The Virgin Cowboy Billionaire's Secret Baby

by Lauren Gallagher

  The colt was a bit more wary. Not afraid, per se, but he was definitely watching what they were doing, and he gave Whiskey more than a few “Uh, is this okay?” looks, especially when Beth touched his feet. Whiskey’d glanced over, and then gone back to eating her breakfast. If it was possible for a horse to shrug indifferently, she would’ve.

  After the vet had come and gone, giving both moms and babies clean bills of health, Matt and Beth went up to the house for breakfast. Mom and Dad had moved into a smaller, lower-maintenance place up the road, so Beth had been renting the house they’d all grown up in.

  By now, his head was pounding, but it wasn’t a migraine—it was the fact that it was almost noon and he needed coffee. So did his sister, apparently. As soon as they were in her kitchen, she’d gone straight for the pot.

  “Oh, sweet, sweet coffee.” She stroked the handle. “Let’s never spend this much time apart again.”

  Matt laughed. “Junkie.”

  “Oh please. You’re one to talk. You wouldn’t turn down a permanent espresso IV.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Black?”

  “Always.”

  She poured a cup for each of them.

  As they leaned against the counter and carefully sipped, Matt asked, “You want me to cook something?”

  Beth took another sip. “You don’t have to. All I need is a cup of coffee and a bagel, and I’ll be fine.”

  Matt scowled. “Sit. You need to eat something.”

  “I’ll be—”

  “You’ve been working like I used to work, and you’re going to keep doing that over my dead body.” He pointed at the kitchen table. “Sit.”

  Her eyebrow rose. Make me.

  He sighed. “Pancakes?”

  “Oh. Well. Why didn’t you say so?” She shrugged off her dusty jacket and flopped down in a chair.

  He knew his way around this kitchen, so he dug out a mixing bowl, frying pan and pancake mix. As much as he was starting to turn his nose up at using mixes when he could do it from scratch, he was too tired to hassle with that this morning.

  While he whisked the powder and water, Beth wrapped her hands around her coffee cup on the table. “So, do you think we should call Mom and tell her she has two new grandbabies?”

  Matt normally would have laughed. Today, he…couldn’t. “I guess. She’d probably like to see them.”

  Beth didn’t speak, and when he glanced at her, she was watching him, forehead creased. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” He concentrated harder on mixing the batter. “I’m good.”

  “Matt. Look at me.”

  His hand stopped, and he looked at her.

  She pointed at her face. “Do I look stupid?”

  He couldn’t even muster up a playful Well, now that you mention it…

  She got up and crossed the small kitchen, and when she stopped beside the stove, staring him down, she folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve been a million miles away all morning, even when you were playing with the babies.”

  Matt winced. He started stirring again, but she stopped him with a firm hand on his arm.

  “What’s going on?”

  There was no point in trying to get anything past his sister, and if there was anyone left in this town who’d be sane and supportive, it was her. Sighing, he pushed the bowl of pancake batter away. “There’s um…” He reached for his cup. “Listen, this needs to stay between us.”

  “Cross my heart.” She drew an invisible X over her chest.

  Matt took a long swallow of cooling coffee. He trusted his sister like no one else, but forming the words still wasn’t easy. “Do you remember when Dara got sick while we were in college?”

  Beth took in a sharp breath. “Oh no. Please tell me the cancer hasn’t come back.”

  “No, no. It’s nothing like that. She’s fine.”

  His sister exhaled. “Oh thank God.”

  “No kidding.” Matt shifted his weight. “Well, before she started treatment, her doctors told her it would probably leave her sterile. So if she ever wanted to have kids, she needed to freeze some eggs or embryos. And she decided to go with embryos.”

  Beth’s eyebrow climbed slowly. “Okay…”

  “So she, um…”

  “She asked you to be the donor, didn’t she?”

  He blinked. “How’d you know?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” She rolled her eyes. “As close as you two were back then, I’d have guessed even if she hadn’t shown up out of the blue the other day needing to talk to you.”

  “Okay, fair enough.”

  “So, I’m assuming she wants to use them now?”

  “Well, that’s just it—she already has.”

  Beth’s lips parted. “So, she’s pregnant?”

  Matt nodded.

  “Dara Marley. Is pregnant. With your baby.”

  He nodded again.

  A laugh burst out of her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m… I’m sorry.”

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s…” She lowered her hand and shook her head. “I mean, it’s wonderful. But oh God, Mom’s going to be pissed.”

  “Yeah.” Matt tried to laugh but couldn’t. “Shit.”

  “I really didn’t mean to laugh.” She cleared her throat, her expression turning serious. “That was just not what I expected.”

  “It’s okay. The situation is kinda crazy.”

  “Kinda?”

  “Yeah.” He set his coffee cup beside the bowl of batter and then rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “We went into it with the assumption she’d eventually be having kids with her future husband, but then the asshole walked out on her right after she got pregnant. She didn’t even find out about the baby until she’d been served with divorce papers.”

  Beth huffed. “Oh, what a winner.”

  “Right?” He took a deep breath. “So she came to me to see if I wanted to play an active role in the kid’s life. If I wanted to…” He hesitated, the words still a struggle to form. “If I wanted to be the kid’s dad.”

  Beth’s eyes widened. “And you said…?”

  “Yes, of course.” He shrugged. “The baby’s biologically mine. And deserves a father.” He paused and couldn’t help smiling a little. “And, I mean, it’s hard not to warm up to the idea, you know? I’m gonna be a dad.” That time, the words did come easily. More to himself, he whispered, “I’m gonna be a dad.”

  Beth smiled and hugged him gently. “And this baby’s gonna be one lucky kid.”

  Matt laughed, hugging her back. As he released her, his stomach tightened. “Now if I can just figure out how to tell Mom and Dad.”

  Beth grimaced. “Yeah. Good luck with that.”

  “We tried to tell them last night, but Mom was making it known she was not happy with Dara even sitting at the same table. So we, uh—”

  “Wisely kept your traps shut?”

  “Yeah. That.” He rested his hands on the edge of the counter and leaned on them. “Why am I freaking out about this? I don’t need Mom’s approval.”

  “You don’t need, but believe me, I get it. Every time we talk with Mom, I walk away wondering why I bother and why I care so much, but…” She shook her head, gesturing at their surroundings. “Having all this yanked out from under me…”

  “I know. I understand.” He frowned. “And all the money in the world won’t buy us reasonable parents.”

  “No, it definitely won’t. And the thing is, you’re about to be a dad. It makes perfect sense you’d want Mom and Dad’s support.”

  He turned to her but didn’t speak.

  She continued, “Families are supposed to support each other, especially with things like this. You and Dara could have all the money in the world and hav
e everything money can buy, but you can’t call your bank at three in the morning when the baby’s got a fever and you don’t know if you should go to the ER.”

  Matt’s chest tightened, and he took a couple of breaths just in case there really was a panic attack on the way. As the feeling receded, he said, “Yeah. Exactly. I have no idea what I’m doing. I mean, Dara probably does.”

  “She’s never done it before either. It’s going to be a shock for both of you.” Beth’s eyebrows pinched together. “Support isn’t really optional with a new baby, you know?”

  He exhaled. “And support isn’t really guaranteed when you’re having a baby with someone our parents can’t stand. Especially someone you’re not married to or even dating.”

  Beth didn’t answer. Her lips quirked, and she studied him as if there was a question on her mind, but she wasn’t sure if she should ask.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  She hesitated but then took a deep breath. “Can I ask you something kind of personal?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Besides the fact that Mom and Dad hated her, why didn’t you and Dara ever date?”

  “You don’t think that was a good enough reason?”

  “Not when you’re as perfectly matched with someone as you are with Dara.” She folded her arms loosely. “Hell, when you two went to prom, I was sure that was going to be the night you’d finally decide to be more than friends.”

  “You and everybody else.” He’d heard the rumors, and he’d been well aware that within about twenty-four hours of prom, they’d switched from “Dara and Matt are definitely going to hook up” to “Matt Coolidge is definitely gay.”

  Except dating Dara had never even crossed his mind. The only reason they’d gone together was neither had a date and neither wanted to deal with any drama. Dara had just broken up with Jimmy Caldwell for the fifth time, but she still wanted to go to prom. Matt had only been willing to go with someone who wouldn’t insist on staying until the bitter end, no matter how overwhelming the music and crowd had gotten. So they’d gone, and they’d had a ball. With her there to ground him, he’d handled the party just fine, and they’d stayed until the night was nearly over, which was almost unheard of for him.

  And then he’d driven her home, and they’d hugged over the console of his old pickup truck, and that was that.

  Matt shook his head. “We were friends. That’s it.”

  “Says the man who’s always been a nervous wreck around women except for her.”

  “Because she’s been my friend since I was too young to know I was awkward around women.”

  “Maybe that should’ve told you something.”

  “It did. It told me she was my best friend.” He gestured dismissively and picked up the abandoned batter. As he started whisking again, he added, “It just wasn’t in the cards, I guess. I never thought of her that way.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  Beth raised her eyebrows. “But you’re a straight guy and she’s always been a pretty girl. How in the—”

  “But she’s Dara.” He shrugged. “She’s… I mean…” How the hell was he supposed to explain it? Dara had never been “a girl” in the sense that all the others were. She’d just been Dara. His buddy. His best friend. The one who’d gotten suspended for a week after she punched Jennifer Dixon in third grade for hurting his feelings, and the one who’d cried on his shoulder their junior year after that idiot Ben Reilly broke her heart.

  “Earth to Matt?”

  He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I—”

  “You know you don’t have to stir all the lumps out of the batter, right?”

  He looked down and realized he’d whisked it within an inch of its life already. “Right. Yeah. Um.” Stove. He needed to turn on the stove. As he did, he said, “Anyway, it doesn’t really matter why. We never dated, and it’s probably a good thing.”

  “How so?”

  There wasn’t much to do for the pancakes except wait for the burner to heat up, so he had nothing to keep his hands or focus busy except his coffee, and even that was only so distracting. His sister’s scrutiny would crack him soon enough.

  So he faced her. “It’s really not something I want to think about. Especially now.” The question was in her eyes, so he quickly said, “The thing is, I already lost her once, and she’s finally back in my life. And now there’s this situation. Whatever happens, I don’t want to lose her again. Bottom line? I don’t want her to be my ex-girlfriend.”

  He braced for Beth to push, but instead, she said, “I guess I can see that. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t believe you guys went that many years without—”

  “Me too,” he whispered.

  They exchanged glances.

  She shifted her weight. “Well, I would definitely not tell Mom and Dad about this quite yet. I think they need to get used to the idea of you and Dara even being around each other again before they try to stomach that.”

  “Yeah, I agree.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Christ. We’re not kids anymore. I swear to God, one of these days, I’m going to stop giving a fuck what they think about what I do with my life.”

  Beth snorted. “Yeah. And that’ll be the same day Mom quits dangling the property of Damocles over our heads to keep us in line.” Scowling, she looked out the kitchen window at the newly renovated barn. “Sometimes I really wish I didn’t give a shit about this place.”

  “Me too. And Aspen Mill.”

  She nodded. “And if wishes were horses—”

  “Then you’d be a bigger workaholic than you already are.”

  She smacked his arm playfully. “Touché. And aren’t you supposed to be making me breakfast?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He set the frying pan on the burner. As he carefully poured the batter, he said, “Are we just being overly sentimental? I mean, this is just… It’s just buildings and pastures. We could build an identical place anywhere.”

  “We could. But we can’t really build another Aspen Mill.”

  “How bad would it be if Adam did redevelop it all, though? More jobs. More—”

  “More traffic. More people. Remember how many families got pushed out of Goldmount after the property values skyrocketed?” She slouched against the counter. “Well, one thing’s for sure. This baby is either going to put you back in the running to inherit the farm, or it’s going to get you disowned.”

  He glanced at her. “Which are you betting on?”

  She pursed her lips. “I’d say the odds are pretty even at this point.”

  “You’re more optimistic than I am.”

  “What else is new?” She paused. “At least you can guarantee one thing.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  When he turned his head, she smiled. “Your kid is going to have the most badass auntie ever.”

  Laughing, Matt rolled his eyes. “Shut up and put some syrup on the table.”

  Chapter Six

  On Friday night, just like she’d done hundreds of times when she’d still lived here, Dara pulled into the fairground parking lot. It used to be gravel, cordoned off by colorful strings of triangular flags, but someone must’ve finally decided the puddles and potholes were a pain in the ass, and now it was paved. There were even streetlights overhead, illuminating the trucks that were taking a few liberties with the size and angles of the white-lined spaces.

  Even with those jackasses, there were plenty of spots left that would fit her moderately sized Mercedes, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it didn’t fit here. It never would.

  Like owner, like car.

  Well, whatever. She pulled in between a couple of muddy Dodge Rams and stepped out of her car. She paused and cautiously took a deep breath. She’d been a little nervous about coming here, and a significant part of that was that her pregnancy ha
d been fucking with her sense of smell. Every odor was stronger now, and some that had never bothered her before—gasoline, eggs cooking, even the air freshener in her dad’s truck—had sent her sprinting for a restroom.

  The first thing to meet her nose was that sweet smell of beauty bark, and it gave her goose bumps. That scent had never failed to take her back to her rodeo days. Now that she was actually here on the grounds where she’d competed a million times over, it made her head spin. Her stomach stayed put, though.

  As she neared the arena, the other familiar smells reached her, like distant faces coming into focus. Dust, horses, hay, and cedar shavings, not to mention overcooked hot dogs and stale popcorn coming from the concession stand, were overwhelming but it was nostalgia more than nausea.

  Like the Coolidge farm, the fairgrounds were simultaneously different and the same as they’d been since she was a kid. The arena had the same old concession stand, and she was pretty sure the two line cooks had been there way back then, along with some of the burgers and pretzels, now that she thought about it.

  The announcer’s booth had a fresh coat of white paint that was already gathering dust, and the sponsor banners were different now, but the structure itself hadn’t changed.

  In the main arena, the youth pole-bending class was underway, which meant barrel racing would be up next, so she headed over to the warmup arena. As she expected, Matt and Beth were both out there. Matt was sitting on his dapple-gray mare in the center, reins loose on the horse’s neck. Nearby, Beth and her liver chestnut gelding were cantering in tight circles. The women’s barrel racing was probably first, then; knowing Matt, he’d start really warming up his horse after Beth’s run.

  “Dara Marley?” A voice halted her in her tracks. “Is that really you?”

  She turned around. She hadn’t seen Jenny Pruitt, Heather Mason, or Jamie Hayes since high school.