Cowboy Baby Daddy

by Claire Adams

  He just sat there, oblivious to the fact that I was ready for him.

  All of him.

  No matter what it took or what others thought.

  “Morning, Stella. How was your weekend?” he asked.

  “Oh, it was good,” I said as I walked over to his desk. “Nothing too special.”

  I set the coffee cup down on his desk, knowing the smell of raspberry mocha would waft up to his nose. I caught him drinking it the other day with a smile on his face, and I wanted him to start his week off right. I wanted him to know that I was noticing the little things about him. That he was important enough for me to want to.

  Plus, I wanted to make him smile.

  He grabbed the coffee and brought it to his lips without pausing his writing and took a long drink before he set it back down. And during the entire transaction, there was absolutely nothing. No thank you, no smile, no compliment on how good it was. There was no moan of satisfaction, no grin gracing his cheeks, no sign of any pleasure from the perfect cup of coffee I’d brought him.

  Tailored specifically to his liking.

  Nothing. Like it used to be with Greyson. Nothing, like the way Greyson thought of me. Nothing, like the way Greyson treated me. Nothing, like the way Greyson talked down to me.

  Nothing was the theme of this morning, and I felt myself grow nauseous.

  “Are you alright, Christian?” I asked.

  “Mhm. Why do you ask?”

  “You seem off,” I said.

  “Well, I am preparing for an out of town meeting. We’re heading to New York on Friday. I need you to join me,” he said.

  “What’s the meeting for?” I asked.

  “We can discuss that later. I’m still planning out the bare bones. Pack light. We’ll leave early that morning,” he said.

  “Christian,” I said.

  “Yes, Stella?”

  “Look at me.”

  He raised his gaze to mine for the first time that morning, but all I saw was an ice cold wall. His lively eyes I’d grown to feel safe in threw me out of their warm pools. The body I had dreamed of seeking comfort within all weekend was suddenly holding me at arm’s length. The warm rays of sunshine from his smile I had previously found myself basking in were masked by the taut frown pulled over his cheeks, and that’s when I realized the grave mistake I had made.

  I assumed he was different than Greyson.

  “If you don’t mind, I have a great deal of work to do today. It’ll be a late night if I don’t get on it now,” he said.

  “Right. Well, enjoy the coffee,” I said. “And I’ll be ready for the out of town trip this weekend.”

  “I’ll get you the notes for the meeting once I flesh them out,” he said.

  “Sounds good.”

  I turned on my heels and walked out of his office as I choked back tears. The light blue eyes I had come to adore were now iced over, locking me out of something I had been privy to only a week ago. I knew I hadn’t been imagining things. I knew he had just as much fun as I did that night, even if neither of us were willing to admit in the beginning. I saw the softness of his gaze in the park and felt the strong comfort of his arms when he hugged me.

  I felt that fucking kiss on my ear before he let me go.

  I guess he’d had his fill of me and now he was done, just like that bullshit best friend of his. I knew of Todd’s reputation around town. I knew that he kept that stupid little barista job so he could go to all these parties and hook up with the women he did. He probably enticed Christian to live that same type of lifestyle. And now Christian was trying to have both lives. He was trying to live the life of a successful business owner while still screwing around with women.

  And he thought his broken-hearted stepsister would be easy prey.

  I slammed my office door behind me and tossed my purse onto the couch. I felt tears rise to my eyes as I thought back to how I’d let him in so easily, and I cursed myself for thinking he could ever change. Ever grow up.

  Ever be a man.

  They were all the same, men like him and Greyson. They used what they wanted, took what they knew they could have, then tossed it away when they were done. Maybe the adoration I saw in his eyes that night was just the drunken sheen of the liquor he’d been drinking at dinner. The comfort I sought out in his arms at the park was probably only the strong arms of a brother who was trying to wiggle his way into my life.

  Maybe he was trying to erode the barriers I had put up so I wouldn’t swoop in and take the company from him.

  “I’m such a fucking idiot,” I whispered.

  A part of me that wanted to believe it was real. That the things he’d murmured in my ear that night were true. Musing of how beautiful I was and how lucky I felt. I wanted to believe that he wanted to wake up to me as much as I’d wanted to stay.

  But, maybe I had imagined it all.

  Maybe he never really had feelings for me to begin with. Perhaps he didn’t have feelings at all.

  Tears of frustration trickled down my face. I’d let it happen again. I’d let a man with kind eyes and a nice smile reach in to rip out my heart. I allowed him to penetrate me in ways I didn’t allow many men to, and now I had to work across the hall from the heartless bastard. Memories of our childhood that kept me warm at night this weekend turned sour in my head, as my stomach churned at the fact I’d have to travel with him this weekend, and suddenly I didn’t want to go.

  Maybe I could get sick with Ebola or break my arm. Or I could take the company from him this week and throw him out on his ass. What if I could get him sick so he’d have to cancel the meeting? Maybe I could figure out what the fuck this meeting was about and cancel it myself.

  After all, I was the vice president. I could do shit like that.

  I slowly sunk down onto the couch and allowed the tears to drip onto my blouse. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have thought that my fucking stepbrother could love me that way? We hated each other growing up, so how the hell was that supposed to change?

  Holy hell, I’d fucked my stepbrother.

  “I need a psychiatrist,” I murmured.

  Just then, my phone rang. It vibrated in my purse, inching the leather bag toward my leg. I shoved my hand in and grabbed it, wanting nothing more than to throw it against the wall.

  But, once I saw it was my lawyer, I couldn’t open the phone quick enough.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Miss Harte. It’s me. Listen, I need you to come to my office as soon as you can. When can you get in here?”

  “I wouldn’t be free until Monday. I’m about to go out of town on a business trip. Is everything alright?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to address it over the phone, but you’re going to be interested in something I managed to dig up. I think it could help you with the project you asked me to delve into.”

  “Alright. What time would you like me to come in on Monday?” I asked.

  “I open at 8. Could you get here then?”

  “I’ll be there bright and early. See you then,” I said.

  “Looking forward to it. I think you’re going to be a very happy woman when I see you.”

  I hung up the phone and dropped it to the floor as my mind began to whirl. What was he sitting on that couldn’t be addressed over the phone? I sat there and pondered as to what it could be. Maybe there was a hiccup with the paperwork. Or the will and testament was forged. Maybe there was a deep, dark secret I could hold over Christian’s head, or maybe he really was mentally incapable of doing this job.

  My mind swirled with all the things it could possibly be, but there was a little flutter in my stomach that took me by surprise. It was small, barely even there, but the more I thought about what my lawyer told me, the more it grew.

  Guilt.

  It was the fluttering of guilt that kept growing in my stomach, bloating me to a size I couldn’t handle.

  And I questioned everything I had done up until this point.

  For the f
irst time since I learned my father had given Christian the family business, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to take it from him.

  And I sobbed when I realized why.

  It was going to be a very long week.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Christian

  I was waiting at the airport with my bag in hand. For a weekend trip to New York, the only thing I needed was a nice suit, a change of clothes, and my laptop and files. It would be a quick, painless meeting that would place the company in a much better position than it was already in, and I knew Stella and I would be the dynamic duo necessary to get it done.

  I saw Stella walk up with her small bag at her side, and for a split second my breath caught in my throat. Even in a simple pair of jeans and a shirt, she looked stunning. She saw me standing next to the entrance to the plane and smiled at me, and I could’ve sworn the radiance from her sparkling eyes evaporated the bones in my legs.

  But, none of that mattered. Todd’s reaction to the situation had convinced me that what Stella and I were doing would never be acceptable, so I had to keep things professional. I had to keep it together long enough to shake whatever the hold was she had on me, and I had to do it soon.

  “Morning, Christian,” she said. “Thanks for emailing me those notes.”

  “Not a problem. My apologies for getting them to you so late. Did you have a chance to look them over?”

  “I glossed them. I’ll look them over more on the plane,” she said.

  “Now boarding, first-class passengers on flight number 5013 to New York City,” the gate attendant’s voice blared over the loudspeaker.

  “That’s us,” I said.

  “First class? Was that necessary?” she asked.

  “If we are going to go over the meeting information, we might as well be comfortable,” I said.

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  I handed my ticket to the attractive female attendant, and she scanned it. Her eyes were probing me, I could tell. What I couldn’t tell, however, was if she was looking to see if I belonged in first class or if she was checking me out.

  She waved me on to board the plane, and I decided to stop and wait for Stella.

  And when she gave me a curious look, I was glad I did.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. This seat in first class is already taken,” the woman said.

  “I’m not sure I understand. I believe these flights were booked at the beginning of this week,” Stella said.

  “Is there a problem?” I asked.

  “Could I see your ticket again, please?” the attendant asked.

  I handed her my ticket, and she compared the two before she sighed.

  “It looks as if someone has booked the two of you in the same first-class seat. I can sit one of you in first class, but the other will have to take one of the available economy seats.”

  “There isn’t another first-class seat open?” Stella asked.

  “No, ma’am. I’m sorry. But, the difference will be refunded.”

  “Oh, I’m sure of it,” I said.

  “Go ahead and give Mr. Gunn the first-class seat. I’ll take economy,” Stella said.

  “No, no. You still have to go over those notes. I’ll be fine until we land. Give Miss Harte the first-class seat,” I said.

  “Christian.”

  “Give her the seat,” I said pointedly.

  “Miss Harte, welcome to first-class. Mr. Gunn, I am so sorry for the confusion. Let me print you out and scan a new ticket.”

  I could feel Stella’s gaze on me as she passed by me to board. My new ticket was printed out and scanned, and she was kind enough to let me on the plane before anyone else in economy was allowed to board. I knew that most bosses would have taken the first-class seat, but with Stella having to study those notes, I couldn’t do that to her. Economy would be cramped, and she would have no room, and I didn’t want to run the risk of her not being able to concentrate the way she needed to.

  Whether or not she cared for me, she was still an asset that needed to be on top of her game for this to work.

  The flight was fraught with turbulence. So much so that the plane took a few dips that caused people to scream out. I couldn’t help but wonder how Stella was handling the entire flight, and part of me wanted to find someone to go check on her. I cursed not double-checking the tickets when they were sent to my cell phone, and it was a massive lesson learned as the guy beside me started throwing up from motion sickness.

  Economy was trash, and I’d go the extra mile to make sure I never had to fly this way again.

  We landed in New York, and I was more than happy to be off that plane. I found Stella with a pale face and shaking hands, and everything in me wanted to reach out to her and pull her into my arms.

  But, I couldn’t do that. I had to be professional. I had to make sure she understood that I didn’t have feelings for her. This had to be a business relationship and nothing more.

  “How was the flight up there?” I asked.

  “Let’s just get to the hotel,” she said breathlessly.

  “We need to stop by the office first. Will you be alright with that?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she said.

  We walked out and flagged down a taxi, who took us to the client’s New York office. I needed to check in and make sure things were still on schedule for the meeting today, but the moment I told the secretary who I was, her face fell.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Gunn. The meeting got rescheduled for Monday morning. Did someone not call you?” she asked.

  “No. No one called me. Could you get someone on the phone for me? We’re only in town for the weekend,” I said.

  “They are in meetings all day. They double-booked. Here, what hotel are you and Miss Harte staying at? I can extend your stay free of charge,” she said.

  “That would be wonderful, thank you,” Stella said as she stepped in. “We’re staying at the DoubleTree Suites downtown.”

  “I will get them on the phone right now and extend your stay until Tuesday. If you want to leave your return flight information with me, I’d be happy to reschedule you both on first-class tickets for your return flight Tuesday morning,” she said.

  “Thank you very much. I’ll email it to you. Is this email on your business card correct?” Stella asked.

  “Yes, it is. I’ll look out for your email. And again, I’m so sorry for all the trouble.”

  “No worries at all. Have a wonderful day,” Stella said, smiling.

  I was impressed with how she handled herself. I hadn’t ever seen her talk with the type of confidence she just had. She used no filler words, and not once did she stumble over what she was trying to say.

  She was perfect in the way she addressed that woman, especially since my anger and frustrations were getting the best of me.

  “Come on, Christian,” she said. “Let’s go check into the hotel, get a bit of rest, and I’ll take you out to dinner tonight.”

  “That won’t be necessary, though I could use the nap,” I said.

  “Christian. You gave up your first-class seat to me. Let me treat you to a nice dinner.”

  “Stella, I’m honestly not sure that is a good idea,” I said.

  “I’m not going to jump your bones. We’ll stay away from the alcohol, and all will be well,” she said.

  “Fine. I’ll let you take me to dinner tonight. But, only if I can get some rest. I’m exhausted.”

  “That’s fine. I could use a nap, too,” she said.

  “The two of you are aware it’s almost 5 in the afternoon, right?”

  We both turned to look at the secretary before I looked over at a clock on the wall. She was right. Even though we’d left San Diego that morning, by the time all the bullshit was over and we took into account the time change, it was almost dinnertime as we spoke.

  “Alright. Quick dinner, then bedtime. Sound good?” I asked.

  “Wonderful,” she breathed.

  I flagged down a car and told the c
ab driver to take us to the nearest place where we could get some decent food. We lugged our things into the restaurant and sat down to eat, and suddenly I felt myself slip into a natural pattern with Stella. We laughed over a drink and talked about how awful the flight had been, and I could feel myself falling back into that same familiar scenario that had happened a week ago.

  “You really didn’t have to give up your seat,” she said.

  “It really wasn’t anything. I wasn’t going to let you ride economy,” I said.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because everyone knows economy sucks. I didn’t want our first business trip to be that horrible for you,” I said.

  “Well, that’s very kind of you to say. Next time, just double-check the tickets so we can both fly first class,” she said.

  “Trust me; I learned my lesson with that one.”

  “So, what are we going to do with the weekend? I don’t think either of us planned on having it,” she said.

  “I plan on taking many baths in that jet tub I know is in that hotel room. Maybe a nice dip in the pool. Possibly getting away with a naked steam sauna trip.”

  “We aren’t in Europe, you know. If someone walks in and sees that thing you’re swinging between your legs, they're going to run out screaming,” she said.

  “It’s better than them walking out laughing,” I said, grinning.

  Stella reached over and placed her hand on top of mine, and I turned my palm up to take her hand. Whether it was the low-lit atmosphere of the restaurant shrouding what I was trying to do or whether it was how warm her skin was, I couldn’t go another second without feeling it against mine.

  If only for just a second.

  We ate and laughed over dinner before Stella settled the check, then we headed over to the hotel. I could practically feel the way that pillow was going to mold to my head, and my eyes began to droop even as I leaned against the hotel lobby desk.

  “Reservations under Christian Gunn and Stella Harte, please,” she said.

  The woman typed something on her computer before her brow furrowed slightly, and I groaned before the words even left her mouth.

  “Stella Harte, you said?” she asked.