by Leslie North
Well, not exactly.
"I love you, Lena Fudge," he whispered. "I love you, and I love our baby. Please let me be the man I was meant to be to you both."
And there it was. Exactly the thing she wanted to hear.
Maxwell touched his forehead to hers. Lena let her eyes fall shut as she relished their connection. They breathed in and out together as she committed his words, and this moment, to everlasting memory.
"I love you too, Maxwell Cooper." Just when she thought she couldn't possibly manufacture more tears, they came. But it didn't seem to matter. Neither did the fact that Maxwell was getting flour on himself as he pulled her in against him one more time. Lena came, laughing, and hugged him close, even as her grandmother stirred within the house and called out to her.
"Lena? Is that somebody at the door?"
EPILOGUE
"Maxwell," Lena said his name with clearly affected patience, "we aren't going to name our daughter Cedar."
"What's wrong with Cedar Cooper?" It was their first day back from the hospital, and Maxwell had done his best to ensure that everything was nice and cozy for Lena and their new baby girl. The extra pillows and blankets he had made up their bed with now gave the impression of an enormous pink monster swallowing both mother and child. He set the mug of chamomile tea he had brewed for her beside her and sat on the edge of the bed. "I have a cousin out in Colorado who says it's a semi-popular name, girl or boy. And it's alliterative," he said stubbornly.
"It's not alliterative."
"On paper it is."
Lena laughed and shook her head, before training her gaze back on their daughter. The little bundle fussed and turned in toward her mother. "See?" Lena said. "She doesn't like it at all."
"Don't use our daughter against me."
"Oh, you know what’s going to happen," Lena said. "I fully expect her to have you completely wrapped around her little finger before her first birthday. I have to get my licks in where I can. You guys will be ganging up on me before you know it."
It was no use discussing the lengths Maxwell wouldn't go to secure his daughter's happiness; he wasn't certain there were any. And it was no use correcting Lena, either; their daughter already had him wrapped around her finger, as much as she had already earned the unwavering love and devotion of her mother.
"What about something like Petunia?" Maxwell cocked his head. He was trying to remember what a petunia flower looked like. It was…pink. Like his daughter was. Right?
"She isn't one of your horses, Maxwell!" Lena whisper-exclaimed, although he thought she was loving their game. In fact, they had been debating names all morning on the car ride home from the hospital, and Maxwell was deliberately making his suggestions more and more absurd just to get a rise out of her. He was giddier than he could ever remember being. He felt almost as young as the bundle Lena cradled in her arms.
"Lola." He didn't know where the suggestion came from. It was as if his subconscious simply summoned the name.
"Lola." Lena gazed at their daughter, and Maxwell saw the spark of recognition in her eyes. "Lola."
"I don't know. It reminded me of 'Lena.' I always thought your name was pretty."
"I think 'Lola' is beautiful." Lena sighed. "Little Lola. What are we going to do with you? You're the whole world now."
Maxwell watched her watch their daughter. He almost couldn't bring himself to say what he knew he had to say next. What if his calculation was wrong? What if he ruined the moment? He wanted to keep her close, and this could ruin not just the moment, but everything. He reminded himself of her grandmother’s advice, way back at the beginning: if he reined her in too much, she would bolt. He knew now she’d come back to him.
"Forgot to mention this came for you in the mail while you were in the hospital."
Maxell fetched the large envelope from the kitchen table and brought it in for her. Lena's eyes rounded. She looked to him, as if uncertain the package was somehow a continuation of his jokes. Despite his smile of encouragement, Maxwell knew his expression was probably gravely serious. The letter was from the University of Montana Admissions Office.
"Okay," Lena said with a shaky breath. "It's probably just another sales pitch. I mean, they can’t have decided already." Her trembling fingers worked the envelope open all the while. Lola blew a contented bubble as her mother shifted her into the security of her armpit and pulled out the cover letter.
Maxwell waited. He didn't dare breathe. Lena's eyes scanned down the page. Her hand flew to her mouth. Maxwell wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Bright tears shimmered in the corners of her eyes, and he leaned in. "Lena…"
"I got in," she whispered. "Oh my God, Maxwell, I got in."
Maxwell wanted to crush her close, but there was Lola, of course. He held himself back for now, and instead reached to smooth the blonde curls back from Lena's ecstatic face.
"Of course you did." Mentally, he breathed a sigh of relief—now that it was real, he knew this path was the right one—for both of them. "Congratulations, college girl."
"Thank you." Lena's gratitude was so sincere it was almost heartbreaking.
"I figured it was good news. I have a gift for you," he admitted.
Lena grinned up at him. "Of course you do." She looked tired, but her smile wasn't one of defeat or even of gentle exasperation; she looked ready, even eager, to see what he had in store.
Maxwell hurried to his office and back. He placed the package on the bedside table. Lena leaned in quizzically, rotating the box with her free hand to face her as she cradled Lola in the other. "For you," he reiterated.
"These look cool. What are they?"
"Wireless monitors. As soon as they're activated, you can use your phone to watch little Lola from anywhere."
Lena's eyes brimmed as she sat back. "Maxwell…that's so incredibly thoughtful. I…" Her throat closed over her thanks before she could continue, but Maxwell wasn't done yet. He produced a stack of papers from behind his back and passed them to her. "Oh my gosh, there's more?"
Lena laughed, and for a moment she seemed at a loss of what to do with Lola. Maxwell set the documents on her lap and took their daughter up into his burly arms so Lena could more closely examine his last gift. He cradled Lola gently, rocking her back and forth as the diminutive life that was his daughter stirred and fussed in his arms.
"What are these?" Lena leafed through the papers, eyes widening as the nature of his last gift dawned on her.
"Resumes," he said. "For a nanny. I figured we could both use the help. And this way, we'll be able to steer things ourselves." His thoughts strayed to his mother and to Grandma Fudge, although he didn't say as much out loud. He and Lena were sure to get plenty of outside input in the coming years whether they asked for it or not. Maxwell thought he would probably need all the help he could get, but this way, they would have a firmer say in what went on.
"Come here." Lena motioned for him. Maxwell leaned in, and she surprised him by grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him down for a kiss. Both were conscious of the baby between them, and something about the three of them sharing the tender moment made it more precious than he could have possibly imagined.
"Scoot over."
Lena did. Resumes scattered and fell to the floor as Maxwell shifted himself carefully onto the bed beside her. He didn't bother taking off his boots. He pulled the blanket up over them as Lena turned into his side and snuggled close. She was asleep before the last resume drifted to the floor.
"Mama's out," he whispered to Lola. "Just you and me now."
It didn't feel that way, though. In fact, Maxwell thought, with these two handfuls of trouble permanently fixed in his life, he was sure he would never feel lonely again.
END OF THE RANCHER’S UNEXPECTED BABY
BROTHERS OF COOPER RANCH BOOK TWO
The Cowboy’s Forgetful Bride, 3 January 2019
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The Rancher’s Unexpected Baby, 10 January 2019
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nbsp; The Cowboy's Stubborn Sweetheart, 17 January 2019
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PS: Do you loved rugged men? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from The Cowboy’s Stubborn Sweetheart and Breaking the Cowboy’s Rules.
THANK YOU!
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ABOUT LESLIE
Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.
Find your next Leslie North book visit www.LeslieNorthBooks.com or choose:
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BLURB
Julianna Norrell’s dream of leaving Montana for big city life in NYC was wonderful—until it all went bust. She’d tempted fate by getting a fine arts degree in photography, and believing one brilliant show would make her career take off. But three years later she’s a borderline starving artist, making a living off of stock art photography. Plus, she's just been on the wrong side of a copyright infringement case and no gallery in New York will touch her. Se when her mother seriously breaks her leg at the same time Julianna gives up her lease, it seems fate is pulling her back to where she started: Cooper Ranch.
Wright Cooper has come home to lick his wounds. After being a major fundraiser in a failed political run, most of America has started to hate his guts, and Wright himself is beginning to wonder when he’d stopped vetting his politician’s ideas and simply started funding them. Now, he’s home to dust off his boots and find himself again in the beautiful land that had made him want to enact change for his country in the first place.
When the two childhood sweethearts suddenly find themselves living under the same roof, they’ll need to decide if they’re coming home for good, or simply stopping over before losing each other once again.
Grab your copy of The Cowboy's Stubborn Sweetheart
Available 17, January 2019
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
EXCLUSIVE EXTRACT
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Political scandal, like a troublesome woman, had a way of putting things in perspective.
It also had a way of keeping you up at night.
Wright Cooper sat at the kitchen table at Cooper Ranch. It was well past midnight and well past the appropriate time to be cleaning a shotgun, but clean he did. He found the practice meditative. So much of the world around him seemed to be descending into chaos these days, he found himself feeling almost grateful that no one had gotten around to cleaning it before he did.
The kitchen windows were open, and the cool air of a Montana's summer night drifted to him. He breathed it in, and the lead weight in his chest seemed to lighten just a little. He knew it would be back full force in the morning.
He had run home, but there was no escaping the mistakes already made.
His cell kept buzzing with updates in the other room. Normally he kept it at his side; now, the only thing Wright answered to was the call of a glass of scotch. He paused in his cleaning occasionally to raise it to his lips and relish the harsh burn of it as it blazed down his throat. It was like paying someone to punch you awake. Repeatedly.
Good. He needed a hard dose of reality after waking up from the political dream he had been persisting in.
The news broke last week: the gubernatorial candidate Wright had been fundraising for had been embezzling campaign funds. Why? No one seemed to know for certain. In the immediate wake of the scandal, the media was all too happy to scream “Corruption!” and leave the speculation to those tuning in. Nathan Morris had been wealthy to begin with, and the whole affair had been messily executed. The one thing everyone seemed willing to bank on was that Morris's bail would be paid by his family and that he would walk.
It seemed absurd to Wright that, in the aftermath of the news breaking, it should be his reputation that was tarnished. He had no idea that Morris was embezzling.
But maybe that was exactly why his good name now lay in ruins. His lack of oversight had enabled a crime to be committed at the expense of the people of Montana. He had wanted to help, to take stewardship, to steer. And what he was left with was a complete derailment and a huge fucking mess to clean up.
Wright sat back and looked at his shotgun. There was nothing left to do but admire it; it was as polished as it was going to get. Sighing, he packed up his cleaning kit and rose. He took his time returning everything to the cabinet. Once the door was shut, he turned to survey the kitchen.
The sink was full of dinner dishes and brimming with sudsy water. Julianna's handiwork, or lack thereof. He had gone into town for takeout, so there was no one else who could possibly be responsible. Wright knew her mother kept a clean kitchen, and he didn’t want Julianna to have to deal with this when she got back. He flipped the kitchen hand towel over one shoulder and started in.
He wasn't waiting up for her, he told himself. It was just too warm upstairs to even think about sleeping yet. He may as well pull his weight around the homestead and hammer out a few chores to make himself useful.
Julianna Norell was the daughter of Andrea Norell, the Coopers' longtime housekeeper. Andrea had taken a spill down the stairs two weeks ago while carrying a heap of Wright's laundry, something he felt immeasurably guilty for. He had been on the campaign trail for so long that he had completely neglected most of life's basics, to the point that he had to borrow a clean shirt from his brother Maxwell when he showed up at the ranch unannounced. Andrea had taken it upon herself to do all his laundry. A broken leg had been the result.
Julianna had surprised them all by flying in almost immediately from New York to take over the housekeeping while her mother recovered. Julianna's father had died when she was eight, and Wright knew better than anyone how close she was with her mother…mainly because he and Julianna had once been close as well. They had grown up together at the ranch house, but there was something special about the intimate turn their relationship had taken once they hit high school. Their personal aspirations—and more than a few fuck-ups on Wright's part—had eventually driven a wedge between them.
All he had done was arrange a scholarship for her at the most prestigious in-state art institute Montana had to offer. In his family, it was the sort of thing you did for the people you loved. He had thought his gesture would earn him the undying devotion of the girl he couldn't get out of his head. Instead, it had led to an explosive blowout between them, the first really bad fight of their relationship. Julianna had slapped his helping hand aside and insisted she would work her way through college to earn her degree. Her emphasis on the merit of not having things handed to her had cut to the heart of Wright's own insecurities. It was no secret to the world how much wealth he had been born into, and Julianna knew the chips that he and his brothers carried on their shoulders as a result.
So Wright had exacted his revenge by taking another girl to prom. It had resulted in a wildly dramatic evening—and some of the most mind-blowing makeup sex he had ever had the literal pleasure of participating in—but it had still ended in Julianna leaving him. She was a bird determined to migrate, whereas he was as fixed as one of the mountains he rose early to behold every morning.
Wright loved Montana and the people of Montana with all his heart. It was why he had taken the dive into politics in the first place, so he could put himself and his family fortune to good use bettering his community and maybe even his country. Julianna, on the other hand, had never wanted any part of it. She had hightailed it out of the state almost as soon
as she graduated to pursue what would eventually become a master's degree in fine arts. Her first photography series won her national acclaim and a fan following that welcomed her with open arms on the East Coast.
Wright had to wonder about the sudden speed of her return. He suspected that something had happened while Julianna was in New York.
But he was probably the last person in a position to pry at the moment. Hell, he had a feeling he was the last person Julianna would want prying into her private affairs. Matters between them had only been several degrees warmer than cool since they both arrived back at the house. In recent days, Wright would have said that things had transcended cordial to become almost pleasant. But he was an optimist.
And that had been before her date tonight.
A car pulled up in the driveway. The headlights flashed across the window, and Wright looked up from the plate he was scouring. It was Andrea's pickup, meaning Julianna had returned home after all. Not that he had been worried she would overnight somewhere else. And even if she had, she was a grown woman, and it was none of his business…
He watched with interest as she lowered herself out of the cab and swung her purse across her shoulder. Her head was low, her back hunched. It was a stark contrast to the confident woman he had seen proudly declare her intention to be out all night only just that afternoon. Wright had read between the lines of Julianna's statement: don't expect any more chores to get done today, and don't wait up for me. He didn't think it was her intention to make him jealous by letting him know where she would be.
