The Rancher's Surprise Baby

by Trish Milburn

  “Where’s your house?”

  She pointed toward the shed. “That’s it.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny. The pigeon didn’t hit me that hard.”

  “No, seriously, that’s it.”

  “You live in a shed?”

  She turned partially toward him. “It’s not a shed. It’s a tiny house.”

  It was tiny, all right. How did she fit anything in there? He didn’t think it was any bigger than his bedroom.

  “Come on, I’ll give you the ten-cent tour,” she said as he stopped in a wider gravel area that appeared to be where she normally parked and turned her car around.

  “More like the ten-second tour,” he said as he put the truck in Park and cut the engine.

  Mandy smiled. “That, too.”

  His boots made a crunching sound on the gravel when he stepped out of the truck. The low slant of the sun made her little spot on the creek look appealing, even if she did live in a house that would probably give him claustrophobia despite the fact he’d never suffered from it before. He noticed the little porch held a bright blue metal chair, a pot of purple and white flowers and a small metal wind chime. Next to the front step sat one of those concrete yard ornaments, this one a green frog wearing a crown.

  He pointed at the frog. “Do I even want to ask?”

  “I kiss him every day in case he’s a prince in disguise.”

  He looked over at her. “Are you sure you aren’t the one who got a bird to the noggin?”

  “I’m not a believer in taking life too seriously,” she said.

  Obviously. But he had to admit there was something really appealing about her attitude.

  As she headed toward the front of the little house and he got a good look at her bare legs, he thought they were pretty darn appealing, too. Whether or not she really did kiss that stupid frog every day, she did now, then stood back and watched it as if it might really turn into a prince. If it did, he was changing his mind and driving himself straight to the emergency room.

  “Darn, still no luck.” She smiled at Ben and practically skipped up the step to the porch.

  “You ain’t right, Mandy Richardson.”

  “I take that as a compliment.”

  If she only knew a couple of the other compliments that had popped into his mind, she might hit the other side of his head with a frying pan.

  By the time she unlocked the front door, he’d stepped up onto the porch behind her. When she opened the door, a blast of cold air hit him. She stepped inside and took the three steps necessary to bring her to the small AC unit in one of the windows. She bent and kissed the thing.

  “You go around kissing inanimate objects often?”

  She glanced at him. “Only when they produce cold air or might turn into a prince.”

  He shook his head. “Not right at all.”

  When she laughed, it seemed as if it was as much at herself as his words.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked as she moved toward a small fridge. “I’m afraid your choices are wine, water or cranberry juice.”

  “I’ll take a water, thanks.” When he noticed a couple more inches of her bare legs revealed as she reached down into the fridge, he forced himself to avert his gaze. A quick glance allowed him to view the entirety of her home—the living area and kitchen making up the main room, a door that led to a bathroom he was pretty sure he couldn’t even fit in and a narrow staircase that led to a loft that served as her bedroom if the edge of the mattress he saw was any indication.

  “So what do you think?” she asked as she handed him the cold bottle of water.

  “It’s...cozy.”

  “I know, right?” She surveyed her home with a satisfied look on her face.

  “You really don’t mind living in such a small space?”

  “Nope. It’s all I need for now.”

  “For now?”

  “It’s okay for a single person, but even I don’t see fitting an entire family in here.”

  An entire family? Was she dating someone? And why on God’s green earth did that thought irritate him? The miniature room seemed to shrink even more, their proximity to each other suddenly feeling awkward, and he had to forcibly keep himself from beating a retreat.

  What the hell? That pigeon really had scrambled his brain.

  He screwed the top off the water bottle with one quick motion and downed about half the contents.

  Mandy laughed. “You must be as hot and thirsty as I am.”

  She had no idea how right she was. As if to make things even more uncomfortable, when she took her own drink he couldn’t take his eyes off the column of her neck or the trickle of water that escaped and ran down it.

  “Well, I better get going.” Thankfully it only took him two strides to get from her living room to the front porch of her little dollhouse.

  Mandy followed him out, closing the door behind her, no doubt to preserve the precious chilled air. “Thanks for bringing me home.”

  He descended the step and had started toward his truck but then he turned halfway back toward her. “Least I could do. I was the one who put your car out of commission.” Then it hit him he was basically stranding her here alone with no mode of transportation. “How are you going to get back into town to work?”

  “Maybe Devon can pick me up.” She gestured toward the side of her tiny house. “Or I have a bike I can ride.”

  The idea of her trying to safely ride into town on a road with a nonexistent shoulder sent a big bolt of “nope” straight to his brain.

  “You are not riding a bike on that road,” he said. “You’re liable to get taken out by a horse trailer or some fool driving too fast.”

  “You volunteering to be my chauffeur?” The little teasing smile on her face had him thinking he might do whatever she asked of him.

  “Yeah. As a matter of fact, I am.”

  Her smile fell away in obvious surprise. “I was kidding, Ben.”

  “I know, but it’s my fault you don’t have your car, so I’ll take you wherever you need to go until Greg can fix it.”

  “It’s actually the pigeon’s fault.”

  “Unless he’s got a driver’s license and a pigeonmobile, you’re stuck with me. When do you have to be at work next?”

  “Um, eight in the morning.”

  “Then I’ll see you at seven forty.” He tapped two fingers to the edge of his hat in farewell then made for his truck before he could think too hard about why he’d just committed himself to who knew how much time away from his work.

  As he started the truck and made the turn to leave, Mandy was still standing in the same spot looking every bit as surprised by the day’s turn of events as he was.

  Chapter Two

  Mandy had just finished her salad and was enjoying a second glass of wine when her phone rang. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that the sound startled her, causing her to nearly slosh wine over the rim of her glass. That was just what she needed to end this day, to waste perfectly good cabernet.

  The phone display showed it was her best friend, Devon, calling. “Hey.”

  “Are you okay? Cole said you were in an accident.” Cole being Devon’s superhot husband.

  “I’m fine. I wasn’t in an accident, though my car was.”

  “Huh?”

  Mandy explained what had happened and that her car was currently sitting at Greg Bozeman’s repair shop so he could assess the damage.

  “Take whatever time off you need,” Devon said.

  “I don’t need time off. I told you I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Well, okay. I’ll pick you up in the morning, then.”

  “It’s your day off. I’m sure you have sappy married-people things to do. Besides, I already h
ave a ride.”

  “Oh, well, tell your mom I said hi. I need to swing by and see her soon.”

  Mandy considered letting Devon think her mother was the one chauffeuring her, but she was curious how her friend would react to the truth. Would it be no big deal? Or would her reaction validate how Mandy had sort of been freaking out since Ben made his offer and drove away with a promise to see her in the morning? She took a deep breath. Only one way to find out.

  “Ben’s actually going to be taking me to work.”

  “Feels guilty, huh?”

  Okay, so no big deal. Mandy chalked up her overreaction to Ben’s kindness to a long, tiring day and heat exhaustion. Oh, and the fact he was superhot.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “What are you not saying?”

  That was the problem with being friends with someone most of your life. They could even read your thoughts, no eye contact required.

  “Nothing. I’m worn out and I’ve had some wine. I just need to go to bed and sleep today away.”

  “Do you know how to party on a Saturday night or what?”

  “Not all of us have a sizzling-hot cowboy to get frisky with.”

  “Maybe you could,” Devon said. “Last I heard, Ben was single. And you gotta admit he’s not hard to look at.”

  She’d walked right into that one, hadn’t she?

  “I’ll be sure to tell Cole you think so the next time I see him.”

  “Listen, chickie, I received no end of teasing from you about Cole, so it’s my turn to dish it out.”

  “Good night, Devon.” Mandy hung up and knew exactly how Devon would react the moment she did. They’d been through many similar scenarios since the moment they both acquired their first cell phones.

  As if on cue, her phone buzzed with a text. With a sigh, she looked at the display.

  You know you just confirmed you like Ben by hanging up on me, right?

  Mandy took a swig of wine and texted back. Sorry, wrong number.

  She imagined Devon laughing as she read the reply. Why hadn’t she just let Devon think her mother was the one driving her?

  Because there was a part of her, the part that inhabited all giggly teenage girls and evidently never went away, that wanted to talk about a boy she thought was cute. And Ben Hartley was way beyond cute. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, picturing how he’d looked standing there next to her car, talking to Greg. Tall, lean, his blond hair peeking out from under his cowboy hat. Her body temperature had gone up more than even the scorching heat of the day could account for, and it did so again now just thinking about it. Even the blissfully cool interior of her home wasn’t enough to prevent the flush to her skin.

  Maybe this was all Devon’s fault. After all, her best friend wore a permanent grin of satisfaction on her face these days. It was only natural to want a little of that for herself, right? And she could do worse than Ben Hartley. Not that he was even interested. They’d lived in the same town for as long as she could remember and they’d never been more than classmates as kids and passing acquaintances as adults. But couldn’t the same be said about Devon and Cole? And look how that had turned out—wedded bliss.

  Mandy shook that thought away. Ben was only going out of his way to help her because he felt responsible for the accident.

  But a bit of fantasizing never hurt anybody, did it? No one ever needed to know what she thought about while sitting here in her own home enjoying her wine. Enjoying imagining what it might be like to kiss Ben Hartley.

  * * *

  OF COURSE HALF his family was outside and able to see his return in a truck more damaged than when he’d left earlier that afternoon. That was just how his day was going. And when he parked and got out of the truck, the amusement on his brother Adam’s and sister Sloane’s faces told him the pigeon story was already winging its way around the county.

  “You’re just in time for dinner,” Sloane said. “We’re having pigeon pie.”

  He moved quickly, grabbing her and tossing her over his shoulder and spinning her round and round.

  Sloane banged on his back. “Put me down!”

  He just laughed until the toe of her boot connected with his thigh. That caused him to release her so quickly she stumbled and nearly fell when her feet hit the ground.

  “Can’t take a little teasing?” she asked.

  “I’ve already had more than a little.”

  “You had to see this coming the moment that bird flew in your window,” Adam said as he leaned against the front of his own truck.

  Ben walked past his siblings. “Some days I wish Mom and Dad had adopted only one kid.”

  “That would have been me,” Neil said as he appeared at the edge of the front porch, evidently on his way home to Arden.

  Ben growled at his older brother as he shoved past him, as well, on his way inside. He’d retreat to his leather shop if he wasn’t so hungry he was afraid he might eat one of the saddles he was making.

  As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, his mom hurried over to him and clasped his chin in her fingers then turned his head sideways the same way she had when Billy Castner had given him a shiner in the sixth grade.

  Ben took a step back from her. “I’m okay. It was just a little fender bender. Stop worrying.”

  She placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m your mother. It’s what moms do. I swear, I thought I’d get you kids grown and you’d stop giving me gray hairs.”

  He tilted his head at that comment.

  His mom held up a finger. “Not one word about how would I even be able to tell.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She patted his cheek. “Smart boy.”

  He’d stopped being a boy a long time ago, but he loved his mom enough to let her call him whatever she wanted. She and his dad had saved him from a life of way worse than overzealous mothering, after all. Not that he’d made it easy for them.

  Damn, that was the last thing he wanted to think about. He’d rather deal with jokes about head-butting a pigeon every day for the next year.

  “Doesn’t look like too much damage to your truck,” his dad said as he entered the kitchen.

  “No. Mandy’s car got the worst of it.”

  “How bad?” his mom asked.

  “It’s crunched in the front. Probably the radiator is done for. Greg’s looking at it.”

  Sloane snorted. “He’ll probably charge her a few dates to pay for it.”

  Ben’s jaw clenched at the thought of Greg with his hands all over Mandy. What in the—

  “Nah,” his youngest sister, Angel, said. “They already went out once. No spark.”

  “Really?” his mom said. “Mandy’s such a pretty girl, and it’s about time Greg stopped flitting around like a butterfly and settled down.”

  “Not everyone wants to get married and have two-point-five kids, Mom,” Adam said.

  Their mom ruffled Adam’s thick, dark, wavy hair as she passed behind where he sat at the table. “They do when they find the right person. You’ll see.”

  Ben disagreed in his mind but kept quiet. He’d never told anyone about his decision not to have a family. He knew it’d upset his mother especially, that she’d try to talk him out of it. Best just to avoid the topic altogether.

  With the food on the table, they all settled into their places. All except Neil. Ben still hadn’t quite gotten used to his older brother no longer living under the same roof. He was pleased for Neil and Arden—they’d both been through a lot and deserved to be happy. It was just odd to be the oldest sibling at the dinner table now.

  “Did you know the Websters’ place got subdivided?” he asked, steering the conversation away from settling down and producing heirs.

  “I did hear tha
t,” his dad said. “Seems as if it’d be a mighty big headache dealing with lots of deals instead of just one.”

  “Mandy said they didn’t want to sell to anyone like Franklin Evans.” The man had thought the simple fact that he wanted the Rocking Heart was enough that Ben’s parents would just up and sell a ranch that had been in the family nearly a century. Ben still smiled every time he thought about how Arden had put the self-important jerk in his place.

  His dad chuckled. “I always did like Tom Webster.”

  “So Mandy bought part of it?” his mom asked, a little too much loaded curiosity in her tone.

  “Yeah, couple of acres on the creek.”

  “She got one of those tiny houses, didn’t she?” Sloane asked. “I saw them towing it through town some time back.”

  “Yeah, not much bigger than our doghouse.”

  “I think they’re fascinating,” Angel said.

  “Not very practical, though.”

  Angel shrugged. “Depends on what you’re looking for.”

  “You sound like Mandy,” he said.

  “That right?” There was no denying his mom’s curious tone.

  Sloane elbowed him in the ribs, not hard but enough to draw his attention. “Now that she’s got Neil headed toward happily-ever-after, you know you’re next, right?”

  “Never heard a rule that said marriages had to go in birth order. Maybe you’re next.” He glanced down the table. “You’d like to be the mother of the bride, wouldn’t you, Mom?”

  This time the jab to the ribs was a bit more forceful.

  “Indeed I would. And both of my girls will make beautiful brides.”

  “I’m going to kill you in your sleep,” Sloane said under her breath to him.

  He just smiled wide at her, grateful the conversation had veered away from him and Mandy. Not that there was a “him and Mandy.”

  But after dinner, his thoughts kept straying to her as he headed to his workshop to log some progress on a saddle he was making for a rancher over in Kimble County who’d seen the feature Arden had written on his custom saddles in the Blue Falls Gazette.