The Virgin Cowboy Billionaire's Secret Baby

by Lauren Gallagher

  “Investments?” Dad perked up. “What kind of investing have you been doing?”

  “I spread it around a little—”

  Mom tsked quietly, and Matt shot her a glare, but Dara didn’t miss a beat.

  “A lot of low-risk funds and a 401(k), but I’ve invested in a few startups and played the stock market too.”

  “Is that right?” Dad rested his forearms on the table. “Have you looked into the secondaries market?”

  “I have, but…”

  While the two of them discussed investments, Matt and his mother exchanged looks over the table. He shrugged it off, though—Dara had probably scored a few points in Dad’s eyes, so that was a start.

  When there was a lull, Mom offered up her polite-but-fuck-you smile—tight lips, bored eyes. “So, Dara. What brings you back to Aspen Mill?”

  “Oh, I…” Dara chased a piece of zucchini around her plate with her fork. Then she set her shoulders back and met Mom’s steely gaze. “My husband and I separated, so I decided to come back to town for a little while.”

  Mom scowled as she picked up her wineglass. “I understood you divorced quite a few years ago.”

  “I did. This was…” Her eyes darted toward Matt again. “This was my second marriage.”

  Mom eyed Matt, and he swore he could hear her thinking classless tramp. But she just smiled sweetly and said, “I see. I’m terribly sorry to hear it. Are you planning to stay in Aspen Mill?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m still sort of getting my bearings back.”

  “Hmm. Yes. I suppose you would be.”

  No one spoke. Awkward silence pulled up a chair and took over, and by the time everyone had finished eating, the throbbing behind Matt’s eyes had started. He got up to collect the dishes so he could serve dessert.

  “I’ll give you a hand.” Dara didn’t wait for a response before she stood and picked up what she could carry.

  Matt shot his mother a look, but she was too focused on watching Dara leave the room. Yeah, he could see why Dara had always thought the woman was trying to put a hex on her.

  “Mother,” he said through his teeth.

  She shifted her gaze toward him.

  He glanced at the kitchen to make sure Dara hadn’t come back in, and then whispered, “I thought you were going to be polite.”

  “You know how I feel about that woman,” she said quietly.

  “You haven’t seen her in ten years,” he snapped back. “And she had nothing to do with anything that happened half a century ago. Can’t you let it go?”

  Beside Mom, Dad gave a sharp, humorless laugh and drained his wineglass. “Good luck with that, son.”

  For fuck’s sake. He picked up the dish of zucchini casserole and took it into the kitchen. He set it on the counter, but before he started putting the leftovers in the fridge, he paused to rub his forehead, hoping to keep the inevitable migraine at bay for a little while longer.

  In a quiet voice, Dara said, “I’m thinking we should hold off on telling her about the baby.”

  “Yeah. Good idea.” Matt lowered his hand and reached into his pocket for the migraine pill he’d made sure to keep handy. “I am so sorry. I should’ve known they’d still…”

  “Not like me?”

  “Let’s go with that.” He downed the pill with a gulp of water. “Want to help me dish up dessert?”

  “Anything to get this over with faster.”

  He flinched.

  She touched his arm. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  Matt laughed humorlessly. “No, it definitely was not uncalled for.” He glared at the doorway to the dining room. “You know, I’ve heard legends of parents who actually support their kids, even if they disagree with their life choices.”

  “Mmhmm. Meanwhile, back in Asshole Mill.”

  “Right?” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Between you and me? I’d just as soon tell them to go fuck themselves. If they weren’t lording their will over my sister and me—”

  “Wait, what?”

  Matt waved his hand. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say my mother’s figured out how to keep us both in line even now.”

  Dara groaned. “I’m so not surprised.”

  “Neither am I, to tell you the truth. Anyway, let’s do this.”

  Dessert was consumed in tense silence. Afterward, he wasn’t at all shocked when his parents decided not to have a cup of coffee like they often did, and he didn’t lift a finger to encourage them to stay.

  As Mom collected her purse, she turned to Dara. “Well, it was lovely to see you again.” Her tone was candy-coated poison.

  “You too, Mrs. Coolidge.”

  Mom just smiled and then headed for the foyer with Dad on her heels.

  Matt and Dara exchanged glances and both grimaced.

  This is going to be a fucking disaster, isn’t it?

  Chapter Four

  While Matt saw his parents out, Dara waited in the living room.

  She couldn’t hear their parting conversation well enough to understand the words, but she caught the tone. Pleasant, but terse—the Coolidge way. If she and Matt hadn’t chickened out about telling them she was pregnant, that conversation would’ve been a hell of a lot more terse and not pleasant in the slightest.

  I am so sorry, Matt.

  Guilt threatened to eat her alive. She was already in some serious karmic debt to Matt. Between the sperm donation and the six months he’d taken off college to help her through her cancer treatment, he’d been eligible for sainthood since he was barely old enough to drink. And now, without a second thought, he was willing to step up and be the father he didn’t have to be, even though they both knew it would cause more strife within his family.

  Grinding her teeth, she resisted the urge to march into the foyer and be the bitch his family had long ago decided she was. If the shoe fit, after all. And it wasn’t like she’d ever done anything to offend them besides being born into the family they would hate until the sun burned out. Well, okay, she had the mouth of a sailor, and she’d had an undeserved “reputation” through both high school and college, but it wasn’t like she’d ever robbed a bank or slapped Matt’s grandma.

  Regardless of why they didn’t like her, though, it drove her crazy that they still tried to keep Matt on such a short leash. They should’ve been proud of him. What parent wouldn’t be proud of a son who’d been successful enough to retire in his thirties?

  A Coolidge. Of course.

  She rolled her eyes and gazed around at Matt’s living room, trying to tune out the hushed conversation in the foyer. Funny—even if she’d just walked in here off the street without knowing who lived here, she’d have guessed in an instant that it was Matt’s house. He’d always had two or three video game consoles, though back then, they’d been dusty secondhand systems in a particle-board TV stand from Walmart. The particle board would have been straining beneath one of those TVs that had a crappy medium-size screen but still weighed five hundred pounds.

  Those days were over. Now he had a slick flat screen—probably one of those ultra-high-definition ones where you could see the fleas on the dogs in the background—and only the latest and greatest video game technology. He had both an Xbox 360 and an Xbox 1, and both a PS3 and a PS4. Just like she did. She suspected that if she looked through the neat stacks of games flanking the entertainment center that she’d find quite a few familiar titles.

  She smiled to herself. Some things never changed.

  On the wall behind the TV, there were framed photos from his younger rodeo days, and some that were more recent. He still had that photo from when he met Garth Brooks, and the one he’d treasure forever of him and George Strait. And judging by the pair of photos below those two, the lucky bastard had somehow managed to meet U2 and AC/DC. Jerk.

  The air pressure
in the house changed, and she shook herself just before the front door clicked shut. A second later, Matt walked into the living room.

  “That went well.” He dropped onto the sofa, pressed his elbow into the armrest, and rubbed his hand over his face. “Fuck.”

  Dara grimaced. “I’m sorry. Guess I should’ve known this would cause more tension between you and your mom.”

  “What doesn’t cause more tension there?” he grumbled.

  “I’m pretty sure you don’t have to have this kind of conversation with her very often, though.”

  “No.” He laughed, shaking his head. “No, definitely not.”

  She took a drink and set her glass on the coffee table. “So, what’s all this about lording the property over you and your sister?”

  “Oh Jesus.” He rubbed his temples gingerly. “The short version is that Mom’s decided she’s not happy with Beth and me both being single and childless. So at every possible opportunity, she’s on our cases about it, and now she’s threatening to give Adam his inheritance—as in, the entire farm—early because he’s actually giving her grandkids like he’s supposed to.” He exhaled hard. “So either Beth and I get cracking on starting families, or the golden child gets the farm.”

  Dara wrinkled her nose. “I can’t imagine Adam ever being the golden child. Especially not over you or Beth.”

  “Yeah, well. He has been ever since he and his wife had their first.”

  She pursed her lips. “Why do I get the feeling you won’t get golden-child status for knocking me up?”

  Matt burst out laughing, but it quickly faded as he absently combed his fingers through his graying hair. “Christ, I am so sorry for how they treated you tonight.”

  “I’m used to it. I’m more worried about how they’re going to treat you when they find out.”

  “I’m used to that too.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m so not looking forward to this, though.”

  Dara sat up and reached for his arm. “I am so sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He lowered his hand and turned to her. “This isn’t how you planned things, and I’m the one who needs to cut the apron strings and stop caring about my mother’s approval.”

  “Except your mother’s approval is attached to the farm.”

  “And my sister’s livelihood.” He groaned. “Fuck.”

  Dara huffed. “Is your mother really not aware that the 1950s are over? Not everyone’s married off and having kids by their mid-twenties.”

  He laughed humorlessly. “My parents didn’t stay in Aspen Mill so they could be progressive. And don’t act like yours are any better.”

  “They aren’t. They just don’t have anything they can dangle over my head besides dirty looks.” She picked up her glass off the coffee table. “But believe you me, they are not thrilled about me getting divorced again.”

  “Not surprised at all.”

  “At least being pregnant gets me out of the dating pool for a while.” She scowled into her drink. “My mom won’t be able to try to match me up with every guy in town, since I don’t imagine too many guys are clamoring for freshly divorced mothers-to-be.”

  Matt exhaled. “God, fuck dating.”

  “Not having much luck?”

  He rubbed his eyes again. “I haven’t done much of it, to be honest.”

  “Really? I mean, I know the party scene isn’t your thing, but I’m surprised Internet dating hasn’t worked for you.”

  “Well, it… I mean…” Matt fidgeted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. “I haven’t put all that much effort into it.”

  “I can help you set up a profile.” She laughed bitterly. “We can put ours up together.”

  Matt kept his gaze down, and he didn’t laugh. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I um, did go on some dates last year, but…” His eyes lost focus.

  “Didn’t go well?”

  “You could say that.”

  “What happened?”

  He drummed his fingers on his knee, watching them instead of looking at her. “Two of them made it clear pretty quickly that they were more interested in my bank balance than they were in me.” He snorted. “I’m starting to think if I start doing that online dating thing, I should just use a picture of my wallet as my profile photo.”

  “There are plenty of women out there who aren’t gold diggers. I promise.”

  “Eh. On the bright side, at least I can get the gold diggers to give me the time of day. All the money in the world isn’t going to grow me a pair of balls when it comes to talking to women.”

  Dara frowned. Some things really didn’t change, did they? “You’re just shy, sweetie. That’s where the online thing comes in. You break the ice a bit, then meet.” She shrugged. “And that way they don’t have to know about your money until they’ve actually gotten to know you.”

  He chewed his lip. “It’s still not quite that simple. The thing is, I went on one other date last year. And it went…” His forehead creased, and he winced as if the memory was physically painful.

  She sat straighter. “What happened?”

  He turned toward her and brought his knee up on the couch between them. “Can I be completely honest about something that I have a really, really hard time admitting to anyone else?”

  Dara’s stomach flipped. “Yeah. Of course.”

  He swallowed hard. “I’m…um…”

  “It’s me, Matt,” she said. “Same thing you told me yesterday—just tell me.”

  He lowered his gaze, slowly releasing a breath. Then his eyes flicked up and met hers again. “I’m a virgin.”

  Dara stared at him. “Huh?”

  “I’ve…never had sex. With anyone. Ever.” The color blooming in his cheeks told her he wasn’t joking.

  “But…you’re…” she sputtered. She shook her head and blinked. “Matt, you’re—”

  “Rich?”

  “—gorgeous!” She waved a hand. “Okay, yeah, and rich. But for God’s sake, there are plenty of women out there who don’t care.”

  Matt arched his eyebrow in true Coolidge “yeah right” fashion.

  Dara touched his arm. “I’m serious. And it’s not like you have ‘I’m Rich’ tattooed across your forehead.”

  He chuckled. “What are you saying? Do I look like I—”

  “I mean you don’t flaunt it. But there’s nothing unattractive about you.” Her cheeks burned. “There never has been.”

  Well, at least she wasn’t the only one blushing.

  “I still suck at talking to women, though. Hell, that date I went on last year?” His lips twisted. “I was comfortable enough with her that I admitted that I’d never been with a woman before. I don’t think she’s ever laughed that hard in her life.”

  “What?” Dara nearly flew up off the couch. “I will fucking cut her!”

  Matt laughed, though it seemed to take a lot of effort. “Nah, she’s not worth it.”

  “The hell she isn’t!” Dara scoffed. “What do you mean she laughed?”

  “Well, to be fair, how many other thirty-six-year-old virgins do you know?”

  “It doesn’t matter!” She threw up her hands. “What kind of… Who the fuck… Argh.”

  “Easy, Dara.” He chuckled. “Yeah, it was obnoxious, but she’s in the past. And thank God she doesn’t live in Aspen Mill.”

  “For her sake, yes.”

  Matt sort of laughed, but then sighed. “So yeah. She’s in the past, but it’s the future I’m not terribly optimistic about.” He blew out a breath. “My mom’s been putting the pressure on to get married and start a family, but I don’t think she realizes just how tall of an order that is for a guy like me.”

  Hearing that made Dara’s chest actually hurt. “So, you’ve never dated, then?”

  “Never.”

  She stared
at him again, dumbstruck. She’d vowed a long time ago to personally choke any woman who treated him wrong, but she’d never imagined he’d be alone in his thirties, never mind that he’d been alone for all those years.

  Matt cleared his throat. “The thing is, I had my nose to the grindstone all through college, and then we started the company, and…” He exhaled sharply, and when he met her eyes, he suddenly looked exhausted. “And then one day I woke up and I was thirty-five, on the brink of a heart attack and had never taken the time to have any kind of personal life. Any kind.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.” She paused. “Well, there’s no reason you can’t start now.”

  “Sure, but where the hell does a guy like me even start?”

  Dara fidgeted, folding her hands in her lap. “I wish I knew.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice distant. “Tell me about it.”

  Chapter Five

  Matt had bitten the bullet and taken one of his migraine pills last night in between courses, and he’d gone to bed with only the mildest headache. No auras, no throbbing, no nausea—thank God.

  Especially since his sister texted him at five thirty to tell him that both Whiskey and Lady had picked the same morning to foal. Whiskey’s spindly little chestnut colt was on his feet when Beth showed up to feed, and Lady’s bay filly was getting there. By the time Matt arrived about twenty minutes after the text message, the filly was standing up and the colt had already learned the hard way that while galloping was fun, stopping wasn’t as easy as it looked.

  The vet was on her way, but so far, all four horses appeared to be doing great. This was Whiskey’s sixth foal, and she was pretty “whatever” about the whole thing. Across the aisle, in typical first-time-mother form, Lady wasn’t quite sure what to think about the wobbly little creature following her around, but she was getting the hang of it.

  Beth and Matt spent the morning going back and forth between the two stalls, interacting with the foals as much as possible but still giving them plenty of time to bond with their mothers. The filly immediately decided that people were the best thing ever. She didn’t mind being petted all over or having her ears touched, and putting on the tiny halter for the first time was only difficult because she kept trying to eat it. When Matt ran his hand down her legs to get her used to the idea, she was more interested in chewing on his baseball cap than worrying about him touching her.