The Rancher’s Unexpected Baby: Brothers of Cooper Ranch Book Two

by Leslie North

  17

  LENA

  A car door slammed outside.

  Lena glanced up from stroking Whisper, heart thudding in her chest. She heard a chorus of congenial, laughing voices as whoever was outside the barn approached. Judging by the Irish lilts, she thought she knew who.

  "Wait here," she told Whisper needlessly. The stallion was already secured in his paddock and not likely to leave her sight. Unlike Maxwell Cooper, he was good at keeping a schedule.

  Lena looked about frantically, as if Maxwell might step out of the barn office or rise from a pile of hay, perfectly composed and ready for this meeting. When he didn't magically appear like the genie she wished he was, she knew she was in trouble.

  She knew she was alone.

  Lena touched her stomach and breathed deep. By the time Bill McMurphy rounded the corner of the barn, she was all smiles. She waved to him and his two business partners. "Hey Bill! Over here! Come say hello to Whisper!"

  Handshakes, small talk, and patted muzzles quickly morphed into something more. Lena's eyes tracked all around the barn; she smiled so wide she was sure she must be grimacing by this point. "We're willing to make the buy today, lass." Bill's bright blue eyes shone earnestly. "Is Mr. Cooper around?"

  "No. I'm afraid he isn't." But feel free to show up at any moment and prove my ass wrong, Maxwell.

  "Our plane leaves in forty-eight hours," Bill said apologetically. "For us, it's now or never."

  Lena pressed her hand to her stomach, closed her eyes, and breathed in deep. Her thoughts swirled. Bill had just issued an ultimatum on his offer, but Maxwell wasn't here to weigh in. What would he say?

  The baby kicked. Lena opened her eyes in surprise. Her daughter kicked again, not enough to hurt, but enough to jolt her from her cycling fears and focus on the present. It wasn't just Maxwell on the line here—it was everyone: her and the baby included. She hardened her expression and looked up.

  "I'll prepare the paperwork."

  Said paperwork was drawn up and quickly signed. All she needed now was to find Maxwell and get his stamp of approval on their agreement, and Whispered Faith would be headed to the rolling, emerald-green hills of Ireland.

  Lena hoped to visit one day. What she would love more, in that moment, was to hunt down Maxwell Cooper and get him to sign off on Whisper's utterly enchanted fate once and for all. There was more green on the line than just the rolling hills of Ireland.

  When Maxwell proved not to be anywhere on the premises and didn’t answer his cell phone, she spent most of the day pacing their apartment. The sun was just starting to set over the hills and bleed its coppery-gold light through the trees outside when she heard the dogs start to bark excitedly. Lena looked out her bedroom window, and sure enough Maxwell's pickup was pulling into the drive.

  It was now or never. It wasn't just his pride on the line anymore. The lives and futures of his staff depended on the sale, and so did her and the baby's security. Lena squared her shoulders and breathed in deep. She waited. When the door to the apartment opened, she rose from the bed and joined Maxwell in the living room.

  "Long day?" she asked as she watched him remove his hat. He set some groceries down, and Lena noticed the six-pack of beer...and the subsequent six-pack of non-alcoholic brews he placed on the counter beside it. Her heart tugged at the gesture. Why did she feel so guilty all of a sudden? She had to make him see.

  "Yep." Maxwell shouldered out of his coat and unbuttoned his shirt. He turned to her with a tired smile. "Drink with me?" He nodded to the groceries he had brought in.

  "Only if you let me make the toast."

  Maxwell fished out two bottles and used one to open the other. He passed her beverage to her first. "You got it. What are we toasting to?"

  "I made the sale," she blurted out. "To the Irish. They stopped by today and reiterated their offer, and I knew we couldn't refuse. Only, Bill said he needed the sale printed up today." She set her beer down and fetched the paperwork from the coffee table. When she returned with the manila folder holding the contract, she noticed Maxwell's dark locks were hanging down into his face and hiding his expression. He gazed off out the kitchen window, then held out his hand.

  "Let me see it."

  Heart thumping, Lena passed the papers to him. "There's still time to change anything you want, of course," she explained. "Bill was persistent, but I stood my ground. I told him no sale would be made without you."

  "I can't." Maxwell stared down at the piece of paper in his hand. Lena wasn't sure she heard him right. Didn't he see the figure Bill was offering for Whisper? She nearly leaned in to point it out to him, but in that moment, she suddenly had the feeling Maxwell wasn't seeing anything at all.

  "Why can't you?" she demanded in exasperation. "Maxwell, everyone on the ranch is counting on you to make this sale!"

  "It isn't about the money." Maxwell set his beer down untasted and leveled his dark eyes at her.

  Lena returned his stare with a steely look of her own. "It isn't to you. But as I said, there are other livelihoods on the line here. Everyone is invested—"

  "But I'm the only one who is truly invested," Maxwell interrupted her. Lena blinked, as stung as if he had just slapped her in the face. She stepped back as he raised his voice. "Lena, everyone else can walk away from this. I can't. I'm the one who owns this horse, and I'm sure as hell the one who will make the final decision here."

  "I can't believe what I'm hearing!" she said incredulously. "Do you really think that's true, Maxwell? Do you really think you're the only one invested here? The only one who’s worked for this?"

  Maxwell looked away. His dark hair fell in a curtain around his eyes, but Lena didn't need to see his expression to understand his assent. Her cheeks, her neck, belly...every inch of her grew hot suddenly in a helpless rage. It was better to feel anger, she thought, than to acknowledge her dread at what she was about to say.

  "If that's what you really think, then I guess there's nothing keeping me here but a commission I’m not going to get," she said. She took the contract from his unresisting fingers and dumped it in the trash. "If you stand by what you say, Maxwell, then I'm going to walk away. Right now."

  Her heart thudded, striking hammer blows only she could hear in the subsequent stillness. He wouldn't really let her go that easily, would he? He had to know this wasn't just about the sale anymore. This was about them. About him being able to see and value other people—value her as a person, not just the mother of his child.

  Maxwell said nothing. He had retreated back into his usual stony silence.

  Lena stalked to her bedroom to pack. She wouldn't let herself cry as the world crumbled around her. Not yet. She would wait until she was driving down the road and well on her way to her grandmother's new rental.

  Curse completed, she thought as she stowed the beginnings of her new life away. Guess I never escaped it after all.

  18

  MAXWELL

  The Arabs were out.

  Literally. Out of Montana. Out of the country.

  It was two days since Lena's departure, and Maxwell sat in his office with his head in his hands. He had barely slept for the last forty-eight hours. When he wasn't trying to get ahold of Lena, he had been trying his damnedest to get ahold of the Arab princes. It was noon on the dot, and an email had just come in. The Arabs were already on a plane back to the Middle East.

  The Irish has gone silent. The asshole from Kentucky was still circling him but now offering half his original price for Whisper—a quarter of McMurphy’s offer and no whiskey to wash it down with. Most of the guys in the barn wouldn't even look him in his face since Lena left. It was all falling to shit.

  Maxwell has never felt like such a miserable failure in all his life.

  Thoughts of Lena flashed across his mind like meteors, sparking and dancing. He couldn't stop thinking about her and the baby. He had tried converting his persistent thoughts into action, but she wasn't picking up the phone. Maybe she wasn't ready to
talk to him again just yet.

  He was completely alone in his newfound shitty situation. He understood all too well now that he was to blame for his trouble. He had made his bed, and now it was time to lie in it.

  Alone.

  "Knock, knock. Anybody in here?"

  Maxwell pried his fingers from his face and lifted his head. A bushy, red-bearded face poked its head in the door. "Bill?" he said in wonder. "Bill McMurphy? What are you still doing here? I confess I never expected to see you again.” Not after how completely unaccommodating I've been, he thought. “Lena said you were headed back on a flight home today."

  "Ah." Bill nodded, then motioned to see if he might enter. Maxwell nodded and rapidly rose to pour the other man a cup of coffee. "Sorry to trouble you without an appointment. It was the little lass who convinced me to stay put a while longer, actually. Mind if I sit down?"

  "Please." Maxwell waved him into the office chair opposite his desk, and the two men sat down. Lena had been in charge of every major interaction with Bill from the start. Maxwell had to wonder what the other man must think of him. "You saw Lena?"

  He was surprised when Bill's face crinkled into a pleasant smile, and his blue eyes glittered. Bill laughed. "Of course! We went out and had sundaes together. I enjoy talking to her. Very personable woman."

  Maxwell bent his head as if he had been chastened. Bill continued on seemingly without noticing. "It was in the course of talking to Lena that my plans really started to take shape. As you know, my brothers and I are filling up a series of castles-turned-hotels in Ireland."

  Maxwell nodded. He may have barely spoken to Bill personally while Lena courted him as a client, but he had done his research.

  "We've been hired to stock the locations with a unique mix of horses." Bill blew on his coffee and grinned. "And you know, Lena reminded me just how much your horse, Whisper, struck me the first time I saw him. What a gem. None of the others horses I've seen out here in America boast that same combination of conformation, beauty, and intelligence."

  Maxwell nodded. It wasn't just a compliment, it was the truth.

  "I'd like to put my offer back on the table, Maxwell." Bill leaned in. "If you keep breeding horseflesh of this quality, we're likely to return to buy from you in the future. These hotels are going to bring in a continuous string of wealthy travelers, and a lot of them are horse people. I'd also be more than happy to send any potential buyers your way in the future." Bill rocked back and grinned. "Between your breeding skills and that Lena's ability to sell, you can really be proud of the operation you're running here."

  Maxwell was stunned speechless. He set his own coffee down but couldn't arrive at any words to say. It was a single word that left his lips first. "Yes," he said. Then, "You have yourself a deal, Mr. McMurphy. I'm sorry it took so long to get things squared away."

  Bill rose, laughing and holding out his hand to shake. It was at least as big as Maxwell's own. "Don't trouble yourself any further about it! What's done is done, and I'm damn glad to have done business with you and Lena."

  "How is she, by the way?" Maxwell couldn't stop himself from asking.

  Bill drew back to examine him, but the other man's expression was sympathetic. "She's a wonder. Told me she's staying with her grandmother on the other side of town. Says she's very happy to be there, but you know..." Bill scratched the wiry hairs of his chin. "That's the first time I think she's ever lied to me. Curious, isn't it? But I have a nose for this sort of thing. It's Lena's honesty that made me want to do business with her. And you."

  Maxwell nodded. "Thanks. I'll fax copies of all documents pertinent to the sale over to your office back home."

  "Please do. And see to it that you win your woman back!" the Irishman called as he exited the barn office.

  Bill McMurphy didn't have to tell him twice.

  19

  LENA

  Lena was baking as if her life depended on it.

  Hours went by when she refused to tear herself away from the oven and stovetop. She poured ingredient after ingredient, mixing until her arm hurt and she had to trade hands. The dishes piled up in the sink behind her until she had a formidable mountain on her hands, but still she couldn't resist the compulsion to fill up ever-more baking sheets and cake pans and pie pans and... She had already gone to the store to replenish ingredients twice. Grandma, of course, had something to say about that.

  Grandma always had something to say about everything.

  Lena wiped her forehead and felt the smear of flour track across her skin. She had pulled her curls back hours ago, but they continued to escape the confines of her hair tie. She knew she must look like a mad scientist, a crazy woman. She paused in her baking only long enough to lean back and glance through the doorway into the other room. Grandma Fudge was snoring peacefully in the cushy armchair, her attention, for the moment, neutralized.

  There was no way Lena was going to make it through these next few months, much less eighteen years of her baby's childhood. Grandma was always there, always flush with advice, which was exactly what the panicked Lena had wanted—and what she now realized she didn't always need. But there was no switching off that faucet. The advice flowed and flowed.

  And the cookies and cupcakes practically baked themselves.

  It wasn't just a house that made a home. She realized that now. It was the people in it. And while she knew she could make a home with Grandma, she yearned for the chance to go back and fix things with Maxwell. Raising this baby on her own with help from her family...that's not how it was supposed to be. Not in her situation. Curse be damned. She wanted Maxwell by her side, in her house—wherever that may be—in her bed...

  Pregnant or not, her body ached without him. She loved him. She needed him. And she couldn't have him. Fate, and their own decisions, had seen to that.

  Somebody rapped on the screen door. Lena whirled, conscious of the tears pouring anew from her eyes, and quickly scrubbed them away with the back of her hand. She deposited more flour in the process, but there was no hope for it. She was a wreck. Whoever this visitor was, they might as well know it so they could decide whether or not they wanted to take themselves back off the porch and vanish down the driveway...

  She reached the door. And he was there.

  "Maxwell?"

  She wasn't certain he wasn't a mirage. The screen partially eclipsed and darkened the big outline of him, but there was no one else it could be. Lena toweled clean her hands and pushed the door open. Maxwell stepped back as she joined him on the porch. He removed his hat quickly and turned it between his hands.

  God, he looked good. It was so unfair. Lena felt like the Pillsbury Doughboy or the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. The light that went on in Maxwell's dark eyes when he saw her in all her “glory” told a different story, but Lena ignored it. She was in charge of her own narrative now.

  Wasn't she?

  "What are you doing here?" She crossed her arms over her stomach. It wasn't a protective gesture so much as a way to fortify her heart against reaching for him.

  "I had to see you." Maxwell's intense stare folded, and he grinned shyly. "Making anything with nuts?"

  Lena snorted. He was clearly trying to endear himself to her again, but she wouldn't let herself relax. Not yet.

  "I came by to tell you that I sold Whisper." The hat stopped rotating in his big hands. "To the Irish. I'm here to give you your commission. You earned it."

  It was no use trying to guard her heart around him. She felt torn in two by his words. She wanted herself and the baby to have been the inspiration for his trip, but she knew wishing was a dangerous game. "Oh? That's wonderful, Maxwell. I'm so happy...so happy to hear it."

  The tears started to flow again, and she didn't care. She didn't bother wiping them as they came.

  And suddenly, Maxwell's arms were around her. He cradled the back of her head as she buried her face in his chest. Even now, she couldn't let herself believe they were this close. He would go away again, and...


  "I should have followed your instincts from the beginning, Lena," he whispered fiercely. "I let my pride get in the way of doing what was best for everyone. I don't have to play every role. I can let go and let everyone succeed. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that."

  Lena sobbed and shook her head, but he clenched her closer.

  "I know I have no right to come here and hold you like this." Maxwell extracted himself and drew back, seemingly against his own wishes. Lena stood bewildered as he held her at arm's length. "You were great at your job, Lena. But I don't want you back."

  "What?" The logic didn't register with her at first, but the emotional whiplash of his statement did. Maxwell didn't want her to come back...to work? To him? Was this just business, then? Had seeing her tears only made him uncomfortable, only made him pull her in for a hug to get her to stop...?

  "I want you to follow your own dream," he said intensely. "Even if it takes you away from me for a while. I want you to take the commission money and enroll in school. You want to go to college, Lena, and I...my situation...I'd only be holding you back."

  "You've never held me back, Maxwell." Her mouth twisted in a tentative smile. "You're the one who believed in me when no one else did. You're the one who makes me soar."

  There was a beat while he digested her words. "With the baby..." He trailed off, then started over. "If you are going to go back to school, the baby might make that difficult."

  "Yes." She wasn't going to beat around the bush with that one. "But plenty of people have done it alone."

  "You're not going to do it alone," Maxwell said. "I'm going to be a father to our baby. And I'm going to support you any way you ask me to."

  Lena gazed at him. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. She thought again that she must be imagining him there on the porch with her. How was it that Maxwell Cooper had appeared again in her darkest hour, taken her in his arms, and said exactly what she wanted to hear?