Caught by the Cowboy Dad

by Melinda Curtis

  If Shane knew the straits of Holden’s personal finances, he wouldn’t ask for his help.

  “Get some rest. Think about it. And if you need anything, ask. I’m here.” Shane took in what must have been a broken look on Holden’s face. “Honestly, asking for help doesn’t make you any less of a man.” Shane left before Holden could form a scathing retort.

  “Ice men don’t ask for help.” It was a great response. Too bad he made the statement to an empty room.

  His phone pinged with a message. It was from Bernadette. She’d sent two words.

  Two words Holden didn’t understand.

  I accept.

  * * *

  “THIS IS A MISTAKE, Dr. Carlisle,” Bernadette muttered, pulling up her hood against the scattering raindrops. She carried a small suitcase and backpack down the trail from Second Chance’s live-in medical clinic to the massive RV parked in front of the Lodgepole Inn. “Custody agreements aren’t made on camping trips.”

  But custody agreements weren’t made without communication, either.

  She and Holden had created a baby together, and they hadn’t talked about it face-to-face yet. He’d apologized for taking the news poorly via text. He’d asked about her health in a text. She was going on a road trip with him based on a text.

  Texts. Really? Were they in high school? They hadn’t texted this much when they’d been dating, which was saying a lot since they’d dated long-distance for several months.

  “Mistake. Mistake. Mistake,” she muttered, all the while continuing to move toward the motor home and sucking on a peppermint to counter her morning sickness. It wasn’t just a custody agreement she wanted with Holden. She wanted answers from him. Why had he dumped her? And what kind of father was he going to be to her baby?

  Mine, not ours.

  It was clear that Holden wasn’t going to be a helicopter parent, which left her to wonder: Did he want to be involved with this baby at all?

  Dark clouds threatened more than the current sprinkle, reminding her she had other worries, including the listing of her beloved OB/GYN practice in Ketchum, for which she’d had no offers. She’d signed on to be Second Chance’s doctor, but it wouldn’t be official until the end of the month. She’d taken time off this week because she’d known Holden was coming to Idaho.

  Standing at the motor home’s bumper, Devin waved to Bernadette.

  He was Holden’s son. Not that Holden had told her he had a child when they’d embarked upon their long-distance, now-defunct romance. And from what Bernadette had gleaned from Holden’s relatives in town, Devin was a science prodigy. A nerd, they’d lovingly said, although he looked like a boy who could do anything he set his mind to. Although how he was dressed didn’t quite suit the moment. They were going camping, and he was wearing what looked like a boarding-school uniform—a blue polo shirt, khaki slacks and sneakers.

  “Devin!” Twelve-year-old Gabby burst onto the porch of the inn that her family ran, blushing to the roots of her strawberry-blond hair. She pushed out a breathless “Bye” before darting back inside.

  Devin looked pained. He gave a half-hearted wave that Gabby probably missed.

  That boy acted as if he had yet to discover girls.

  “What kind of father has Holden been to Devin?” Bernadette asked herself, crunching her peppermint. That would be a good predictor of what kind of father he’d be to her little one.

  “Hey, Doc.” Roy, the old man who lived in the cabin nearest the medical clinic, greeted her from his porch. He wore a T-shirt, a pair of blue coveralls, a short raincoat and a smile that was just as comfortable as his worn handyman uniform. “You talkin’ to yourself?”

  “Nope. I’m talking to you, Roy,” Bernadette said hurriedly. Doctors weren’t supposed to be eccentric, even small-town ones.

  “I see you’re packed.” He fell into step behind her on the trail through the pines. “Heading out with Holden and his boy?”

  “Yes,” Bernadette chirped with the utmost patience. Out of habit, she gave the old man a quick glance. In med school, she’d been trained to assess the health of those around her.

  Roy’s color was healthy, and his steps steady. Good.

  They reached the bottom of the trail and crossed the road toward the inn.

  “Guess you two have a lot to work through.” Roy continued to tag along.

  “I guess we do.” Bernadette was normally straightforward with friends and family. But she hated that everyone in Second Chance knew the ramshackle state of her personal life—that she was having Holden’s baby and that Holden had ghosted her for the past month. And now, thanks to Roy, they’d know that Holden had invited her to go along on this road trip. She hoped they didn’t expect them to return married. Bernadette certainly didn’t.

  “Dr. Carlisle.” Odette rounded the front of the motor home. She was an elderly, petite woman with short gray hair and a tendency toward hypochondria. Today, she looked confident, hearty and hale. She raised a canvas bag of pale green yarn and knitting needles toward Bernadette even though she was still twenty feet away. “You left your knitting bag at my house last night.”

  On purpose.

  Bernadette thanked the old woman anyway.

  “I didn’t want you to drive off without it.” Odette pressed the bag into Bernadette’s arms when she reached her. “You need to practice your stitches if you want to make that baby of yours a knit cap.”

  Prior to her pregnancy, the only stitches Bernadette aspired to do neatly and evenly were the ones with black thread that helped flesh knit together.

  “Hey, Dr. Carlisle.” Standing near the motor home’s door, Devin’s gaze didn’t quite reach Bernadette’s approaching toes. “Let’s get you settled.”

  “Great.” If only her stomach would settle.

  Roy ran a hand over the tan siding of the RV. “Sure would like to see inside that fancy rig.”

  “No time for tours, sir,” Devin said politely. “We’re about to leave. Just waiting on Dad to get a coffee or something.”

  “He shouldn’t be chugging caffeine.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Bernadette grimaced. That was Dr. Carlisle talking. If she was going to work through custody details with Holden, she needed to be Bernadette his ex-girlfriend, not his doctor.

  “Um, sorry? I’m sure he’s getting water, not coffee.” The teen grabbed her bags quicker than a bellboy intent upon a good tip and bounded up the stairs into the vehicle, leaving Bernadette no choice but to follow.

  “Don’t forget to practice your stitches.” Odette turned. “Come on, Roy. We’re allowed coffee.”

  The pair headed toward the Bent Nickel Diner.

  Bernadette bid her send-off party farewell and climbed the stairs into a motor home that was more luxurious than her apartment in Ketchum.

  The cabinetry was a glossy black and the appliances gleaming stainless steel. The refrigerator was full-size and conveniently located near a kitchen island. There was a narrow dining table in front of a gray couch that looked like it would pull out into a bed. The front two seats were charcoal leather, matching the finish on two recliners swiveled toward a large television. This was a wealthy man’s mobile domain. Holden always wanted the best of everything.

  We have nothing in common.

  Did we ever?

  Her stomach somersaulted. She popped another peppermint.

  “Back here.” Devin beckoned from a bedroom in the rear.

  That room was plush, too. A soft gray comforter draped over a king-size bed. A crystal chandelier sparkled above it. There was another television mounted on the wall near built-in storage cabinets. It was cozy and roomy, all at the same time. It made her want to take this bedroom and add it on to the medical clinic because there was no way she was going to climb a ladder to the clinic’s loft to sleep when she was nine months pregnant in December. Or with a newborn. Or when sh
e was Odette’s age.

  Maybe Holden will loan me the motor home to live in while I’m pregnant.

  She scoffed, ignoring Devin’s questioning look.

  And maybe Holden is planning to drop down on one knee and propose.

  She stopped herself from an eye roll. The man had never told her he wanted to stop seeing her. He’d just...disappeared from her life. An easy enough act when she lived in Idaho and he lived in New York. Was that behavior motivated by his decline in health? Anxiety could close in on a person and close them off to others.

  Don’t make excuses for him.

  “You have your own bathroom.” Devin opened a door. “In case you get sick. Do you want to use it?”

  The way Devin looked at Bernadette...

  It was almost as if he wanted her to rush into the bathroom and upchuck.

  Which was a very real possibility since nerves jangled through her system and upset her steadily increasing, nausea-inducing, rampant hormones.

  “I...uh...mean...” The teen blushed and gave Bernadette a weak smile. “Do you want to see the bathroom? It’s pretty.” He stood back so she could enter.

  “Sure.” Best check out the facilities in case she needed them. Bernadette inched into the room.

  Footsteps pounded on the motor home’s stairs.

  Holden.

  Her entire body went all hot and sweaty, stuffing her ears and throat with cotton, churning the piece of dry toast she’d eaten for breakfast, sending her gaze to the commode.

  “I’ll give you some privacy.” Devin closed the bathroom door. A moment later, it sounded as if the bedroom door was closed.

  Muffled voices drifted to her.

  Bernadette drew several deep breaths while she stared at her image in the mirror. Her shoulder-length blond hair was in need of highlights. There were circles under her blue eyes. And her glasses... Well, she was rather fond of the geeky black frames, but they weren’t exactly a fashion statement. Nor were her jeans and gray-green T-shirt.

  How in the world did I attract the attention of anyone, including Holden Monroe?

  The motor home started up. Backed up. Pulled out onto the road.

  The shift in equilibrium brought on the nausea once more.

  Bernadette splashed water on her face. The last thing she wanted was to start talking to Holden and get carsick. The trip to Yellowstone would take about six hours. There was plenty of time to let her stomach settle before they spoke.

  She left the bathroom and lay down on the bed, closing her eyes. She’d barely slept last night, tossing and turning as she debated whether or not to come on this trip. And now she was bone-weary.

  She could put off facing Holden for a few more minutes.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “ISN’T THIS GREAT?” Holden said to Devin after almost two hours of driving through the Idaho mountains. “Just two guys with nothing but open road ahead.”

  Devin mumbled something that sounded like agreement.

  There’d been a downpour after they left Second Chance, but the day was now clear and bright. And with every mile logged, Holden felt the weight on his chest lighten. He was breathing easier. His shoulders didn’t feel as if they were up around his ears. This road trip was just what he needed. Nobody was asking him about his long-term plans, and he wasn’t worried about short-term problems. There was just the road ahead and a day he could fill any way he and his son wanted, as long as they reached Yellowstone in time to attend a stargazing session.

  Devin had a textbook open in his lap. The kid was going to get carsick if he kept reading on these winding roads. Not to mention he was missing the scenery, which was pretty spectacular. The Sawtooth Mountains were to the east, lined by meadows dotted with wildflowers—perfect for long horseback rides. The slim ribbon of highway wound through tall pines next to the Salmon River. There were no traffic jams. No stoplights. No high-rises. No pressure.

  “There’s an old silver mine up ahead.” Holden pointed to a hand-painted sign, the second one they’d passed. “They give tours. Why don’t we stop?” It’s what his grandfather would do. Harlan had frequently taken twelve grandchildren on the road in his motor home, stopping at places of interest that weren’t as memorable as the time spent touring them, shared by the Monroe grands.

  “Whatever you want.” Devin had been fidgeting in the passenger seat the entire ride, glancing over his shoulder as if he wanted to move to a seat in the back and study that textbook in peace.

  “I don’t want to take a break if you don’t want to get out. This is supposed to be a father–son bonding trip.”

  Devin glanced over his shoulder one more time. “We can pull off. I’m up for it.”

  Holden smiled. “Great. One stop and then you can study in back if you want.”

  “Really?” Devin’s gray gaze landed on Holden. “You mean it? Your feelings won’t be hurt?”

  “My feelings won’t be hurt.” Already, Holden was looking forward to pulling over. It’d be just like his childhood trips with Grandpa Harlan. He and Devin would joke and laugh and soak in some history. Grab an ice cream or a burger at a local shop. They’d make memories, ones Devin could look back on fondly one day. “Look. Here’s the turn.” Holden slowed the vehicle just as the bedroom door swung open. He glanced back.

  Bernadette stood in the bedroom doorway, hair attractively mussed and glasses askew.

  Reflexively, Holden spun back around and jammed on the brakes harder than he should have. The RV skidded on the narrow highway and came to a slanting stop in a ditch half-filled with rainwater.

  “Is everyone okay?” Holden held out a hand first toward Devin, who nodded once, and then toward Bernadette, whose head bobbed.

  Several things registered in Holden’s brain simultaneously.

  The motor home didn’t take turns like his sports car.

  Bernadette’s purple suitcase lay on the bed behind her.

  And Devin didn’t seem surprised to see her.

  I accept.

  The text message from Bernadette took on significant meaning. She’d accepted an invitation to come along on this road trip. He’d extended no such invitation.

  Holden raised his brows in Devin’s direction.

  His son sank in his seat, looking guilty.

  “If you don’t roll with the punches, the punches will roll you,” Holden murmured, feeling his chest tighten and his lung capacity diminish. “That’s what my grandpa Harlan used to say.”

  “Are we stuck?” Bernadette joined them at the front of the motor home. “You really should be more careful. These things don’t handle at all like a car.”

  Holden faced forward and exhaled slowly, hanging on to his temper. “One driver at a time.” That, too, was one of his grandfather’s sayings. This trip was giving him a renewed appreciation for the old man who’d disowned him. Holden pressed down on the accelerator. Slowly at first, and then because the motor home wasn’t moving, he gave it more gas.

  They didn’t move.

  “We’re stuck.” Bernadette placed her hands on the backs of both front seats and leaned down to peer out the windshield.

  “We’re not stuck.” Holden breathed in deeply. He was sure he was only imagining the flowery smell of her hair. From the moment they’d met, he’d imagined many things about Bernadette—places he’d like to take her, conversations he’d like to have, anticipating how she’d kiss him in the moonlight beneath the whispering pines.

  He set his jaw and tried to clear his head of the scents of flowers and peppermint.

  “Try Reverse,” Bernadette suggested.

  “Yeah, Dad. Try Reverse,” Devin seconded.

  Not trusting himself to look at Bernadette, Holden frowned at his son instead. “I was just about to do that.” He shifted gears and gave the rig gas. “Remember, one driver at a time.”

  The
motor home didn’t budge.

  “We’re stuck.” Bernadette straightened and patted Holden’s shoulder. “I’ll call for a tow.”

  “That’s the driver’s job.” Holden shut off the engine, unbuckled his seat belt and stood, forcing Bernadette to step back or be taken into his arms.

  Not that I want her in my arms.

  At least, not with Dev watching.

  Holden scowled.

  Not that I want her in my arms, period.

  He’d stopped communicating with Bernadette about four or five weeks ago for several reasons, not the least of which was that he lived in New York City and she lived and practiced medicine in Idaho. It wasn’t practical to want her in his arms. And when it came to relationships, Holden was nothing if not practical. Some would say that relationships were the only place he was practical.

  “I’ll call for a tow truck,” Holden said firmly, reaching for his cell phone.

  “I’ve got no signal.” Bernadette stared at her phone.

  “Me either.” Dev stared at his.

  After glancing at his phone, Holden had to agree.

  “Might I suggest—” Bernadette began.

  “No.” Holden held up a hand as he held tight to his temper, suddenly recalling that when they were together, it was like two captains trying to helm the same ship. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to walk to the silver mine and ask to use their phone. And if a tow truck can’t get here right away, we’re going to take the silver mine tour, and we’re going to make some really good memories. And then it’s on to Yellowstone.” He spoke like a boss, like his word was law.

  Bernadette and Devin exchanged glances, smiles growing on their faces.

  “This is Dad’s last chance to create warm fuzzies with me before I become a college man,” Devin said with teenage sarcasm.

  Holden’s chest constricted, not from elephants but from heartache. He could recall using the same tone with his father twenty years ago and the derisive feeling that went behind it: My father knows nothing.

  Is that what Dev thinks of me?