Texas Roses (The Devil's Horn Ranch Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “Do your best,” she says. “It shouldn’t be long.”

  I sit and try to balance Josie on one leg while I fill out the paperwork. It’s useless. She’s squirming about. I put the clipboard down and stand, trying to comfort her. I offer her a pacifier. She loves pacifiers. But apparently not today.

  “Need help?” a lady asks. “I can take her. I’m waiting for my co-worker who sprained her ankle. At least I think it’s a sprain. They won’t tell me anything because I’m not family. Want me to take her?”

  I nod to the clipboard. “Can you fill it out for me?”

  “Sure. I can do that.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Josie, uh… Thompson.” It’s the first time I’ve said her full name out loud. It’s strange to think she has my last name even though she’s probably not related to me.

  “Birthdate?”

  “April twenty-fifth.”

  “Address?”

  I give her the address of the ranch.

  “And you are?”

  “Quinn Thompson.”

  “And you’re her father?”

  How in the hell do I answer that? I almost ask her if there’s a box for ‘unknown,’ but then I remember what she said about not being able to get information on her co-worker. “Yeah.”

  “Insurance?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll let you fill in your social security number later,” she says. “There are a bunch of questions here about her medical history. Want me to read them off?”

  “Just say she doesn’t have any problems.”

  She marks a bunch of boxes.

  “When did you first notice the problem?”

  “Like an hour ago. Listen, how much more is there?”

  She gives me back the clipboard. “This is probably good.”

  I thank her and take it to the lady at the desk. “Can we go back now?”

  She examines the forms. “Your ID, please.”

  “Jesus.” I shift a screaming Josie into my other arm, get out my wallet, and shove my license at her. “Here.”

  She scans it and gives it back. “It should only be a few more minutes.”

  I walk around, bouncing Josie in my arms to try and quiet her. She’s probably hungry now, but I hesitate to feed her if the formula is what did this.

  “It’s always worst with your first one,” the helpful woman says. “She’s your first, isn’t she?”

  “Uh… yeah.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be okay. By the time I had my third, we didn’t even call the doctor for most things.”

  “This isn’t most things.”

  She smiles. “No, I suppose not.”

  “Thompson!”

  I pick up the diaper bag and go over. We’re escorted into the back, where a nurse looks at Josie’s rash and asks all kinds of questions I have no idea about, like if she’s been on the same formula since birth. I try to pretend like I know the answers. After all, if they find out I’m not her father, would they think I kidnapped her or something? I wish Amber was here. She’s way better at this parenting thing.

  “The doctor will be in shortly,” the nurse says. “Can you undress Josie, please? You can cover her with this blanket if she gets cold.”

  I lay her down in the hospital crib and take off her clothes. She’s not screaming as loud anymore, but I think it’s only because she’s worn herself out.

  A woman comes in. “I’m Dr. Navatoli, the pediatrician on call. And this cutie must be Josie. Hey, little girl. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.” She examines her. “You noticed it just today? Never before?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Hmm.” She picks up Josie’s outfit. “It seems the rash is limited to the areas of her skin that were touching her clothing. See?” She holds the outfit over the top of her, and the rash lines up perfectly. “I believe what we’re dealing with is irritant contact dermatitis.”

  “She’s allergic to the fabric?” I ask.

  “More likely the detergent it was washed in. Have you switched recently?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to those things.”

  “Babies have sensitive skin.” She fills a basin with warm water and uses a soft cloth over Josie’s rash. “Make sure you buy detergent without dyes or perfumes.” She lets Josie tug on the wet cloth. “Does that feel better, sweetie?” She turns to me, keeping a hand on Josie. “Give her a bath when you get home. Be sure to use a baby body wash, not your own. We’ll put a soothing lotion on her here, and I’ll have the nurse give you the names of those you can buy. Ditch the old detergent and wash all her clothes several times with the new one. She’ll be fine wearing just the diaper home in this weather. The rash should clear up in a day or two.”

  “So that’s it? Her throat isn’t going to swell up or anything?”

  “No. The rash is only on the surface. Breathe, Dad. It’s going to be okay.”

  Dad. No one has ever called me that before. And it’s as if something inside me shifts. I remember wondering this morning if I’d be okay with a positive paternity test. I run my hand down Josie’s arm. She looks into my eyes and grabs my finger.

  I guess I have my answer.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Amber

  I put the third load of Josie’s clothes into the dryer. “I still can’t believe this was all my fault.”

  “It wasn’t,” Quinn says. “You had no idea she’d react to the detergent.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about her horrific cries when you called me. I can only imagine what it must have been like for you in person.”

  “She’s got quite a pair of lungs,” he says.

  I pass her room and peek in. “I feel like I should watch her sleep. I don’t ever want anything bad to happen to her.”

  “Me neither.”

  “How can Michelle not check on her? Doesn’t she want to know how she is? I mean, you could be feeding her cheeseburgers and poisoning her with laundry detergent.”

  “Honestly? I don’t know.”

  I pick up my phone. “Will you be okay with her for a while? I need to make a call.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Outside, I walk to the arena and sit in the empty bleachers off to one side. Mickey, the head horse trainer, is working with a mare. I page through my contacts until I get to Piper’s name. Piper Mitchell. I’m not sure why I put her in this way; technically, her last name is Lawrence. Karen’s words come back to me: She didn’t want you.

  I tap on her name. She immediately answers. “Amber?”

  “Hi.”

  “Is everything okay?” She seems concerned.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Well, it’s just that… you’ve never called me before.”

  “Sure, I have. We’ve spoken dozens of times over the years.”

  “We have, but I’m always the one who calls you.”

  I feel about two inches tall when I realize she’s right. “I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m just happy to hear from you. Skylar tells me you’re still in Texas. Must be hot down there.”

  “It is. But I love the ranch.”

  I tell her about learning to ride horses. We talk about my job. About Jon Thompson’s arrest. About Josie. Mostly about Josie. The rash. Her smile. How she’s sleeping through the night. I even text her a few pictures.

  “I’d really like to have that lunch when I get back,” I say.

  “Me too. Do you know when you’ll go home?”

  “I’m not sure. The whole Josie thing is still up in the air.”

  “Still no word about paternity? It sure is taking a long time.”

  “It is. Too long.”

  “What do you want to happen?” she asks.

  “Wow—that’s a loaded question.”

  “Yet somehow, I feel it’s part of the reason for this call. Have you been able to talk to anyone about this? You must be bottling a lot of things inside.”

  �
��I just want her to be happy and healthy.”

  “That’s what all mothers want for their children.”

  “I’m not a mother.”

  “With the way you’ve been talking about Josie for the last half hour, you could have fooled me.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You can ask me anything.”

  “I know you said giving me up was hard, and you’d look at your bracelet and hope I was happy, but could you ever really miss me, having only known me for an hour?”

  Her voice cracks. “Every day for the past twenty-eight years.”

  I sigh. “And all I’ve done is make it harder for you.”

  “You haven’t. I knew what I was giving up. And honestly, I never expected to find you. I didn’t think you’d want to know me. This—what we have—is more than I thought I’d have, so don’t you ever feel guilty. Knowing you is a gift, Amber. Maybe one I don’t even deserve.”

  “I think you’re wrong. What if Josie’s mom gave her up because she knew she couldn’t give her a good life? What if, like you, she’s doing the best for her child by giving her to someone who can raise her? On the other hand, I don’t get how she can know where her child is and not inquire about her.”

  “Honestly? If I had known where you were all those years, it would have been worse. I’m glad I didn’t until I had time to process my own feelings. Now it’s my turn to ask you a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What’ll you do if Josie isn’t Quinn’s child?”

  “I’ve asked myself that question every day for five weeks. Maybe it’s why I called. I want to know how hard it is to lose a child you care about.”

  Her deep sigh echoes through the phone. “You’ve been caring for her for well over a month, Amber. I knew you for an hour, and it was still the hardest thing I’d ever done. Mother or not, I can tell how much you love her. So, yes, it’ll be difficult. And I’m not sure there’s any advice I can give that will help you through it except to love her as hard as you can for as long as you have her.”

  I try to keep the tears at bay.

  “Can I ask one more question?” she says.

  “Okay.”

  “Is Josie the only one you’ve fallen in love with down there?”

  I stare blankly at Mickey and the horse. “I…”

  “You don’t have to answer. But eventually, you’ll have to figure it out. You told me before that you had no interest in having a boyfriend. It makes sense, having been left by everyone who loved you. But when I saw you and Quinn together in Calloway Creek, it was evident you have strong feelings for each other. Take it from someone who almost threw away the best relationship she ever had: you find a man who looks at you like that, he may be worth holding on to.”

  “I’d better go. I want to check on Josie.”

  “Call me anytime. And let me know about lunch.”

  “I will. Thanks… Piper.”

  I hang up. It’s strange how I had the urge to call her Mom. My head slumps into my hands, knowing at twenty-eight years old, I’ve never needed one more than I do now.

  After going on a ride to clear my head, I return home. The sun is setting when I go inside. The first thing I notice are candles on the table. Quinn comes from the kitchen. “Good,” he says. “You’re back. I made supper.”

  “You made dinner?”

  “I boiled pasta, threw on some sauce, put a loaf of frozen garlic bread in the oven, and opened a bottle of wine. Voila! Supper.”

  I glance toward Josie’s room. “How is she?”

  “Woke up when you left. Took a bottle. We played until she crashed again.”

  “And the rash?”

  “It looks a little better. It doesn’t seem to be bothering her like it did before. Don’t worry about her. She’s fine.” He pulls out a chair for me. “Sit.” He pours two glasses of wine.

  I’m served a hot plate of pasta and garlic bread. When I’m a few bites in, he reaches across the table and swipes my chin. He licks his finger. “You had a bit of sauce there.”

  I use my napkin. “Thanks.”

  “There’s more.”

  I touch my face. “Where?”

  Before I get what’s happening, he spoons up some sauce and flings it on my neck. “There,” he says.

  My mouth opens in surprise. “Did you just fling sauce on me?” I pick up my fork and fill it with food, ready to fire back.

  He holds out a hand. “Wait a minute. You’ll get your turn.” He gets up, moves around the table, leans over, and tilts my neck back. Then he licks the sauce off me.

  I moan.

  “Mmm,” he says. “Amber marinara. My new favorite dish.” He pulls my shirt up and over my head, then dips a finger into the sauce and runs it down my cleavage. His tongue laps up every last speck of it. Next, my pants and underwear are removed, and more sauce is drizzled on my lower belly. He licks it up as I squirm on the chair, longing for his lips to go lower.

  He reaches for a piece of garlic bread. When he puts it near my crotch, I wonder what the heck he plans on doing. “I love the taste of garlic,” he says, then smears the bread all over my upper thighs and between my legs. He licks, then groans. “Holy shit. If I could put this on a menu somewhere, we’d make a killing.”

  I giggle. “If you put this on the menu somewhere, we’d be arrested.”

  He works his tongue around my thighs, driving me wild. “It’s just as well,” he says. “I don’t share.” He nibbles on my skin. “This is mine. You’re mine.”

  It’s the second time he’s claimed me. They’re words I didn’t know I wanted to hear.

  I’ve been thoroughly cleaned except where I need to be. He’s teasing me by not touching my clit. I go to do it myself. This time he lets me. His eyes are laser-focused on my finger as I rub slow circles. Him watching me is a huge turn-on. I slip a finger inside. The bulge in his jeans is massive. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast, cowboy.”

  He slips his jeans down and palms himself. My insides tighten. This just got a whole lot better. I watch him pump his cock while he gapes at my fingers as they move in and out.

  “You look so hard,” I say.

  “Hell yeah, I am.”

  “Want to stick it inside me?”

  “Fuck, no. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”

  I smile and open my legs wider. I’m drenched and my fingers glide easily. His eyes half-close, letting me know he’s as close as I am. I move my other hand in position and rub my clit at the same time as my fingers are working inside me. His breathing is quick and rough. He grunts and spurts his hot creaminess all over my thigh. Watching him come sends me over the edge. I stiffen as my insides coil and I explode, shouting through my orgasm.

  When I open my eyes, Quinn is staring at me like a prize stallion. “Ho-ly shit, Amber.” He scoots close. “Please tell me you haven’t done that with anyone else.”

  I giggle. “You’re the first.”

  “Thank God. Score one for me.”

  I pull him close. “You know you’re the only one I want to score with from here on out, right?”

  Josie’s wails echo through the house. I glance at our mostly uneaten dinner. “Guess this will have to wait.”

  We wash up, get Josie, and play with her until she calms. Then we finish our cold pasta (neither of us complain) and take Josie to bed with us.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Quinn

  When I turn over in bed, Josie is nestled next to Amber, and they’re both fast asleep. They look peaceful. I fight the urge to reach for my phone and snap a picture. It might break the spell. I lie here and commit what I see into my memory. Every curve of Josie’s face. Her soft blonde tuft of hair that’s starting to grow longer. Her tiny fingers. The way Amber’s arm is over the top of Josie’s head and down her other side, as if protecting her in her sleep.

  This is one of the moments I’ll want to remember when she’s gone.

  Amber’s eyes open lazily. He
r gaze travels from me to Josie. She tucks her arm under her pillow and stares at her for the longest time. That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. I carefully roll away and get my phone. It makes a clicking sound when I snap the picture.

  Amber’s finger touches her lips. “Shh.”

  “I couldn’t help it,” I whisper. I peek at the photo. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Me or her?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  She smiles.

  “I needed a picture to remember her after she’s gone.”

  Sadness washes over her face. “I must have a thousand,” she whispers. “But I won’t need them to remember her. I’ll never forget her face.”

  I brush a stray hair off Amber’s forehead. “Do you think they’ll find a good home for her if Michelle won’t take her back?”

  “I hope so. I wish we could interview prospective parents like we did nannies.”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “The father will be tall and strong,” she says. “He’d always be there to protect her.”

  “The mother will have an incredible voice. She’ll sing to her.”

  “He will know exactly how to make her smile. And when he walks into a room, her face will light up.”

  “She will like horses, and she’ll introduce Josie to them by name.”

  “He won’t be afraid to make silly faces and noises that make her belly-laugh.”

  “She will take a million pictures. Every milestone will be documented.”

  Josie starts fussing. I retrieve the pacifier near her side and plop it into her mouth.

  “He will know exactly how to calm her,” Amber says, smoothing Josie’s messy tuft. “And he’ll know the difference between all her cries.”

  “She will be the most important person in her life.”

  She shakes her head and tears fall. “They both will be.”

  “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart.”

  “I know you don’t want to talk about it, Quinn. But we have to. If she’s yours, will you try to give her back to Michelle?”

  I stare at Josie. I stare for a long time. “I don’t know. I mean, Sophie’s here. You’re here.” My gaze turns to Amber. “You are here, aren’t you?”