by Rachel Lee
“We’ll try to find him,” Flint said. “Theo, you might look into investing in some sort of home alarm.”
“I will,” Theo promised.
“Good.” Glancing at his watch, Flint put his notepad and pen back in his pocket. “Now I suggest you both get some sleep. We’ll talk again after the sun comes up and we’re all more rested.”
* * *
After escorting his brother to the door, Theo returned to Ellie’s room to check on her and the baby. Seeing Ellie so terrified and defenseless had awakened every protective instinct he possessed. He’d be lying to himself if he claimed he hadn’t noticed how lovely she was, especially since he’d hired her personally. He enjoyed women, especially beautiful ones, and just because that damn rodeo accident had sidelined him didn’t mean he had to give up that.
He’d actually figured she’d be a nice diversion while he was stuck here at the ranch. But Ellie Parker surprised him. She’d only been here one week, but when she wasn’t working in the kitchen, she might as well be a ghost. Her willowy, athletic good looks had attracted the attention of several of the ranch hands, and Theo had listened to them complain about how she kept to herself. As if she wanted to be invisible.
Which was oddly ironic, because Theo was used to living life in the spotlight, all the attention on him. One damn crazy-ass bronc and he was off the circuit, his season over for the first time since he’d made it into the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association and started competing with the big boys. He’d loved the rough competition, the mean, hard-bucking broncs and the hefty payout. For the past three years, he’d ranked in the top twenty of the bareback bronc riders and been steadily climbing. This past year had been his best. This year, the PRCA Bareback Riding World Championship had been within reach.
He wanted that title so bad he could taste it. The pinnacle of his career, the real moneymaker. He’d lusted after that ever since he climbed on his first bronc. And he was damn good at it. He had a knack for knowing beforehand which way the animal was going to buck and spin. He’d figured out how to make his eight seconds count.
The money had been flowing in. After all, it was July, with rodeos with such huge payouts they called it the Cowboy’s Christmas. There were plenty to choose from. With an eye on the World, he’d chosen to compete in the ones with the biggest payouts since his placement in the standings depended entirely on total money won.
And he couldn’t seem to stop winning. Every day, he called PROCOM, the PRCA’s computerized system, and got his numbers. As his standings continued to improve, he supposed in retrospect, he’d gotten cocky. So when he’d drawn the one horse no one had ever been able to beat, a beast known by the cowboys as one of the toughest broncs around, a National Finals horse, it had never occurred to him not to try. After all, he was unstoppable.
The instant they’d exploded from the chute, he realized this bronc wasn’t like the others. Something was scrambled in his equine brain. After the first crazy sideways leap, Theo remembered nothing until he’d woken up in a hospital bed.
Even in an occupation where injuries are common, everyone had been concerned. They’d told him he was lucky he wasn’t dead. At his lowest moments, he wasn’t too sure about that. He’d lived for the circuit, spent his time traveling from region to region, pulling his camper behind his pickup. Now he had nothing to live for, not really. Injured, he couldn’t ride, and if he couldn’t ride, he couldn’t win. Injured, he was nothing, his standings slipping with every rodeo he missed.
He’d retreated to his family’s ranch to recuperate and lick his wounds. Luckily, due to Slim George, the ranch foreman who’d been in charge since Theo’d been a small boy, the place ran smoothly.
Which was great, since Theo wouldn’t have been much help. After his head injury had left him unconscious—they’d used the word coma—for weeks, he’d had a long, slow recuperation. Not just his head, but he’d come within a hair of being paralyzed and the discs in his back were fragile enough that he’d have to be careful the rest of his life.
The doctors had said he’d never ride again, never mind compete. He’d told them all to go to hell and checked himself out of the hospital in Cheyenne as soon as he could, despite his broken ribs and bum knee. Flint had picked him up, sharing some grim news. One of Theo’s competitors, a cowboy named Hal Diggins who’d had a cold streak for several months, had injected the bronc with some kind of amphetamine to make it go crazy. Hal had been arrested, and, despite Theo’s protests, Flint had moved back to Dead River to help take care of Theo while he recuperated. Later, Theo had learned Flint had wanted to get out of Cheyenne and heal his own wounds. Despite Theo asking, Flint refused to elaborate on what they might be.
A good and honest cop, Flint had quickly risen through the ranks in the small Dead River Police Department, becoming chief of police and replacing Harry Peters, who’d left to take care of his terminally ill mother in Denver.
It also helped that their sister, Gemma, was a nurse at the clinic. She’d kept Theo on the straight and narrow, made sure he did his physical therapy exercises and took his supplements.
To all outward appearances, Theo had made a full recovery. He could walk and talk, but not ride. No one knew that a huge chunk of him had gone missing, stomped in the sawdust under that last bronc’s hooves. His ribs and knee had healed, as had his concussion. But his back would forever be damaged, and he couldn’t take a chance hurting it.
Since he had no choice but to try to make the best of it, he threw himself into helping out around the ranch. Only to learn that he sure as hell wasn’t needed around here. The place ran like clockwork without him. Any time he tried to get involved in one of the operations, he pretty much just got in the way. Slim George had taken pity on Theo and asked him to take over the hiring, especially since the ranch cook had quit and they needed to find a new one as soon as possible.
Theo had done so gladly, setting up multiple interviews and planning to find a new cook within days. The instant he saw Ellie, with her innocent eyes and her sensual mouth, he’d known he’d like having her around. Hell, maybe in more ways than one.
As long as she understood he couldn’t be serious. He enjoyed women’s bodies, and dedicated himself to pleasuring them with as much zeal as he applied to the rodeo.
Women he spent time with knew up front what they were getting. A few laughs and a damn good time. They always left satisfied. No one ever got hurt, at least as far as he knew.
The situation with Mimi Rand had come as a complete shock. Theo had known she still shared intimacy with her ex-husband, Dr. Rand. She’d sought Theo out after a particularly spectacular win in Cheyenne. They’d had a couple of drinks and a night of fun.
In the morning when he’d woken, she was already gone.
He had to confess he hadn’t paid much attention to what she did after that. Instead he’d done what he always did, focus on the rodeo.
And then he’d been hurt, come home to recuperate, and bam—Mimi showed up at his door with an infant, claiming he was the father. He’d been flabbergasted, asked her point-blank how she knew and instead of answering, she’d gotten a funny look on her face and collapsed.
Leaving him with a newborn and no idea what to do.
Now she was dead. And he figured since her ex had an equal chance of being the baby’s father, Dr. Lucas Rand needed an equal opportunity to care for Amelia.
Back in his own room, Theo clicked off the light and tried to sleep. But, just as it once had the night before a big rodeo, his mind kept whirring.
Somehow he must have fallen asleep. He woke to the ringing of his phone. Judging from the wealth of sunlight streaming in from behind his window blinds, it was probably mid to late morning. He squinted, trying to read the caller ID, then gave up and answered.
“Hello,” he rasped.
“Theo, you need to call Gemma. She’s at work at the clinic. She’s been there all night, ever since Mimi Rand died.” The urgency in Flint’s low voice had Theo sitting up straight
. His brother was normally the most nondramatic person he knew.
“Why? What’s going on? Is she all right?”
“Yes.” Flint exhaled. “But more people are ill. And it’s not the flu. The CDC is involved. It’s some kind of virus, a strain no one recognizes.” He started to say something more, but someone else spoke to Flint, interrupting him. “I’ve got to go,” he said to Theo. “Call Gemma. She can fill you in.”
Immediately after hanging up, Theo dialed his sister’s cell. Sounding harried and stressed, she answered, clearly keeping her voice pitched low and speaking quietly so no one else could hear.
“Is this a bad time?” he asked.
“Right now any time is a bad time. We’ve got old Mr. Thomas here, sick with the same type of thing that Mimi Rand had. His family is freaking out, worried he’s going to die. And two children just came in.” She took a deep breath. “The waiting room is packed and the phones have been ringing off the hook. People are getting paranoid. It’s bad, Theo. Really bad.”
“Flint said something about the CDC.”
“Yes. Dr. Rand is working with them right now, despite being pretty broken up about losing his ex-wife. I think he still cared for her.”
“Yeah.” Theo scratched his chin. “I need to talk to him about that. You know she claims this baby is mine.”
“So I’ve heard. Theo, everyone in town was talking about that before people started getting sick. Apparently she told more than one person.”
“I barely knew her,” he began.
Gemma cut him off. “I don’t have time right now,” she said. “You and anyone who came in contact with Mimi Rand need to get checked out. And you especially need to get that baby examined. Something like this would be deadly to an infant.”
“I will,” he said, but she’d already ended the call.
Pushing himself up out of bed, he felt a flutter of worry in his chest. But he’d never been one to look for problems before they arose. Damned if he’d start now.
Twenty minutes later, having showered and dressed, he made his way down the hall toward Ellie’s room. Halfway there, he heard the sound of the baby—Amelia, he reminded himself—wailing.
He increased his speed. Two steps in and the sound stopped. Did babies do that? Frowning, he pushed the bedroom door open, only to see Ellie gently rocking Amelia back and forth.
“Morning.” She flashed a tired smile. “She’s been kind of restless. She had a bottle an hour ago, but I’ve used the last can of formula that her mother had in the diaper bag she left, and we’re almost out of diapers.”
“I’ll drive to the store,” he promised. With a nod, she turned her attention back to the baby. Even with dark circles under her eyes and her hair a mess, she managed to still look beautiful.
“Have you had breakfast?”
She bit her lip. “No. Neither has anyone else. I overslept and I haven’t had time to make it into the kitchen and cook anything, so you probably have a bunch of hungry ranch hands.”
He realized he’d need to find either a new cook or a nanny, at least until this thing was resolved. “I’m sure they understand,” he lied. “I’ll get in there and take care of their morning meal. Heck, I’ll tell them it’s brunch, since it’s nearly lunchtime. They’ll survive. And I want you to make sure to get yourself a plate.”
A shadow crossed her blue eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just with everything that happened and taking care of the baby—”
“No need to apologize. After I fix breakfast, I’m going into town to talk to Mimi’s ex-husband, Dr. Rand. If you’ll write down for me what kind I need, I’ll be sure to pick up formula and diapers while I’m there.”
She nodded, gazing at the tiny infant in her arms. “What do you think is going to happen to her?”
At her question, he dragged his hand across his mouth. “That’s what I want to talk to Lucas Rand about.”
The rest of the morning flew by swiftly. Still carrying Amelia, Ellie followed him down to the kitchen and directed him in the nuances of preparing the morning meal for six hungry cowboys. She couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to look rugged and sexy, even in this setting.
He used two dozen eggs, an entire loaf of bread and two huge slabs of thick-cut bacon. A jug of milk, a huge carafe of fresh, hot coffee and another jug of orange juice completed the setup.
“I usually make them biscuits and gravy too.” She sounded apologetic again.
“They’ll just have to make do,” he said, shaking his head. “Extraordinary circumstances.”
Nodding, she crossed to the exterior door and pulled the bell cord, sending the brass bell that hung outside chiming.
Almost immediately after, Theo’s hands began filing into the kitchen. A few of them appeared surprised to see their boss there, but once they spotted the food set out on the long wooden table in the adjoining room, they shrugged, grabbed a plate and dug in. If they wondered why the food was so late in coming, no one said anything.
Theo had saved back some of the eggs, bacon and bread and made Ellie and himself a plate. He indicated one of the chairs at the smaller kitchen table and slid her breakfast over to her.
She climbed up, carefully holding Amelia, and once settled, eyed the plate, making no move to pick up a fork.
With a flush of embarrassment, he realized she didn’t know how to eat while holding the baby.
“Here. Put her in the bassinette while you eat.”
“No.” She angled the baby away from him, her chin up, her blue eyes flashing. “You eat first, and when you’re finished, you can hold her and I’ll have my turn.”
For a second, he froze, dumbfounded at the idea of holding such a miniscule little girl in front of everyone. He could do this, he told himself. Surely a man unafraid to climb on the backs of wildest horses wouldn’t be undone by an infant. Plus, he’d already held her the night before, though he’d acted solely on instinct.
“Sure,” he said, trying for easily.
Ellie rewarded him with a smile that sent his pulse racing. Stunned, he wondered if she knew how adorable she looked. Since she seemed determined, he didn’t argue, even though he still felt seriously uncomfortable holding an infant. Instead he started shoveling the food into his mouth, barely pausing for air.
Once he’d cleared his plate, he drained his glass of juice, took a quick gulp of coffee and then held out his arms for the baby, hoping he appeared nonchalant. “Your turn.”
One corner of her mouth quirked as she stared at him. “Even they—” indicating the men at the table behind them, who were all intently chowing down “—don’t eat that fast.”
“I was hungry,” he replied, grinning. “Now hand me that baby and eat your food before it gets cold.”
Shaking her head, she handed Amelia over, transferring her gently. “Make sure you support her head.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Once he had her, he gazed down into her tiny sleeping face. She smelled good, like baby powder and milk, and appeared healthy, at least to him. Though fragile. Which made him sort of afraid to move.
“That reminds me,” he told Ellie. “There are more people sick with whatever Mimi had. We need to get Amelia checked out.”
Fork in midair, Ellie froze. “I didn’t think of that.” Expression dismayed, she put down her fork. “I don’t want her going to the clinic if there are other sick people there. You said Mimi’s ex is a doctor. Do you think he’d be willing to check her out here?”
Pleased her concern was for the baby rather than herself, he nodded. “I’ll bring that up when I talk to him today. If not, my sister is a nurse and can do it.”
He took a deep breath, hating what he had to say next, but knowing it was necessary. “Listen, Ellie, don’t go getting too attached. There’s a possibility Amelia might not be here too long.”
Her eyes widened. Her voice rose. “What do you mean? You can’t be considering giving up your own flesh and blood.”
The men at the other table stopped talking and tu
rned to stare at them from the other room. Theo grimaced. “There’s a very real possibility she’s not mine,” he said gently. “Mimi was... Well, let’s say she wasn’t exclusive.”
Her downcast look told him she didn’t like what she was hearing. “She has your eyes,” she said.
“Yes, but green eyes aren’t proof of anything.”
“I understand,” she replied, clearly lying. “Let me have Amelia back, please.”
“You haven’t eaten yet.”
Taking the baby from him, she nodded. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
No one spoke as she marched out of the room.
Once she was gone, Theo’s hands all looked at him. Even from the other room, he could feel their disapproval.
He shrugged. “Come on, guys.” Giving their empty plates a look, he pointed toward the door. “Time to get back to work.”
Though not a single man argued with him, he could tell from a few of their expressions—belligerent, questioning and yes, disappointed—that they wanted to. He hated that they thought he was acting like a jerk—honestly, he wasn’t. But this was his life, and it wasn’t up for debate.
If baby Amelia belonged to him, Theo would move heaven and earth to ensure that she wanted for nothing. However, if Lucas Rand was actually her father, then Amelia needed to be with her daddy. He didn’t need to explain that to anyone.
Copyright © 2014 by Harlequin Books S.A.
ISBN-13: 9781460340936
Snowstorm Confessions
Copyright © 2014 by Susan Civil Brown
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
