The Texas Cowboy's Baby Rescue

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  They kissed again, but aware duties waited, reluctantly drew apart. “You must be starved,” she murmured finally.

  “You, too. And I am. But I need to do one thing first. Check my business email.”

  She stepped back, still studying him. “To make sure no one else has dropped out of the sale?”

  “That. And...it’s usual to have a lot of last-minute questions coming in.”

  Relaxing, she waved him on. “Go ahead then. I’ll start warming up the dinner your stepmother brought for us.”

  Cullen nodded then paused in the doorway, memorizing that moment, savoring the sensation of just how happy he was. He had never imagined life on the ranch could be like this. Up until now, he had always felt there was something lacking. At first, a father of his own. Then, after his mother died, parents or family of any kind. After that gap had been filled, he’d lamented the lack of a woman he could keep company with and make love to. Now he had that, and all he wanted was for Bridgett and Robby and Riot to stay.

  Even as the logical side of him knew they were living a fairy tale right now. That reality could come crashing down on all of them at any second. And if it did, Bridgett might not want anything further to do with him.

  “Cullen?” she said softly, giving him an intent look. “Everything okay?”

  He shook himself. “More than okay, darlin’,” he promised. And right now, he told himself, he was good with that.

  * * *

  “GOOD NEWS, I take it?” Bridgett set the warmed food on the kitchen island. She took in the day’s growth of beard and the flush of sun on his rugged, chiseled face. It seemed impossible he could appear even sexier now than when he’d been making love to her, but he did.

  Cullen slipped onto a stool beside her, the happy gleam in his eyes at odds with his solemn tone. “Amazing, actually.”

  “Well, don’t leave me in suspense! Tell me.”

  He handed her a serving bowl with exaggerated chivalry. “Two more local buyers dropped out.”

  She paused, a spoonful of mashed potatoes in midscoop. “And that’s good?”

  He flashed her a lopsided smile. “One of the biggest buyers in Nebraska—Dirk Cartwright of the Cartwright Ranch—has signed up to participate in the virtual auction in a big way.”

  She poured gravy over her potatoes. “Do you know Dirk?”

  He nodded as they begin to serve themselves the pot roast. “They bought a few calves from me when I was living there. If I were to sell even a hundred Hotlander cattle to him, it would launch me into the big time.”

  “Congratulations.”

  He turned his gaze to hers. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This auction isn’t over yet.”

  Bridgett tried not to read anything into the easy affection in his blue eyes, never mind how comfortable and intimate this all felt. “But if he did...”

  His eyes glimmered. “It would mean I’d finally made Frank proud.”

  Bridgett ruminated on that. “He seems that way already.”

  Cullen made a seesawing motion, with his hand. “When he was my age, he already had ten thousand of the fifty thousand acres he owns now.”

  Bridgett looked at him. “You’ve mentioned that before. Is that really what you want? That size ranch?” Because it could mean—would probably mean—leaving Laramie County, maybe even Texas.

  He finished his string beans. “I’d be happy with that.”

  Would he? Bridgett studied him, her appetite suddenly fading. “But you want more?” she guessed.

  For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. That she’d delved into an area that was just too personal. Which sort of stung. She was beginning to think they had gotten to a point where there was nothing they couldn’t share with each other.

  His expression pensive, he turned to her, his knees brushing her thigh. “Have you always been a neonatal intensive care nurse?”

  “No.” Skin tingling, she swung around to face him. Now both their knees were touching. “I started in pediatrics.”

  He touched her hand, tracing each knuckle in turn. “Why did you move into N-ICU? Isn’t it a lot harder, emotionally? Dealing with all those preemies, who might not make it?”

  Bridgett inhaled, aware they were now traipsing into territory she might not want to discuss. Her appetite fading even more, she admitted, “It’s very hard to take care of little ones who have so much stacked against them.”

  She paused, her lower lip quivering as she thought about the premature infants they’d lost over the years. With the rapid advances that had taken place in medicine, there weren’t nearly so many tragic losses these days, but sometimes, a baby who had been getting better slowly, day by day, hour by hour, would suddenly take a turn for a worse. Their heart would fail. They’d stop breathing or develop an inoperable clot. And that was wrenching. Not just for the family, but for all the doctors, nurses and support staff who worked tirelessly to help them thrive.

  She clasped Cullen’s hand tightly. “It’s why I didn’t think I could bear to foster a child not available for adoption.” Her voice caught. “The thought of eventually having to let the child go, perhaps even returning to circumstances that were a lot less loving and stable than what I could offer, just slayed me.”

  “And yet you are.” He gave her an admiring glance that meant more to her than any compliment she’d ever received.

  “Because every instinct in me tells me that this is still our destiny. That I’m going to get to keep Robby and Riot. Otherwise, you’re right.” She inhaled a shuddering breath. “I never would have done this.” I never would have gotten to know you and fallen so hard and fast for you.

  Pausing, she sat back and withdrew her hand. “But what does my fostering to adopt have to do with the size of ranch you would like to have?”

  Once again, she could see she had touched on something extremely personal.

  He chose his words carefully. “Part of it is that the bigger the ranch and the bigger the herd, the more financial security I have.” He went back to eating his dinner. “Given the way I grew up, with us moving every year or so, that was something in my early life that was sorely lacking.”

  She touched his arm. “I’m sorry you went through that.”

  He leaned down to kiss her fingers. “Hey, darlin’, don’t be. It’s part of what nurtured my ambition.” He straightened lazily so they could go back to eating. “The other reason I want to keep on expanding is that I’m easily bored.”

  She certainly didn’t want him feeling that way!

  “Building and improving my ranching operation is how I keep myself challenged, professionally.” Half his mouth tilted in a sexy smile. “I like learning new things and putting that knowledge to use.”

  A thrill went through her as she thought about other ways that inclination could be put to use. “Hmm, learning new things,” she echoed facetiously. “Putting that knowledge to use.”

  He ran his knee along the outside of her thigh. “You betcha.”

  She thrilled at the amorous look in his eyes. “Is it only on the ranch, cowboy?”

  Already up off the stool, he mirrored her inviting tone. “How long do we have before we’re back on baby and puppy duty?”

  She took his hand. “A couple of hours.”

  He drew her to her feet. “Plenty of time for me to demonstrate just what an avid student I am.”

  Talk about a way to while away an evening! It was all she could do not to swoon. Bridgett wrapped her arms about his neck. “You think?”

  Kissing her, he plucked her off her feet. “Let me show you.”

  * * *

  THEY MADE LOVE AGAIN, took care of their little ones, slept, woke and then made love again just before dawn. They ate breakfast in shifts, between feeding, burping and cuddling Robby, and walking and feeding Riot. But it was okay; all the activity had a de
cidedly family feel to it.

  At least, it did until Dan McCabe and Mitzy Martin showed up just as Cullen was about to head out to tend cattle with his hired hands.

  Bridgett’s heart sank in her chest. It was clear from the looks on their faces they had news of some sort. Probably not good.

  “I’m glad we caught you,” Mitzy, who was in full social worker mode, said.

  Dan’s manner was official, as well. “We told you-all the sheriff’s department would keep you updated, so we wanted to let you know we were able to get the rest of the photographs—the ones that remain unpublished—from the freelance photographer who took them.”

  Realizing she was the only adult in the room who wasn’t up to speed on what was being discussed, Bridgett turned to Cullen. Matter-of-factly, he explained, “I went to the San Angelo newspaper earlier in the week. I thought they might have pictures from the high school career fairs that I attended there—that hadn’t been printed in the newspapers. But when I explained to them why I wanted them, they said they would only speak to law enforcement or someone from social services.”

  “So Mitzy and I went over yesterday afternoon, talked to the freelance photographer hired to capture both events and explained the situation,” Dan continued. “He understood we are doing our best to protect the privacy and health of the birth mother, and keep her from being spooked into running, assuming she already hasn’t. He cooperated without a warrant. Gave me copies of every photo he took of Cullen speaking to the groups at both high schools.”

  “We’re hoping you will recognize someone,” Mitzy said.

  There were some thirty black-and-white photographs in all. They spread them out over the kitchen island.

  It didn’t take long before Cullen identified a trio of students. “These three girls sitting in the front row. They were the ones quizzing me about ranch life and Riot Senior, and they also asked about my marital status and whether I thought I’d ever have a family someday, and so on.”

  Mitzy gaped in surprise. “That must have been some Q&A.”

  Cullen exhaled heavily. “Yeah. They were the final group I spoke to that day.”

  “You’re sure this was them,” Dan asked.

  “Now that I see them again, absolutely.” Cullen pointed to the girl in the middle. She was very tall and thin, and had long, curly dark hair, as thick and unruly as Robby’s—and Cullen’s, for that matter. She was wearing loose, unattractive clothing and had an intent, almost worried look on her face. “She seemed to be taking the lead. I remember thinking at one point that it was almost like she was interviewing me for a job.”

  “Maybe she was,” Dan said with a beleaguered sigh, abruptly sounding more younger brother than deputy. “Like...adoptive daddy?”

  “So you think...?” Bridgett pressed.

  Cullen scrubbed a hand over his face. “Dan’s right. This all fits. If it wasn’t the dark-haired girl or one of her girlfriends who left the baby, they probably know who did.”

  “I can’t believe we’re going to have to wait until Monday to find out the identity of those students,” Bridgett lamented when Mitzy and Dan had left, promising to call as soon as they had more news on the baby-mama front. “That’s three whole days of wondering and worrying!”

  “Maybe it’s a good thing. The virtual auction is tomorrow.”

  Saturday morning.

  Cullen continued, “I’d prefer the sale be over with before we have to deal with whatever is coming next.”

  He had a point there, Bridgett conceded. It would be awful to be getting news regarding Robby’s biological mother in the midst of the most important business transaction of Cullen’s fiscal year. And there was something else...

  Drawing a deep breath, she moved closer. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?”

  Cullen shrugged, to her deep disappointment, once again shutting her out. “I didn’t want you to worry about something that might not yield anything. As it initially didn’t. You had enough to deal with between the mortgage and the baby and trying to get chosen to foster-adopt.” His eyes gleamed. “I was trying to protect you. It’s what a man does for his woman.”

  His woman. Bridgett gulped. “You’re saying...?”

  “That you’re my woman? Hell, yes. What did you think? That this was casual for me? It’s not, Bridgett. It never has been.” His eyes closed to half-mast. “It never will be.” Slowly, he lowered his head and cradled her face in his big, rough hands.

  “For me, either,” Bridgett whispered back, her heart pounding in her chest.

  The raw affection in his embrace made her catch her breath. This time there was nothing easy about his kiss. It was hot, persuasive, hungry. She kissed him back, in much the same way, knowing that, once the sale was over the next morning, they would have the rest of the weekend to enjoy. But would it be their last—as the makeshift family neither she nor Cullen had ever imagined would come about?

  Bridgett didn’t know.

  Wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  Fiercely, she splayed her hands over the hardness of his chest and drew back. “That was a pretty passionate sentiment, cowboy.”

  He ran a hand down her spine, positioning her even more securely against him. “You got that, right, sweetheart.”

  She sighed blissfully, luxuriating in his heat and his strength. “And here I thought you didn’t have a romantic bone in your body.”

  “I never thought I did.” Confident as ever, he ran his hands through her hair and kissed her again, even more thoroughly this time. “Until you showed me otherwise.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Three minutes!” Bridgett exclaimed in stunned amazement Saturday morning. It seemed like he had just gone into his home office to monitor the virtual auction, and now he was telling her it was over?

  “I got top dollar,” Cullen told her proudly. “Way more than I expected.”

  “Who-all bought them?” Bridgett continued folding laundry.

  “The Cartwright Ranch.”

  “That big outfit in Nebraska?”

  Cullen nodded. “Dirk outbid everyone, pushed the price up to a level none of the Texas ranchers could compete with.”

  Bridgett stood and threw her arms around his neck. “Congratulations.”

  Grinning, he hugged her back. “Thanks.”

  “Is it always so fast?”

  He joined her on the sofa. “The process has been getting speedier. The first time I did this, it took most of the day to sell them all. Last year, it took me about an hour to sell the entire group.”

  She took the cell phone out of her hip pocket. “We should call your folks.”

  His hand covered hers. “Why?”

  Stunned by his reluctance, when just seconds before he had been bursting with joy, she turned her palm up to clasp his and tried again. “We should let them know you had a record sale. Heck, we should invite them all over. Have a party to celebrate.”

  His dark eyes shuttered. He stood and walked away. “Ah, I don’t think so.”

  She followed him into the kitchen. “Why not?” She knew for a fact that the McCabe clan was as big as the Monroe’s on family gatherings.

  He shrugged and pulled a jug of orange juice out of the fridge. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Still puzzling over his attitude, she moved closer. “Do you think they won’t be happy for you?”

  “No.” He poured two glasses, recapped the bottle and set it back in the fridge, his expression as careful as his words. “They will be.”

  O-kay. She lounged with her back against the island, accepting the glass he gave her. Stymied, she studied him over the rim. “Do you think they will expect that you should have gotten a higher return?”

  He downed his drink in one long thirsty draught. Set it aside. “Hell, no. What I got was damn near amazing,” he
stated firmly. “More than I ever could have anticipated.”

  “Then what is it?” she asked softly, needing and wanting to understand him. “What’s keeping you from wanting to share this very good news with your family?”

  “I just think it might be something better done a few weeks from now.”

  His tone was so vague. “This has something to do with the implied accusation against you, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re right.” His lips took on a determined slant. “I’ll feel a lot more comfortable facing my family after my name is cleared.”

  She tried not to notice how handsome he was in a new pair of jeans and canvas shirt that brought out the navy in his eyes. He had also shaved closely that morning. “I think you’re underestimating them.”

  He sighed and sent her a piercing glance. “I think you’re underestimating how much I want to enjoy our time together.” His eyes met and held hers. “So, what do you say,” he drawled, “we focus on that and forget everything else—especially business—for the rest of the day?”

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, the four of them were enjoying a picnic lunch at the Triple Canyon. “So this is where you had your family parties, growing up?”

  There were several picnic tables and an open air pavilion at the end of a gravel lane, high atop a rocky ridge. The area was windy and cool, and had a spectacular view of the rocky canyons, wildflower meadows and winding streams that comprised the thousand-acre ranch.

  “Except,” Bridgett pointed out, “we didn’t have the wind turbines along the fence line then.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “And private.”

  “The little ones like it.” Robby was in a BabyBjorn. He had just finished his bottle and was happily nestled against the solid warmth of Cullen’s chest. Riot was leashed to one of the tables in the center of the pavilion and was alternately chewing on a couple of dog toys, watching the two of them and looking out onto the amazing vista beyond.

  “We all still come here a lot.” Bridgett doled out the grilled chicken sandwiches, chips and fruit they’d hastily packed. “Sometimes as a group, sometimes individually.”