The Rancher's Surprise Baby

by Trish Milburn

  NOT A FAMILY MAN...

  Mandy Richardson has always wanted a husband and lots of kids. She knows Ben Hartley isn’t a forever kind of guy, so she struggles to keep her feelings for him friends only. But she can’t help her growing attraction. Then one night their relationship blossoms into more, and soon Mandy discovers she’s pregnant.

  Ben still bears the scars of a painful past—a past that has him avoiding love and commitment. When Mandy tells him he’s going to be a dad, he worries he won’t measure up. After all, his own father was far from a role model. But he’s fallen hard for Mandy, and now it’s up to him to prove he’s a better man—a stronger man—than he thought.

  “Cut it out...”

  Ben whispered close to Mandy’s ear, “You’re going to make me start laughing, too.”

  “Sorry,” she whispered as she looked up.

  Her laughter froze when their eyes met. The brightness staring back at him stole what was left of his breath. And from the way she was gazing up at him, he knew he wasn’t alone.

  Come on, lungs, breathe!

  Honestly, how could someone forget how to breathe? But as Mandy looked up at Ben’s face, it was as if someone had flipped the switch on her respiratory system to Off.

  Damn, he was even more handsome up close. Thank goodness they were in near darkness. If he looked this good hiding in the shadows, this type of proximity in full light might just be her end.

  His mouth parted, and she felt her traitorous body start to move toward him...

  Dear Reader,

  One of the hallmarks of a good romance story is that the hero and heroine have to overcome some significant obstacle to achieve their happily-ever-after. Sometimes that obstacle is so big that it doesn’t seem possible for them to get past it.

  Such is the case for Mandy and Ben in The Rancher’s Surprise Baby. And yet true love always finds a way to change the hearts and minds that need to be changed.

  I hope you enjoy Mandy and Ben’s journey to their happily-ever-after.

  All the best,

  Trish

  THE RANCHER’S

  SURPRISE BABY

  Trish Milburn

  Trish Milburn writes contemporary romance for the Harlequin Western Romance line. She’s a two-time Golden Heart® Award winner, a fan of walks in the woods and road trips, and a big geek girl, including being a dedicated Whovian and Browncoat. And from her earliest memories, she’s been a fan of Westerns, be they historical or contemporary. There’s nothing quite like a cowboy hero.

  Books by Trish Milburn

  Harlequin Western Romance

  Blue Falls, Texas

  Her Perfect Cowboy

  Having the Cowboy’s Baby

  Marrying the Cowboy

  The Doctor’s Cowboy

  Her Cowboy Groom

  The Heart of a Cowboy

  Home on the Ranch

  A Rancher to Love

  The Cowboy Takes a Wife

  In the Rancher’s Arms

  Harlequin American Romance

  The Teagues of Texas

  The Cowboy’s Secret Son

  Cowboy to the Rescue

  The Cowboy Sheriff

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from A Baby on His Doorstep by Roz Denny Fox

  Chapter One

  Forget out of the frying pan and into the fire. Stepping out of the arctic air-conditioning of the Primrose Café into the suffocating heat of a Texas afternoon in August was like drilling a hole in the North Pole deep enough to fall straight into hell.

  Mandy Richardson hurried toward the edge of the parking lot, where she’d nabbed the last spot in front of Blue Falls’ oldest eating establishment and the hub of town gossip. In the time it took for her to pick up dinner for her mom and herself, she’d heard that Franny Stokes had gone on a blind date with a guy she met online through some dating site for senior citizens, Bernie Shumaker had launched his newest in a string of business attempts—wind chimes made from everything from silverware to driftwood this time—and Loren Whitman’s grandson had caught a fish so big that he fell out of their boat into the middle of the lake. To add insult to embarrassment, the fish got away.

  Honestly, a dunk in the middle of Blue Falls Lake would feel really good right about now. In addition to it being hot as blazes outside, her feet ached from being on them since early that morning. It’d been another busy day at A Good Yarn, the yarn and sewing shop her best friend, Devon, owned and where Mandy worked. The combination of the tail end of summer vacationing combined with it being the weekend of the local monthly rodeo had filled the downtown shops from the time they’d opened their doors at 8:00 a.m. Good for business but tiring. All she wanted was to eat her fried chicken, drink about a gallon of her mom’s homemade lemonade and prop up her poor feet. A foot massage would be fantastic, preferably one given by an incredibly hunky guy, but she figured that, sadly, wasn’t in her immediate future.

  The sound of squealing tires, followed immediately by a bang and the screeching sound of metal on metal, caused her to startle so much she fumbled the food containers she held.

  “No, no, no,” she said as she tried to maintain her hold, but all she managed to do was flick the bottom container open as it fell. The top one followed its twin to the newly paved parking lot. She’d swear she heard the chicken sizzle as it sat there amid a sea of splattered mashed potatoes and green beans.

  As she lamented the loss of her dinner, she glanced up to figure out what had precipitated it. That was when she noticed half of that metal-on-metal sound had come from her car. The other half belonged to the pickup truck all up in her car’s grille.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” she said as she shook her head slowly in disbelief. “I know I’m a good person. Karma, you took a wrong turn.”

  She looked down at the mess of food at her feet. She needed to clean it up, but first things first. As she approached her car, the driver’s side door of the pickup opened and the first thing she saw was a cowboy boot and the bottom of a pair of jeans. When the man stepped out from behind the door, looking dazed, she immediately recognized him. She’d bet her meager savings that there wasn’t a woman alive in Blue Falls—young, old, single, married or even half-blind—who hadn’t at some point in time given tall, blond, blue-eyed Ben Hartley a second look. And a third. And...

  Oh, stop thinking about how dang handsome he is and ask him why he decided to have his truck give your car an unwanted smacker.

  As she drew closer, he shook his head as if trying to clear it. Was he drunk? DUI seemed to be more TJ Malpin’s thing, not one of the raised-right Hartley clan.

  He glanced at where his truck had hit the car then up at her. His forehead wrinkled for a moment, as if he was tryin
g to figure out who she was, before it seemed to click. Maybe he was drunk. Or high. Though neither of those options rang true at all.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, suddenly wondering if maybe he’d banged his head and given himself a concussion. He did have a red mark on the edge of his forehead.

  He pointed at her little compact. “Is this your car?”

  “Yeah. But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He didn’t seem fine. He seemed downright addled. As if trying to piece together what had happened, he looked at his truck for a moment before turning back toward her.

  “I know this will sound as if I’m off my rocker, but a bird made me do it.”

  For a long moment she just stared at him, wondering if the heat had cooked her brain so much that she was hearing things incorrectly. “A bird made you do it?”

  Several seconds passed before he seemed to realize the absurdity of what he was saying, but then he straightened and appeared more confident in the truth of it.

  “I had the windows down, and all of a sudden something hit me in the side of the head. I jerked the steering wheel without even thinking.” He rubbed at the reddened spot above his temple. “I think I swatted it. Right before the crash there were feathers in my face.”

  If her car wasn’t sitting there crunched, she’d have a difficult time deciding whether to laugh or call to have someone take him for a mental evaluation. But then a racket behind him drew her attention, and suddenly a pigeon flew out of the open window of his truck.

  “See, not crazy,” he said.

  She had to admit the pigeon looked almost as addled as Ben.

  “That leaves me with one pressing question,” she said.

  “How bad your car is damaged?”

  She glanced at her poor little car. “Well, yes, but more important, why in the name of all that’s holy you were driving with the windows down on a day like today.”

  “The air-conditioning went out halfway to town.”

  She couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of her. “Not your day, is it?”

  For a moment, he looked at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses, as if she’d been the one addled by a pigeon. But then he offered a hint of a smile. “Nope.”

  “Me neither.”

  * * *

  “A PIGEON? THAT’S THE story you’re going with?” Greg Bozeman asked Ben as he hitched up Mandy Richardson’s car to his tow truck. The little thing hadn’t stood a chance against Ben’s pickup. The truck had a nice dent in the grille, but at least it was still operational. Mandy’s car, not so much.

  “I can vouch for the pigeon story,” Mandy said. “Saw it fly out of the truck looking as if it’d had a few too many drinks at the Frothy Stein.”

  Greg laughed. “You’re not living this one down.”

  “If I didn’t have such a headache right now, I’d think of some snappy comeback,” Ben said.

  He caught a sudden look of concern on Mandy’s face.

  “Do you think you should have your head checked out?” she asked.

  Greg howled even more at that, and Ben gave him a dirty look.

  “No, the only thing that would make this worse is strolling into the ER and telling them I got beaned by a pigeon.”

  “You could have a concussion.”

  “I’ve had a concussion before. This ain’t one.”

  Greg walked toward the driver’s side of the tow truck. “Bring your truck by the shop and I’ll check out your AC for free just for making my day with this pigeon story.”

  Greg was saved from being the recipient of a rude gesture because Ben was enough of a gentleman not to be that crude in front of Mandy. He knew her, but not that well. He’d already crunched her car. He didn’t need to risk offending her sensibilities on top of it.

  As Greg drove off with Mandy’s car in tow, Ben wondered exactly how long it would be before everyone in the county—hell, the entirety of the Hill Country—knew about his bird encounter. If someone had snapped a photo, he’d no doubt be the top story in the next edition of the Blue Falls Gazette.

  He turned back to where Mandy stood holding up her ponytail and fanning her neck with her other hand. Her face was flushed with the heat, even though the sun was sinking in the western sky. Not that it cooled off that much after sunset this time of year.

  “Where were you headed before a crazy birdman ran into your car?” He’d noticed her cleaning up a couple of spilled to-go containers while he’d waited for Greg to arrive with the tow truck.

  “My mom’s place, but all I want to do now is go home and collapse. It’s been one of those days. I told Mom we’d get together a different day.”

  “Let me give you a ride.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure your truck is safe to drive.”

  He placed his palm atop the hood of the truck. “She has a new dent, but she’s drivable. Sorry, but you got the raw end of the deal today.”

  “At least I didn’t suffer a bird to the head.”

  He smiled. “True. I don’t recommend it.”

  They climbed into the truck, and that little skirt with the big bright flowers she was wearing rode up her thighs a bit. She didn’t seem to notice or care, but that few extra inches of skin caused it to grow even hotter inside the already roasting cab.

  “Sorry I can’t offer AC, but at least we’ll have some moving air in a minute.”

  “I might just have you drop me at the lake so I can jump in.”

  The last thing he needed was the image of her with that skirt and her light blue sleeveless top plastered to her body.

  Damn, maybe he did have a concussion. He’d never thought about Mandy that way before. Heck, he hadn’t thought about her much at all. She was just someone he knew casually. Or maybe it was seeing his older brother, Neil, having a hard time keeping his hands off Arden, his fiancée, that had him thinking it’d been a while since he’d gone out on a date. But wrecking a woman’s car seemed like a bad precursor to asking her out to dinner.

  Asking Mandy out? That was it, he was going home and sticking his head in his mom’s freezer, maybe pressing a bag of green peas against his aching temple.

  “So, where to?” he asked, focusing on the road in front of him.

  “Actually, out toward your place. The former Webster ranch.”

  He looked over at her. “You bought the Cedar Creek? Maybe I need to start working in a yarn shop.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you know loads about yarn and knitting needles.” She shook her head. “I only bought a couple of acres on the creek. They subdivided so they could sell off the land quicker.”

  “Huh. I’m surprised one of those bigwigs looking to invest in large tracts for hobby ranches didn’t snap it up. We had one sniffing around ours until my soon-to-be sister-in-law sent him packing with the threat of some not-so-nice press coverage.”

  “Well, I heard that was a secondary reason for subdividing. The Websters wanted their place to go to people who could afford a more reasonable price tag and appreciate it more. Got the feeling they didn’t like rich ‘bigwigs’ too much.”

  He laughed at that. “I always did like the Websters. Hated they had to sell, but they had a rough time this past year.”

  Ranching was always a touch-and-go way to make a living. That was why he and his brothers and sisters did their best to keep expenses low and to bring in other income to make sure the Rocking Heart stayed afloat for their parents—and for future generations of Hartleys. Of course, he wasn’t going to be providing any of those munchkins—even though his family didn’t know that. Luckily, his sister Angel already had a daughter, and he’d bet Neil and Arden popped out a few rug rats before long.

  “Do you need to stop anywhere before we leave town?” he asked Mandy. “Grab some
dinner?”

  “Nah. I might just pour a glass of wine and sit in the creek.”

  “Make it a beer and that doesn’t sound half-bad.”

  “You’re welcome to the creek, but I don’t have any beer.”

  “I better stay away from the creek. The way my day’s going, I’d probably fall and drown in an inch of water.”

  “I’d save you. I might have to leave you there if you’re unconscious, but I’d at least roll you faceup.”

  He laughed. “How very kind of you. Have to say you’re being pretty nice to the guy who crashed into your car.”

  She shrugged. “Being mad wouldn’t make it any less crunched. Plus, at least I didn’t get whacked in the head by a bird.”

  Her smile transformed her face from merely pretty to stunning. Why had he never noticed how gorgeous she was before? Perspiration made damp wisps of her hair curl around the edges of her face, and he thought maybe there was a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He experienced the oddest urge to lean closer to find out. Of course that was a bad idea on a lot of levels, not the least of which was he’d probably end up driving his truck into some other stationary object. Or she’d whack him on the other side of his head.

  He jerked his attention back to the road. That damned pigeon had obviously knocked his brain loose, causing it to bounce around inside his skull.

  Mandy leaned her head over on her forearm where it rested along the open window, letting the wind whip the loose strands of her hair. She closed her eyes in a way that made him realize how tired she must be after a day of work then standing out in the heat while they dealt with first Deputy Conner Murphy, who’d also had a not-well-hidden chuckle at the bird attack story, then Greg. For a moment, he thought maybe she’d fallen asleep. But then she opened her eyes and pointed ahead.

  “Turn at the next road on the left.”

  He turned onto a smaller county road and then into a new gravel drive flanked by lines of cedar trees. Through them he spotted the trickle of the creek, one that ran wider, deeper and faster during spring rains like the creek on his family’s ranch. Up ahead, a little wooden shed sat with a miniature front porch pointed toward the creek. When he noticed that the gravel drive ended next to it, he glanced over at Mandy in confusion.