The Bull Rider's Baby

by Brenda Minton

  “How’d it go?” Sophie didn’t look up at him. Lucy had a finger on Sophie’s chin and cooed as if she had something important to say.

  “Great.” He took a few steps closer. “She looks better already.”

  A half of a day of antibiotics and fluids had brought big changes to his little girl. Keeton walked into the room and set containers of Chinese takeout on the table. Sophie looked up, her smile soft, the look in her eyes, soft.

  “Keeton, I’m really sorry. That house meant a lot. I know you’re not feeling good right now.”

  “Not great, but I’ll survive. At least we weren’t in the house.”

  “I doubt they wanted to hurt you. They seem to be more interested in scaring people.”

  “Yeah, we just have to figure out who they are.”

  “I think that means finding out who wanted that land and why. Who bought up the land around us and why?”

  “I can do some searching on that.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Soph, we need to talk about the note you got.”

  “It’s in my purse.”

  “We should give it to the police.”

  Sophie leaned her head toward Lucy and played with the baby, ignoring him. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting, watching. Maybe falling in love. He shook his head to clear those thoughts.

  There had always been something about Sophie, something he couldn’t shake. He’d beat himself up a lot for those feelings.

  “Soph?”

  After a few minutes of smiling and talking to his baby girl, Sophie looked up, her hazel eyes locking with his. “I’ll tell someone. I had hoped it was just kids playing a prank. You know? I mean, really, what happens in Dawson that needs the police involved?”

  “Even Dawson has its share of problems.”

  “I know.” She kissed Lucy’s cheek, and then stood and eased the baby into the crib. “Where are you going to stay?”

  “I haven’t decided.” No way would he mention that guesthouse and Jackson’s idea. “I can go home to Broken Arrow and hire a few of your construction friends to rebuild for me. Or maybe get a temporary trailer.”

  She pulled a blanket over Lucy and turned to reach for a bag from the Chinese restaurant. “I have a guesthouse.”

  The offer took him by surprise. She had a way of doing that. That had to be one of the things about her that drew him the most. She looked so in control all the time, and then she did surprising things that no one expected.

  “Are you offering to move me into your life?” He smiled, and then realized the words had been all wrong. She smoothed her skirt and slipped her bare feet back into jewel-encrusted flip-flops.

  “I’m offering you a place to stay.”

  “Got it.” He reached for his food. “I might take you up on that.”

  “And I’m going to take the dinner you bought me and go home for now.” She walked to the door, tall and slender, her pale blue skirt swishing around her ankles.

  At the door she turned. He remembered what he’d told Jackson. Sophie could take care of herself.

  “Keeton, I’m not inviting you into my life. I care about you, and about Lucy, but…”

  “I know.” He wouldn’t make her say it. She had loved his brother a long time ago. Maybe she didn’t want the memories. Maybe it was about bull riding.

  Either way, he got it. And he didn’t accept it. But he wasn’t about to tell her, not yet.

  Instead he planned to show her what she didn’t seem to be accepting. She had a past. But the two of them could have a future. He’d felt it when he held her. And he kind of thought she had, too. He guessed those mammoth walls she’d built around herself were the one thing keeping him out of her life. Just call him Joshua because those walls of hers were coming down.

  Chapter Seven

  A few days after the fire at Keeton’s, Sophie watched the men working on the Tillers’ house. The frame was up. Jana Tiller stood nearby, her smile hesitant, as if she feared the dream of owning this house, this land. Sophie ignored the second phone call from Keeton, who had gone to Tulsa on business the day after the fire. He’d explained something about his property in Broken Arrow and a meeting with Hightree, Inc.

  She’d thank him later for the cat he’d moved to her place.

  The calls weren’t about the cat. She knew he’d want to talk about giving the letter to the police. She’d already done what he asked, and they’d thanked her and shoved it in the bag with other evidence collected, because they didn’t see how it could be connected to Keeton’s house. End of story. She hoped.

  “What next?” Gabe walked up behind her, making her jump a little. She liked him, but he had a way of watching her that creeped her out a little. But he had volunteered to help build houses while he drew unemployment from his welding job. That made him a great friend to the Tillers and to others who were building. She could excuse his immaturity and serious lack of social skills because he had a good heart.

  “I think you’ll have to ask Jason. He’s in charge of ‘what next.’” She smiled and nodded in the direction of Jason Kent. “Right over there.”

  “Yeah, I’ll ask. I need to head out for a few hours. I have a job to interview for.”

  “That’s great.” Her phone rang again. She answered it this time. “Sophie Cooper.”

  “I just saw your new houseguest driving through town with a loaded-down truck. Thought I’d warn you that he’s heading your way.”

  “Thanks, Jackson, I really appreciate you interfering in my life.” She smiled at Jackson’s uneasy throat clearing on the other end of the phone and she walked away from the crew. The people standing nearby were suddenly talking a little quieter and looking her way.

  “I knew you’d enjoy having someone close by.”

  “Of course.”

  He paused and the radio volume turned down in his truck. “On a serious note, I do think we’ll all sleep a little better if he’s over there.”

  “Right, and this isn’t about interfering in my life?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, it’s all about that.”

  “Thanks for admitting it.”

  “You’re welcome. When you heading home?”

  “Pretty soon. I had a full day at the office and it looks like things are going pretty good here.” She glanced at her watch and at the crew that had gone back to work. Jason was showing the Tillers a few things they could work on. They were all learning the steps of building a house.

  “Hey, Soph.” Jackson cleared his throat. Time for the other shoe to drop. “Watch for things that seem unusual. Don’t be afraid to call the police.”

  The air got a little heavy and her arms tingled. Sophie turned to face the people standing near the house, all ignoring her now.

  “Yeah, I’ll be careful.”

  She said goodbye and slipped the phone back into her purse. All of her life she’d lived in Dawson. All of her life she’d taken for granted that her community was safe, her neighbors were her friends. Something had changed. She shivered a little as she looked at the house frame, because it had something to do with this land and these houses. Doing something good for people shouldn’t put everyone she cared about in danger.

  After making her rounds and saying goodbye, Sophie walked to her truck and made the short trip back to her house. She smiled as she pulled into the drive and parked, not because of the truck parked near the garage, but because that silly mule stood near the barn waiting for his nightly ration of grain. One of these days she’d tell Lucky that his mule had taken up residence at her place. She might even tell him she’d had a bridle on said mule and had leaned across the animal’s back.

  As she walked up the steps to her front porch she glanced back at the garage and the upstairs guesthouse. No signs of lif
e. She slipped the key in her front door and stepped inside.

  It felt good to be home. She loved the quiet, cozy feel of her house. She’d had her sister Heather decorate, and the home had a bungalow decor with overstuffed chairs, braided rugs on the hardwood floors and the occasional antique piece of furniture to bring it all together. Her house. Her space.

  She kicked off the high heels that had kept her toes cramped all day and walked through the arched door of the kitchen. The coffeepot did its thing. Five o’clock and it started to brew. She smiled as she walked through to the laundry room and found her favorite sweats and her tie-dyed T-shirt. Comfy clothes, a cup of coffee and something easy for dinner.

  After changing she poured her coffee and opened the cabinets to see what looked good. Peanut butter, toaster pastries, cereal. She reached for a box of cookies and realized that wouldn’t really qualify as a meal, not even with milk. But why not? She was thirty-five years old. If she wanted cookies for dinner, she could have cookies.

  Or a grilled PB and J, with blackberry jam, of course. Buttered, grilled to perfection, the peanut butter melting into the jam on the inside. She reached for the loaf of bread on top of the microwave and frowned at the green growing inside. So much for her sandwich.

  Plan two. She turned on the radio and eighties music blasted. Why did eighties soundtracks make a person want to slide across the kitchen floor—even a person in her thirties—and drink milk from the carton?

  Milk and cookies, the dinner of champions.

  She paused as she lifted the milk jug and listened. She’d heard something. Or maybe not. A faint sound, a click, a thump?

  * * *

  Keeton walked up the steps to Sophie’s back porch. She’d gotten home fifteen minutes earlier. He’d waited, thinking she’d come over, see if they’d gotten settled. Then he realized she wouldn’t. Because he knew Sophie and she’d be thinking and rethinking the decision she’d made, and regretting.

  He stopped at the back door and smiled as he peeked through the window. Sophie Cooper never ceased to amaze him. Eighties rock blasted from a poor-quality radio and Sophie had just lifted a jug of milk to her lips. She drank from the carton? Sophie?

  Lucy let out a little cry, announcing his presence. Sophie turned with a slight jump, paled a little and then frowned. She put the milk back in the fridge, turned down the radio and walked to the back door.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you. Or interrupt.” He smiled, holding a much squirmier Lucy in his arms. Fluids and antibiotics had helped to produce a brand-new baby, nothing like the quiet little girl he’d been handed by Becka.

  “You didn’t.” She smiled at Lucy and the baby held her arms out. Just in time for his phone to ring.

  He gave Sophie an apologetic smile that she shrugged off as she took his daughter.

  “Answer it, I’ll play with Lucy.” She walked back inside and the door closed behind her.

  “Sure, okay.” Keeton watched her go and then answered his phone. It was Becka. He’d actually almost convinced himself she would leave them alone, that he’d never hear from her again.

  Wishful thinking? But then, someday Lucy might want to see her mom.

  “How’s my baby?” When she started with those words, he knew he had trouble coming his way.

  “She’s good, Becka. She’s great, actually.” He leaned against the wooden rail of the back porch. He’d thought about how much to tell. How much to withhold. Withholding would make everything easier for him. “I’m having legal custody paperwork drawn up. I’ll need an address so I can send you a copy.”

  “What do you mean, legal custody?”

  Close eyes, count to ten, be patient. He opened his eyes and glanced toward the barn. The mule had stepped up to the water trough and lowered his head for a long drink.

  “Becka, you left. You told me you didn’t plan on being a mom. I thought that meant you were handing Lucy over to me. As a matter of fact, I know that’s what you meant and I’m not going to play games with you. A child needs stability, not games.”

  “I’m not giving you my address.”

  “Abandonment suits me just fine.”

  “I didn’t abandon her. I gave her to you. You’re her dad.”

  “Right, and thank you. I love her and I plan on making sure she has a stable, loving home.”

  She hung up on him. It took a few minutes for his blood pressure to drop to a normal level. He leaned against the rail and thought about this life, the life he hadn’t planned. Inside the house he could hear Sophie singing off-key to his daughter. Sophie, also not a dream he’d planned. But things changed.

  He rapped on the door and walked inside. Sophie danced around the kitchen with Lucy and he really thought he heard his daughter laugh. Sophie heard it, too. She turned and smiled at him, one of those smiles that makes a person’s face light up.

  New dreams. What did he have to lose? He’d been drifting on the same path for years, not really risking anything. Why not take a chance on a new dream? Risk everything. He stopped at the edge of the counter and wondered how hard that would be, to give up old dreams for new ones.

  He’d already sunk most of his money into land that now included a burned-out shell of a house.

  What would Sophie say, if he asked her to take a chance with him? He thought maybe the time wasn’t quite right to ask her. She was still adjusting to him in her life.

  “I came to see if you had anything to eat.” He did his best to smile an easy smile. “I haven’t been to the store.”

  She kissed the top of Lucy’s head, “Did I see that mangy cat of yours sitting next to my garage?”

  “I couldn’t leave him behind.”

  “No, I guess you couldn’t. I’ve been feeding him when I feed my barn cats.”

  “Thanks.” He nodded in the direction of the coffeepot. “Mind if I have a cup?”

  “Help yourself.” She opened a cabinet. “And here are your choices for dinner. Yogurt in the fridge if you want healthy. I have cereal, toaster pastries. Um, the bread is moldy so PB and J is out.”

  “Do you have real food?”

  She wrinkled her nose at the question and shook her head.

  “I guess it depends on your idea of real food. I think I might have frozen pizzas in the freezer.”

  He guessed he didn’t really know Sophie Cooper. He would have guessed her to be classical, not eighties, and salad, not cereal. “I’ll check the freezer.”

  She mumbled something about him helping himself to her life. He grinned as he walked away from her. She had no idea just how true that statement would prove to be. He planned on being in her life for a very long time.

  He opened the freezer door. “Hey, you have steak in here.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Yeah, Jackson always keeps me supplied with beef. I use some and take the rest to the food pantry in Grove.”

  “And then you eat cereal.”

  “Don’t knock it.” She peeked over his shoulder, pointing to the third shelf of the freezer. “See, frozen pizza.”

  “You’re thirty-five and you eat like a college kid counting your quarters until payday.”

  “Sorry.”

  He turned, holding a package of steak, and she stood close, holding Lucy. He didn’t kiss her. It wasn’t easy, using that self-control, but he had a feeling she needed space and time to adjust.

  “Do you have a grill?”

  She pointed to the patio and the most amazing grill he’d ever seen. It looked as if it had never been used. “Go for it. You can thaw those out in the microwave. I think I have frozen French fries in there.”

  He opened the freezer and pulled out a full bag of fries.

  “Dinner will be done in an hour.” He stepped past her and Lucy reached, her little hands touching h
is arm.

  He kissed his daughter’s cheek before stepping away to put the meat in the microwave to thaw. Yeah, new dreams and a new life.

  While he got the steaks thawed and sprinkled them with seasoning from her sparse cabinet, Sophie hauled a playpen out of a closet, dragging it with her free hand and holding Lucy in the other arm.

  “Let me help.” He moved away from the counter, reaching for the playpen.

  “I can do it. I have nieces and nephews, and I’ve taken care of plenty of babies.”

  Of course she had. She should have had her own kids by now. He followed her out the door, itching to take the playpen but knowing she’d rather just do it herself. That’s the way she was wired. He remembered driving up behind her one night twenty years ago. Her old truck had broken down on the side of the road and she’d climbed up on the bumper, practically inside, to fix the thing.

  He’d caught her smacking something with a wrench and asked if he could do it for her. She’d turned, dark hair framing a pixie face and hazel eyes shooting more sparks than her truck engine.

  She’d told him that she could do it herself. And she had. That might have been the moment he’d fallen in love, come to think of it. Or at least developed a pretty healthy crush on her. A year later the crush had turned into huge guilt.

  As she set up the playpen, he got the grill going. She handed Lucy over while she finished up, putting a blanket in the bottom for his daughter to lie on. Lucy loved the playpen. She could stretch out, squirm around. And there were gizmos that made noise.

  “I don’t have a clue what all she needs.” He leaned over, smiling at his baby girl.

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  “So you’re not going to offer to write up a list?”

  She wrinkled that perky nose of hers at him and shook her head. “If you want me to.”

  “I’ll manage.” He opened the lid of the grill and placed the meat on the fire. “How do you want it cooked?”