The Cowboy and His Baby

by Jessica Clare

  “So what are you saying?” His tone was flat, dead.

  Annie continued, because it needed to be said. “I’m saying that you shouldn’t change all of your plans because of me. I came back here not because I wanted to demand that you take part in the baby’s life, but because I felt you had a right to know. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you.” Her voice choked on the words. “And I think that’s wonderful, but I can also admit when the timing is all wrong.”

  “Maybe it’s not the timing that’s wrong,” he said, voice harsh. Dustin wouldn’t look at her. He stared straight ahead at the dark road. “Maybe you’re afraid of commitment.”

  “Maybe,” she admitted. “But I can’t marry you right now, Dustin. If I did, I’d be anxious for the rest of my life, worrying if this is the day that you wake up hating me for turning you into your father.”

  “That won’t happen—”

  “Really? Have you called him?”

  “Huh?” He turned and stared at her, confused.

  “Your father. You’ve had such a spiritual change of heart . . . have you called him? Told him you were wrong all those years ago? That you’re okay with going down the exact same path he did?” When his jaw clenched stubbornly and he turned his gaze back to the road, she knew she was right. “I’m not saying I don’t love you. I’m just saying the timing isn’t right for now.”

  “So what do you want from me, Annie?” His voice was hoarse with emotion.

  She was going to start crying. Any moment now, she’d lose it. Somehow, though, she managed to continue speaking, her voice bright. “I want you to call that guy about the boat. I know you were close to pulling the trigger on it. Call him and go buy it. Go up and down the shore for as long and as often as you want. When the baby’s ready to be born, I’ll call you so you can be there. And when you’re ready to settle down, I’ll be waiting for you in Los Angeles.” Her voice dropped. “And if that never happens, that’s okay, too.”

  It was so quiet for so long that she wondered if he’d ever speak to her again.

  “What about us?” Dustin’s voice was gentle.

  Her eyes burned with tears. “Maybe someday there will be a time for us, but I don’t think it’s now.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Cass’s baby boy was born somewhere around three in the morning, just after Annie finished packing her bags. She held little Travis Elijah Pickett for a few minutes, telling Cass what a beautiful baby he was and smiling at proud Eli, who was grinning for what felt like the first time since she’d met him. She admired the baby for a few minutes, then handed him back to his mother and father, saying she had to go to sleep.

  Then, she harnessed Spidey and slung her bag over her shoulder and went to say goodbye to Dustin. He was in his room, sitting in the rocking chair, the baby book in his hands, unopened. His normally laughing face was full of pain and her heart clenched all over again. She wondered if she was doing the right thing . . . but if she didn’t give him the opportunity to seize his dreams now, they’d both regret it for the rest of their lives. He looked up at her with his heart in his beautiful eyes.

  “Don’t go, sweetheart.”

  She swallowed back the tears that threatened and went to his side. When he got to his feet, she took his hand and clasped it in hers. “This isn’t goodbye, all right? I still want to be part of your life. I still want you to be Morgan’s daddy. Nothing on that end has changed.” It was just her own happiness she was sacrificing.

  “It changes everything and you know it.” Dustin squeezed her hand, his eyes begging her to stay. “I would never resent you, Annie. I love you.”

  She smiled at him. Touched his cheek.

  And left, because she didn’t know what else to do or how to fix this. All she knew was that if she stayed and things continued like they were, one of them would regret it. And she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be her.

  Dustin had to decide on his own what he wanted, and he’d never be able to do that with her right in front of him, carrying his baby. She’d forced her hand on him once by returning, and she wouldn’t do so again.

  * * *

  • • •

  The drive back to Los Angeles was a long one. Annie hated every minute of it. She might have cried all through the drive out of Wyoming and Arizona and right into California itself. She was always crying it seemed, and this time, she couldn’t blame the hormones. A dozen times she thought about turning around and returning. It was late, after all. The middle of the night. She could say she would be leaving soon enough and then just . . . not go. That would be easier. Dustin would welcome her back with open arms and kiss away her tears.

  And then . . .

  And then she’d be right back where she started, wondering about that boat and his happiness. Everyone in town had known that he wanted to leave. They’d known his wandering nature even before she did.

  She was doing the right thing.

  She was.

  Why did it feel so very wrong, then? Like she was making a huge mistake?

  Annie drove all night. She was tired, but the thought of going to a hotel and sleeping alone filled her with despair, so she kept driving. She stopped every hour to use the restroom, or grab a snack, and to walk Spidey. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she was on the outskirts of Los Angeles before she realized it. Home already.

  Except, even as she drove up to the familiar driveway of her mother’s even-more-familiar house, it didn’t feel like “home” anymore. Home was with Dustin. Home was a sprawling ranch house nestled in the mountains of Wyoming where a few cowboys and one cowboy’s wife lived. Home was the man she loved waiting for her with a smile.

  She wondered if she’d ever feel at home again.

  Annie parked the car, unbuckled her dog, and then headed inside. Kitty came out of the kitchen, a martini glass in her hand, her heavily penciled brows rising at the sight of her very pregnant daughter. “Home already? I thought you were staying.”

  “Hi, Kitty. Bye, Kitty,” Annie said, dropping her bag and heading to her bedroom. She’d talk to her mother later.

  “Oh no, that’s not enough of an answer,” Kitty said, following her, the skewered olive making a tink noise in her glass. “Why are you back?”

  Annie eased onto her bed—no dramatic belly flop when seven months pregnant—and hugged her pillow. “Because Dustin asked me to marry him and I said no.”

  “Hmm.” Kitty sat down on the opposite side of the bed. “Why?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Mom.”

  “You know I hate it when you call me that. And if you don’t want to talk about it, your mother’s just going to have to guess.” Kitty took a sip of her martini, thinking. “He’s got a wife.”

  “No.”

  “He’s up to his ears in debt.”

  “No. Mom, seriously, just leave me alone.”

  Kitty gave her a pointed look for using “mom” instead of her name. “He’s got a raging venereal disease—”

  “Mom!”

  “Then what is it?” Kitty gave her a pointed look, and when Annie closed her eyes, Kitty poked her in the shoulder with a manicured nail. “This isn’t like you, darling.”

  “I love him. But I don’t think we can be together.”

  Kitty was silent, so Annie opened an eye and looked over at her mother. Sure enough, her mother was squinting at her, a line furrowing her normally immovable brow. “Why ever not? He wants to stay in that hideous Wyoming and you wanted to come home to civilization, right?”

  She sighed. It was clear that Kitty was going to guess—and keep guessing incorrectly—until Annie answered her. So she told her mother the entire story—of how Dustin’s parents had settled down and his father had been trapped into a marriage of convenience for the baby’s sake. How Dustin had vowed that would never be him and had left home. Ab
out the damned boat and how everyone in town knew about it, so it meant something to Dustin. About her fears of becoming the thing that held him back from his dreams. When she was done speaking, Kitty was silent. She stroked Annie’s hair back from her face and sipped her martini thoughtfully.

  “Well?” Annie prompted, curious.

  “Do you want me to sugarcoat it, darling? Or do you want me to tell you what I really think?”

  “Tell me what you really think.”

  “I think you’re being foolish, darling.” She gave Annie’s shoulder a little pat. “This is a stupid idea.”

  Annie frowned at her mother. “I think I should have asked you to sugarcoat it.”

  “You have a man that wants to be the father of your child. He obviously has money or he wouldn’t be buying a boat. He loves you. He’s handsome—I assume he’s handsome, yes?” She shrugged. “I don’t see the problem here.”

  Annie propped up on one elbow and gave her mother an odd look. “And if he resented me?”

  “It’s marriage, darling. It’s not meant to last forever. Is Wyoming one of those states that gives you half his money if you divorce? If so then I’d say you really messed up.”

  She lay back down again, closing her eyes. It figured that her mother would look at it that way. “Forget I asked.”

  Kitty took another drink of her martini. “Don’t be mad, darling.”

  “I thought you’d be supportive. You, of all people, the most independent woman in Hollywood who has no time for any man.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want a husband, Annie.” Kitty’s voice turned gentle. “I said he didn’t want me. I told him about you and he rejected me and the baby both. That destroyed me and for years I wondered if I was doing you a disservice—if I should find some low-end producer or even a cameraman like Julia Roberts and just get married so you could have a father figure in your life. Do you think if your father had wanted me that I’d have walked away? Everyone wants to be loved, darling.” She patted Annie on the shoulder. “Just don’t be so quick to push him away because you’re worried about being rejected.”

  “That’s not what this is—”

  “I’m your mother, darling.” Kitty’s expression grew wise. “You think I don’t know my own daughter? You ran away from him once because you were afraid of getting hurt. Now you’re doing it all over again for the same reason. At some point you’re going to have to acknowledge that your problem is not entirely of his making.”

  Annie just stared at her mother. That sounded . . . wise. And startlingly close to home.

  Kitty beamed at her. “See? And you thought all those prismatic therapy sessions were a waste. Your color right now is very, very purple. Purple is the shade of regrets, Annie dear.” She paused, considering. “I think. Maybe it’s blue.”

  The baby kicked in Annie’s belly and she shook her head. What was done was done. Dustin deserved to be able to make his own choices, and she’d give him that at the very least. So she patted the bed, and when Spidey hopped up next to her, she hugged her little dog against her pregnant belly and closed her eyes. “I’m tired, Mom.”

  “You sleep, darling. I’m meeting the girls for happy hour. Call me if you need anything!”

  Kitty exited in a flourish of tinkling jewelry and Annie was alone with her dog. She rubbed his ears and snout, thinking. Was her mother right? Was Annie running before she had the chance to have her heart broken? Was this just another excuse because she was worried Dustin would abandon her like her father had Kitty?

  There were no simple answers, only more questions.

  And hormonal tears. There were always more hormonal tears.

  Stupid hormones.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Dustin threw himself into work for two days straight. Eli was busy tending to Cass and the new baby, so Dustin worked from sunup to sundown herding the cattle, fixing posts, baling hay, and chasing down rogue calves. It was just him and Old Clyde and the dogs, since Jordy had left. He’d offered to stay behind, but Dustin and Clyde said they could handle it.

  In a way, it was good to be overwhelmed with work. Every calf that ran into a patch of nettles, every cow that needed antibiotics shots because it’d caught a cold, every busted fence meant another moment he didn’t have to think about Annie leaving him. He could push down the sense of betrayal he felt, the despair at knowing she was gone. He could ignore the hollow ache in his chest.

  Nights were the worst.

  His bed was cold and empty, his sheets still carrying her scent. Down the hall, Cass and Eli’s new baby wailed and was quickly appeased.

  So he worked and he tried to forget.

  After about two days of this, though, he got sick of it. He pitched hay in the barn and when Moose ran up to him and offered his paw, cocking his head, his first thought was to tell Annie about it. Then, grief and despair hit when he realized she wasn’t there. He pulled out his phone, thought for a moment, and then texted her.

  DUSTIN: Are we not speaking or can I say hello to you?

  ANNIE: We can absolutely talk, of course. I don’t hate you, Dustin. I just think it’s best if we figure out what we want before we charge into anything. Please understand.

  DUSTIN: I’m trying. I miss you, though.

  ANNIE: I know. I don’t want to say I miss you too because then this all sounds crazy.

  DUSTIN: You said it, not me.

  ANNIE: You always know how to make me smile. Btw, Morgan is a feisty one today.

  DUSTIN: How’s she doing?

  ANNIE: Have we decided it’s a girl now? I’m still pretty sure it’s a boy.

  DUSTIN: Call it cowboy intuition.

  ANNIE: Sounds good to me.

  ANNIE: I like this. I like talking to you. We . . . we can be friends, right?

  Even though it killed him to think of them as “just friends,” he sent her back an answer.

  DUSTIN: Absolutely.

  * * *

  • • •

  After a few more days, Eli began to leave Cass’s side for longer periods of time and returned to helping out the others. It was a quiet period for them right now. The calves were old enough to not need constant monitoring, the weather wasn’t too bad, and birthing season wasn’t for months yet. Things settled down.

  Which was good, because Dustin needed to leave. He talked to Eli and Clyde and told them he had to get some stuff taken care of before he figured out what he was going to do. Clyde just slapped him on the back, and Eli gave him a knowing nod.

  “When you come back, we’ll have a spot for you,” Eli told Dustin. “If not . . . that’s all right, too.”

  Dustin nodded, because he didn’t know if he’d be back. After a few days of being alone again, one thing was certain—home wasn’t Price Ranch, or a boat in Florida. Home was Annie Grissom, with her freckles and her wry smile and her big heart, and he wanted to be where she was. Without Annie at his side, he was feeling that restless itch, but unlike before, this time it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t that he hated being here, he realized.

  He just didn’t want to be away from her. Didn’t matter if it was Painted Barrel, Wyoming, or the beach in Florida.

  But because Annie needed him to be sure, he was going to do everything he could to ensure that he knew his own mind.

  So Dustin packed an overnight bag, grabbed his damned boating pamphlets, and headed to the airport. He bought a ticket to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, just like he’d planned to do so for so many years. It was time to put his money where his mouth was and experience the dream for a few days to see what he thought of it. Before he’d met Annie, a boat on the coast seemed like the ultimate adventure. He’d have no home except the one with a sail, no one to answer to, and nothing but sunshine all year round. He’d live on the beach and soak up the rays, fish to his heart’s content, and then when he wa
s tired of the faces there, he could move along to somewhere else.

  He tried.

  He really tried.

  Fort Lauderdale was perhaps a poor choice, though. It was crowded. It was touristy. He met Marcus Salter and toured the sales yard. He eyeballed a few different boats, but the drive wasn’t there. He couldn’t pull the trigger on buying the boat, and it was clear that the salesman was disappointed to see his sale walk away. Marcus suggested that Dustin check out the Florida Keys, instead, so he went to Islamorada.

  It was beautiful there, no doubt. Palm trees dotted the landscape, and the beaches were gorgeous, the water Caribbean blue. Even in the fall, there were beautiful women on the beach, but he found he wasn’t all that interested in them. He found himself watching the young mothers escorting children on the beach, instead, smiling when a child delightedly picked up a shell.

  He talked to one of Marcus’s clients, a businessman who’d cashed out his nest egg and decided to live a freewheeling life in the islands. The man was about twenty years older than Dustin, and the meet-up between them went badly. The man chased after women half his age, drank too much beer, and bragged about his boat. He invited girls to sit with them, and all of them wore bikinis, giggled a ridiculous amount, and eye-flirted like there was no tomorrow. Good Time Girls, like he’d always looked for in the past. Girls that wanted no commitment, just some fun.

  Dustin hated it. He hated all of it.

  Was this the company he had to look forward to, then? Tourist traps and crowded beaches filled with people he didn’t like?

  He excused himself early and went back to his hotel, where he emailed Marcus to tell him that he’d changed his mind entirely, and then he texted Annie.

  DUSTIN: How’s my baby today?

  ANNIE: Morgan is bouncy today. I swear she’s kicked my liver a hundred times in the last hour.