An Honorable Texan
Victoria Chancellor
Baby Changes Everything! Christie Simmons left Fort Worth behind for good reasons. A new life in Brody's Crossing means her son can know his father. Christie and Cal Crawford had a brief affair before he left to go overseas, and she's sure that finding out about the baby wasn't the homecoming he imagined…. Everything in Cal's life is upside down, starting with the fact that his cattle ranch, the Rocking C, is raising everything except cows.Now he's discovering there's a lot more to being a dad than just fathering a child. But as a man who believes in tradition, can Cal change everything about his life? More important, will Christie–a woman he's growing closer to every day–be there if he doesn't?
“No,” Christie said, hoping she sounded more certain than she felt. “Not now. Not tonight…”
“Why?”
“Because there’s too much unresolved between us.”
“This might be a good opportunity to resolve some of those issues,” Cal said, no longer kissing her skin but still holding her tightly against his hard body and the soft couch.
“I don’t think making love will resolve anything. I think it will just make our lives more complicated and confusing.”
Cal moaned against her shoulder, “You think too much, Christie.”
She pushed and he levered himself away. She scooted off the couch, her shorts and top badly crumpled and her emotions in a jumble. “Someone has to think for both of us,” she said as she flipped her hair out of her eyes. “I’m going to bed—alone.”
Dear Reader,
I’ve learned, in the past thirty-four years I’ve lived here, that Texas is a state rich in honor and tradition, especially among the original settlers and ranching families. Sometimes, such devotion to principle might even be seen as stubbornness.
The men of the Crawford family of Brody’s Crossing are single-minded in their convictions. When I wrote Troy Crawford’s story, Temporarily Texan, I knew I had to write his older brother Cal’s story, as well. Cal’s family traditions and his personal history shaped him more than most heroes I’ve “met” in the more than twenty books I’ve written. Of course, Cal deserves (and gets!) a very independent, smart and caring woman in Christina Simmons. He thought she was special when they spent two days—and nights—together in Fort Worth before his military service in Afghanistan, but knew she could be only a weekend fling. That was before he returned to find the consequences of their actions.
I hope you enjoy Christie and Cal’s story. And if you think these are the last of the Crawfords, don’t be surprised if the brothers discover one more family secret in the upcoming months. I would love to hear from you via my Web site, www.victoriachancellor.com. Have a wonderful summer filled with your own discoveries, and I hope you’ll look for more BRODY’S CROSSING stories beginning in December, when the town’s mayor, Toni Casale, is reunited with her former love, the dashing and successful Wyatt McCall.
Victoria Chancellor
An Honorable Texan
Victoria Chancellor
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Victoria Chancellor married a visiting Texan in her home state of Kentucky thirty-five years ago, and has lived in the Lone Star State for thirty-two years after a brief stay in Colorado. Her household includes her husband, four cats, a very spoiled miniature pinscher, an atrium full of tortoises, turtles and toads, and lots of visiting wild critters. Last year she was blessed with both a new son-in-law and a granddaughter. Her former careers include fine jewelry sales, military security and financial systems analysis. She would love to hear from you via her Web site, www.victoriachancellor.com, or P.O. Box 852125, Richardson, TX 75085-2125.
To my editor, Kathleen Scheibling,
for making my books better, and for her patience
with my sometimes humorous and
embarrassing errors of omission.
Contents
Acknowledgments
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
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Thanks to SSG Kenneth Marion, U.S. Army, Plano,
Texas, for his help with the army reserves and active
duty details. Any errors or literary license are mine.
Also, thanks to Beverly Brown
of the Lucky B Ranch in College Station, Texas,
for her help understanding and appreciating bison,
and for all bison ranchers and organizations who
have useful information on their Web sites.
Chapter One
Christie Simmons put her Cadillac SRX into Park but didn’t turn off the engine. She didn’t plan to get out of the car unless a certain tall, tan, brown-haired rancher exited the ranch house and asked what the heck she was doing on his property.
She waited, but no one came out. Which meant he probably wasn’t home yet.
But he was coming home, any day now. That’s what his brother’s fiancée had told her on the phone yesterday. That’s what the nice waitress at the café in town had told her. Christie knew small towns had very active grapevines. By now, they’d probably be buzzing with news that a blond “city girl” had been asking about Cal Crawford.
A blond city girl with a nine-month-old baby, Christie corrected herself, turning to look at the rear-facing car seat. She could only see his cute little face in the special infant mirror attached to the backseat. Peter slept as he usually did when she drove long distances—just like a baby. If she stayed parked here too long, though, he’d awaken and want a bottle, some attention or his diaper changed. Maybe all three. She’d rather find a place to stay before Peter started fussing. A bed-and-breakfast, or even a motel would do, as long as it was clean and safe.
Still, she sat for a minute longer, returning her attention to the beige brick ranch house with the green trim. It was neat and well maintained, as was the red barn maybe half a football field away. In the pasture surrounding the yard, black-and-white cows—the kind in those cheese commercials—grazed on newly greening grass. In another pasture, bison, of all things, appeared to be dozing in the noontime sun. On a rocky hill, chickens of every color pecked among the stunted shrubs and clumps of cactus. What a strange and wonderful place!
Especially for a city girl, she thought. She was rarely around animals, except for her mother’s overindulged, yappy and slightly asthmatic Pekingese, Mr. Boodles. Christie had always wanted a yellow Lab, but her parents had insisted big dogs were too much trouble, so she’d lavished her attention on her friends’ pets.
When Peter was old enough, she’d get him that yellow Lab she’d never had as a child. She’d have a yard for him to play in and one of those cute inflatable kiddie pools. When Peter and the dog got wet and dirty, she’d clean them up and laugh with them, not scold them for making a mess.
She would not raise her child as she’d been raised, in a luxurious but cold home where perfection was more important than happiness.
With a sigh, she circled back onto the drive leading to the county road. She passed under a wooden arch that spelled out Rocking C in rustic iron letters. She was sure Cal had told her that four generations of Crawfords had lived on the ranch. She also had a vague memory of him mentioning he raised Hereford cattle. She recalled those red-and-white animals from the annual Fort Worth Fat Stock Show. She’d dutifully attended for years as the child of one of the rodeo sponsors. Everyone who was anyone in Fort Worth had ties to the Fat Stock Show, the Bass Performance Hall or the Kimball Art Museum. Maybe all three.
Cal had been gone a year and a half. Perhaps the ranch had changed since he’d been away. Perhaps it wasn’t even his any longer…. But, no, his brother’s fiancée had mentioned Cal was really looking forward to returning to the Rocking C.
“Soon,” she whispered to her sleeping son. “Soon you’ll meet your daddy.”
She headed into Brody’s Crossing to find a place to stay until Calvin Peter Crawford IV came home from Afghanistan.
THE RIDE FROM DFW AIRPORT was damn near as uncomfortable as having four pieces of shrapnel cut out of his face. Granted, three of them had been tiny, but the fourth one had left an ugly gash near his right temple.
He’d been called up for active duty just a few months before his military commitment was due to end. His service had been extended by a year of active duty, and while he was gone, his little brother had completely changed the ranch into some kind of organic, bizarre collection of everything he didn’t want: buffalo, dairy cows and free-range chickens. What self-respecting rancher raised those animals when he could have good old regular beef cattle grazing on his acres?
He should never have given Troy the power of attorney that James Brody, their lawyer, had said they needed. That simple document had allowed his brother to do whatever he wanted with the Rocking C while Cal was away. And, dammit, he had. He and Cal had exchanged sometimes heated e-mails over the changes to the ranch and had talked a few times by phone, until Cal had become too frustrated to speak to Troy. Cal figured they didn’t have anything else to discuss until he actually saw the ranch.
“You need to stop anywhere along the way?” Troy asked.
“No. If I need anything, I’ll go into town later.” First, he wanted to get out of the desert fatigues and army-issue boots of Sergeant Calvin P. Crawford IV and into the comfortable, worn jeans, Western shirt and cowboy boots of Cal Crawford, rancher. Then, he looked forward to visiting Dewey’s Saloon and Steakhouse, seeing his neighbors and having a few beers with a nice, juicy T-bone. No more MREs or institutional trays of food that made school lunches seem appealing.
“Raven has something planned, just so you know,” Troy said as they turned onto Highway 16 and headed north, avoiding the main street and its two stoplights.
“Great.” There went his plans for the evening. Troy had mentioned that his fiancée was an organic farmer and weaver from New Hampshire. Cal knew she’d come to Texas due to a mix-up with a garden association and had stayed to “help” Troy make all those changes he’d decided were necessary. Cal had seen a picture of Raven in one of Troy’s e-mails—she looked like what their father would call a “hippie.” She’d probably serve some kind of vegetarian smorgasbord. Or did folks from New Hampshire have smorgasbords? Maybe not. Cal had lived all his life in Brody’s Crossing, Texas, except for basic training, two weeks’ service every summer and the deployment to Afghanistan. With any luck, he’d never leave here again.
“Who’s invited?”
“Just a few friends and some of our new business associates.”
“Don’t even get me started on the changes to the ranch.”
Troy sighed. “Look, Cal, why don’t you just admit that something had to be done? The ranch was failing. You were way too far into the bank for operational loans. You could never have recovered the cost of those Herefords from the market price. I know you liked to look out and see them grazing in the pasture, just like they’d always been there, but—”
“Butt out, that’s what. You did what you did. I’m going to do what I have to do.”
“You’re as stubborn as our old man.”
“I think the word is loyal, not stubborn. Some of us value the past.” Cal didn’t understand why Troy was so dead set against the traditions of the Rocking C. Yeah, his life hadn’t been perfect, but whose had? Troy had been more of a mama’s boy, and when their mother had left the family when he was fourteen, he’d been hurt. Cal knew his brother also resented the fact that he’d been the younger son. Their dad had obviously groomed Cal to run the ranch, and that might chafe Troy a bit, but such was life. The oldest son usually took over the family’s responsibilities.
Someday, when he had a son, Cal vowed that he’d groom him the same way. He’d need to be tough to run a ranch.
Of course, first Cal needed to get the Rocking C back to the way it was.
“Just don’t take your bad mood out on Raven. All the changes were mine, understood? Just because I chose not to be a rancher doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of the cattle industry. I was marketing a new cattle breed, you know.”
“Yeah, I know that and I hear you loud and clear. I know just who to blame.”
“Hell, Cal, I know you’ve had a rough time, but your attitude sucks. I’m sorry about Dad’s accident. I’m sorry I got to go away to college while you stayed to run the ranch. I’m sorry for the timing of your military service. But I’m glad I could take a leave from my job after my vacation ran out, and I’m glad I got a chance to help the ranch survive. If I hadn’t done something, including investing a stack of my own cash into the Rocking C, then you’d be coming back to a foreclosure, no stock and no place to live.”
“So you say. I see it differently. And don’t talk about my bad attitude when I’ve been serving my country.”
“Oh, please. As if you’re more patriotic than the rest of us. You only joined the reserves because Dad and Granddad and the rest of the men in our family served in the army.”
“You’re so full of it.”
“And you’re not? I’m your brother. I think I know you pretty well.”
Cal snorted. His brother didn’t know him at all. He turned his head and looked out the window as they passed under the Rocking C sign. Troy must have repaired it and painted it black. Just the first of many changes. Fresh gravel crunched beneath Troy’s fancy SUV’s tires as they drove past repaired fences. Cal didn’t want to look into the pastures, where Herefords used to graze.
He had a sick feeling in his stomach, along with a racing heartbeat and overreaching sense of dread. He was finally home, but whose home? Not the one he remembered, that was for sure.
His little brother had taken over his life.
Troy thought he knew so much about running a ranch, about life in Brody’s Crossing, about family heritage, but he didn’t know everything. He didn’t know Cal’s secret.
And he never would. No one would.
RAVEN HAD INVITED CHRISTIE to the casual family “welcome home” party for Cal, but she’d declined. For one thing, she had no one to watch Peter. For another, she didn’t think springing “Hi, welcome home, you’re a daddy” would be the right approach in the midst of a family get-together.
So she’d wait. She’d already waited a year and a half since she’d discovered, to her great surprise, that she was pregnant.
During her marriage, while they’d lived in Europe, she’d been told she couldn’t get pregnant. The Italian doctor had been so wrong, she thought, as Peter pulled himself up on the ottoman.
They were staying about ten miles away in Graham since Brody’s Crossing had no hotel, motel or bed-and-breakfast.
“All that’s about to change,” Christie told her grinning son. “Yes, it is.” She smiled back at him and stroked his soft, downy hair. Light brown, like his father’s. But he had blue-green eyes, like hers.
“We’re going to open a motel, aren’t we?” she asked as he held on and wobbled, trying to stay upright on the carpet. The idea of running her own business still astounded her, and yet felt so right.
She’d bought the Sweet Dreams Motel in Brody’s Crossing just yesterday, paying with a cashier’s check from her bank in Fort Worth. The place was a run-down mess, with broken windows, horrid bathrooms and a parking lot so patched it looked like a crazy quilt. The stucco and concrete block walls were cracked in places, and the roof had to be replaced before the next big rain. During the walk-through with the Realtor, they’d disturbed a surly opossum and a family of mice living in the maintenance shed. Birds had flown out of gaps in the siding over the office.
Other than that, it was perfect.
“It will be great,” she told Peter, and she believed it. Because despite the neglected motel’s problems, it had one thing going for it: retro appeal. The old sign alone had made her want to own the darn thing. A crescent moon and sleeping baby, the name and vacancy sign all outlined in—currently inoperable—neon lights. The style was pure late fifties/early sixties, with a low roof and colored, painted doors and metal railings with geometric shapes. The motel had never been remodeled before it closed in the 1980s, so it was still authentic.
Christie wasn’t a remodeler or a decorator, but she knew what she liked. And she absolutely loved the decrepit Sweet Dreams Motel.
She’d already hired a contractor. Brody’s Crossing mayor Toni Casale was the best, Christie had been told by several people, and she’d hit it off with the other woman, who was near her age and also a blonde. As a matter of fact, they’d shared a laugh at the fact that two blondes were doing what no men had attempted—opening the old motel, which, according to Toni, was sorely needed in a town with no rooms to rent.
She glanced at the clock. “Aren’t you getting tired?” she asked Peter, who had grown bored with standing and had crawled over to his favorite toy, a plastic piano that played the most irritating electronic tunes when he hit the big, primary-color keys. To answer her question, he grinned and began pounding.
Christie hoped they didn’t have any close neighbors tonight who objected to her baby’s piano music.
She was going to call Cal at the ranch later and arrange a meeting. There was no sense in putting off the news any longer. Perhaps they could have lunch in a public place, like that steakhouse she’d gone to with Toni. Or the cute little café in town, although that would be much more public and people might be able to hear their conversation.
That was her big fear—that Cal would find out about Peter from someone else. That’s why she’d been very careful to mention she was a widow, and not to act too interested in Cal when she’d talked to others. She’d developed a friendly relationship with Troy’s fiancée, Raven, although she’d never told the other woman about Peter. They’d only talked on the phone. She’d tried to be very careful and respectful of Cal’s privacy, just as she would have wanted had she been in the same situation.
Not that she’d ever expected to be a single parent. Or to have her own biological child.
Peter quit banging on the piano and rubbed his eyes.
“Time for your bottle? Ba-ba?” she asked, pushing up from the chair and scooping him off the floor. With Peter on her hip, she went to the little kitchen area of the motel room. As soon as he saw the bottle of powdered formula, he waved his arms and started saying, “Ba-ba-ba.” That was his word for bottle. He also said, “Ma-ma-ma,” but Christie wasn’t sure if that was a true mama word or just sounds.
Maybe someday soon he’d learn to say “da-da.”
She fed Peter, changed his diaper, then sang to him a little until his eyes closed. Within minutes he was sound asleep in his portable crib.
And Christie had no more excuses to keep her from calling Cal.
AFTER A QUESTIONABLE DINNER of some family favorites and some new-age greenery, all Cal wanted to do was retreat to his bedroom, lie on his familiar mattress and watch a little sports. Mavericks, Rangers, Stars—whatever was in season was fine with him. He probably wouldn’t have gone to Dewey’s even without the planned dinner and company. He’d spent thirty-five years nearly alone, and the past eighteen months surrounded by troops twenty-four hours a day. He just needed some time to himself.
Tonight, several of his neighbors—along with the guy leasing the pasture for his free-range chickens, a nuisance if Cal ever heard one, and Brian Wilkerson, the man who leased the pasture and the new barn for organic dairy cows—had come to share coffee and dessert. Brian came to the ranch twice daily to feed and milk the cows. The only animals the Rocking C owned were the few Herefords Troy had saved from the original herd, a handful of laying hens, horses and a pasture of overgrown, scraggly bison. The ranch hardly looked the same as when they’d raised nothing but regular beef cattle.
Besides Troy’s fiancée, Cal had met another new town resident, his lawyer’s bride, Scarlett. She was cute in a quirky kind of way, but definitely not his style. She wouldn’t make a good ranch wife. James seemed crazy about her, though.
He nudged off his boots, kicked them in the direction of the closet and settled back on the bed. His bedspread was one of those thin cotton ones with ridged lines, brown just like the trim on the house used to be. He’d missed that damned bedspread. At least Troy and Raven hadn’t thrown it out, even though it was a little threadbare in spots.
He’d barely gotten into the bottom of the first inning of the Rangers game when Raven knocked on the door. “You have a call,” she said through the closed door.
He swung his legs off the bed and opened the door. “I hope this isn’t a solicitation. I don’t want a credit card or a cell phone.”
“No, it’s not one of those. I think you might want to take this call.”
“Yeah?” He took the phone from Troy’s fiancée, who looked as though she knew something he didn’t. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” she said, and shut the door.
He settled back on his bed. “Hello,” he said, wondering who would call him his first night back. Probably one of his friends from the feed store who hadn’t come for coffee.
He thought perhaps the caller had hung up, but then a woman’s voice said, “Cal?”
“Uh, Christie?”
“Yes! I’m so glad you remembered.”
“How could I forget?” How, indeed. She’d been every man’s dream of a great weekend. Tall, blond, built, fun, smart and sexy. Very sexy. They’d met at the Barnes & Noble in Fort Worth’s Sundance Square on the Friday afternoon before his unit was scheduled to deploy. They’d both carried the same recently released biography and had ordered coffee at the attached café. He’d told her the truth—that he was a rancher who was in the reserves, called up for active duty and set to leave the next week. As far as he knew, she’d told him the truth—she was a widow who lived in Fort Worth and worked in marketing.
They’d spent one fantastic weekend together. He’d never expected to hear from her again, not that he minded she’d called him tonight.
Unless she was some kind of weird stalker…
“What’s up, Christie?”
“I’d like to see you, Cal. Maybe tomorrow for lunch?”
“In Fort Worth? I just got home and—”
“No, I’m nearby, in Graham. I could meet you at Dewey’s, or, if you’d rather, we could meet in Graham. There are several restaurants here.”
“Yeah, I know, but…I don’t want to be rude, but what are you doing here?” She seemed to know her way around already.
“I…I just need to see you. I have something to tell you.”
“Tell me now.”
“I can’t. I need to see you.”
“I’m not real fond of surprises, Christie.”
“Yes, I can imagine you’re not, but this is one of those times when you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Or not.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, and he kind of regretted cutting her off at the knees. In a low voice, she said, “Please, Cal.”
He paused for a moment, then asked, “You’re not dying or anything, are you?”
“No! I’m fine.”
“No illnesses that you want to tell me about?” He knew he didn’t have anything, since he’d had about a dozen physicals since their weekend together.
“Absolutely not.”
Well, hell. His curiosity was piqued. “All right,” he said. “Noon at Dewey’s.”
“We…I’ll be there.”
“We what?”
“Nothing. We just need to talk. I’ll see you at noon. Good night, Cal.”
“Good night.”
He ended the call and sat there on the edge of his bed, wondering what the hell was up. What couldn’t she tell him over the phone? Or had that been just a ploy to get him to meet her? She didn’t have to resort to games. He would have been glad to see her for a replay of their time together. She’d had some tough luck in her life, though. Her husband had been killed in an accident, and she couldn’t have kids. That would be hard for any woman to handle, but she’d shown an inner strength when she’d told him a little about her past.
She’d been one special woman.
Maybe she still was. Maybe he was worrying too much, but he’d learned to be cautious. He’d trusted his brother to take care of the family ranch, and Troy had changed everything. He’d trusted the military to let him out when his time was up, and they’d extended his duty.
What else could possibly happen?
CHRISTIE ARRIVED EARLY, requested a booth near the back and tried not to show Peter how nervous she felt. She settled him in the wooden high chair and spread a handful of finger food on the table in front of him. Oblivious to her worries, he babbled and grabbed a handful.
She would have preferred finding a babysitter for Peter, but she knew so few people: Toni Casale on a professional basis, Raven York via the telephone, the daytime front-desk clerk at the motel in Graham. She didn’t know any of those women well enough to ask them to watch Peter while she went to lunch with Cal. Besides, they might not be good with children.
Maybe she should go ahead and hire a nanny. She rarely felt she needed one, but with the upcoming renovations on the motel, perhaps it would be wise to have a professional available to watch the baby. He was crawling and nearly walking, and getting into everything. She had to settle down, perhaps even find a house in Brody’s Crossing for a few months until the owner’s suite at the motel could be finished.
Unless, of course, Cal absolutely pitched a fit, rudely and publicly denounced her and his son and told her to get out of town.
Would she listen? Her first instinct was no, she would fight. But for what? If he was insistent that he didn’t want to acknowledge Peter, maybe they would be better off without him in her son’s life. She didn’t have to stay in Brody’s Crossing. Her nice condo in downtown Fort Worth waited for her, if she chose to move back, or she could buy a house in the suburbs. She wanted to give Cal a chance for all their sakes, but only if he wanted to be a positive part of Peter’s life. A bad father was worse than no father at all, in her opinion.
Her own father hadn’t been bad, but he hadn’t been nurturing and kind, that was for sure. When she’d done something he approved of, however, he’d been generous with his attention and his money. His love, as he defined the emotion, had been conditional.
Oh, why was she worrying so much? Cal would be here soon, and she would know almost immediately how he’d react to the news that they’d created a son together.
“Ba-ba-ba,” Peter demanded, banging on the table, scattering finger foods.
“Are you ready for your bottle already?” she asked. “Okay, Mommy’s hurrying,” she said, digging in the diaper bag on the seat beside her. Once she found it, she motioned the waitress over. “Could I get some warm water, please?”
“Of course. What can I get you to drink?”
“Iced tea would be fine,” Christie replied, fishing for the terry-cloth bib she kept for Peter’s feedings. “Here it is,” she said to the baby, and held it up for him to see.
And sat frozen in place. Standing behind Peter’s high chair was the man she’d known for only three days. He wore a plaid Western shirt, jeans and a stern expression on his handsome face. He stood tall and seemed lean, yet more imposing, his shoulders broader. He should have been a stranger, but he seemed so familiar.
That’s because you look at a baby version of his face every day.
“Cal,” she whispered.
“Christie,” he replied, his face tight. An angry red scar cut across his temple, between his eye and his hairline. “What’s going on?”
“Lunch,” she said, motioning to the other side of the booth.
He sat down, stiff and distrustful, and eyed Peter as if he’d never seen a baby before.
“Cal, this is Peter,” she said, and the baby turned his head toward her and grinned when he heard his name. “He’s—”
“Here’s your hot water,” the waitress said, “and your tea.” She set both on the table. “Oh, hi, Cal. Welcome home. What can I get for you?”
He looked as if he were trying to force a smile for the waitress, but the gesture came out more of a grimace. He must really be upset.
“Iced tea, please, Twila,” he said, then added as soon as the girl left, “and maybe I should have a beer or a shot. What do you think, Christie? Do I need a drink?”
“I don’t know, Cal,” she replied, getting a bit irritated. “I suppose that depends on how well you take the news that you’re a father.”
Chapter Two
Christie hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but he’d acted so…sarcastic. Sure, this was a surprise, but he didn’t have to imply he needed to be drunk before finding out he was a father.
Now he was slightly pale, making the scar on his temple stand out even more. He stared at Peter, and the baby stared back, so she took the opportunity to mix the powdered formula with the warm water the waitress brought for his bottle.
Finally, she got the temperature of the formula right and glanced up. Cal was now staring at her. “You aren’t breastfeeding.”
“No, I couldn’t. I tried, but it doesn’t always work out.”
He looked at her as if it were her fault her milk hadn’t come in. Fine. What did he know about babies, anyway? He might know a lot about calves, but Peter didn’t have four legs, and she didn’t have an udder, and Cal wasn’t going to make her feel as if she were less of a mother because she couldn’t nurse her son.
“You’re sure he’s mine?” Cal asked.
“Oh, that’s a typical male question,” she said, popping the nipple into Peter’s mouth. “Of course I’m sure he’s yours. We can have a paternity test at any time, although I think that by looking, you can see who he resembles.”
“What happened to ‘I can’t have children’?”
“Obviously, the doctor I saw in Europe was wrong. Or maybe he told me I couldn’t have children because of my husband. I don’t know! His English was terrible and I don’t speak Italian. At the time, all I knew was that I would never be a mother.”
“Not the case,” he mumbled.
“No, and despite your obvious opinion of the situation, I’m thrilled to have Peter.”
“Would that be Calvin Peter Crawford V?”
“No, that would be Peter Simmons Crawford. I took the liberty of giving him your last name and listing you as the father on the birth certificate, although if you don’t want to be a part of his life, his last name can always be changed. He’s too young to know the difference, and quite frankly, I don’t need child support and Peter doesn’t need the influence of a reluctant father.”
Cal stared intently at the baby as Peter took his bottle, sitting up in the high chair as he now preferred. Gone were the days when he automatically snuggled into her arms and let her feed him. Now he was all about independence. In a few more months, she suspected he’d begin saying, “No, I’ll do it myself!”
“He might not know the difference, but I do. I’ll know. I’ll know I missed seeing the first months of my son’s life. Missed naming him after my father and grandfathers. So he’s what, nine months old?”
“Nine months last Wednesday.” She took a deep breath. “And even if you’d known about him, you still would have been away. They don’t give a leave because you discover you’re going to be a father.” She knew because she’d checked.
“No, but I could have seen his pictures. I could have done…something.”
“I took tons of photos. I have them all for you, including the ultrasounds.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Christie? Write me a letter, an e-mail, or call the ranch?”
“I did call the ranch, but I wasn’t about to tell your brother or Raven before I told you. Frankly, I didn’t think it was any of their business. I wanted to tell you in person. I didn’t think this was something you should find out in a letter or e-mail when you were thousands of miles away.”
Cal sat there even after the waitress brought his iced tea and Christie told her they’d order in a few minutes. He sat and watched Peter struggle to hold his bottle, then hurl it across the table when he didn’t get it tilted at the right angle to get the formula out. Christie handed the bottle back to her son, and soon he found the right angle and began to suck greedily.
When Peter was just about finished, he hurled the bottle in Cal’s direction again. Cal caught it, and when he looked back at Peter, the baby was grinning. He banged his little fists on the table and looked so adorable that Cal smiled back. They stared at each other, and Christie’s heart skipped a beat.
She wished she had her camera. She wished she’d thought to document father meeting child.
“I have a son,” Cal said softly.
“Yes, you do.”
And to complete the moment, Peter squealed and threw a Cheerio at Cal.
“HAVE YOU BEEN TO THE RANCH?” Cal asked after they’d ordered lunch.
“I drove out there, but you didn’t appear to be home yet, so I didn’t go to the door. The animals are wonderful, though.”
Cal snorted. She was such a city girl, thinking animals were “wonderful.” She probably didn’t know a dairy cow from beef on the hoof.
“Where are you staying?”
“In Graham, for now, but I’ll be moving to Brody’s Crossing.”
“Why? Don’t you live and work in Fort Worth?”
“I quit my job a few months before Peter was born, and, yes, I still have my place in Fort Worth.”
“So you mentioned you don’t need my child support. This might sound a little rude, but how are you getting by?”
She sighed and wiped a little milk from the baby’s mouth. His baby. Peter.
This was going to take some getting used to.
“I already told you I’m a widow. My husband left me rather well off. And also, I should let you know, I come from a wealthy family. I was working for my father’s company, SHG, when we met in Fort Worth. That’s Simmons Hotel Group. He inherited a few hotels and expanded the business. I inherited a trust fund.”
“Oh.” She was wealthy. Even he, a small-town rancher, had read about those hotels in the business sections of the paper. Christie Simmons probably had more money than he’d ever see in a lifetime. “So now you’re just hanging out in Brody’s Crossing and Graham, waiting to see what my reaction would be to the news?”
“Of course I wanted to see your reaction, but I decided to stay in town before you came home. Actually, I’ve bought some property of my own, and I’m starting my own business.”
“Yeah?” He was just about to ask what she’d possibly do in Brody’s Crossing when Twila brought their food. He’d ordered chicken-fried steak—something he hadn’t had in a year and a half—while Christie had chosen a chicken tenders salad. At least she’d found something on the menu she liked. She was obviously more accustomed to eating gourmet food in fancy restaurants.
Not that either one of them had paid much attention to food that weekend they’d spent together…. He shook off the errant thoughts and asked, “What business?”
She shifted and fiddled with her salad before looking back up. “The Sweet Dreams Motel near downtown.”
He almost jumped out of the seat. “That old place? It was falling down twenty years ago!”
“I don’t doubt that, but it has a certain appeal,” she said as she sprinkled a few more little cereal circles on the high-chair tray for Peter.
“That place should have been bulldozed years ago, and would have been, if the city could make it go away.”
“No! It’s wonderful—it’s so retro.”
“It’s old, that’s what it is,” he said, stabbing his chicken-fried steak with his fork. “You won’t be able to open it as a motel for at least six months. Maybe a year, if ever.”
“I’m hoping for a fall opening. Perhaps around Labor Day if I’m lucky.” She righted Peter after he leaned sideways in the chair and dropped cereal on the floor.
“That’s pretty aggressive. Who’s doing the work?”
“Toni Casale’s company—Casale Remodeling,” she answered before taking a bite of salad.
“She’s good, but I’m not sure even she can save that old motel.”
“We’ll save it together. I’m committed to making it into a viable business again. Retro is in. I can get great press from the Dallas–Fort Worth area. It’s not too far for a quick weekend trip, which adds to the appeal.”
“Well, you’re the marketing expert. I just think it’s a waste of time.” He tried to concentrate on his food, which tasted a lot better than he remembered. Christie planned to open a business here in Brody’s Crossing, but she’d also kept her place in Fort Worth. He wasn’t stupid; she wasn’t really making a commitment to live here. She’d get bored or frustrated with her project and leave. It wasn’t as if she needed the money.
“I can understand your reservations about the property, since you’ve seen it as only a run-down motel.” She shrugged, then flipped her head to send her long blond hair behind her shoulder. “I disagree, of course, but I understand.”
Nice of you, he felt like saying, but didn’t. He didn’t want to argue with her. He didn’t care about the old motel. He cared about the fact he now had a son who wasn’t named after him, and a former lover who’d sort of moved to his hometown while he was recovering from a roadside bomb.
“You can’t stay in Graham in a motel for six months,” he said after finishing his meal. “That would get darned uncomfortable for anyone, much less with a baby, I imagine.”
“I know,” she said with a sigh, pushing lettuce around the bowl. “I’m going to look into renting a house here until the owner’s suite I’m planning is finished. We’re doing that one first, of course, so Peter and I will be able to move in.”
He would no doubt regret what he was about to say—if not today, then soon and probably often. But, dammit, he could see that Christie was serious about renovating that old motel, at least for now, and that meant she was going to be in town for months. With his baby. He pushed his plate back and folded his arms on the table.
“Look, now that I’m home, Troy and Raven are leaving tomorrow for New Hampshire. She needs to get back to her farm, and Troy is starting a new job.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “Since you need a place to stay and I’ve got plenty of room at the ranch, why don’t you move in out there?”
“Move in with you?” She sounded slightly appalled.
“Well, yeah. It’s not like I’m asking you to do anything but live at the ranch. Frankly, I doubt you’ll be able to find anywhere to rent that would be suitable for a baby. My house might not be plush, but it’s comfortable and clean. Raven fixed it up a little. Painted the walls and stuff like that.”
Christie pushed away her salad bowl. “I’m sure the house is fine, but…well, we hardly know each other. Won’t your friends and neighbors jump to conclusions?”
He shrugged. “I suppose they will. After all, we have a child together.”
“You’re going to tell everyone that Peter is your son?”
“Of course!” What, did she think he was ashamed of having a son? He wasn’t, but she should have named the baby after him, in the tradition of the Crawford firstborn sons. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change the baby’s name….
“I didn’t tell anyone. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to the news, so I tried to be careful.”
“I’ve found it’s better to be up-front about things my friends and neighbors are going to discover anyway. They can be nosy and sometimes they’ll interfere. That’s just the way things are in a small town.”
Twila came and cleared away their dishes after chatting a bit. Peter began to fuss, then cry. Christie efficiently unlatched the seat belt on the high chair while Cal watched, feeling completely out of his element. He knew nothing about babies. He could shove a bottle in an orphaned calf’s mouth, dose him with antibiotics, vaccinate him and do a half dozen other procedures, but he’d never been around a baby. Maybe if he’d had a chance to get used to the baby when Peter was a newborn, he’d feel more confident, but right now, the baby’s needs were a complete mystery.
All the more reason to spend time with his son, no matter how scary the idea.
“I think we’ll go. I’ve got to stop by Toni’s office, then Peter needs a nap. Besides, I need to consider your offer.”
He stood up. “For how long?”
She looked up at him, looking a little frazzled. By the crying baby or by him? “I…I’m not sure. Maybe until tomorrow.”
“I’ll help you to your car.”
“You don’t have to,” she answered, but he was already picking up the diaper bag. That and the baby carrier were a lot for one woman to carry.
She preceded him out of the Dewey’s, Peter held high on her left side, facing backward. The baby watched him as he followed. Cal resisted the urge to make a silly face at the fussing baby. Would that make the little guy laugh or cry? Cal wished he knew. He wished he felt comfortable enough with his child to find out. Of course, they’d just met.
At the front, Christie paused for him to open the door.
Cal stood there, feeling as if he was being watched. He slowly turned and looked around.
Everyone seated in the restaurant section of Dewey’s had focused their attention on him. He felt a blush creep up his neck. Damn, what a ridiculous reaction. “Hey,” he said to no one in particular.
“Welcome home, Cal,” Police Chief Montoya said from a nearby table.
“Cute baby,” fellow rancher Rodney Bell said with a knowing smile.
“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” Cal answered. Then he smiled and added, “He’s mine.”
PETER WENT TO SLEEP as Christie drove to Toni Casale’s office just down Main Street past the grocery store Toni’s parents owned. The redbrick and black-trimmed two-story building adjoined others and sat right on the wide sidewalk.
A timeline for the renovations needed to be set now. Toni had said she’d check with the subcontractors for availability of work crews for the aggressive opening Christie wanted.
But in truth, she’d do almost anything to keep from thinking about moving into Cal’s house, on his ranch. Just her, her baby and her baby’s daddy.
She’d never thought of moving in with Cal. She’d envisioned renting a place, if the initial meeting with him went well, and letting father and son get to know each other. Slowly. Then, if she decided to stay in Brody’s Crossing, they could maybe make other arrangements. She liked Cal, she was still attracted to him, but she didn’t want to rush into a relationship.
Spending the weekend with Cal had been exciting, wonderful and…temporary. A weekend didn’t make a lifetime. Even when you thought you’d have a lifetime, sometimes you didn’t.
A feeling of panic threatened, as it sometimes did when she thought about being a single mother, and she took several deep breaths as she pulled into a parking space in front of the office. Today she felt very much alone. No one else could give her advice, not really, although there were several friends she could ask back in Fort Worth. But she had to make the decision about Cal herself rather than rely on the advice of other people. After all, it wouldn’t be them out there, isolated. Especially at night.
She realized she’d been stopped for too long, her SRX in Park and her son asleep in the back. With a shake of her head, she turned off the engine and opened the door. From the backseat she grabbed the diaper bag and unlatched Peter’s car seat. Careful not to slam the door, which would wake him for sure, she looped the car seat handle over her arm and walked toward the office.
A nice-looking man exited at the same time she reached for the door, so he held it open for her and Peter. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“You’re very welcome,” he said with a killer grin. Why couldn’t Cal be so easygoing? She didn’t remember him being as serious and opinionated as he was now. Maybe the military service had changed him, or perhaps he was really upset about Peter.
“Are you here to see Toni?” the man asked, pulling Christie back into the present. “I’m her big brother.”
“Yes, I am here to see her. I’m Christie Simmons. I’d shake hands, but I need both to hold the baby.”
“Leo Casale. And I completely understand. I’d offer to help, but I don’t know anything about babies.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine. It’s nice to meet you, Leo. Toni mentioned that you own the hardware store.”
He smiled again, showing a dimple in his left cheek. Leo was very attractive, looking more like a Nordic god than an Italian entrepreneur. “Makes it convenient for a sister in the renovation business.”
Christie chuckled. “I imagine she’s a good customer.”
“She drives a hard bargain.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’m renovating the Sweet Dreams Motel.”
“Really? Wow, that’s great. We need a motel in town.”
“That’s what I’ve heard…although not everyone feels the same way,” she said, thinking again of Cal’s negative reaction.
“Who?”
“Oh, never mind,” she said with a smile. “I should get inside.”
“Of course. He looks like he’s really asleep, so maybe I could carry him without waking him up or dropping him.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m getting used to carrying a nearly twenty-pound baby, a ten-pound car seat and about the same in the diaper bag. It’s like taking a workout with me, wherever I go.”
He chuckled as he held the door open. She saw him eye the empty ring finger on her left hand. “Nice meeting you, Christie. I’ll be seeing you around town.”
“I suppose so.” If she wasn’t mistaken, Toni’s big brother had just flirted with her! She’d never piqued a man’s interest while holding her baby. “Nice to meet you, too, Leo.”
He grinned again and waved as he took off with a long stride down the street.
Toni was in her office, talking on the phone when Christie entered. Peter was still sleeping, so she took a moment to look around. The small office was more functional than decorative, and Christie admired the exposed red brick, wide crown moldings and copper-colored pressed-tin ceiling. There were very few indications that this was a woman’s business. Christie mostly speculated that Toni had planned it that way, to succeed in a male-dominated business.
“Come on in,” Toni said as she hung up the phone.
“I thought I’d drop by and see if we could work out a schedule. I have some decisions to make about living arrangements.”
“Yes, I imagine you do, with Peter to consider,” Toni said, smiling at the sleeping baby.
“I’ve thought of renting a house.” As opposed to staying with Cal at the ranch. Peter went to sleep around seven-thirty every night, leaving lots of “alone time” for two adults who hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other when they’d first met. Now, their situation was more complicated, and adding temptation to the mix probably wasn’t a good idea.
Toni frowned. “I’m not sure what’s available at the moment. We’ve had several families move here recently, but no new houses built yet. There might be more choices in Graham, but that’s a longer drive.”
“I was hoping to find something close. It doesn’t need to be luxurious or large, just clean and safe for Peter.”
“Your best bet would be to check with a Realtor in Graham, since we don’t have an office here in Brody’s Crossing. I can recommend someone there, if you’d like.”
“Yes, that might be best.” Christie didn’t think Toni sounded very confident that a listing would be available.
“Okay, as far as a schedule, I have had time to talk to my subs,” Toni said, taking out a legal pad from her desk drawer.
Over the next few minutes, they discussed an aggressive timetable, based in part on Christie’s ability to pay extra for dedicated work at the site. Toni explained that most contractors worked on several jobs at once, splitting their time based on deadlines, weather and material availability. The crews might work anywhere from Decatur to Graham to Olney, tying them up from one day to one week. Also, Brody’s Crossing had a slight boom in growth with the new farmers’ market, butcher shop and several smaller offices. Then there were always home renovations and repairs.
Just as they finished, Peter started waking up. Christie unlatched him from his car seat. “He’s probably wet. Is there a place to change him here?”
“Sure. You can use the little conference room across the hall.”
“I’ll be right back.” She snagged the diaper bag and baby, and was just about to enter the hallway when the door to the main office opened, bringing in a gust of warm air and a tall, angry-looking Texan.
“We need to talk,” he said without pleasantries.
“I thought we did that a little while ago.” Christie snuggled Peter closer to calm her suddenly pounding heart. Cal had startled her, but she had a feeling that just being around him was disturbing on several levels.
“I’ve thought of something I should have said earlier.”
“I’d rather wait, Cal. I need to think about your offer.” Peter began to fuss, and Christie felt like doing the same.
“This needs to be said,” Cal insisted, his expression intent.
He’d had about the same expression on his face when he’d braced himself above her, their bodies hot and naked. She shook off the memory and started walking away. “I need to change the baby, and then Toni and I will finish up. Why don’t we schedule something later.”
“Let’s settle it now.”
“Oh, hello, Cal,” Toni said from the doorway of her office. “Welcome home. Can I help you with something?”
“No. I need to talk to Christie.”
Toni looked very surprised. “Oh. Christie, do you want a little privacy?”
Actually, she didn’t want to have this conversation at all. “Cal, I think we should talk later.”
He braced his hands on his hips. “I don’t even know how to get in touch with you, Christie. How are we going to talk?”
“I’ll call you.”
“Christie, are you okay?” Toni asked.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry for the intrusion.” She’d barged into Cal’s life; now he was apparently doing the same in hers.
She turned back to Cal. “I said I’d call you, and I will.”
“I’ll be in my office if you need me,” Toni said. “Cal Crawford, you behave yourself.”
Cal completely ignored Toni. He drilled Christie with his blue-gray eyes. “Like you called me eighteen months ago?”
“You don’t need to be sarcastic,” she said, feeling herself flush with anger…and maybe a little bit of guilt. Should she have called him? Her rationale had seemed so reasonable while she was pregnant, and immediately after Peter’s birth. And by then, Cal’s return was imminent. Of course, he’d been delayed, then wounded.
“Sorry for my bad attitude, but it’s not every day a man finds out he has a son!” he said, stepping closer.
“You’re lucky to have Peter,” she said in an angry whisper, unwilling to tell the world their private business. “I can’t believe how angry you’ve become from the time we left the restaurant to now.”
“I’m not angry. I’m…perturbed.”
“That’s just another word for angry.”
“Okay! I’m disappointed you didn’t tell me, and I’m concerned the baby doesn’t have my full name, as he should, and I’m angry Leo Casale was telling his customers at the hardware store that a beautiful blonde and her baby have come to stay in town!”
“He said I was beautiful? How nice.” Christie focused on that word and ignored the rest of Cal’s rant as she spread the changing pad on the end of the table. She grabbed a diaper and the baby wipes from the diaper bag.
“He’s not right for you, and you should just stay away from men who talk too much!” Cal wasn’t trying to be quiet or reasonable.
“Hey, that’s my brother you’re bad-mouthing,” Toni’s voice admonished from the other side of her almost-closed door.
“You’re jealous!” Christie exclaimed as she stripped the wet diaper off Peter. She quickly wiped his baby parts and efficiently secured the tabs on the new diaper before he squirmed away.
“I’m not jealous of Leo Casale.”
She held the baby with one hand on his tummy while she placed the baby wipes in the diaper bag. “Sounds like it to me.”
“Well, if I am, it’s because he doesn’t have a right to talk about you as if you’re single and looking.”
“I’m definitely single, but you’re right—I’m not looking.” Looking for a nanny, maybe, but not a man.
“See, this is exactly what I came over here to talk to you about, but we got all sidetracked. You’re single, and you’re a mother. The mother of my baby. It took me a few minutes to figure this out because I was really surprised at Dewey’s. Now I know there’s only one thing we can do.”
“Oh? I can see a lot of ways this could turn out.”
“No. We have to do what’s best for the baby, and there’s only one solution.”
She had a horrible feeling that Cal’s “solution” would be even worse than his idea of her moving to the ranch.
“We need to get married. Now. As soon as possible.”
Chapter Three
“I will not marry you for the sake of the baby. That’s a terrible reason to get married!” Christie picked up Peter from the desk and stuffed the pad into the diaper bag.
“People do it all the time. It’s the right thing to do.”
She patted Peter on the back and looked up into Cal’s eyes. His eyebrows were drawn into a straight line and his expression was determined. He was one single-minded man. “Cal, this may come as a shock, but for me, doing what makes me—and Peter, of course—happy is a huge consideration. Marrying for the wrong reasons is as wrong as—”
“Our weekend fling that included unprotected sex?”
At least he’d had the courtesy, if she could call it that, to keep his voice down so Toni didn’t hear that little goodie. “That might have been irresponsible of us, but I don’t regret what came out of that weekend for anything. I’ve never been happier than the moment Peter was born.”
“Yeah, I would have liked to be there, too,” he said. “But happiness isn’t everything. There’s a right and a wrong way to approach things, and I—”
“I’m not going to listen to this. We are not getting married for the sake of the baby, and if you keep this up, I will not even consider moving to your ranch.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m telling you that I won’t be bullied into marriage or making a decision. Back off the cave-man tactics or I’ll leave Brody’s Crossing so fast I’ll make your head spin.”
“I have a right to see my son.”
She shifted the baby to her other shoulder. “Only when and if a court gives you that right. And believe me, Cal, you don’t want to continue with the threats. I have excellent attorneys.” She turned and walked away before he noticed how truly angry and upset she was.
Why had she thought telling this man about their child would be easy?
Because you don’t really know him, a little voice inside her head answered. Because the only thing you know about him is that he kissed you like you were the only woman in the world, and you didn’t want to know anything about him because he was leaving. You just wanted that weekend. Really wanted it.
Shaking, she handed Peter to Toni. Without a word, she grabbed a card from her purse and wrote her cell-phone number on it. Cal was still standing inside the conference room, breathing deeply as if he were trying to control his anger.
“Here,” she said, handing him the card. “That’s my cell phone if you feel the need to call me before I make a decision. I’m not trying to threaten you, Cal, but I won’t be bullied. I don’t know what type of woman you’re used to, but I’m not weak-minded or easily intimidated.”
Her father had been a master of manipulation, and she’d learned all the tricks.
“You dropped a damned bombshell on me. I’m sorry if I’m not reacting well.”
“You were fine at the restaurant. Let’s try to go back to that attitude if we can.”
“I’ll try.”
“Then I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Please don’t follow me.”
“I wasn’t following you! I just went into the hardware store for some damned plumber’s putty!”
“Okay, and while we’re at it, you might consider cutting down on your cussing. It’s not going to be cute when Peter starts talking and learning words we’d rather he didn’t use.”
Cal’s eyes narrowed. “Any more instructions?”
“No, I think that just about covers it. For now.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” It was a demand, but she let it go. He was angry, and jealous, although he wouldn’t admit it.
“Yes, tomorrow. I have a lot of things to consider. Believe me, most of all, I’ll think about what’s best for Peter.”
“What’s best is for a son to know his father and to live in a family with both parents.”
Not always. Especially not if the father was acting like an ass. “There are many ways for Peter to get to know you. Living at your ranch, married or not, is only one of the options.”
“It’s best for everyone.”
“No, I think you believe it’s best for you, but you have to ask yourself if you really want to live in the same house with a woman you don’t seem to like very much, much less be married to her.”
“I liked you just fine in Fort Worth!”
“I liked you that weekend, too. Right now, however, I’m not so sure.”
His eyes narrowed again. “I’m only trying to be responsible. We made that baby together.”
“Yes, but I carried him for nine months and went through fourteen hours of labor. Don’t tell me it’s the same.”
“I didn’t say it was equal, just that we’re in it together.”
“I’ll get back to you on that,” she said, before turning and walking into Toni’s office.
CAL RESISTED THE URGE to slam the door as he left Toni’s office. He looked up and realized he was just across the street from his attorney’s office. What better time to find out his legal rights?
“Oh, hello, Cal,” Caroline Brody said as she gathered her purse and closed her desk drawer. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Brody. Is James in?”
“He is. He has an appointment at three o’clock, though.”
“I just need a few minutes.”
“Hey, Cal,” James said, coming out of his office. “Come on in. Mom, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye now.” Caroline smiled and waved on her way out.
Cal let out a deep breath. “I need some information.”
“Okay. Have a seat,” James said, motioning to the chairs in his office.
Cal knew next to nothing about parental rights. And he’d better think about prenup agreements, too. He didn’t want Christie to think he was after her money, but most of all, he didn’t want her to have any rights to the Rocking C, in case their relationship didn’t work out.
His father and mother hadn’t made their marriage work, even with two children and a ranch to consider. Christie still had her place in Fort Worth, so who knew when she might take off with the baby. She didn’t have a good reason to stay. Not yet, anyway. Marriage would bind them together…at least long enough for him to get to know his son.
Seeing her talking to Leo Casale on the sidewalk in front of Toni’s office had caused something to snap inside him. She’d called it jealousy, but he didn’t think that was it. He was simply clear on what he wanted for the mother of his son. She shouldn’t be subject to the advances of some good-looking guy who was attracted to a classy blonde.
And what would happen if she left? Would he have any rights to the baby? The idea of not being a part of his son’s life gave Cal a hollow feeling inside that couldn’t be filled by anything—his ranch, friends, family or community.
“Tell me about what you need,” James said, snapping Cal back to the present. And his most pressing problem.
“I need to know if I have legal rights to my son.”
WHEN CAL ARRIVED at the ranch later in the afternoon, Troy and Raven were in the master bedroom, packing for their move to New Hampshire. Cal stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked at the boxes and bags around the perimeter of the room. Apparently, they’d collected a lot of things in the past year and a half. There were also going-away gifts of hand-labeled jars of jelly and fruit, crocheted scarves and fresh vegetables from friends and neighbors.
Troy had told him that Raven had driven to Texas in her aging Volvo wagon, Pickles, which had been filled with everything from goat cheese to organic flea shampoo for dogs. Apparently Troy had tried to resist her vegetarian lifestyle and antiranching views, but he hadn’t been able to help himself and had fallen in love with the Yankee farmer. Raven had been hired to restore a heritage garden, and Troy had been anticipating the arrival of an expert on traditional ranching that Cal had requested from the Cattleman’s Association. Somehow, through a merged database mix-up, Troy had gotten the vegetarian and the ranch expert had never shown up.
How his brother could even consider moving to New England was a complete mystery. Troy had obviously lost his mind when he’d fallen for Raven. Not that she wasn’t pretty and nice and smart. But really, what self-respecting Texan committed to living in New Hampshire? For all of Troy’s odd ideas about the Rocking C, ranching was in his blood. Four generations of Crawford men had raised cattle on this property.
Not chickens and bison and dairy cows. Almost all the Herefords were gone. Thankfully, Troy hadn’t sent all of the breeding stock to the auction or the feed lot. A few of the handful of cows left were descended from the original 1880s herd, which meant that Cal could resurrect the Crawford tradition. It might take him a while, but he would rebuild the Rocking C into a Hereford cattle ranch.
As soon as he solved the problem of his son.
“We’re just about packed. We’ll be on the road first thing in the morning,” Troy said, stepping into the room.
“Long drive,” Cal said, glancing around, wondering if all this stuff would fit in Troy’s SUV.
“We were thinking it would be good to go to Dewey’s for dinner. Are you up for that?”
“Sounds good.” He’d been there for lunch, but he could go again and get a nice juicy steak. Maybe relax with old friends and family without the distraction of Christie’s beautiful face or Peter’s drooling smiles. After all, his only brother—albeit the brother who’d played havoc with the ranch—was leaving town. “Is anyone else coming?”
“I’m not sure. Raven might have invited some of her friends.”
Was Christie a friend of Raven’s? She had mentioned talking to Troy’s fiancée, but surely they weren’t friends. He hoped not. He needed time to think. Besides, tonight should be about saying goodbye to his brother.
“There’s one more thing I wanted to ask you about,” Troy said.
Cal felt himself tense, then tried to relax. Not all questions meant trouble. How much more could a man deal with after being home from a war for just over a day? “What?”
“Raven and I thought about taking her dog, Riley—that is, the stray she found here—back to New Hampshire with us, but we talked it over and decided that he’d probably be happier right here on the Rocking C. How do you feel about keeping him? He’s a pretty decent cow dog, plus he’s good company.”
Cal shrugged. He didn’t usually keep a dog. They’d had border collies when he was a kid, but after they’d died, and his dad was gone, Cal had never gotten any more.
“Maybe. He seems okay.”
“Raven will miss him like crazy, but there’s no sense taking him across the country when he considers this his home now.”
“Damn, Troy, you sound like one of those animal rights activists. Since when do dogs get to decide where they want to live?”
His brother had the decency to look a little embarrassed but not enough, in Cal’s opinion. A man should be in charge of his home, his ranch. A dog shouldn’t be making decisions.
“I’m just trying to find the best thing for everyone, two-legged or four.”
“Yeah, well, I have one important question for the dog.”
“What’s that?”
“How does he feel about kids? In particular, babies?”
Troy frowned. “Babies? What does that have to do with staying on the ranch?”
“Because—” Cal said, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest “—I found out earlier today that I’m a daddy. I have a son.”
Troy looked as shocked as Cal had been earlier. “A son? What, overseas? You’ve been gone for a year and a half.”
“He’s nine months old. He…um, well, he was conceived the weekend before I shipped out.”
“That weekend you went to Fort Worth?”
“Yeah.”
“The blonde you told me about?”
He hadn’t told Troy that much. “Christie Simmons.”
Troy took in a deep breath. “So that’s why she showed up here. What does she want, money?”
Cal shook his head. “She said she doesn’t want money. Doesn’t need it. She’s rich.”
“What does she want?”
“She says she just wants me to know the boy. Peter is his name.”
“Did she know that’s your middle name?”
“Yeah, middle name. She didn’t name him like she should. He ought to be Calvin Peter Crawford V. Instead, he’s Peter Simmons Crawford. Sound like a real yuppie.”
“Hey, she named him Crawford. That’s a lot more than some women would have done.”
“It’s not enough. Not nearly enough.” He felt his jaw clench as his anger returned. “She should have let me know. He’s already nine months old!”
“Did she give you a reason?”
“She gave me a handful, but they don’t matter. The fact is that I should have known about my own son.”
“Er, are you sure he’s yours?”
“I’m sure. You can take one look and see that he’s a Crawford. Besides, she offered to have the tests done.”
“Wow, a son. I’m an uncle,” Troy said, suddenly grinning.
“Don’t get too excited. You’re leaving, remember?”
The smile faded a little. “I know, but it’s not like we’re on another planet. Besides, we’ll all be getting together next month for the wedding, right?”
“That’s right.” Although Cal wasn’t sure how he could get away from the ranch for a long weekend in Florida to swim with the dolphins or some such nonsense. Why couldn’t Raven have a nice little wedding in her nice little town in New Hampshire instead of a “destination wedding” at a “green resort”?
Even if he could get away to attend the festivities, Christie and Peter wouldn’t be going to Florida. In a month she’d be knee-deep in renovations on that old motel…if she didn’t lose interest and run back to Fort Worth. After he’d insisted they should get married, she might just do that.
He really hadn’t handled the concept of “doing the right thing” too well. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have spoken while he was still riled over Leo Casale’s flirting.
“You look like hell. Is your wound bothering you?” Troy asked.
Cal rubbed his temple. Most of the time, he forgot about the scar. “No, I’m just thinking about Christie’s plans. She’s renovating the old Sweet Dreams Motel. Crazy idea, if you ask me.”
“That place is a disaster. Why would she want to do that?”
“Her family business is hotels. I guess she sees it as a challenge.”
“That’s a lot of work.”
“Toni Casale’s company is doing the renovations.”
“Well, that’s good. Giving the locals some business.”
Troy put his hands on his hips and looked around the room. “Damn, there’s a lot of stuff here. Too much to deal with tonight. Let’s go get a beer and a good Texas steak.”
“Ready when you are. I’d just as soon forget about…everything.” His brother’s departure, all the work that needed to be done to restore the ranch, ensuring a place in his son’s life and, last but not least, coexist—married or not—with his son’s mother.
“I’ll see if Raven is at a stopping point,” Troy said as he headed for the doorway leading to the hall. “What should I tell her about Riley?”
Cal closed his eyes and sighed. “Tell her I’ll keep the damn dog.”
“Hey, if you’re going to ignore him, forget it.” Troy acted all indignant. Cal couldn’t understand his brother. Falling in love had apparently addled his brain.
“I won’t ignore him. If he’s good with cattle and children, we’ll get along fine.”
“I’ll tell Raven.”
“You do that. I’ll meet you at Dewey’s.”
SHE’D HAD SECOND THOUGHTS when Raven called to invite Christie to attend their bon voyage dinner—because she was a friend of Cal’s, Raven had said. Christie wondered how much Raven knew about how “friendly” she and Cal had been in Fort Worth. Or how much they’d been feuding all day. However, she’d decided to accept Raven’s invitation, even though she’d just been to Dewey’s for lunch. She hadn’t been out with adults in so long, and, she admitted to herself, she was curious about Cal’s relatives and friends.
She’d dressed in a denim skirt and white blouse with a wide leather belt and strappy sandals with faux turquoise stones set in silver. This was the most Western outfit she could come up with on short notice, and she’d told Raven what she was wearing so the other woman would recognize her.
The parking lot was filling with pickups, Suburbans and Expeditions. Her SRX looked as out of place as she felt when she pulled in next to a big Ford F250. Maybe, if she was going to stay here and renovate the motel, she should get a work vehicle.
But then, she wouldn’t be doing much of the actual construction, she thought as she turned off the engine. She’d chosen her vehicle because it was comfortable and safe. She shouldn’t get something else just to fit in, just as she wasn’t going to change just because people had certain expectations. People like Cal Crawford.
She walked across the asphalt parking lot as the afternoon heat rose in waves through the only slightly cooler early-evening air. Despite the closed doors and windows, country music drifted across the parking lot. The big red, white and blue sign welcomed her to Dewey’s, and the neon beer signs were cheerful beacons in the long shadows. Dewey’s looked much different at dinnertime, even before the sun set. Maybe she really needed a night out every now and then.
She entered Dewey’s just after a middle-aged couple dressed in starched denim, crisp plaid and straw cowboy hats. They went into the bar area, while Christie looked around the restaurant tables for familiar faces and a black-haired woman.
“Christie!” The familiar female voice came from the far right.
She turned and saw a long table of several people she recognized, and many she didn’t. The woman with long black hair must be Raven, and the man beside her resembled Cal, so that must be his brother, Troy.
Toni Casale was also there, along with a few older women Christie recognized from around town, and an older man she hadn’t seen before. Another young couple sat across from Raven and Troy. But where was Cal?
“Hi. I guess I’m at the right table.”
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Raven said. “I know we haven’t met in person yet, but I feel as if I know you already. Toni has been telling us about your plans for the old motel.” She turned to the others sitting at the table. “Everyone, this is Christie Simmons.”
She waved and smiled. “Hello.”
Raven leaned close and whispered, “You didn’t mention you were gorgeous. You look like a model!”
Christie laughed. “Hardly. I’m a working mother. Well, I’m getting ready to work. I’ve taken some time off for a career change. And for my son.”
“Where is he tonight?” one of the older ladies asked.
“With a babysitter. Toni’s niece is watching him. We’re staying in Graham.” What a stroke of luck to find someone who was experienced and reliable. She’d nearly forgotten what it was like to go out alone.
For the past nine months, she and Peter had been constant companions. Looking into the backseat of the SRX and not seeing his cute little face had seemed odd…and lonely. At least she had her cell phone and Amanda’s number so she could call to check on him.
“How old is your child?” another one of the women asked.
She didn’t want to tell anyone about Peter until Cal was ready, so she hedged and said, “Still in diapers.”
“Well, let me introduce everyone. This is my fiancé, Troy, whom you already know is Cal’s brother. And across the table are our newlyweds, James and Sandy Brody.” Raven smiled fondly. “She used to go by the name Scarlett, but now she’s Sandy. She does wonderful things with hair, just in case you need a cut while you’re here, and James is the attorney in town.”
Christie thought the man looked at her with a little extra scrutiny. Was he Cal’s attorney? Probably. Had Cal talked to him about her…and Peter? Maybe.
“Nice to meet you,” she said. Raven then went on to introduce Ida and Rodney Bell, Clarissa Bryant and Bobbi Jean Maxwell.
“I’m sorry my husband, Burl, couldn’t be here tonight,” Bobbi Jean said. “He’s getting over a nasty summer cold or he wouldn’t have missed this going-away party.”
“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Christie said, hoping she could remember everyone’s names.
Just as the introductions were finished, Christie felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around to discover Cal standing behind her, a longneck in his other hand and a hat pulled low over his military-short hair. He looked tall, fit and sexy, and her heartbeat increased as she drank him in.
“Christie,” he said, his only greeting. After the way they’d parted, she wasn’t sure of his mood. She had brushed him off. At that time she hadn’t expected to see him again so soon. She wasn’t ready to deal with their issues, she realized.
All she wanted was a night out.
“Cal,” she replied. Why did he have to be so close? Just the memory of him barging into Toni’s office that afternoon made her anxious about being in the same town with him, much less in the same honky-tonk. Not to mention the same house!
She couldn’t have imagined that any man would insist two near strangers get married because they’d accidentally made a baby together. A marriage had to be based on more than a child, especially when the mother could provide perfectly well for her baby. She understood why women had needed to get married years and years ago. But not now, not even in a small town with traditional values.
He leaned in close, which must look very intimate to everyone at the table, and whispered in her ear, “Where’s the baby?”
“Peter is at the motel with a good babysitter,” she whispered back, feeling instantly defensive. Cal wasn’t interested in her, despite his hand on her shoulder and his whispers in her ear. He just wanted to know about his son.
She straightened, smiled and looked at Raven and Troy. “So, when are you actually leaving?”
“Um, tomorrow around noon, probably. We still have to load the SUV,” Troy answered.
“Yes, we’re taking it to New Hampshire,” Raven said with a sigh. “My green Volvo, Pickles, isn’t quite up to the trip, so she’s staying in Texas.”
“It’s a wonder you made it down here,” Troy said with a shake of his head.
“She’s very loyal. She wouldn’t break down on the road.”
Cal snorted. Rudely, in Christie’s opinion. He probably didn’t think much of women who named their cars. Christie found it delightful to be living in a town with such interesting people…and one sexy, perplexing and stubborn baby-daddy.
“Take a seat,” Cal said, which probably seemed like a request for him but sounded like an order to her ears.
Christie saw that the only chair at the table was right next to him. With a smile plastered in place for everyone else at the gathering, she sat down. She did not want to take the focus off the going-away party atmosphere for Troy and Raven.
“Here are the drinks,” the waitress said as she arrived with a tray. She must have just noticed Christie, because she said, “Oh, hi again. Where’s your adorable baby?”
“Yes, where is my nephew?” Troy asked with a big grin.
Christie turned to glare at Cal. So, he’d broken the news. Couldn’t he have given her some time to adjust? Couldn’t they have told everyone together, quite calmly and in private?
He shrugged. “I told you I wasn’t keeping it a secret.”
“I know that, but…I didn’t think you’d blurt it out for everyone like this.”
“Why? I’m not ashamed. Besides, Troy’s my only brother.” He turned to his family and friends. “Just so we’re clear, I want everyone to know that I’ve already asked Christie, the mother of my son, to marry me.”
“Good move!” Twila said.
“Congratulations,” James Brody said to Cal.
“You most certainly did not!” Christie said, feeling outraged and flushed at his pompous tactics.
Cal narrowed his eyes, just as he’d done this afternoon. “I did, too. Right in Toni’s office.”
“No, you did not ask. And I most certainly didn’t agree to any such foolishness!”
“It’s not foolish to do the right thing.”
“We are not having this argument again.”
Rodney Bell chuckled. “You two sure do argue like a married couple already.”
Chapter Four
“Rodney! That’s none of our business,” his wife, Ida, said.
“Cal, you should have asked in a more romantic spot than Toni’s office,” Raven said gently.
“That’s where we were when it occurred to me,” he replied.
“Over a wet diaper, a squirming infant and a package of baby wipes,” Christie said, deciding to bolster support for her side.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Clarissa Bryant observed.
“No, not good at all,” Sandy Brody said.
At least the women understood. “I’m not getting married because we have a child together,” Christie reiterated.
Christie heard Bobbi Jean Maxwell whisper to Ida Bell, “I thought she was a widow.”
“Stubborn woman,” Cal grumbled as he unrolled his napkin, then snapped it across his lap.
“Stubborn man,” Christie answered, reaching for her own rolled napkin and flatware.
“Well,” Raven said to Troy, “I guess we’re leaving Brody’s Crossing about the time things get very interesting.”
He smiled. “Looks that way. We can always come to visit…and mediate.”
“Bring bandages,” Christie said under her breath. If Cal kept up his overbearing ways, he’d need them.
They ordered dinner and managed to remain civil throughout the meal. Raven and Troy seemed to have a good time, although they got nostalgic with their friends about all the things that had happened since Raven had temporarily—and accidentally—moved to Texas over a year ago.
Christie declined another beer and was thinking about leaving when Cal grabbed her hand. “Let’s dance,” he said as he pulled back her chair. She was so surprised she went along with him.
There was no band on this weeknight, but country-western songs came through the speakers in the bar and dance area. The rustic wood enclosed them as Cal led her onto a floor scuffed by thousands of boots.
Without a word, he led her into a fast two-step. Fortunately, she’d danced at Billy Bob’s and Gilley’s, so she kept up with his quick pace.
“You’re a good dancer,” he said close to her ear as they danced straight down the length of the floor.
“Thanks. You’re pretty good yourself. I don’t guess you got much practice while you were in the military.”
“Hardly.” He slowed as the music transitioned into a song Christie recognized was by the Dixie Chicks. “Come out to the ranch tomorrow,” he said.
“Was that a request or an order?” Cal really needed to work on his people skills. He wasn’t still in the army, and she definitely wasn’t a ranch hand.
He sighed. “Sorry. What I meant was that I’d like for you to see the ranch. I got to thinking that you can’t make a decision on where to live until you see the house.”
“Good point. I have an appointment with a Realtor in the morning, but I could come after lunch.”
“Are you taking the baby on the appointment?”
“Yes. I only have a babysitter for tonight. Actually, this is the first time I’ve been out in a long time.”
He seemed to consider that as he turned them through the corner. His arm tightened and she brushed against his chest. She almost apologized, which seemed ridiculous since they’d made a baby together. In many ways, though, he was a stranger. He even looked different, with his more serious demeanor and the scar at his temple. The wound was an outward reminder that he’d been gone, serving his country, risking his life.
While she’d been home, giving birth to his baby and wondering about how to break the news. “I’d love to come to the ranch tomorrow after Peter’s nap. I’ll bring him, and we can spend the afternoon.”
He seemed surprised, but then he nodded and said, “Good.”
They finished the slow dance without speaking again. She tried to relax and enjoy the music and the man, but he made her too nervous. Christie wanted to protect herself and, most especially, Peter. She had to do what was best for all of them.
But what was best? Maybe she’d find out tomorrow.
Everyone was talking as she and Cal returned to the table. As Christie excused herself to go to the ladies’ room before leaving for the drive to Graham, she was surprised when Raven joined her.
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