by Maisey Yates
“Fine.”
“And Laz. Oh maybe that dude that rides rodeo and hangs out with Colt and Jake... Bowen?”
“No,” Ryder said. “He’s not your type. He’s just a...a cowboy.”
“Like you,” she said. “You’re not writing anything down.”
“Do you hear yourself? You’re acting like your damn biological clock just exploded and you’re desperately trying to get ahead of the backdraft. Why don’t you chill out?”
“Chill out? You’re the one being an ass. You offered to help and now you’re finding fault in everyone I suggest and you’re not making suggestions of your own. And you’re not writing anything down.”
“Believe me, I’ll remember everyone you’ve suggested.”
That she was comparing him to one of the guys she’d suggested for her list hooked something down in his gut that he hated to think about.
“Why are you being so difficult?” she asked.
“None of them are good enough.”
He did feel that way; he truly did. And he liked Laz, but it just didn’t seem right.
Because he didn’t want any of the men in here, any of the men in town, any of the men in the world, to touch her. They all had their chance. The men of the world had failed Sammy Marshall. Hadn’t given her what she needed.
“Well, all right, Ryder, maybe you should do it, then.”
Her words landed in the middle of the table and just sat there. He was afraid it might bend and break beneath the weight of them.
“So many opinions about what I need the father of my baby to be. So many opinions on how that baby is made, my thought processes and blah blah blah. Put your money where your mouth is. Or your...your...you know, I can’t even finish it. I think you can figure it out.”
Her cheeks were on fire now, but she wasn’t backing down.
Him.
She’d asked him.
And hell, he was supposed to be her protector. He was supposed to...
He was supposed to be her protector. He was supposed to be the one.
And suddenly, everything crystallized; it all became clear. He stood up from his seat and began to cross the bar, making his way across the weathered floorboards.
He looked around the room, at all the men present. All under consideration as Sammy’s baby creator.
Him.
She’d asked him.
“I’ll do it, Sammy. I’ll be the father of your baby.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SAMMY WANTED HER STAID, predictable friend back. He had been nothing but absolutely out of character from the moment they had stepped into the bar tonight. From pushing her on the subject of...orgasms of all things, to this. This. She couldn’t even actually believe that he... There was no way that he... He was lying.
She’d asked him because she’d known he’d back down.
Because she’d been desperate to reclaim the natural order of things.
But he hadn’t backed down. Football had been playing on the bar TV and he hadn’t looked at it once. He’d only been looking at her.
Him.
“You don’t want children,” she said.
She looked up at him, all handsome lines and angles and basically every dangerous fantasy a girl had ever had wrapped around the heart and soul of a really good guy, and she could suddenly think of no better man to father her child.
Honestly, it wasn’t like it was a revelation that Ryder would be the best one, it was just that...she hadn’t considered it. She hadn’t considered it because she knew that it was something he didn’t want to be a part of. Because she knew that there was messy, and then there was the kind of messy that was so tangled up you would never be able to unknot it. She and Ryder sharing a child was... Well, that just wouldn’t work. It was one thing to think about having some kind of casual arrangement with a man in town. One who gave occasional visits and even support. One who kind of added to the casual, expanded family that she had created at Hope Springs.
But she lived with Ryder. Practically.
And how could they do a distance thing in that sense? How could he not be involved?
She supposed it was possible that he could act as a favorite uncle.
As for the conception... She wasn’t going to think about that.
She was not going to think about the fact that she had just seen him wander through his bedroom in a towel, either. Wasn’t going to think about any of that. Because that had nothing to do with the actual reality of what he was proposing, and it wasn’t going to happen either way.
“I’m not letting you fall on your sword for me.”
“Who said I was falling on my sword?”
“Because I know you. You’re trying to rescue me. You’re desperately trying to rescue me, and you’re offering yourself up in an entirely impractical way in order to do that.”
“I didn’t say that it wouldn’t come without conditions.”
“What kind? I mean, honestly, how would that even work? You don’t want kids because you’ve already been there and done that. You don’t want unconventional. And I am the very essence of unconventional. Which is fine for a friendship, but how could we ever share a child?”
“It wouldn’t be unconventional,” he said.
“How is it not going to be unconventional?”
“Because. I’ll be the father of your baby. You’ll be my wife. We’ll be a family.”
“Are you... Have you lost your mind?” she asked. “That is...nothing like what I was proposing for this whole situation.”
“And it’s the only way I can see to make it work. I mean, with me as the father.”
“I didn’t say that I wanted you to be the father. And anyway, why would it have to be that way if you were the father? Why couldn’t we live together on the property, and you can take kind of a secondary role? A favorite uncle.”
“You are out of your damned mind, lady. That is not how I would do it.”
“But you don’t want children.”
“And I don’t do halfway. I can’t, and I won’t. I’m all or nothing, and you know it. If we were to have a baby, it would be everything.”
“You are... You know you are an old man,” she said, doing her best to beat back the crazy little what-if that was rattling around inside her chest. “You raised your kids, they went out on their own, you work your land, you read the paper in the morning, and you watch 60 Minutes at night before you go to sleep very early.”
“So what? I’m stable.”
“And you’re done. And I’m not. I’m not an old man.”
“I’m well aware. It’s called opposites complementing each other, Sammy. I thought that you would know something about that.”
“No. Just no.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to get married. Because I can’t be married to you,” she pushed.
“And why is that?”
His eyes were so steady, and she wanted to just say yes. She wanted to lean into him and...
No. She couldn’t do that.
“Because it would ruin everything. I’m not going to become this crazy ball and chain that you shackled yourself to because you didn’t approve of the way I was doing something. It’s nuts. Even you have to acknowledge that.”
“I don’t have to acknowledge a damn thing.”
“No. If you want to do this my way, then... I mean, of course I can’t think of a better person. A better man. But we’re not... I’m not trapping you into eighteen years of a life that you don’t even want.”
“You marry me and you’ll get health insurance. I have it through the farm union.”
“Oh, my gosh. Are you genuinely proposing that we have a marriage of convenience? And a baby and...”
Suddenly it didn’t seem crazy. For a moment it didn’t seem crazy
at all. It seemed unbearably tempting.
But then reality came to the rescue. Sense came to the rescue. Because she knew she didn’t want this. She didn’t. Not even a little bit.
There was a reason that she gravitated toward men that were so different than Ryder. There was a reason that she was opposed to marriage at all. There was a reason that she wanted to keep control of her life and her child.
And it wasn’t because she didn’t trust Ryder; that wasn’t it. It was just... To trap him in a relationship he didn’t want anyway...
He would never hurt her. She knew that. It wasn’t that she thought he might be violent like her father. She had lived under an oppressive cloud of two people who weren’t in love living in the same house. She had seen firsthand what it did to people. She didn’t want it. Couldn’t stand it.
“I can’t do that to you. To us. To me.”
“You’d rather have a baby with someone you don’t even know.”
“Yes,” she said. “That’s the point.” Except suddenly that didn’t seem as appealing as having his baby except... “Why do you have to be so uncompromising? Why can’t we figure out maybe a different way to do it? Why do we have to do it your way?”
“Because it’s going to have to be my way if we do it. I can’t be unconventional. You said it yourself.”
“Yeah, but you can dig in and be miserable. You’re good at that. I won’t be the reason that you are.”
She turned and walked away from him, anger bubbling up inside her. She knew that he wouldn’t follow her, not when she was in such an irritated state with him. She went over to the bar, and she signaled for Laz. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he responded, flashing her a grin.
He was a very good-looking man. In a genetic sense, he would make a fantastic father for her baby. And suddenly, her own thoughts seemed so ridiculously insane to her, and Ryder seemed less crazy, and she hated that. She pushed against it. Hard.
“Can I get another beer?”
“Sure,” he responded.
He gave her a look that was far too canny. “Are you trying to make him mad?”
“Why do you ask?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder.
“Because I know when a woman is trying to make another man jealous. I’m not stupid.”
She huffed. Then scoffed. Then huffed again. And realized that was one back-of-throat noise too many to be wholly believable. “He’s just my friend,” she said.
“Oh, I know that,” Laz responded. “I know everybody’s business. That’s my job. But I’m just saying, it seems to me you’re trying to make him jealous.”
She wasn’t doing that. Of course she wasn’t. Ryder wouldn’t care if a man was flirting with her, or if she was flirting with a man. And anyway, she was more trying to annoy him about the possibility that she was more willing to consider Laz as the father of her baby than she was him. Which was entirely weirder than what Laz was accusing her of, so she wasn’t going to say that. Honestly, now she just felt absurd. And wrong. And it was Ryder’s fault. It all felt possible before he had gone and said that to her.
“Well, if I were, what would you think about that?”
He arched a dark brow. “If you were flirting? Or if you were trying to make another man jealous? Because I have to tell you, I have a lot of experience with both. And my actions depend.”
She leaned on the bar and worked her shoulders inward. “Well, what would you do with me?”
“Hey, I respect a lady’s choice. If you’re looking for a good time, you know I’m up for it. But I’d also like you to continue to buy beer from me.”
The problem was she wasn’t really looking for a good time. And every awful conversation she’d had with Ryder was swirling around in her head.
“But,” Laz said, “I do have an aversion to women thinking about other men when they’re with me.”
“I’m not,” she said.
“Whatever’s going on with you and your boy, you should probably figure that out.”
She was going to tell him that he was not her boy, but she had a feeling at this point it was all futile.
“I’ll take the beer and you can keep the life advice,” she said.
“Sammy, if you ever want to come flirt with me when you don’t have someone else on your mind, you know you’re welcome to.”
She took the beer and offered him a scowl before retreating.
“Did he tell you no?” Ryder asked.
“I didn’t ask for a baby. I asked for a beer,” she huffed. “I want to go home.”
“You got a beer. You can’t go out onto the street with it.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, hoping it might help hone her irritation to a fine point he’d be able to feel. “You’ve made this weird.”
“I made this weird? You’re the one who asked me.”
“Not seriously.”
The look on his face made her feel like she’d swallowed a boulder.
He looked down for a second, then back up, his tone slightly hushed. “I made it weird that you’re out here trying to find the right guy to get you pregnant?”
“Yes,” she said, rounding on him, not caring that they were in the middle of the bar, likely drawing attention to themselves. “First with your talk about orgasms, and then with all of your propositions. Proposals. Oh, my gosh, did you propose to me?” She let her hand holding the beer fall slack at her side.
“If you want to think of it that way.”
“I don’t want to think of it at all.”
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’m going to go home. Iris can come pick you up when you’re done, if you don’t find a man to take you home. But you think about what I said. And if you find anyone in here that you think would be better than me, fine. I’ll let it go. But I don’t think you will. Because I think you and I both know, you can protest all you want about me protecting you and taking care of you and making sacrifices for you, but you want it. I’m the one who’s been there for you all this time. Don’t tell me you don’t want me to be here for you now.”
And then Ryder turned on his heel and walked toward the exit. And the son of a bitch actually walked out the door and left her standing there. She couldn’t believe it.
She looked around the bar, taking a swig of her beer and no, she didn’t want any of the men here. Not even a little. Not even at all. She felt like she’d been hollowed out. Like Ryder had reached inside her and taken everything she contained and everything she knew, and just stolen it from her. She had no idea who she was now. No idea how the world kept spinning. When it was so clearly knocked off its axis. And so she did a very stupid thing.
She turned on her heel and ran out onto the street. “Ryder!” she shouted. “Don’t leave me here.”
“I thought you were finished with me for the night.”
“Stop being an idiot. I don’t want to call your sister to come pick me up. And I don’t want to go home with some random guy. Stop acting like you had a personality transplant.”
“You’re the one who changed things,” he said.
“Just take me home,” she said. “I want a do-over. Let’s just pretend that this whole evening didn’t happen.”
He laughed. “Fine. Whatever you want, Sammy.”
They walked beside each other in silence to his truck.
“What did you do with your beer?”
“I just left it on a table. I didn’t really want it anyway. I just wanted to irritate you.”
“Yeah, I knew that,” he said.
“Then why did you let me do it?”
“Hell if I know, Sammy. Sometimes it’s easier than others to ignore your shenanigans.”
“Shenanigans? You know, that’s the problem, Ryder. That’s what you think this is. You think I’m full of shenanigans. And you think that I’m selfish. An
d you think that I’m immature. And for one moment you don’t think that maybe I... Maybe I’m responding to the same kind of thing you are when you say that you don’t want to get married. When you talk about how you’re just done with the life that you lived before. With the pain. With the past. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m just done. I’m done being the person that my dad beat me into being. I have been done with that. But a lot of my life since then has been built on the reaction to that. And I’m tired of that, too. I just want to find my own way, my own life. I don’t think that’s terribly difficult to understand. And I don’t think that you have the right to look at me and decide that what I want, and what I feel, and what I need are shenanigans. That the things that I really want are things that you have to save me from.”
She got into his truck and slammed the door behind her. “It hurts me,” she said quietly as he started the truck and pulled away from the curb.
He didn’t say anything for a long while. They got on the two-lane road that headed outside of town, away from Main Street, away from the bar.
Farther and farther away from the scene of all that had happened tonight and closer to the familiarity of Hope Springs Ranch. Where maybe sanity would prevail. But she didn’t know if she even wanted that. Because she just felt so raw and scrubbed the wrong way.
She didn’t know if she wanted to keep fighting, or if she wanted to wrap herself in the blanket of home and pretend that none of it had happened.
“Well, the thing is, Sammy,” he said, his voice quiet, firm and steady. “You seem to think that the only reason I might have accepted was because I’m protecting you.”
“Well, because you’ve made it very clear that you don’t want to have kids.”
“Maybe I don’t like the idea of you having them with someone else. Maybe I do feel like that kid should be mine.”
She had no idea what to say to that. She had no idea what he meant. And she still didn’t think she was wrong, because all of it was that same old possessiveness stuff. Ryder was hers, and she had felt like that for a long time. But she knew pretty firmly that Ryder also felt like she belonged to him. And she had a feeling it was more about that than it was anything else.
