Coulda Been a Cowboy

by Brenda Novak

  “It’s not as if he was born yesterday, Tyson. He’s nine months old. You hadn’t even seen him until a month ago. And now we’re tickled over the baby some woman used to extort a million dollars from you?”

  Not tickled. Scared. But admitting that made Tyson feel like a baby himself. “What Rachelle did isn’t Braden’s fault.”

  “I understand that. And I’m happy to meet him, but it’ll have to wait. This is my busiest time of the year.”

  “Sorry I asked,” he muttered.

  “Tyson?”

  He tossed away the pen he’d been using to embellish his blotter drawing and rocked back in his chair. “What?”

  “Is something wrong?”

  Of course! He resented Braden even more than his mother did, and the guilt he felt for resenting a baby—his baby—only exacerbated the problem. But Priscilla wouldn’t want to hear any of that. She wasn’t one to talk about anything very deep. It made her uncomfortable. “No.”

  “Good. I’ll call you later, then.”

  Tyson allowed himself a wry smile at the relief in her voice. She preferred to ignore unpleasant feelings, in herself and others, and simply hope the cause went away. But Tyson wasn’t sure this situation could be resolved quite so unobtrusively. Regardless of what Rachelle said or did, Braden was here to stay.

  At least, that was how he felt until the police called.

  * * *

  DAKOTA HOVERED near the glass doors that opened onto the cabin’s expansive deck. She had an apology prepared for Tyson, and was eager to deliver it so she could relieve the strain that had sprung up between them since the incident at her father’s trailer. But by the time she’d worked up the nerve to approach the subject, they’d arrived at the cabin and she hadn’t had the opportunity. After closeting himself away in the office for hours, Tyson lifted weights, then went outside, presumably to the Jacuzzi, where he’d been for the past hour or more—the whole time she’d been bathing Braden and putting him to bed.

  Dakota was beginning to worry that maybe Tyson had fallen asleep and drowned. Or that he would drown if she didn’t rouse him. But she was hesitant to interrupt his solitude. His black mood, which seemed to permeate the whole cabin, told her he’d rather not be bothered.

  As if to emphasize that point, he hadn’t turned on any lights. He was sitting out there alone in the dark….

  Taking a deep breath, she decided to go out in spite of all that. She couldn’t retire until he came in. She wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway.

  The door didn’t make any sound when she stepped outside, but the deck creaked. If Tyson was awake, she thought he might hear her coming and say something. But he didn’t speak. She found him slouched low in the water, a bottle of wine and an empty glass beside him.

  “You’ve been out here a long time,” she said, shivering because the wind had come up.

  He watched her dispassionately as she drew closer. “Does the Jacuzzi close at ten or something?”

  The heavy sarcasm told Dakota his mood hadn’t improved. It probably didn’t help that he was drinking. Alcohol certainly never had a positive impact on her father. “I can’t imagine it’s safe to drink out here all alone,” she said.

  One muscular, water-slicked shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I’m a big boy.”

  Dakota wanted to voice the apology she’d been mulling over, but she knew she couldn’t talk to Tyson when he was like this. “Suit yourself,” she said and turned back to the house.

  “Dakota.”

  She faced him again.

  “Should I give him back?”

  The question took her off guard. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Braden. His mother wants him back.”

  Dakota could sense Tyson’s turmoil, but she didn’t know enough about him or Rachelle to give advice on such a serious issue. She didn’t want to lose the happiness Braden brought her, or the income, but she couldn’t be selfish enough to base her judgments on what she’d lose over the next several weeks. What would be best for the baby? And for that baby’s father?

  “You’re the only one who can make that decision, Ty,” she said softly. Only after she’d already spoken did she realize she’d shortened his name. It was a reflection of the affinity she was beginning to feel for him. He wasn’t the Tyson Garnier to her anymore. He was a decent man wrestling with inner demons she didn’t understand.

  Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice the name thing. He was too distracted by whatever was eating away at him. “You said yourself I’m not good with Braden.”

  She winced at the reminder, because this time she understood that all the publicity and censure he’d endured was taking its toll. “I told my father what he repeated to you today before I figured out that…”

  He toyed with his wineglass as if he felt uncomfortable looking at her.

  “…you deserve more credit than you’re getting.”

  When his gaze lifted, he seemed more vulnerable than she would’ve thought he could be. Maybe that was why he hid his inner self from the public. His macho, “I have it all” image concealed a sensitivity he was afraid others might exploit.

  “A detective from California is flying up to meet with me tomorrow,” he said, pouring himself more wine.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He hesitated, downed his drink, then set the glass on the sidewalk. “Rachelle is claiming I raped her.” Before Dakota could respond, he gave a bitter laugh. “Evidently, I’m pretty dangerous. Maybe you should think twice about working for me.”

  Dakota didn’t believe it for a second. She supposed anyone, even a football star, could let certain situations get out of hand. But her instincts told her Tyson would never force a woman. “What really happened?” she asked, moving closer.

  “Nothing. That’s why this is so damn…frustrating. I’ve never harmed a woman in my life.” His hair stood on end as he ran his wet fingers through it.

  “So she’s lying?”

  “Of course she’s lying. That’s all she ever does. But once a woman makes that kind of claim, a guy has no way to defend himself. How can I prove I didn’t do anything wrong? It’s more sensational to think I’m some sort of predator, so once the press gets hold of it, my reputation will be completely destroyed. I can’t even point to all the things she did before she met me without coming off like I’m claiming she deserved it.”

  “What types of things did she do?”

  “Let’s just say a woman doesn’t get that self-serving overnight.” He glowered at his wineglass. “And even if I manage to convince some people of my innocence, there’ll always be those who will wonder.”

  Dakota remembered him talking about the little boys who were buying his jersey. Being accused of rape was much worse than being accused of using steroids. No wonder Tyson was so upset. “What does she get out of doing this to you?”

  “She’s trying to pressure me into returning Braden to her.”

  “Why’d she give him up in the first place, then?”

  “I didn’t leave her much choice.”

  Dakota crouched down to let her fingers dangle in the water. “If the police ask the same question, I wouldn’t give that answer.”

  “I did what I had to do,” he said. “She wasn’t taking care of him. I kept getting reports that she was leaving him unattended and going out till all hours of the night. The day I showed up, I found him sitting in a soggy diaper in his crib, hoarse from crying, and the only other person in the apartment was the seven-year-old daughter of one of Rachelle’s friends. The kid was fixated on the TV and had simply turned up the volume to cover the noise. And the place was filthy.”

  So that was the story. Knowing Tyson, it made sense. He didn’t necessarily want to raise Braden, but he’d felt obligated to step in. And now Rachelle was making trouble. Just because she wasn’t the best mother in the world didn’t mean she had no love for her baby. “If she’s that greedy, won’t she be loath to part with the million you gave her?”

 
; “I’m sure she doesn’t expect to part with it. No doubt she’s already spent a sizable portion. Besides, in her crazy, mixed-up logic, she feels entitled to that money.”

  The cold was beginning to seep into Dakota’s bones. Shivering, she crouched closer to the warm steam rising from the water. “So what do you think this detective will have to say?”

  Tyson didn’t immediately answer. Her movements had obviously distracted him and when he spoke, she knew why. “Get in. You’re freezing.”

  “I don’t have my suit.”

  “Do you really need it?”

  Dakota didn’t know how to answer that. Of course she needed it—not that she was anxious to be seen in a swimsuit at this point.

  “You don’t have anything to worry about,” he explained. “Without the light on, the water’s dark as ink.” He hooked his arms over the edge of the Jacuzzi. “I’ll look away when you undress, and I won’t touch you. I promise.”

  When she hesitated, he gave a bitter laugh. “Never mind. I don’t blame you for being scared.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.” If he wanted to force himself on her, he’d had plenty of opportunity. They were completely alone in the mountains. He could even do so now, whether she got in the Jacuzzi with him or not. It was those unwanted pounds that paralyzed her. That and the fact that she didn’t know how much he’d had to drink. “Are you drunk?”

  He scowled. “Hell, no. I don’t get drunk. Especially on wine.” He considered his empty glass. “But that doesn’t stop me from trying every now and then.”

  “Are you wearing anything?”

  “Why do you think the light’s off?”

  “Right.” They’d be naked together. Somehow that made it worse…but the idea of skinny-dipping with Tyson Garnier had its merits, too. The sudden whirlwind of butterflies in her stomach was making her almost light-headed. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so breathless and excited. Besides, this wasn’t really about skinny-dipping. He was testing her to see if she trusted him enough to leave herself so vulnerable.

  “Okay.” She forced a smile, trying to act as nonchalant as possible—but acting nonchalant was tough when her heart was making such a racket against her ribs.

  Dakota eyed the stack of fresh towels she’d put out yesterday. She thought Tyson would say something else to encourage her, but he didn’t. He simply pushed the wine and his glass farther away and averted his face.

  He won’t see anything…. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her shirt over her head.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Grandpa Garnier: A woman with an edgy smile is like a

  dog with a wagging tail: she’s not happy, she’s nervous.

  SOMEHOW TYSON WAS feeling better. Even with his agent nagging him to give Braden up. Even with a detective coming to question him about his relationship with Rachelle. Even with Rachelle doing her level best to destroy him.

  Amazing what one naked woman could do. He couldn’t even see anything—but having Dakota in the Jacuzzi sitting opposite him had accomplished what several glasses of wine could not: he was beginning to let go of some of the anger that had kept him fuming ever since he’d heard from Detective Donaldson of the LAPD. The natural surge in hormones probably contributed, but it was more than that. Dakota had to believe him, or she never would’ve taken off her clothes. A twenty-six-year-old virgin didn’t slip naked into a Jacuzzi with a man she didn’t trust. And he was just tired and beleaguered enough that the vote of confidence felt damn good.

  “I say you hang on to Braden,” Dakota said, speaking for the first time since she’d sunk in to the swirling water.

  He shifted to allow one of the jets better access to his spine. “I thought you’d say that.”

  “That’s why you asked me, isn’t it?”

  She was right. He wasn’t really considering giving Braden back. He knew what he had to do even without his grandfather around to give him the resolute nod that would mean, “Sometimes you gotta dig in your heels, son.” Heaven and earth couldn’t shake Reed Garnier when he made up his mind, and Tyson knew he’d inherited that stubborn streak. He was simply mourning what it’d cost him—and he didn’t mean in terms of money. He’d go from being viewed as a sports icon to being viewed as a man who used his fame and fortune to harm innocent women, which was even worse than the basic, garden-variety scumbag.

  “You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?” he said.

  She pulled her wet hair over one shoulder. “What makes you say so?”

  “Have you ever been skinny-dipping before?”

  “No.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Isn’t it apparent?”

  He chuckled. “A little. But you’re still here.”

  She gave him a sly smile. “I’m trying to make up for what happened at the trailer.”

  He wanted to ask if he could get a bit more mileage out of that. He was thinking about comfort sex again and the solace he could find with her in his bed. But he refused to reward her trust with that kind of solicitation. It had to be the wine messing with his head for him to even be tempted. He didn’t want to alienate Dakota. She seemed like the only person on his side.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” he said.

  “Then it’s working?”

  “Maybe a little too well.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing—but unless you want to see more of me than you’ve bargained for, I suggest you turn away. I think it’s time I went inside.”

  She blinked in surprise. “So soon?”

  Not soon enough. He’d tested her, she’d risen to the occasion, and now he’d be plagued with unfulfilled desire for the rest of the night.

  “I’m getting tired,” he lied. Then he climbed out and reached for a towel, but when he glanced back, he saw that Dakota hadn’t covered her eyes or ducked her head as he’d expected. She was watching him openly, her expression filled with curiosity and unmasked admiration.

  “Dakota?” His hand clenched the towel he had yet to bring to his body. A lot of women had seen him—from the female reporters he encountered in various locker rooms to the lovers he’d taken over the past decade. But no one had ever looked at him quite like that.

  “You left it up to me, didn’t you?” she replied.

  He had left it up to her. What happened next was also up to her. “And?”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Tyson’s muscles tensed as blood shot immediately to his groin. It was all he could do not to get in the water and show her what she was asking for. But he managed to deny the impulse—because he wasn’t sure she knew she was asking for anything. She was too different from the other women he’d dated for him to tell. Besides, he’d never been with a virgin.

  His conscience warned him not to say what came next to his lips, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “I could teach you a few things, if you want.”

  “About…”

  He let his gaze lower for the first time to where the water bubbled around the soft swell of her breasts. “Use your imagination.”

  Her mouth closed and her throat worked as she swallowed. “Maybe when I lose a few more pounds.”

  He didn’t give a rat’s ass about her weight. What he was feeling had to do with more than finding a perfect female body. He was attracted by the whole package that made Dakota Brown who she was, wanted her sweet innocence to soothe the scar Rachelle had left behind and wash away some of his disillusionment and bitterness.

  But he didn’t feel good about pushing her. Gabe had recommended her to him. Besides, Tyson had other considerations. Like whether or not it’d be smart to let their relationship go to that level. Chances were good she’d take sex too seriously and it wouldn’t end well, and he didn’t want to make her as cynical about relationships as he was.

  “You know where to find me,” he said and went inside.

  * * *

  DAKOTA STAYED in the Jacuzzi for another thirty minutes. It
took that long to slow her pulse. Just when she’d thought she was forever doomed to a life of obligation and poverty in a small town that contained no one of particular romantic interest, she was thrust into a situation where she was staying at a cabin with one of the sexiest men in America—who was also a pretty nice guy.

  And he’d just propositioned her.

  Scooting over, she claimed Tyson’s wine bottle and used his glass to drink the rest of it. Maybe he was attractive, and maybe he was a lot better person than the tabloids acknowledged, but there was no way she’d ever let him see her the way she was now. Not after she’d seen his body. Jeez, he didn’t have an ounce of fat.

  She had another glass of wine. On the other hand, maybe this was her one chance to experience something she’d never forget. It wasn’t as if he’d look at her all that closely. He was merely taking advantage of what was available. He’d probably spend a quick fifteen or twenty minutes showing her what she’d been missing and that would be that. Even people in Dundee had an occasional one-night stand.

  Of course, gossip being what it was around here, their reputations were ruined afterward. But there wasn’t anyone within miles of her and Tyson. No one would know, so no one would tell. They had absolute privacy.

  She wanted another glass of wine. The more she drank the more she thought she could overcome her nervousness. But the bottle was empty. Sweat rolled down her scalp because the water had brought her body temperature up, and the pads of her fingers were wrinkled to an uncomfortable degree. She needed to go in.

  But Tyson was there. Even if he’d gone to his room, she’d feel his presence everywhere. What was she going to do?

  Take a chance, a voice in her head whispered. Let yourself live.

  She was fairly sure that was the wine talking, but it presented a good case. Why not? What could it hurt? Her life was notoriously dull. Regardless of what happened, an encounter with Tyson would be interesting. Then, after her two months were over, she could go back home with a renewed sense of purpose. Every woman was entitled to at least one romantic affair.