The Cowboy’s Mistake

by Jackson, Mary Sue

  A warm relief spread through him from his core to the tips of his fingers. She was coming back. Trey spurred Kepler through the barrels once, then twice, then guided him to the edge of the paddock to have some water and sugar cubes.

  Charity came through the grass toward them after a few minutes, hands in the pockets of her shorts. Trey felt another stab of worry. She still didn’t look…totally recovered.

  Well, at least she wasn’t avoiding him today. That’s all he could hope for really.

  Though up close she did look a little pale, and she didn’t meet his eyes.

  Charity waited until he’d stepped away from Kepler, then stood close to the horse and whispered into his ear.

  With a jolt, a memory of her as a middle schooler hit him full force. She’d had a lisp until the seventh grade, and Charity had been so embarrassed about it that she was almost always silent. Or if she did speak, it was very quietly. He hadn’t seen her this subdued since then.

  He gave her a few minutes to check Kepler over, but she didn’t lead him out toward the barrels. Finally, Trey couldn’t bear it any longer.

  “Charity,” he said softly.

  She turned her head an inch toward him, still not meeting his eyes. “Yeah?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Charity didn’t answer. She seemed not to have heard him at all. She was now totally focused on Kepler’s ear.

  This…was too much. She was only using the horse to ignore him, and Trey burned with the need to know what it was that made her look so pale and pained. He stepped forward and slapped Kepler’s haunch, sending the horse cantering around the paddock, his mane flowing in the wind.

  Charity crossed her arms and sighed, her eyes following the horse.

  “What is it?”

  She glanced across at him, and the look in her eyes was so resigned and worried that it squeezed at his heart. The fear hit him like a cascade of cold water. It was something horrible, wasn’t it?

  “God, Charity, just tell me before I have a heart attack from the waiting. Are you dying?”

  She let out a huff of a laugh. “No, I’m not dying.” There was a but hanging at the end of her sentence. “You might…prefer it to the alternative, though.”

  “What?” That was nonsense. “I would never think that. No matter what happened.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Her blue eyes were wide, and now they were locked on his as if she was searching his face for every possible clue to his reaction. But there was nothing to react to—not yet, anyway. He still didn’t have any information. What kind of game was she playing? Was it really some kind of slow-acting terminal illness? The thought of losing her—of any of them, her parents, or Austin—was a spear through his heart.

  “You can’t possibly—” He shook his head. “I would never think that about you. Never. Understand that right now.”

  Charity blushed a deep red, looking as awkward as he’d ever seen her. She tightened her arms across her chest and stuck out her jaw, then took a deep breath. He thought he’d explode with anticipation. What the hell was going on?

  “I’m pregnant,” she said flatly.

  Trey’s mind reeled. The sun bored in through his eyes, so bright and sharp that he had to close them against the light. He felt his own hand rise to his forehead. Was his mind…actually combusting? The news was so far outside what he had expected that he could hardly stem the tide of emotions. Searing relief—she wasn’t dying. And a hot stab of…well, he couldn’t exactly call it regret. He would do whatever it took to help her, only…he couldn’t quite understand what Charity had just told him. It was such a shock that he was struggling to process the information.

  The words fell from his lips before he could think of stopping them. “Is it mine?”

  It hurt her. He saw the words make their impact, saw her flinch, and then saw her press her lips together in a stoic, sardonic smile. “Yes. But you should know, I don’t need or expect anything from you, Trey. I just thought you should know.”

  “But how…how did it happen?”

  Charity whirled to face him again, her eyebrows raised, expression telegraphing a cold fury. “Do I really need to explain the birds and the bees to a farm boy like you? We slept together, and now I’m pregnant.”

  “And there was…nobody else…”

  She looked disgusted, as if she might be sick. “No. There was no one else, Trey.”

  Oh, no. It had been the wrong thing to say entirely. He’d been off-balance, surprised, shocked—he hadn’t been thinking clearly. And he needed to know the details to process. It had only taken a minute to get through, and now that it had…

  He’d made her royally angry.

  “I’m going to go. And again, just so we’re clear…” Charity’s tone was as biting as a winter wind. “I don’t want anything from you at all. Even though we’ve made an enormous mistake.”

  The words buzzed around his ears and through his mind, blocking out all reasonable thought. He knew those echoes. He’d said the same thing to her after they’d slept together.

  It all made sense. He’d said it was a mistake in the first place, and now she thought he wouldn’t care that she was pregnant, but he did. He did.

  “Charity,” he called after her, watching her blonde ponytail bob in the sun. She didn’t turn back. There was no sign she’d heard him at all.

  Kepler snorted, nuzzling at his shoulder as if to ask what had just happened in the paddock where they were supposed to be working. “We’re done for the day, buddy,” Trey told him, patting his head. “We’re done for the day.”

  He walked Kepler back to the barn in a haze, going through the chores by sheer force of habit. He brushed Kepler down, fed and watered him, and stood in the middle of the barn, looking around like he was lost.

  How long had it been since Charity left? He hadn’t kept track of the time, but he realized immediately that it had been too long. This wasn’t a conversation he could wait to have with her. He needed to apologize right away.

  He took off for his truck at a run, crossing the driveway at record speed. His boots crunched against the gravel. For a moment, his body swung toward the house—he should shower first, shouldn’t he?—but no. There was no time for that. How would he explain delaying even one minute longer? Well, I just wanted to make sure I looked my best before I came to apologize for breaking your heart.

  Trey held the steering wheel too tightly as he picked up speed going down the driveway. He’d been a complete jerk. His guilt over treating her so badly the morning after their night together was now was a hundred times worse. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth under control? Trey wasn’t normally a man who spoke rashly. In fact, he spent most of his time with horses, who didn’t respond well to loud voices or unclear directions. Not that Charity was a horse.

  God, he had to get there quickly, before his brain ran away with him again.

  He turned into the front of the Millers’ property, his truck rumbling in under the neatly kept sign that announced their ranch. The long driveway curved around, running in front of the big farmhouse before heading off toward the outskirts of the property, where Austin and Charity both had houses.

  He pulled up in front of Charity’s little house and killed the engine.

  The house was just like her. It was a little farmhouse, sized down for a maximum of one or two, and painted a bright, cheery white with red shutters. She’d planted two beds of colorful flowers out front. The gardens were a little haphazard, with the different types of flowers all mixed in with each other, but he liked the look of it nonetheless.

  He could see the outline of her shadow in the kitchen, but she turned away from the window.

  Well, she’d seen him now. There was no way she could miss his big truck outside of her house.

  He walked up to the door and knocked.

  It opened almost immediately, which was a surprise to him. What wasn’t a surprise was the way Charity looked. Wounded to the bone, eyes red. She held a cup of t
ea in one hand.

  “What do you need, Trey?”

  Her voice was so flat that the guilt surged through him even stronger.

  “Can I come in?”

  She gave a halfhearted shrug, then stepped back to let him across the threshold.

  He came through, appreciating the wave of cool air across his face. Charity had central air in the little house. “Feels good in here,” he said, cringing inwardly. Who cared if he liked it in here or not?

  Charity looked up at him and sipped her tea, waiting.

  “Charity, I’m sorry.”

  She lifted her chin and waited some more.

  “I never should have reacted that way to your news. I didn’t mean to question the parentage of the baby. I know it’s mine.” He knew it deep down in his soul. What they’d had that night, mistake or no, had been special. To imply that she’d jump straight into another man’s bed after that was beyond thoughtless. He knew her better than that.

  “Yes. It is yours. But I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t want anything from you.”

  “I…wish you’d stop saying that.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Why? I don’t.”

  “Charity, I’m going to help you.” He stepped as close as he dared, looking her in the eye. “I’m going to help you. This is…this is my child, too, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we’re all…” This was not coming out as smoothly as he’d hoped. But one thing had become clear to him as he stood there. He knew now what he needed to do next.

  It would be terrible, telling Austin what had happened, but a swell of joy followed the fear. They were going to have a baby together. Charity was going to have his baby. And finally, there was a reason to be with her that no one, not even Austin, could deny. There was only one thing left for him to say.

  “How quickly do you think we can put together a wedding?”

  Eight

  This.

  Was.

  Horrible.

  Charity already didn’t feel like she was at the top of her game. In fact, she was at the lowest point of her entire life. While she stood there, hands on her hips, fury in her heart, Trey lifted his chin, looking as sure of himself as he ever had. Then a frown spread across his face. “It’ll take some doing,” he said. “The church is busy in the summer, but your parents’ place has plenty of nice buildings. We could decorate one of them, if that’s what you wanted, and I’m sure you could find a dress. It wouldn’t be so hard for me, since I’d wear a suit, but—”

  It was too much for her to bear. Charity pointed at the door. “Trey Cantor, if that was supposed to be your idea of a romantic proposal, you can take yourself right out the door. And don’t let it hit you on the way out.”

  He looked at her as if she’d just suggested they quit their jobs and join the circus, and then she saw the understanding hit him. “What do you mean? It’s the right thing to do. We should be getting married.”

  “Seriously?” Charity swallowed a hot lump in her throat. “I tell you I’m pregnant and your plan after five minutes is to get married?”

  “Well, yes—”

  “You said you weren’t interested in me.” Charity’s voice rose, and she couldn’t stop it. “You said that sleeping with me had been a mistake. An enormous mistake.” It tasted like venom in her mouth, but she just couldn’t stop throwing the words at him.

  “I’ve regretted that from the moment I said it. But you haven’t given me a chance—”

  “I haven’t given you a chance?” Charity felt her face heat, then pale. It was like her body had lost all sense of the temperature and was careening between scorching embarrassment and frozen fury. “For one thing, I’ve been at your place every day for weeks. If you wanted to apologize, you could have done it any time. And for another—”

  “Charity, you can’t possibly think—”

  “For another, you’d be just as happy with anyone else. You’d be even happier. Remember? It was a terrible mistake to be together in the first place. What makes you think that marriage is the answer to that when we can’t seem to get along well enough not to argue for five minutes?” She was barely able to hold back from adding because you think I’m some little kid, but even in her anger, Charity knew it would only prove the point. “How is any woman supposed to settle for a man who can barely look at her? Who regretted being with her the moment he was done with her? If you think so much of me, which you obviously don’t, how can you suggest I settle for that kind of empty life?”

  Trey looked at the floor, then back up into her eyes.

  “How, Trey?” she whispered.

  He looked like a man caught between a snake pit and a deep canyon. “It’s the honorable thing to do,” he said, raising his hands helplessly in the air. “You don’t just skip out on a woman when things get complicated.”

  That squeezed at her heart. She knew full well what Trey’s father had done to him, and she could understand how he didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past. But she was still too hurt and angry to seriously consider his lame proposal. And it still wasn’t enough.

  “It would be more honorable to be honest about what happened between us.”

  Trey looked at her. “Honest?”

  “You think it would be honorable to marry me so you don’t feel guilty. The honorable thing to do would be to be honest about how little you care about me. I’m not going to stand up in front of a pastor or a judge and listen to you make marriage vows promising to love me when you don’t. That’s my definition of dishonorable.”

  That got him where it hurt—she could see it in his eyes. “What’s wrong with wanting to give the baby a family?”

  She rolled her eyes, big and exaggerated, meant to hurt him. “Nobody has to be married to be a family. Maybe if you ever got off the farm, you’d know that.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t mind being an old-fashioned guy. I like it on the farm.”

  “Oh, please.” Charity let out a hollow laugh. “You can’t be an old-fashioned stand-up guy and still sleep around, discarding women as soon as you realize they’re not up to your standards.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand. “If you’re even thinking about talking to me about marriage, turn around and get out of my house.”

  He opened his mouth one more time, then pressed his lips shut, fire in his eyes.

  And then he stomped over to her, closing the gap between them in two long strides, put his hands on her waist, and drew her in. The moment his mouth covered hers, Charity gasped. She was so furious with him, but when they touched, all she could do was sink into those manly lines of his body, into the weight of his hands on her hips, into the possessive play of his tongue on hers.

  He didn’t say a word as he carried her to the bed. He didn’t say a word as he tugged off Charity’s jeans, then the panties she’d worn underneath, and did away with the little pile of clothing. She heard, rather than saw, the clasp of his belt buckle opening because her eyes were shut tight, her head thrown back on the mattress.

  It didn’t matter how angry she was. She still wanted him. She spread her legs wide to make room for his body between them and urged him in, begging him to go faster.

  He refused. That son of a—

  Trey dipped his mouth down to her collarbone, kissing along the ridge of the bone there. He finished his path at the dip of her throat with a swirl of his tongue. She arched her back, his hardness brushing against her opening, and growled with impatience.

  “I can’t stand you,” she hissed through her teeth.

  With a chuckle that sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine, he dipped a hand between her legs and swirled his fingers through the dampness there. “This says otherwise.”

  “I need you,” she said, and the words came out almost mournfully.

  “I’ve got what you need.”

  He kissed her again, slowly, making her feel every movement of him between her legs. The sensation of his lips on hers burned into her mind and her skin, a wild he
at with an edge of pure sensuality spilling down over her neck, over her breasts, and between her legs.

  She squirmed against him again, digging her hands into his shoulders.

  “Come on, Trey,” she begged, and she opened her eyes in time to see the flash of passionate pleasure in his.

  “Are you sure it’s what you want?” His voice was leather curling over her skin. The frustration she felt in wanting him was a familiar sensation. She’d felt it for years, lying alone in her bedroom at night, thinking of him. She’d imagined scenarios just like this, only they had been less complicated. In reality, her mind released her from her worries about the pregnancy. All she could see was Trey, all she could smell was Trey, and the overriding need of her body and soul was to have him inside her.

  “Don’t screw with me,” she said through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me wait.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  He thrust inside of her with one smooth, powerful movement, and it drove the air from her lungs to be so….filled. She felt the clench of his muscles with every roll of his hips, and then he changed angles and oh. Her clit bumped up against him, the grazing touch enough to make it throb and sing but not enough to make her explode. Charity arched against him, struggling for more contact, and was richly rewarded. He was still wearing his shirt and she shoved it upward to expose his perfect abs. She raked her fingers over those ridges, thinking of nothing, thinking of everything, every sound in the room consumed in his ragged breath.

  They found their rhythm, and there was no softness in it. It was almost like they were fighting, getting out all their arguments with their bodies, and Charity relished it. The way he drove into her was raw and real. Somehow she felt, in this moment, the apology, the want of him. It hadn’t been a mistake. It hadn’t been a mistake at all. It had felt at least this good before.

  Her pleasure wound and tightened and escalated, and as Charity squeezed her eyes closed to ride it out Trey dropped his head next to her ear. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For…what…?” He couldn’t possibly be apologizing again, not now, not in this rolling heat that started out as a tiny point of light and exploded over her as she came.