The Cowboy’s Mistake

by Jackson, Mary Sue

  “Just to make sure you’re okay,” Trey said, raising his hands in front of him. “After what happened back there.”

  “Yeah? Exactly what happened back there?”

  What had happened was that he’d been an idiot. A thought flickered through his head—if he said that now, she might shut the door in his face, and he didn’t want that.

  “Can you let me in so we can talk?”

  He’d been an idiot, but had it been enough to warrant what she’d done? This was worse than a mood swing. She’d stolen his truck. But Trey downplayed it. “We shouldn’t have talked over you—I know that.” He took a deep breath. “And I can see how it got worse because of…you know.”

  “Because of what?” Her tone warned him off.

  “Your…mood swing.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d taken another step in the wrong direction. “Your—” He tried to find another word, but all he was trying to say was that he understood she’d felt emotional, they’d all felt emotional, there’d been an appointment, there had been news—

  If Charity’s eyes had been flashing before, now they were a thunderstorm.

  “My mood swing?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled, trying to make light of it. “Look, I know hormones are supposed to go through the roof with pregnancy, so it makes sense that you’d get emotional at times, maybe act out a little—”

  “I didn’t have a mood swing, Trey.” Charity’s voice was practically vibrating with anger. “This has nothing to do with my hormones—it has to do with me, being utterly furious that you had to sit down with my brother, all buddy-buddy, and start planning out my life without even pretending to get my input or ask what I wanted.”

  “We shouldn’t have done that—”

  “Oh, you think? Do you think you shouldn’t have done that? Do you think you shouldn’t have sat there ignoring me while you made decisions about my body and my life?”

  “No, I don’t. I know we were in the wrong. But the fact is, we did have one good point—”

  “I’m never going to marry you!” Charity shouted through the crack in the door. “Under any circumstances!”

  “Charity.” Trey had to get this back on track. “You don’t have to decide that right now.”

  “I can decide it whenever I want to.”

  Trey heard the footsteps on the driveway even though Charity was still shouting at him.

  “That’s not what I was saying.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder, only to see her parents coming up the driveway toward them. His stomach dropped into his toes. They’d been out of town, so this conversation hadn’t come up yet. It was bound to now. “Charity—”

  “Don’t Charity me,” she shouted. “I’ve had enough of you. More than enough. And when this pregnancy is all over—”

  “Hi, honey,” Charity’s mom called from over Trey’s shoulder. Twila Miller looked just like Charity, only she was softer around the edges and her blonde hair was streaked with grey. She wore it in a ponytail, much like Charity wore hers.

  There was a ringing silence.

  “Hi, Mom,” Charity said grudgingly from inside the door.

  “Dad and I came over to see you,” Twila said, raising a hand to pat Trey’s arm. “But it seems like a bad time.”

  Another pause. “No, it’s—it’s fine. Come in.”

  “How you doing, Trey?” Cord Miller, Charity’s dad, was dark- haired and sun-tanned. He clapped Trey’s shoulder as he followed his wife into the house. Trey stepped up last, Charity still glaring at him. She seemed like she might shut the door in his face, but after she let him hang there a moment she stepped back and let him through.

  They gathered naturally at Charity’s kitchen table. There were only three chairs, so Trey leaned against the kitchen counter and tried to relax.

  Twila shot him a comforting smile, then reached for her daughter’s hand. “I’m not going to ask you what was happening just then. I’m just wanting to know if you need any help. Lots of coming and going since we got back from our trip, and I know you’ve got the new horse, so it makes sense you haven’t stopped by.”

  Charity’s chin trembled. She didn’t so much as glance at Trey, but he could feel the heaviness of the moment.

  She was about to tell them, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  Part of him wanted this in the open—in the real open. It made him uncomfortable enough that the list of people who knew about Charity’s pregnancy seemed to grow by the minute. Austin. Layla. Dr. Rosario. Probably the staff at the diner. It would be hurtful if Charity’s parents found out from someone else. At the same time, he’d wanted to avoid this. Trey knew Charity’s parents cared for him, but that could all be over when they learned what had happened.

  He took a deep breath and let it out.

  “Everything’s fine,” Charity began, then took her mother’s hand in both of hers. “The thing is, I’m pregnant.”

  Twila nodded slowly, the smile fading to something more serious. “Pregnant.” There was no judgment in her voice. “That explains why emotions are running high.” She patted her daughter’s hand.

  “Congratulations, Charity,” Cord rumbled, shocking Trey to the core. He’d expected…he didn’t know what he expected. Disappointment. Hands flying over their hearts. Dismay at best, and anger at worst. Congratulations? “If I should be congratulating you, that is.”

  Now Charity looked at Trey. “It’s complicated.”

  “I’m going to take a guess.” Cord looked between the two of them. “Trey here is the father of the baby?”

  Charity cleared her throat. “Dad.”

  Cord waited.

  “There are two babies.”

  The smile spread across Twila’s face again. “You’re pregnant with twins?”

  “I only found out today.” Charity put a hand to her forehead, then dropped her other palm to the table. “And this idiot proposed.” When she told them the details, Cord laughed out loud.

  “Son, you’re in it now,” he said, shaking his head.

  Twila looked slightly less amused. Her expression as she waited for Trey to speak was more of a glare than anything else. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Miller.” Trey wiped sweaty palms on the front of his jeans. His heart hammered in his chest. This was the part he’d been dreading. The part where they told him to get the hell out of their daughter’s house, and stay off their property. He was ready for the roof to come right down on his head. He braced himself for the fallout. But he had more to say. “Believe me. From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry for taking advantage of Charity after you made me part of your family.”

  Twila looked taken aback. “We’re not disappointed about that.” She scoffed a little, though she hadn’t lost all vestiges of kindness. “I just—honestly, Trey, I can’t believe how clueless you are.” She laughed a little. “Completely clueless.”

  Cord agreed. “She’s got a point, son. You’re in over your head.”

  “Yes. I am.” He had most of it figured out, but obviously things were not settled between him and Charity. Trey was still tensed, waiting for the final blow to come. He couldn’t stand waiting any longer. “But I suppose you’ll want me out of this house. And out of yours, too.”

  Cord shook his head, laughing. How could the man laugh so much at a time like this? How? “Trey, we don’t want you out of our house, or our lives. You’ve been here for too long for that. But—” He stood, offering his hand to Twila. “We will leave you to finish your…discussion. I’m sure there are plenty of details to work out.”

  Twila stood and Charity followed. Her mom wrapped her in her arms, pulling her in tight. She murmured something Trey couldn’t hear into Charity’s ear, then pulled back. Then she stepped into the center of the kitchen, looking from Trey to Charity. “Be kind to each other,” she said. “Come on, Cord. Let’s go.”

  “Listen to Charity, Trey,” Cord said over his shoulder as they headed for the front door. “If you can keep your mouth shut for fiv
e minutes and listen to what the mother of your children is telling you, you’ll both be better off.”

  “All right,” Trey called after them. The door shut a moment later.

  He turned back to Charity. The air between them seemed charged with energy—angry and otherwise. He opened his mouth. Then he thought better of it and shut it again.

  Sixteen

  The last thing Charity wanted was to be standing in her kitchen, alone with Trey.

  First of all—she was still furious with him. How dare he attribute what had happened in the diner to a pregnancy mood swing and not his own stupid behavior? There was no way she could commit to a lifetime with a man who couldn’t see when he was in the wrong. She might never be happy if she had to spend all her time explaining, in detail, the things he needed to do differently—especially if he never listened, and kept making the same mistakes.

  And…on the other hand…the scent of his skin drove her crazy.

  He’d obviously showered in the morning, probably after getting up early to tend to the horses before the appointment, and here in her tiny kitchen she couldn’t help but breathe in the clean, soapy, sunshiny scent of him. It intoxicated her, just like it had when they were growing up. Honestly, even though he’d grown up and changed and bought different kinds of body wash over the years, there was something delicious about his skin that was utterly specific to him. Charity’s body bent toward it, pined for it, even as anger surged in her veins.

  She tore her eyes away from Trey—from the long, muscular lines of him in his jeans and t-shirt—and went back over to the kitchen table. Her plate and silverware still sat there from the meal she’d made herself after she’d gotten back from the diner. The chicken wrap had been good, but being that pissed off made her hungry.

  Charity picked up the dishes and headed back for the sink. Trey stood directly in her way, reaching her hands out like he was ready to take the dishes from her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I can help you with that.” His eyes gleamed with an apology, but he still didn’t seem to get that this was what she wanted him to apologize for. She’d told him over and over again to stop treating her like she was incapable, and yet he kept doing it. “Come on, Charity, you should rest. I’ll wash up.”

  She shook her head. “You should go. That’s what you should do.”

  He shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’ll go if that’s what you really want. But why are you this angry at me? I’m only trying to help.”

  “You’re helping too much.” Charity took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. “You have been way too pushy. You’ve been overbearing. It’s driving me insane.”

  “Charity—”

  “I know you want to rescue me, but I don’t need rescuing. I am an independent woman and I’ve been independent for a long time. I’m not a professional at training horses.”

  Trey shoved his hands into his pockets. “What?”

  “I need your help to train Kepler. You’re the best in the business, and I’m not afraid to admit that. But I don’t need help raising our children—and if I did, I wouldn’t look to you for all the answers.” Charity saw the words land, piercing Trey where it hurt. Still, she couldn’t stop herself. She gave him a pointed look, then tipped her head toward the door.

  Trey’s tanned, gorgeous face looked stricken. “Are you saying you don’t want me involved at all?”

  Charity had to do something—she had to move—otherwise she’d be torn in two. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to kiss him. But before she could do anything, he had to understand.

  “You’re standing in the way of my sink,” she said.

  He moved out of her way, but still hovered nearby as she filled the sink with a few inches of water and dish soap and tipped in the dishes. There were a few others from her breakfast that she’d been putting off until now, and she added them all in. The hot water against her hands felt…centering somehow. It brought her back to herself from the storm of emotions that still tore through her.

  “Charity?”

  She knew he wanted to answer to his previous question, and the raw sadness in his voice took some of the fight out of her. Charity took her scrubber from its spot at the top of the sink. “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

  There was a pause, and she could tell he was choosing his next words carefully. Good. He could stand to do that more often. “I’d really like to know what’s on your mind,” he said, his voice a deep, sincere rumble. It did things to Charity that she wasn’t in any mood to admit. His voice had always affected her that way, as long as she could remember, but even more so once it had deepened. Ugh. She couldn’t escape her feelings for him. It was impossible to fully recover from her crush.

  But, here they were, with Trey finally ready to hear her.

  “I don’t need a parent,” she said, cutting a glance across at him. His jaw was squared, and his eyes were fixed on her face. She could tell she had his total attention. “Do you get that? I need a partner, not someone who’s going to try to control every aspect of my life for maximum safety. If you want to be in this with me, as a team, then I’d appreciate that.”

  Trey shifted, waiting until she was finished speaking. “All right. I can see that. But I hope you know that everything I’ve said and done has been only because I care about you, Charity. I was only trying to…to protect you.” He grimaced. “I can try to back off of that, if that’s what you mean. But I won’t stop caring.”

  “Good.” Charity ignored the warmth spreading through her core. “Here’s what you can do. You can ask if I need help with something, but you can’t automatically assume I need help. And you are absolutely forbidden from bringing up marriage.”

  Trey frowned, not saying anything. Then he paced away from her, heading toward the kitchen table and back at her. Charity rinsed the silverware and set it into the drying rack, then the plates, and the bowl from breakfast and braced herself for a fight. There was no way Trey would accept her boundaries. He’d already proven that, again and again, and—

  “All right.”

  It surprised her so much she paused with the bowl halfway to the drying rack and turned around to face him. Trey stood tall in the center of the kitchen, a determined fire in his eyes. “What did you say?”

  “I said, all right.” Trey stepped toward her, two slow steps that had Charity’s heart pounding. “As long as it keeps you from shutting the door in my face—or worse yet, running away from me and stealing my truck, I’ll do whatever it is you want me to do.” She took another breath of him. “This isn’t just about the babies, Charity. This is about…you and me. I want us to be in this together. The stress—”

  She held up a warning finger and waggled it at him.

  “I’m only saying that the less stress we have in our lives, the better it’ll be for the babies. And clearly, I’ve been causing you stress. I’ll cut it out so we can do this together. You didn’t get into this by yourself, and I’m not letting you shoulder all of these burdens by yourself, either.”

  She swallowed hard, struggling to find her voice. “I guess you have yourself a deal, then.”

  He nodded. “That’s good.”

  Charity turned back to the drying rack and put the bowl into it with trembling hands. She felt him step closer, felt his wide palm come down on the outside of her arm in a gesture that was both intimate and comforting. “Charity?”

  “Yes?”

  She reached into the sink and pulled out the plug from the drain, letting the soapy water drain out. Then she dried her hands on the towel that hung below the sink.

  “Do you need any help with anything?”

  “You know, when you say it like that—” She turned in his arms and looked up at him. The cut lines of his face took her breath away. And those lips…

  “Offering to help has you a little hot and bothered, doesn’t it?” Trey lifted his hand from her arm and traced her bottom lip with his thumb.

/>   “It’s not fair,” she said, her voice low and husky. “It’s really, really unfair.”

  He laughed, the sound deep and sexy. “Not nearly as unfair as having to pretend I didn’t notice you all these years.”

  “Prove it.” Charity tilted her face up to his and Trey met her with a kiss, his big hands wrapping around her waist. Her body relaxed into his grip, all the tension in her muscles releasing. This was the part that wasn’t fair. As angry as he’d made her, it didn’t seem to matter at all when his tongue demanded entry to her mouth and he backed her against the counter, the small of her back arching over the sink. Her shirt was probably going to be wet now. Well…she could always take it off.

  Trey pulled her away from the sink and ran his hand over the small of her back. “Feels like you leaned into some water there.”

  So, he was paying attention.

  “I did,” she whispered, flicking her tongue over the corner of his mouth.

  “Let’s get that shirt off of you before you catch a cold.”

  “It’s eighty degrees out,” she whispered, but she didn’t stop him when he reached for the hem of her shirt and tugged it over her head.

  “That’s better,” Trey said, running his fingertips over the lines of her bra. The minuscule brushes against her skin ratcheted up her temperature another several degrees. “But not quite…” He was fairly talented at unhooking her bra, and a moment later it was on the floor with her shirt. Charity attacked Trey’s shirt and once it was out of the way, she raked her fingers over his hard chest as he lifted her up onto the counter top next to her sink and reached for the zipper of her jeans. She panted as she lifted herself up from the counter so he could pull them over her hips and drop them to the kitchen floor. Had she even been wearing panties? He dealt with them so efficiently that she could hardly remember him taking them off.

  Trey lowered his mouth to her bare shoulder and the heat he left there was enough to tighten Charity’s nipples into sensitive points. He worked his hands down over her waist and then spread her legs so that the cooler air in the kitchen teased at her flesh. If her parents walked back in now—