at least initially.” Seeing her unease, he murmured, “I also usually grab breakfast with the guys at the bunkhouse, but I could cook you breakfast.” He shrugged. “If that will help you out.”
There was a limit to how far she wanted his gallant involvement to extend. The vibe between them was far too personal already. “Or we could each cook our own,” she said pleasantly. Another spark of tension flickered between them, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.
“Independent, hmm?”
She swallowed hard, then shot back firmly, “Like you’re not.”
He chuckled, a deep rumbling low in his throat. Then he slowly ravished her with his gaze, as if he found her completely irresistible. “Is that why you wanted to adopt a baby on your own?”
Trying not to think how physically attracted she was to him, too, Bridgett checked the formula on the inside of her wrist. Still cool. She added more hot water to the bowl and set the bottle back inside.
“I never said that solo adopting was my first choice.”
Intimacy shimmered between them as he took up a station opposite her. The brooding look was back on his face. “But you’re doing it?”
She leaned back against the counter, her hands braced on either side of her, not sure why his opinion mattered so much.
She sighed, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to confide this much. “Only because I stupidly gave up the one shot I had at a happy family life.”
His brow quirked and he shifted closer.
Which didn’t mean she had to explain further. But, for reasons she couldn’t understand, she wanted him to know. “I was in love with a fourth-year medical student while I was in nursing school. He was headed back to Utah, where he was from, to do his residency, and he wanted us to get married before he left, start having kids right away. I still had another two semesters to go and I wasn’t ready. But Aaron saw no reason to wait if we loved each other. So he gave me an ultimatum.” Refusing the crazy urge to take refuge in Cullen’s strong arms and rest her head against his broad chest, she continued. “Thinking he would become more reasonable over time, I refused.”
Dark gaze skimming hers intently, he moved closer still. “Didn’t work out?”
Her heartbeat quickened at the unexpected compassion in his low tone. “He married someone else within a few months of our breakup.”
“Still married?”
Bridgett nodded. “Happily. They have six kids and another on the way.” Six kids who could have been hers.
His brow knotted. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
Silence fell between them.
“Still wishing it was you?”
Not the way he thought.
“Not really,” she replied honestly. “I wouldn’t want to leave my family, be that far away from Texas.” She locked eyes with Cullen, not ashamed to admit it. “But I do regret giving up my one shot at marriage, especially knowing it might never come again.”
His expression guarded, he said, “You’re selling yourself short.”
Finding his low, grumbling voice a bit too determined—and too full of sexual promise for comfort—she returned, “How do you know?” Who was he to give her advice on her love life or lack thereof? “Especially since you’re not known to be the most sentimental guy around!”
Ooh, she should not have said that. But he was goading her. Making her feel foolish in the way he kept looking at her.
He came close and, if she was not mistaken, looked very much like he wanted to make love with her then and there. A wicked grin deepened the crinkles around his navy eyes.
She felt as if she’d just waved a red flag in front of a bull.
“You think not?” he prodded.
Bridgett huffed. “I do.” Knowing it was a dangerous proposition to have him that close to her—because she did desire him more than anyone who had come before—she moved away. Feeling hot color flush her cheeks, she enunciated as clearly as possible, “I also know that, unlike you, I believe very strongly in destiny or fate or whatever you want to call it. And that destiny brought Riot and Robby—”
He prowled toward her. “And me.”
Ignoring the fierce sense that he was about to put the moves on her, she stubbornly finished her sentence. “Into my life. So if this is what’s meant to be for me, I’ll take it.”
In one smooth motion, he took her all the way into his arms. Pressed her against him in a way that left her reeling and lowered his lips to hers. “So will I,” he said.
* * *
IN INVITING HER to stay, Cullen hadn’t meant to do anything but clear his own reputation and help Bridgett out. He hadn’t figured what it would be like to have her, and the baby and puppy, in his home. Or how much he would quickly come to admire her fierce desire to help others, even as she shortchanged herself.
Was it possible she really had no idea how beautiful and desirable she was? How worthy of having?
It seemed so. And that was something he couldn’t let stand unchallenged, as all thoughts of being a gentleman fled. She had to know how captivating she was. So he did what he’d been wanting to do since they had first caught sight of each other; he kissed her. Kissed her to discover how soft and supple and sweet-tasting her lips were. Kissed her to fulfill a yearning deep inside him that he hadn’t known existed.
And, most of all, he kissed her to show her that they could simply enjoy each other without the false illusion of love or emotional promises that would most likely end up being short-term.
But he was the one who was surprised. Because this kiss, holding her like this, didn’t feel like any normal clinch. It felt different. Unique. Amazingly unique, as it turned out.
And who was the naive fool now?
* * *
BRIDGETT HAD KNOWN from the moment that she walked into the kitchen, hours after dinner, that a kiss, a touch, an embrace, something might be coming. It was in the way he looked at her. The way she felt when she looked at him.
It was in the leftover adrenaline still sizzling nonstop in her veins. In the building emotions and aftereffects of this crazy, crazy day. Of having her dreams start to come true, but not. Of realizing she still wanted it all. Maybe could have it all. If only she could find the right man.
She never would have imagined it could be Cullen Reid McCabe. But then, she had never really imagined kissing him. Now that she had, well, suffice it to say her whole world had turned upside down.
Which was why it was a very good thing when a short, loud, high-pitched cry split the silence of the ranch house. Followed by a single urgent bark.
Destiny once again, Bridgett thought, pulling away from the sexy cowboy who held her in his arms. But this time it was telling her not to go down this particular path.
Chapter Four (#u82cf4962-05cf-5fe9-815a-a31ce4b6f28e)
“So, he kissed you?” Bess asked the next morning at Bridgett’s apartment.
“Shh!” She cast a look over her shoulder at the guys helping her move out. “Yes.”
Her sister grinned. “Did you kiss him back?”
“What does that matter?” she whispered, flushing. Unfortunately, yes, she had kissed him back! For way too long a time! “It was obviously a mistake.”
Bess grinned again. “Sure about that? From what I’ve seen, he’s very sexy. Well regarded in the community. Single and obviously interested in you. And the baby.” She taped shut another box. “And where is Riot, anyway?”
“With Cullen. He took him to work in his truck.” Bridgett selected the clothes she needed to take with her when she left versus those that were going into storage. “Well, the puppy couldn’t be here, obviously, after what happened yesterday with the landlord, and quit looking at me like that!”
Bess chuckled. “What is it they say? Life happens while you were making other plans. Well, while you were trying, rather unsuccessfully, I might add, to adopt a child on your own, a baby and a puppy and a kind, great-looking cowboy all drop in your lap!”
Bridgett thought about what a great and gallant thing it was that Cullen was doing. Not just inviting her to stay with him at his ranch but helping her out with both infant and puppy, too. She looked at her sister. “It’s almost crazy spooky, isn’t it?”
“Fated is the word you’re looking for.”
Bridgett paused. “It may seem that way.”
“I’m telling you...it most definitely is.” Bess pointed at the well-dressed Realtor coming up the walk. “Oh, and speaking of fate...”
Bridgett met Jeanne Phipps at the door. “Did you get the answer from the sellers?”
“Yes.” Jeanne flashed a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, Bridgett, it’s not the one you want to hear.”
* * *
“WHAT’S WRONG?” CULLEN ASKED, coming through the ranch house door at five that evening.
Bridgett eased the sleeping Robby into the carrier sitting on the kitchen island, strapped him in and brought him into the adjacent family room. “What do you mean?” She knelt down to greet an equally tuckered-out Riot.
He nuzzled her palm, licked it once and then went into the back of his crate and promptly fell asleep.
“You look like you just lost your best friend.” Cullen strode over to the kitchen sink, rolled up his sleeves and washed his arms up to the elbows.
She waited until he’d grabbed a towel and then moved in to wash up, too. “Not exactly,” she murmured.
“Then what, exactly?”
She drew a deep breath. “My plan to be out of here—maybe as soon as this evening—fizzled. At least temporarily.”
He kept his eyes locked with hers.
“The house I have put an offer on is currently empty. I was hoping the owners would allow me to rent it from them until I can close on the property. They told my Realtor, Jeanne Phipps, they would consider it, but only after all the inspections are done and my mortgage application is approved.”
“How long do you think that will take?”
“Three, four weeks minimum. Which means I have to come up with a new plan to get us out of here.”
“Maybe not,” he corrected with a smile.
She regarded him quizzically.
“You could continue to stay here.”
She pressed a hand against her trembling lips and drew a deep, bolstering breath. “After what happened last night?”
He leaned close enough for her to inhale the brisk fragrance of sun and man. “What happened last night?”
She gave him a droll look. He gave her one back.
Ignoring the warmth of his body so close to hers, she reminded wryly, “You kissed me.”
His mouth quirked in masculine satisfaction. “And you kissed me back.”
Boy, had she ever. In fact, she had spent the night dreaming about it. She scowled in renewed embarrassment. “We can’t do that.”
He threw his arm around her shoulders and gave them a companionable hug. “Why not?”
Tingling everywhere he touched and everywhere he didn’t, she averted her glance. “My life is complicated enough as it is.”
He tucked a hand beneath her chin and guided her face back to his. “News flash, Bridgett. It’s always going to be complicated.” His deep voice sent another thrill soaring through her. “That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself.”
“Is that what we were doing?” Her throat was thick with emotion. “Simply enjoying ourselves?” Because to her it felt as if they had been on the brink of much, much more.
He brushed his thumb across her cheek, then dropped his hand at the sound of a car coming up the drive. He went to window, looked out. Swore.
Her pulse jumped again. “Who is it?”
“My folks.” He grimaced.
“Want me to make myself scarce?”
He caught her wrist before she could escape. “Nope. There’s a chance—a remote one—your being here will help them censor their remarks.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were scared of them, Cullen Reid McCabe.”
He shoved his hands through his hair. “In awe, maybe. And you’d be damned right.” He swung open the front door before they had a chance to ring the bell and wake the little ones. “Hey. Frank. Rachel. You-all know Bridgett?”
As always, the handsome couple radiated warmth and good cheer. The petite blonde Rachel smiled. In a cardigan set, skirt and heels, a strand of pearls around her neck, she looked as if she had come straight from her work as a tax attorney. Frank’s jeans, shirt and vest indicated he had left his work on the ranch. “Actually, we know her entire family,” Rachel said. A long, awkward pause followed.
Cullen nodded at the picnic hamper in his dad’s hand and the long wicker basket stuffed with baby things in his stepmother’s. “What do you have there?”
“We heard about what happened,” Rachel said gently, “and we brought by some dinner and a few baby items to help out in the interim.”
It was a nice gesture. Or would have been, Bridgett thought, if Cullen obviously didn’t resent the interference.
Frank frowned as Cullen ushered them inside. “We were disappointed you didn’t call us to tell us about the situation yourself.”
With a sober nod, he relieved his father of the basket of food and carried it back to the kitchen. “How’d you hear?”
His dad glanced into the family room where baby and puppy were sleeping. “I think the question is who didn’t call to let us know about the note left with the baby.”
Ouch, Bridgett thought as she took the Moses basket from Rachel with a grateful smile.
“Can we see the baby?” Rachel asked eagerly.
Cullen tensed. “If you promise not to wake either of them.”
Who was sounding like a daddy now? Bridgett wondered.
Everyone tiptoed toward the baby carrier.
Robby was sound asleep. He’d worked one arm out of the swaddling—it rested on the center of his chest. A blue knit cap covered most of his dark curly hair. His cheeks were slightly pink, his bow-shaped lips pursed. He was the epitome of sweetness and innocence.
On the floor opposite the Pack ’n Play, Riot was curled up in his crate, eyes closed, chin resting on a stuffed toy. He, too, was slumbering away.
“Adorable,” Rachel whispered approvingly.
For Frank, the emotions seemed more complex.
They trooped back out of the family room. Cullen grabbed four bottles of sparkling water from the fridge and ushered everyone out onto the screened-in back porch, leaving the door to the kitchen open so they could hear.
Everyone sat.
He waited.
“I’m just going to be blunt,” Frank said, looking at his eldest son. “Rachel and I both understand why you might have felt awkward about coming to us with this. It had to have been a shock, finding out about Robby the way you did. But surely you’d know that I would understand, better than anyone, what it’s like to get news like this after the fact.”
Cullen held up a staying hand. “Before you continue, you both should know, he’s not mine.”
Frank and Rachel exchanged concerned looks.
Finally, his stepmom cleared her throat and said kindly, “What we’re trying to tell you, Cullen, is that it would be okay, if he was. A McCabe is a McCabe. Part of our family, no matter how they come into it. Whether it’s by marriage.”
“Or illegitimacy?” Cullen challenged.
Frank leveled Cullen with a disappointed look.
Silence fell once again, more awkward and fraught with emotion than ever.
Finally, Cullen bit out, “Have you talked to Dan?”
Frank nodded. “He said attempts are being made to find the mother, but without her DNA, the child’s true parentage may never be known. And that would be a shame, son. For everyone.”
His words hung in the air, simultaneously an indictment and a plea to come clean.
Uncomfortable, Bridgett rose. “I really don’t think I should be here for this.”
Cullen put a hand on her shoulder. “This concerns you, too.”
Not wanting to contribute to what increasingly felt like an emotional melee, Bridgett eased back into the chair.
Cullen turned back to Frank and Rachel. “I am not dissembling when I tell you and everyone else the child could not possibly be mine. Obviously, I’ve been tapped to be the responsible party. Why, I have no clue. Yet. But I will figure this out. And when I do—” he turned back to his parents and finished heavily “—you-all will be the first to know.”
* * *
“ARE YOU OKAY?” Bridgett asked, short minutes later, after his father and stepmother had left.
His broad shoulders flexed against the soft chambray of his shirt. Exasperation colored his low tone, resentment his eyes. “What do you think?”
Knowing that he needed her support, whether he realized it or not, she ignored his curt reply. “You really don’t have any idea who did this, do you?”
An awkward silence fell. “You’re just now figuring this out?”
Hating the fact he thought she had betrayed him in some way, she gave in to impulse and caught his arm before he could turn away. “I can see why the accusation—never mind an anonymous one—would be upsetting, Cullen.” The hard curve of his biceps warmed beneath her fingertips. “But I can also see it goes much deeper than that.”
He didn’t take his eyes off her. “Let me guess,” he muttered. “You want to talk about my illegitimacy, too.”
She blinked, taken aback. Dropped her grasp and moved away. “Were you born illegitimately?”
“You don’t know?”
“How would I?” When he’d been a junior in high school, she’d been in sixth grade. Way too young to hear that kind of talk.
His dark brow furrowed. “I thought everyone in the county knew.”
“Obviously they don’t,” she returned, equally blunt, “or I would have heard about it.”
A skeptical silence fell.
She folded her arms in front of her. “All I do know is that you’re Frank’s son, conceived several years before he married Rachel, and you came to live with him after your mother died when you were a teenager. That you were here for almost two years, went off to college, lived elsewhere for most of the last decade and then came back.”
His eyes held hers for a long, discomfiting moment.
Ignoring the fluttering in her middle, she trod even closer. “I had no idea your mother and father were not married when you were born, but really, Cullen, in this day and age, is that such a big deal?” After all, she was attempting to adopt as a single parent! There were plenty of families where the parents were divorced, too.
Jaw set, he spun away and strode toward the front of the house where his office was. “It is a huge deal, even in this day and age to have ‘unknown father’ on your birth certificate.”
Okay, she thought, reeling at the implications. Maybe that was a little different. She watched him check the security screens, find nothing amiss. “Are you saying your mom didn’t know who sired you?”
Cullen dropped down into his desk chair, deep frown lines bracketing his mouth. “No. She knew. She just didn’t want anyone else to know that she had a child by one of the Texas McCabes.”
Bridgett leaned against the front of his desk, facing him, and took a moment to absorb that. Her denim-clad thigh almost touching his, she peered at him closely. “So, what did she tell you then?”
He rocked back in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him, looking sexy as all get-out. “Nothing—except that it wasn’t important who my biological father was. She was parent enough.”
“And that was a problem because...?”
“She refused to accept the shame in the continued public perception that she ‘had no idea’ who her baby daddy was, and instead, cast herself as the lead in some romantic, ongoing stage play of life.” He shook his head in obvious regret. “Raising me on her own was all part of the drama and the angst.”
“She made you feel like a burden?”
“It wasn’t her intention. But it was definitely the outcome.” His expression didn’t change in the slightest, yet there was something in his eyes. Some small glimmer of sorrow. “My mother worked as a ranch-house chef. She never had a problem getting jobs, because she was very talented. But she never stayed in one more than a year or so, because by then her romance of the moment would have fizzled out, and she would need a fresh start and move on.”
Bridgett began to see how this had all played out for Cullen. “Taking you with her.”
He gave a terse nod. “To another small, rural town, often in yet another state, where I would again have to register for school.” His lips thinned in frustrated remembrance. “And to do that, I would have to provide my formal birth certificate. The administrators would see I had ‘no known father.’ My mother would tackle the subject head-on. Treat it as a joke and wear it as a badge of honor.”
Gently, Bridgett said, “That must have been difficult for you to deal with at such a young age.”
Cullen accepted her empathy with a downward slant of his mouth and a harsh exhalation of breath. “Pity was the most common reaction.” He shook his head sadly, recalling, “I just felt embarrassed and degraded. To the point I begged my mother to tell me the truth.”
The pain in his eyes matched his voice.
“I wanted her to get the name on the birth certificate and be done with it. I even promised her I would never contact my father.” He walked to the windows overlooking the front of the house, then paced to another window, another view. “I just didn’t want to go through the rest of my life wondering who I was, where I came from. But—” he spun around and flung out a hand “—she wouldn’t budge.”
Bridgett’s heart broke for him. Yet she had to ask, as she edged closer yet again. “Is it possible she really didn’t know?”
Cullen shook his head, certain. “No. She was very much a one-man woman for as long as she was with someone. That was part of her own moral code. And, besides, I knew her. I could see that she knew my father’s identity. She just wasn’t going to tell me.”
Bridgett stood opposite him, her shoulder braced against the window. She hadn’t expected him to reveal this much about himself. Now that he had, it had opened up the floodgates of emotion within her, too. “Then how did you end up with Frank?” she asked curiously.
“My mom died in a car accident when I was fifteen. I was put in foster care for about a year, which was a horrendous experience, mostly because I was so angry about the fact that now I was never going to know who my dad really was or have the chance to meet him.”
He exhaled. “Luckily, I had a social worker who understood how torn up I was about that, so she got a detective on the local police force to help. He used my birth records and my mother’s work history to figure out where she had been employed when I was conceived.” He grimaced. “From there, he found out she’d had a romantic relationship with Frank McCabe that lasted almost a year.”
She studied the sober lines of his handsome face. Thought about the hell he’d been put through, not just after he’d been orphaned, but throughout his entire childhood.
“Frank apparently wanted to get married. Mom didn’t, so they broke up, and she took off for parts unknown.”
She listened empathetically, unsure how to help. Cullen’s eyes took on a stormy hue. “A couple years after that, Frank married Rachel and no one ever gave my mom another thought. Until the social worker told Frank her suspicions.”
“How did you verify it?”
“I had some belongings of my mom’s. A hairbrush still had some of her hair in it. So they used that and Frank’s DNA to determine I was their child.” His manner guarded, he continued, “Frank immediately brought me to Texas. Rachel welcomed me as part of the family. And so did my five half siblings.”
She shot him a commiserating look, guessing, “No one in Laramie made you feel demeaned...?”
“Of course not.” He straightened and moved away from the window. “I was part of the legendary Texas McCabes. But they wouldn’t have, even if I hadn’t been from a well-known Texas family,” he said gruffly. “Laramie isn’t that kind of place.”
“No. It’s not.” It was why she loved it so.
“Here, it’s all about neighbor helping neighbor,” he continued. “Everyone feeling like family, even if there isn’t an actual biological connection.”
“That’s why I’ll never leave here. Because it was that kind of community support after my own parents died when I was in middle school that helped me move on.” He nodded and she touched his arm gently, feeling the kinship between them grow. “Is that why you came back to Laramie County? Because you wanted to live in a warm and welcoming place again?”
Was he perhaps more sentimental and idealistic than he wanted to admit? Was it possible they could connect on that level, too? Because if so...
Unfortunately, he hesitated just a second too long for comfort. Finally, he said, “My family all wanted me here.”
Bridgett’s heart sank as she read the reluctance in his expression. “But you didn’t really want to come back home, did you?”
* * *
CULLEN WASN’T SURE how to answer that. Not in a way a woman like Bridgett would understand, anyway. Finally, he said, “I hoped being with my dad and his family—as an adult, this time—would give me the kind of peace I’ve never had. Instead, it just feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Something to happen. Some evidence that I am just as much my heartless, irresponsible, overly sentimental mom as I am my strong, hardworking, responsible father.”
Bridgett let out a slow breath, the warm understanding in her eyes a balm to his soul. “And now it’s happened. With this baby and this puppy.”
Keeping his gaze meshed with hers, he confided ruefully, “On the surface, at least to other people, including Frank and Rachel and the rest of the McCabes, it would certainly seem so.” He leaned in closer. “Which is why I have to find out who Robby’s real parents are. Otherwise...”
Bridgett stared at him unhappily. “I’ll convince DCFS that I’m the right mom for Robby and Riot, and foster-adopt them and they’ll both be loved and cared for and have an amazingly happy life?”
He regretted the angry flush in her cheeks. “I know it hurts you to hear this.” He captured her wrist before she could turn away. “But it’s true. Robby will never be as happy as he could be unless the mystery is solved and he knows who he is, what his past is and why his mother or father—or whoever it was—left him and Riot at the fire station to be given into my care.” He gave a ragged sigh. “And you won’t be happy, either, if you and Robby and Riot have to live the way I have all my life, just waiting for the truth to finally come along and blow your life to smithereens.”
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