Home on the Ranch--The Cowboy's Dilemma

by Pamela Britton

  Pregnant.

  She pulled away, her hands finding the front of his shirt, palms resting against him for support.

  “We can’t,” she said.

  “I know,” he answered back.

  But why couldn’t they? a tiny voice asked.

  “I should get going.”

  He stepped away and she let him go because there were a million reasons why this was a bad idea. He’d done so much for her and she wasn’t going to drag him into her hot mess of a life. She couldn’t ask him to get involved with her. Not now, not while she was pregnant. Goodness, what if his family found out? They’d probably peg her as a gold digger or something. They already had a low enough opinion of her as it was. Well, at least his father did. Probably. She didn’t know. And, see, that was the problem. She wasn’t thinking clearly. Neither was he. She was hopped up on some kind of pregnancy-hormone cocktail. That was all this was. Not the beginning of something special and wonderful and wholly unexpected. She couldn’t be that lucky.

  “Thanks,” she said, and it sounded pretty lame, even to her own ears.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  For what? she wanted to ask. Instead she watched him walk away, slip into his truck again, and this time, he actually drove away.

  * * *

  What in the hell?

  Flynn gripped the steering wheel for all he was worth.

  What in the living hell?

  She’d been standing there looking so sad and afraid and so lonely and he couldn’t resist. He just couldn’t stop himself. He’d had to stop the truck and get out and...and...

  He’d kissed her.

  He banged the steering wheel again. She was not his problem. He had enough on his plate without having to worry about their pregnant tenant and how sorry he felt for her. That was all this was, he reminded himself. Pity. She wasn’t even his type. He preferred women like that doctor. Women who had their life together and weren’t afraid to go after something they wanted. Amy? She was nice and sweet, but her whole life was in flux and he should stay away because who the hell knew what would happen in the future? For all he knew that guy Trent might come back once he came to his senses.

  Thank goodness he was headed off to a horse show. It would make life easier. He could avoid her.

  But the whole time he prepped for the show, and then later, when he competed, he kept waiting for her to text him or to call, and he realized he’d gotten in a routine with her, and he missed that routine. But she kept her distance and he knew he should be grateful for that. She wasn’t reading more into their kiss than she should. She wasn’t trying to lure him into being her baby daddy or something. She was keeping her distance.

  When he got back home, though, he ached to see her, just to check in with her. In the end, he didn’t have to. There was a note on his door.

  Flynn,

  Maverick told me you’d be back from your horse show today and that you wouldn’t be home until late. I made you some food and had Maverick put it in the fridge. I’ll be honest. It’s a peace offering. I hate that we’re not speaking, I miss my friend. So let’s just forget about the other day, okay?

  Hope to see you soon.

  Amy

  He stared at that note for what must have been fifteen minutes. There it was in black and white. She wanted things to go back to the way they were before, too. Except they could never go back to that. You didn’t kiss someone and just forget about the way that kiss made you feel, and right there and then he admitted that the kiss he’d shared with Amy was unlike any other kiss he’d ever had. It’d done something to him. Something crazy and unforgettable, and it scared the you-know-what out of him.

  But it wasn’t in his nature to avoid a problem, and so he headed over to her place the next morning. He told himself he was actually killing two birds with one stone. He would ride one of the younger horses over to her place, and on his way out he would check on the mares and foals they kept down the road from the stables. It would take much longer to get to Amy’s rental, through the hills and down a dirt road, but he could check fences along the way.

  Excuses, excuses, excuses.

  His hands shook when he rode up to the little house his brother had built, tying the palomino gelding up to a tree. She was home, her beat-up little car in the driveway, and that sent his pulse skittering across his rib cage like it was some kind of damn bingo ball. The whole ride over he’d told himself she wouldn’t be home and that he could leave her a note and then the next move would be up to her. Ha.

  He heard music as he got closer to her front door. Loud, thumping music that he instantly recognized. “Jump around,” the lyrics told her, and by the sound of it that was exactly what she was doing. He could hear her feet hitting the floor as she jumped, jumped, and for some strange reason he went over to her front window and peered inside. And there she was. Jumping up and down, head swinging side to side to the music, feet hitting the floor so hard he could hear dishes clattering in the kitchen. She bounced like Tigger, up and down, up and down, brown hair flying as she swung around, a silly smile on her face, and he didn’t know why, but the sight of her bouncing around, carefree and happy, made a warmth settle in his chest, and he could have stood there watching her all day.

  She spotted him.

  The music played on, but she froze, eyes wide. And then she began to laugh. Just laugh and laugh even though he couldn’t hear her over the sound of the music and through the window. She went over to her phone or whatever it was that sent music to her speakers and he turned toward the front door. She swung it open right as he stopped in front of it.

  “Enjoy the show?” she asked with a wide smile.

  The urge to pull her to him, to kiss the irreverent smile off her face, to hold her up against him and absorb some of the joy she seemed to exude, well, it was so overwhelming he had to clench his hands to keep from doing it.

  “You should charge admission.”

  Do it, a little voice said. Kiss her.

  He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Like he’d told himself a hundred times before, he had no idea what would happen once Trent figured out she was telling him the truth. What if he came to his senses and decided to come back? What if he let himself feel things for her, crazy things, only to be shown the door when the father of her child came back into her life?

  “I don’t know why, but I felt the need to dance.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better. The other day...”

  When we kissed.

  He gulped. “When we got back from the doctor’s, you looked completely terrified.”

  “I know. And I know that’s why you kissed me, because you felt sorry for me, but I’ve come to terms with it now. The pregnancy. Trent leaving. Being alone. And I’m good.”

  He did not kiss her out of pity. Why the heck would she ever think that? He stood there, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and something happened in her eyes. They searched his own, as if seeking something. Whatever it was, she must not have found it because her lids lowered and she stepped back from the door and he had a feeling she was disappointed in him somehow.

  “Come on in.”

  Ornaments hung from strings strung across the room. That was what he’d been hearing. The glass balls clinking together as she jumped. She’d doused the clear glass with blue and silver glitter, but from the inside somehow, and there were dozens of them, and even more on the kitchen table, where she’d clearly been in the middle of making them before she’d been carried away by the beat.

  “It’s for a wedding next month,” she said. “We have this whole Disney-movie theme going and we’re going to string them up everywhere. I have hundreds of these babies to make, and let me tell you, when I die, they’ll still find glitter on my body.”

  He just shook his head. It was what she did to him that always took him by surprise. She made him smile. Always. Eve
n on that first day he’d met her when she’d been crying her eyes out, she’d made him want to laugh.

  “How was the horse show?” she asked, shoving aside some boxes full of ornaments on her kitchen table and inviting him to sit. “You want anything to drink?”

  A shot of whiskey.

  “It was good.” He took a seat. “The horse I rode won some points, not enough to qualify for the world show just yet, but we’ll get there.”

  “Wow. You’re going to compete against people from around the world?”

  He shrugged. “That’s the plan. It was my dad’s idea. He’s trying to increase the marketability of our stallion, Markie.”

  “Markie?” She lifted a brow, amusement flashing through her eyes.

  “It’s a nickname. His real name is GR Make My Mark, and we hope he lives up to his name. He’s an amazing horse. Very charismatic. I’ll introduce you one day.”

  “That’d be neat. And I’d like to watch you compete one day, too.”

  Why did the idea send a shot of adrenaline through him? What would it matter if she watched him ride Markie? Why did it matter so much to him that she was interested in what he did for a living?

  “Sure. I have another horse show in a few weeks. It’s down south. You could drive down for a day and watch.”

  She smiled. “I’d like that.”

  He sat there, looking anywhere but at her, suddenly uncomfortable and on edge and as breathless as a teenage boy on his first date.

  He shot up out of his chair. “Well, I just wanted to say thanks for leaving me that lasagna. It was great.”

  She stayed seated, and there it was in her eyes again, the searching. She was waiting for something from him, something he couldn’t give her, because no matter what she’d said in her note, there was no forgetting that kiss and how it’d made him feel. How it’d made them both feel, he suspected.

  He headed for the door, but she caught his hand as he slipped past her.

  “Flynn.”

  Her eyes were huge, her hand warm, the fingers gently squeezing his own. This was what she’d been searching for, some kind of sign that everything was okay between them.

  “We can’t,” he said.

  “I know,” she said softly.

  “But if you knew how tempted—”

  Her pupils flared and it was his turn to wait, to see what she would do next, because his willpower faded with every second. He wanted to pull her up against him, to pick up where they’d left off the other day, but he couldn’t...wouldn’t.

  “You’re right.” She looked down at her lap. “It would be a huge mistake. I’m pregnant and not thinking clearly and you’re off living your life showing horses and taking care of the ranch and I don’t want to lose your friendship,” she said, a wry smile tipping up one corner of her mouth. “You’re kind of the only family I have right now.”

  Family. That was a good way to think of her.

  She let go of his hand, and it was like someone let the air out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. His hand dropped back to his side, but his fingers flexed thanks to the burn of her touch, and he knew he had it bad. That he wanted Amy in a way he’d never wanted a woman in his life, but she carried another man’s child and he just couldn’t wrap his head around that.

  “I talked to my sister and Charlotte and everybody about throwing you a baby shower,” he said, desperate to say something, anything to change the subject. “They said they’d be happy to do it for you.”

  “What?”

  He ducked his head, wondering if he’d overstepped somehow. “When I realized how alone you were, it just sort of made sense. Someone has to do it, and since your mom lives in Florida...”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know, but I wanted to.” He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “You don’t have anyone, Amy, and I can’t imagine all the things you probably need to do and what you’ll need to buy and all the planning that comes along with having a baby. My sister-in-law Ava understands. And so does Jayden. And Charlotte just wants to help. They’ll all love it.”

  “But doesn’t Jayden live out of state?”

  “They just bought a house down the road from here. She wanted to be closer to home when the baby comes.”

  “Oh, but then she probably has way too much to do. I couldn’t impose. And Charlotte works so hard. No. I can’t let them do this for me.”

  “Are you kidding? Jayden has movers and people to unpack for her and some kind of concierge cleaning service. She was telling me about it the other day. Said it took the fun out of moving, if moving can be considered fun. And Charlotte is so happy with everything you’ve done for her. She said she’d love to help you out. Kait, my other sister-in-law, wants to help, too, but from a distance.”

  “They don’t have to do that.”

  “But they want to.”

  She looked away from him. Was she crying? He couldn’t be sure because she wouldn’t let him see.

  “Will you let them do it?”

  He saw her shoulders lift as she took a deep breath, but she nodded, still not looking at him.

  “Good.”

  He wanted to touch her. To soothe her by stroking her cheek with his thumb. Instead, he said, “I should get going.”

  She nodded again. “Thanks for coming by.”

  At last she met his gaze and he saw pain in her eyes and resignation and sadness and so many other emotions it would be impossible to put a name to them all.

  “I’ll see you around.”

  She lifted her chin. “See you.”

  He had to leave. Staring into her eyes, at the sadness there, it was his one weakness, the one thing that made him want to do things he shouldn’t want to do,. The sadness and the pain. The realization that she was all alone with nobody to lean on and it broke his heart. So he left her, but it was, hands down, one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

  Chapter 12

  Just call her. Just call her. Just call her.

  But Amy stared at her phone for a full five minutes before actually picking up the thing and dialing the familiar number. She half hoped her mom wouldn’t answer, but like so many times in her life, her mom was doomed to disappoint.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, hey, Mom. It’s me, Amy.”

  “I know who it is,” said a voice tinged with amusement, although, as always, the words were tinged with a hint of impatience, too. That was always how Amy felt around her mom, as if she were in intrusion into her life.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Amy asked.

  “It’s Monday, honey. What do I always watch on Monday?”

  And what was the other thing her mom did? Make her feel stupid.

  “I know, I know,” she said. “But I have some news that’s kind of important?”

  “Oh?” But her mom sounded distracted and the television still played in the background and suddenly the speech she’d prepared went out the window.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Silence. Amy couldn’t figure out if it was because her mom was so deeply engrossed in her reality television show that she didn’t hear or if she’d shocked her into silence.

  “Pregnant?” her mom asked, the word almost a squeak.

  Okay, so not distracted any longer. “Yup.” She forced a smile, goodness knows why. It wasn’t like her mom could see her. “You’re gonna be a grandma.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  That was a little more on par with what Amy had expected. “Nope. Went to the doctor the other day and I am definitely pregnant.”

  She could hear a rush of air and Amy wondered if her mom was back to smoking again. She could just picture her lighting up. The narrowing of her blue eyes, the wrinkles around her mouth. Smoking had left lines on her mom’s face that
made her look older than she actually was. Oh, she tried to hide it by bleaching her hair and tanning her face, but some things just couldn’t be hidden.

  “You going to get rid of it?”

  That was also her mom. Always a fount of warmth and empathy. “No, Mom. I told you. You’re going to be a grandma.” So maybe she hadn’t been listening.

  “And the father? What does he think?”

  That was the one question that made Amy squirm. “He’s sort of out of the picture.”

  More silence. Amy felt herself squirming even with her mom hundreds of miles away.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  She couldn’t stomach the idea of telling her mom about Trent and Tiffany, but she still felt the sting of embarrassment. She’d worked her tail end off to get to where she was, to make her mom proud, but the truth was she would never measure up. And it hurt.

  “So you’re going to keep it even though the father’s out of the picture?”

  “Yup.”

  “Dear God, why? Who’s going to want a woman with a baby on her hip?”

  “Why didn’t you get rid of me?”

  She’d always wanted to ask the question, had never had the nerve before now. If her mom was so miserable raising her, if she’d been so happy to cast her off and move to Florida, why had she had her in the first place?

  “Honey, back then we didn’t have pills and things like that. It wasn’t easy to terminate a pregnancy. These days it’s a piece of cake.”

  Amy’s fingers clutched the phone, trying not to let the words hurt her because it was impossible not to interpret her mother’s words as confirmation of what she’d always suspected. She really hadn’t wanted to have her. If it’d been “easier” to terminate her pregnancy, she would have.