by Maisey Yates
“Because the decision to have a child really shouldn’t include your friends. I’m the one who wants this. I’m the one who feels like there’s . . . a hole in my chest, because I’m missing something I want so badly. I’m the one who will be doing midnight feedings, I’m the one who has to give birth and pay for college and suddenly it doesn’t seem like there’s as big of a gap between those two things as I would like. It’s all me. At least it was supposed to be. Now it’s me, but it’s also Cole, because they used his sample on accident, and he’s the father. So what was I supposed to do? Tell him that’s too bad, sorry I’m going to have your baby, and I get that you’re a victim here too, but I’m just going to double victimize you and make sure you’ll never get to be a part of his life?”
Alexa turned her focus entirely back to the road, and Kelsey looked out her window at the broad expanse of sky and the snowcapped mountains. Maybe she could count pine trees on the way to Silver Creek. That would eat up some time.
“Sorry,” Alexa said.
“What?”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. This was your decision, not mine. And a baby is a bigger deal than a scrunchie.”
“A bit.”
Alexa continued. “And of course you had to consider Cole. Because you wouldn’t be you if you hadn’t.”
“You wouldn’t have?”
“I would have told him it was my baby, so eff off.”
“I pretty much did. But it didn’t work. And then it turned out he seems pretty decent. It feels like I owe it to the baby to . . . find out. So now away we go to the ranch.”
Alexa shook her head. “This is just . . . it’s like romantic comedy material. Only it’s neither romantic nor funny.”
“Neither are a lot of romantic comedies.”
“Touché.”
“But romance isn’t really a factor here,” Kelsey said, writing off the fluttery feeling in her stomach as more nausea. “Because the really important thing is the baby. It’s the fact that if my son or daughter asks me about their father one day I won’t feel right if I have to lie, or tell them that I wouldn’t let him be involved in their life.”
That reminder, at least, was a tiny bit bolstering. Because as scary as all of this was, she knew she had to at least try. Try to work out some sort of relationship. For his sake. For the sake of their child.
It would be wrong to do anything else. And she did still care about the whole right and wrong thing. Inconvenient.
“No. You can’t do that,” Alexa said. “You really can’t.”
“I know.”
“Anyway, how bad can it be? Millions of people have to deal with custody arrangements and all the stuff that comes with ex-husbands and– wives every day.”
“Yeah, but those people have the benefit of actually having liked each other at some point. Or, if not that, the benefit of liking to jump on each other’s bodies.”
Alexa pressed the gas down a bit, and the car’s engine revved. “Well, I suppose if your cowboy is jumpable, that will put you in the same position.”
***
The trouble was, he really was jumpable. She hadn’t actually noticed the first time she saw him, since she’d been dizzy and generally blech at the time. But now that she had some restored equilibrium . . . yes. Yes, he was pretty darn good to look at. Even from her limited view of him through the windshield, with him standing across the driveway, she could tell.
Even in the broad, open expanse of the landscape, he looked big and masculine. And she was starting to think maybe testosterone wasn’t the enemy after all. The snow-dusted mountains behind him, the vast expanse of field backed by an endless evergreen forest, only added to to the picture. He was at home here. This was his natural habitat. Not her sweet little suburb. There he looked big and rugged too, but out of place. Here . . . here the tight jeans and belt buckle didn’t look silly. They looked . . . they looked something else entirely. Something not altogether unpleasant.
The building directly behind Cole was a little more rustic than she’d anticipated. She was starting to wonder if the pictures on his website had lied.
Kelsey opened the passenger door of the car, and Cole started taking long strides in her direction. She ignored the rapid up-tempo of her heartbeat and put her foot down, then sank into thick, oozing mud, her tennis shoe sliding out from beneath her. She swore and pitched forward, gripping the top of the door as tightly as she could.
A warm weight settled on her fingers and she looked up, her eyes locking with Cole’s. Cole, who was no longer standing across the yard. Cole, whose eyes looked a bit like chocolate. Not sweet, though. Dark, a little bit bitter. But tempting all the same.
“Careful,” he said, his tone so . . . paternal . . . it made her bristle.
“I thought this was a guest ranch? I didn’t expect for there to be mud in the driveway.” She slipped her hand out from beneath his and stuffed it into her hoodie pocket, trying to ignore the hot, tingling sensation he’d left across her knuckles.
“Apologies.” He inclined his head and stepped back. She wondered if she’d imagined the warmth in his hand. Because there was no warmth in him now.
“Right. Um . . . this is my friend Alexa.”
Kelsey looked over her shoulder at Alexa, who was half out of the car, one leg on the driver’s seat still, as though she were ready to make a quick break for it if necessary. She offered Cole a half-wave. “Hi. You must be Cole.”
He regarded Alexa for a minute. “How’d you guess?”
“Lucky,” she said, green eyes narrowed.
He looked back at Kelsey and she felt his gaze hit her—felt it down to her toes. “Good. Now we’ve all met,” Kelsey said, afraid Alexa would start snarling at any moment.
“Do you have any bags?” Cole asked, looking at Kelsey and ignoring Alexa.
“Several,” Kelsey said, gesturing toward the trunk.
“I’ll get them and show you up to your cabin.”
That was good. If he was showing them up to the cabin that meant some time without him. She’d only been in his presence for two minutes and she needed a break already. Annoyance, discomfort, trepidation . . . those were feelings she’d been prepared to deal with. But those feelings coupled with the heavy knot of—she didn’t want to call it attraction; it was more like appreciation—in her stomach . . . Well, that she was not prepared for.
“We can’t . . . drive up?”
“No road access to the cabins.”
“Quaint,” she said, annoyance coursing through her. She hadn’t planned on roughing it for the next few weeks.
“You can park down by the front of the main lodge area.” He gestured across the field to a large log-cabin-style structure with honey-colored wood and a green roof. “Or I can move the car there for you later.”
“Where are we now?” Kelsey asked, her eyes on the closer building, which looked more like Lincoln Logs than luxury accommodations.
“You came in on an access road. This is just an equipment shed. My barns are in better shape than this.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Seriously though, signage would be nice.”
Cole’s eyes lingered on hers, dark and compelling. She just wanted to keep looking at him. And she wanted to turn away at the same time. She wasn’t sure how he managed that. “Whatever you could possibly want, I’ll make sure you get it.”
Her cheeks heated, her stomach tightening a little as she thought of all the things she might need from a man like him . . . of all the things he would be able to give her. Oh, no, that didn’t even bear thinking about.
Because there were bigger things happening. The baby. Their stranger-than-fiction situation. They had serious issues to deal with, and they had nothing to do with how nice he looked in a pair of jeans. So while she wasn’t above noticing, she wasn’t going to dwell.
Not on that, or his husky voice, or how strong he was or how warm his touch was. Nope. None of it.
Alexa leaned in and pulled the lever to the trun
k. They had at least six bags between them. And Kelsey was suddenly a little bit embarrassed that hers were pink and flowered.
“Do you have one of those . . . bag trollies like at hotels?” Alexa asked.
“I’ll make another trip.” Cole said, rounding to the back of the car and pulling out one of the suitcases, hauling it up onto his shoulder and curving his forearm over it in one fluid motion. Then he reached down and did the same to another one, stacking it on top of the first. He took a third one out and held it by the handle, like a sane person would do.
“Close the trunk for me?”
Alexa nodded, a little bit dumbly in Kelsey’s opinion, obvious and blatant in her appreciation of the male form. She looked gauche, really. Then Alexa stepped forward to oblige Cole.
“This way,” he said, jerking his head to the left.
Kelsey noticed the casual flick-down that Alexa did with her eyes when Cole stepped in front of them. Which meant she had to do the same. Yes, he looked good in denim. Yes, he had a tight, muscular butt. And yes, it had been too long since she’d simply enjoyed the sight of a man’s backside.
So she’d remedy that—just for a few minutes.
She breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped out of the graveled lot and onto a paved path that wound through the grove of pine trees that surrounded the main structure.
The path wound around the equipment shed and behind the lodge they’d seen in the distance.
“Are we taking the long way?” she asked, her legs feeling a bit unsteady.
“Yes.” He stopped and turned to face her. “Do you need help getting there?”
“No, this is . . . good. The air smells good. Although, why didn’t you tell us we were going to take the longest route possible?”
“I didn’t really think about it. Big property like this lends itself to walking a lot.”
“Why didn’t you ask if I need help?” Alexa asked.
“Because your comfort isn’t my primary concern,” Cole said.
“That’s almost touching,” Alexa said.
“It wasn’t meant to be.” The chill on Cole’s words was as pronounced as the biting cold in the air blowing off the mountaintops.
Kelsey hadn’t really seen this side of him—this sort of grumpy, snarly side—when he’d been at her house. Typical. Hiding his bad behavior so he could draw her in. Very male move. Fortunately, she was wise to that. And it didn’t matter how nice he looked he looked in a pair of tight jeans.
“So tell me about the ranch,” she said, desperate to pull the conversation onto something she didn’t care about so she could stop overthinking every interaction.
“When my dad was running it, it was a mainly a cattle ranch. Now we board horses, and we’ve just started a breeding program, but that’s still in the early stages. And, of course, we’re taking guests now. Either for a chance to enjoy luxury accommodations or to give you a little ranch and rodeo experience. The rodeo part of it is my brother’s job. If you can call it that.”
“Why wouldn’t you call it that?” she asked.
Cole turned, a half-smile curving his lips. “Because Cade doesn’t work if Cade doesn’t have to.”
“I have a brother like that,” Alexa said.
Cole ignored her comment.
The path forked, and Cole took the one on the far left. The uphill incline grew more pronounced, and the trees thinned, giving way to a mossy clearing with a cabin set into the hillside, made from the same knotted, honey-colored wood that the lodge was built out of.
Kelsey turned and looked behind them. The view was spectacular: green mountains fading into a hazy blue, stretching on forever.
“Beautiful,” she said. She had seen views like this every day growing up, and part of her missed that. Portland was a city surrounded by greenery and mountains; an urban life that didn’t require a total sacrifice of nature. But this was different.
The sky stretched on forever without being interrupted by gray steel. There was no noise. There were no car horns or engines to break the thick silence; nothing but the occasional bird. For just a moment, the sense of yearning and homesickness was so pronounced it was painful.
“There’s another, smaller bedroom through there. Bathroom next to it. There’s a path behind the cabin that will take you the short route to the lodge.” Cole walked up the steps and pushed the door open, depositing the luggage just inside.
Kelsey and Alexa both followed him in. The cabin was warm, with pristine wood floors and a plush bed. There was nothing rustic about it. It was luxurious in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Cinnamon-hued drapes hung from the windows, and the bedding was made of a heavy satin in chocolate brown. She sort of wanted to curl up in the middle of the bed and go to sleep.
“I’ll bring the rest of your bags up later. But if you want a moment to settle in . . .”
“Yes. Thank you. That would be good,” Kelsey said, the strange sense of vulnerability still clinging to her like an unwanted mist wrapping itself around her skin.
Cole nodded and walked out, shutting the door behind him.
“What a jackass,” Alexa said.
“Didn’t stop you from looking at his butt.”
“Consider that a public service. So I could let you know if it was worth it.”
“What makes you think I didn’t look?”
“Did you?”
She tried to play it off, even though she was slightly ashamed of herself. “Of course I did. I’m pregnant, not blind.”
“So was he that big of a jerk when you first met him?”
Kelsey shook her head and sat on the edge of the bed, the down comforter fluffing up around her. “No. He was nicer. I don’t think he likes you.”
“A sure sign of a faulty character.”
“Maybe.”
Alexa came and sat down next to her. “Hey, in all seriousness . . . what are we doing here? What do you expect to happen?”
Kelsey was a planner. She always had been. She’d had dreams, she’d chased them. Even better, she’d caught them. Because she’d always believed that it was in a person’s power to make her own life what she wanted it to be.
Now she wondered if that was even close to the truth.
“I’m trying to figure it out.”
Chapter Five
“So, we have guests in four?” Lark, Cole’s younger sister, looked up from the computer screen.
“Yes,” he said, settling onto the leather sectional that stretched across the open public foyer that served as the lobby of the lodge. The lodge was also his family home. The downstairs was mainly dedicated to guests, with a large dining and lounge area. The kitchen was private, with a small dining area. But other than that the upstairs was where he, Lark and, most recently, Cade, lived.
“How long are they staying?” Lark turned her focus back to her computer, a lock of dark hair falling into her face. Lark ran everything administrative on the ranch, and she was their webmaster. Most of the time she still looked like a kid to him.
“Don’t know.”
“Cole, I have to know.”
“Well, I don’t know. Kelsey is a writer . . . she’s here to do a piece.” Sort of. “And she’ll be here until it’s done.”
“Kelsey?”
“Kelsey who?” Cade walked through the front door and straight into the room.
“Back up and wipe your boots, Cade,” Cole said.
Cade took another step forward. “Kelsey who?”
“A guest,” Cole growled.
“He knows her name,” Lark put in.
“Why do you know her name?” Cade turned to him and arched one brow.
“I met her,” he said, standing up and wandering into the kitchen. He jerked open the fridge door and pulled out a bottle of beer. He positioned the lip of the cap on the edge of the counter and smacked it with his palm, popping it off. He raised it to his lips, ready for a little bit of stress relief.
“Where did you meet her?” Lark asked.
Sh
e and Cade were standing in the kitchen doorway, peering at him more like a couple of overeager kids than like the adults they were supposed to be.
“Portland,” he said. The truth would work until a lie became necessary.
“She’s the girl you banged?” Cade asked.
“Cade, ew, don’t,” Lark said.
“What she said.” Cole gestured to his sister with the hand that was gripping the bottle.
“Well, is she?” Cade pressed.
“No.” The truth again.
His brother, to his credit, dropped it. “But you know her name.”
“A common courtesy, introductions. Maybe they didn’t teach you that on the circuit?”
“I may not have asked every woman her name before”—he cast Lark a look—“but I am familiar with introductions. You, Cole, are usually short on friendliness, especially these days, and especially with women, so it stood out.”
“I know her friend’s name too.” Except as soon as he said it, he realized he didn’t. He did though. He had to. He’d met her some twenty minutes ago. She’d said it. Or Kelsey had. But he didn’t really remember which one. All he could really remember was that her friend had given him the evil eye. If looks could castrate, he’d be a soprano.
Lark smiled. “This is some sort of a record! You talked to two guests in one day.”
“Are you both saying I’m . . .”
“Aloof?” Lark asked.
“An asshole?” Cade put in.
“Rude?” Lark again.
“I’m not. I just don’t have time to be social. There’s a lot of work to do around here. Work that doesn’t involve an Internet connection, and work”—he looked at Cade—“that doesn’t involve strutting around hitting on every woman that comes into the area. Don’t,” he said, pointing his finger at his brother, “even think about hitting on Kelsey or her friend, by the way.”
“First off, I don’t strut; not these days,” Cade said, smacking his thigh muscle. “I believe they call that a gimp. Second, you aren’t in charge of who I hit on.”
“In this instance, I am. If I see you looking at them wrong, I’ll make the other leg gimpy too.”
