Cowboys Don't Have a Secret Baby

by Jessie Gussman

  “Okay,” she said in a very businesslike tone. “Here is the list of things that we need to have donated. Here is the list of things that we’ll need to buy.” She pointed to the last folder. “And this is the list of the people who have donated in the past.”

  She patted the legal pad beside her. “We’ll need to make a list of people who have signed up to have a booth. We need to set the cost for that, and we’ll need to figure out where we want the booths to go.”

  “If it’s anything like it used to be, people are like cows. They each have the spot they’ve gone to for years and years, and you’d better not try anything different.”

  His heart twinged a little as her lips twitched. Even though she straightened her mouth out immediately, he considered it a win.

  “You are right about that, and I believe Mrs. Irvin included the map of which people get which booths here somewhere.” She rooted through the folders, her fingers supple, the nails short and practical. No polish.

  There was no bling on Louise. Never had been. She didn’t need it. She was real, exactly what she seemed. Her authenticity attracted him now, just like it had before. Stronger, maybe. Because he knew how rare it was.

  “Here we go.” She put the hand-drawn map on the table between them. “Oh, yeah. This is exactly the way it’s laid out every year.” One slim finger pointed to a booth in the middle of the row on the right. “There’s your mother’s booth.”

  He could see “Donna Hanson” written in pencil. “Yeah, we used to help her there every year.”

  “I bet she makes a good bit of money there. People come from all over to Harvest Fest.”

  “They do. It used to be the biggest fall festival in several counties.”

  “Oh, it still is. That’s why planning it is so much pressure.”

  “Hey.” He waited until she lifted her gaze. “Don’t feel pressure. We can do this.”

  Her lips flattened, like she wanted to argue. But they stayed closed. His whole heart longed to make her smile.

  “If it flops this year, there’s always next year.” It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it before the words had faded into the grease-scented air.

  “It might not mean anything to you. But this is my town. Not only do I not want to look like an incompetent idiot, but some of my friends and neighbors depend on this festival to make ends meet. I’m sure you probably don’t understand that, and I get that you don’t care—”

  He put his hand up. “I care. I understand. It was a stupid thing to say, and I’m sorry. I’m going to work as hard as I can to make this the best Harvest Fest yet.”

  Her lips pursed, but she didn’t argue.

  He took the list of items that needed to be donated. “You read me the list of people who usually donate, and we’ll start there. I can call people tomorrow morning early, and we’ll meet back here tomorrow night and see what we still need.”

  His taking charge seemed to ease her mind, because her face had lost a lot of that pinched look.

  “That sounds good,” she said in a more subdued tone. “I’m sorry I flipped out on you just now.”

  “It was a stupid thing for me to say. I didn’t mean it. I was just trying to...make you smile.”

  The pen flipped end over end through her fingers. She shifted in her seat. Everything that lay between them felt heavy and thick. He wished it would go away. But he knew it was his own fault it was there to begin with.

  “Louise, I’m sorry about what happened—”

  The bell jingled, and a lone customer strode in, walking over to the counter and sitting on a stool.

  “It’s okay,” she said quickly, and he knew she might mean it, but it really wasn’t okay.

  She slid out. “I’ve got to get him. I’ll be back.”

  “That’s fine.” He reached over and grabbed her folder. “I’ll compare these and make a list.”

  Chapter 7

  Over the next week, they met every night in the diner after the rush. Louise had to admit, Ty was doing the majority of the work involved in calling people and organizing the donations. Haybales to line the pig chasing contest. Pedal tractors for the kids’ race. A big tractor for the tractor driving contest. Pies and hot dogs for the eating contests. A hundred different things. He was taking care of it all.

  Which she appreciated. They’d been working well together, with her taking care of the booths, making sure everyone had the information about when they could start setting up and where the tables would be. She’d also scheduled local talent to man the mike, giving everyone an hour starting right after the parade was over and continuing on until ten at night. Everything from stand-up comedy to families that sang in four-part harmony to local bluegrass bands.

  She’d started looking forward to Ty coming in. He’d eased her mind about whether or not he was going to take it seriously. After all, he’d blown off their town, and her, so completely after he’d left, she really wasn’t sure he’d care enough about anyone or anything here to put the time and effort into making their festival a success.

  After where he’d been, their town and its dinky little festival must seem unsophisticated and hayseed compared to the glitz and glamour he was used to. She tried not to think about that, nor about their past. And she definitely couldn’t think about the fact that she was still attracted to him. Still liked him as the hard-working, kind person he’d been.

  One person remained in the diner, still eating. She put his dessert order on the shelf.

  Rebel picked it up. “You mind cleaning up yourself tonight? I’d like to cut out early if I could, and Jackson’s already gone. His brother was coming up from the Cities today.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine.” Louise’s smile was genuine, and she tried to hide her exhaustion. They were working hard at home to get the produce put up before the first frost. They’d been lucky it was late this year.

  She grabbed the plate with the pie slice on it and carried it over to the man sitting at the table.

  Setting it down, she smiled. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “No thanks.”

  She set the bill down. “I’ll be back for this in a bit.”

  He jerked his head at her. She walked over to the corner table where Ty had the folders spread out.

  Sinking into the seat, feeling the instant relief in her feet, she slid in. “I think we’ve done enough for tonight.”

  “Yeah. Everything is under control.” Ty gave her a quick grin.

  Her insides rolled. She reached for the papers and started gathering them up, trying to make her heart stop hammering. Why did his smile have to be so devastating to her?

  “So, what are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Canning tomatoes,” she said without looking up.

  “Sounds fun. I’ll help. What time should I be there?”

  Louise’s heart fishtailed in her chest before beating rapidly. Tella was staying the night at Sawyer’s since once it got cold she wouldn’t be able to. Louise didn’t need to worry about that angle. Although it was a reminder that she needed to tell Ty about Tella. Sometime. Somehow.

  The door jingled, and Louise turned. The man with the pie had just left.

  She stood. “I’m going to flip the sign. Rebel’s leaving, and I’m cleaning up by myself tonight.”

  Ty stood too. Her head tilted as she looked up.

  “I’ll help,” he said.

  He was as good as his word, and it was barely thirty minutes later when she flipped the lights out and locked the door.

  “You never told me what time to show up tomorrow,” he said as they faced each other on the sidewalk.

  “You know, maybe you have a little more North Dakota left in you than you think.”

  He snorted. “What? Because I just volunteered to can tomatoes?”

  “Kinda. More because your neighbor is working and you’re just showing up to help.” She could almost forget that he was a hockey superstar.

  “Maybe I just want to be with yo
u.” His voice came out like cream over strawberries and caused her heart to stumble then gallop.

  She stared at him. He’d been so good to her over the last week or so. She’d tried so hard to concentrate on Paul and what he was saying as he ate his supper at the diner, but every evening, her whole being was attuned to the door opening and the man in front of her walking in. His legs long and muscular. His bearing confident, maybe a little cocky, even.

  She loved that confidence. That proud bearing. It made Paul, as sweet and kind as he was, seem mousy and almost feminine.

  “Louise...” His hand came up and touched her hair.

  Her whole being wanted to close her eyes and lean into his hand.

  It moved down to cup her cheek, and somehow the space between them disappeared. Her head craned up, and his eyes, dark and deep under his cowboy hat, searched her face.

  Her knees felt like gelatin on a summer day, and she put a hand on his chest to steady herself. Hot and hard. Her hand pricked, and fire shot down her arm.

  His other hand came up, and his thumb brushed over her cheek. His touch scrambled her brain and made her forget why being with him was such a bad idea. Why she shouldn’t press closer. Why she shouldn’t turn her face up to meet his lips as they descended toward hers.

  The chin, that was so like Tella’s...

  She jerked away, turning her back and taking one step. Her breath came in fast gasps like she’d just ripped herself out of the grasp of a tornado.

  “Louise, I—”

  His hand touched her shoulder.

  “No!” She yanked her shoulder out from under his hand. What had she almost done? The man could muddle her brain faster than a hot skillet melted a pat of butter. Tella. She had to remember Tella.

  Ty had already left her once, pregnant and alone. Maybe they could share the blame for that, but if it happened again, it would be all on her. She was a single mom with a child depending on her. She couldn’t afford to be that stupid again.

  She turned back around, her arms crossed over her chest, her feet planted. “I appreciate your help, but I don’t want you getting the idea that you can breeze back into my life and pick up where you left off nine years ago.”

  His mouth opened and hung there. He adjusted his hat. “I...I didn’t, don’t, think that. I’m sorry, I—”

  She put a hand up then kicked her feet into gear and walked past him, shoving aside the easy truce from the past week as they’d worked together. She’d let down her guard, and this is what had happened. She’d almost kissed him.

  “I’m sorry, Louise. I wasn’t thinking that. I wasn’t thinking anything.” His voice held tones of frustration, and she guessed it was at himself.

  It made her feel bad, and she slowed. She was overreacting out of fear and protection for her daughter. Ty was a nice guy. She didn’t need to be mean. But she needed to keep him at arm’s length.

  A sigh pressed out of her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m more upset with myself than you.”

  “I’m still coming out tomorrow.”

  She fingered the folders in her hand. “We start at five.”

  Chapter 8

  Ty pulled into Louise’s house at 4:30 the next morning. He’d almost screwed everything up last night. He’d been that close to kissing Louise. He hadn’t even apologized to her properly, and he’d almost kissed her.

  Not being able to keep his hands to himself wasn’t a problem he was used to having. The girls that usually hung on his arm didn’t cloud out rational thought and make him want to start thinking about spending the rest of his life working beside them.

  The kitchen poured light out of the windows and the open door. Palmer’s truck was missing, and Ty would bet he’d taken his new wife to the big cattle auction in Fargo, which is where Ty was going to ask Louise to go before she said she was canning. He hadn’t been to an auction since his dad died, and having Louise by his side would ease the sting some.

  He stepped up on the porch and rapped on the screen door.

  Gram looked up from where she was washing and coring tomatoes and squinted. Recognition flashed across her old face. “You don’t have to knock, Ty Hanson. Come on in. What brings you out so early this morning?”

  He hesitated in the act of opening the door. Hadn’t Louise told Gram he was coming? He glanced around. She stood at the sink, her back to him, up to her elbows in suds. Looked like she was washing jars. Well, he’d just go with it. He opened the door and walked in, careful not to let it slam.

  “I heard there was some tomato canning going on around here, and I figured I’d get in on the action.”

  Gram’s brows raised above the rims of her glasses. “You must like her an awful lot if you’re coming to court this early in the morning.”

  Ty grinned at Gram and winked. What would Louise do if he walked over and put his arm around her? Kissed her on the cheek? Slap his face, probably.

  She looked over at him. Her eyes looked tired, like she’d slept less than he did. But she gave him a smile. He couldn’t read her expression. Maybe she was surprised he showed? At least she was smiling at him.

  They’d gotten into an easy, if still somewhat awkward, companionship type relationship over the last week at the diner. Maybe he’d ruined it last night. Or maybe he could get it back. That little smile was a nice first step.

  Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and fell in a wavy mass down her back.

  He gave his most charming grin. “What can I do?”

  A large canning pan already steamed on the stove, and a smaller pan sat on a hot burner beside it. It had been close to fifteen or twenty years since he’d helped his mother can tomatoes, but it wasn’t rocket science. Just hard work.

  “There’s a dishpan out on the back porch.” She nodded her head at a door that hung partially open behind Gram. “You can take it and fill it up with ripe tomatoes from the picnic table over by the garden.”

  “I’m on it.” He walked across the kitchen and out the back door. The tomatoes were easy to find since the porch light was on. He picked the ripest, unsure if they were going to do them all today, and walked back in.

  Louise set him to work washing while Gram cored. Soon Louise had the counter full of clean jars, and she moved some dishpans around, getting more tomatoes for Gram so she didn’t have to get up and moving the washed and cored tomatoes over by the stove. They chatted with Gram about how many quarts of tomatoes she’d canned through the years and talked some about the apple harvest and whether peaches were too expensive to try to get and can.

  Nice, easy conversation that reminded him of his youth and the simple life he’d left. No hockey talk, no talk of the latest celebrities, and no concern over hair or makeup or their hundred-dollar manicure. Just living life.

  When Louise started scalding tomatoes and putting the hot ones in the cold water, he moved over beside her. Skinning a tomato and throwing it in her pan, he asked, “You want me to go out and get more?”

  “Yes, please. We’re going to do all the ripe ones we have.”

  That was a lot of tomatoes.

  “We’re making salsa with the next round,” Gram said behind him. “You can come help with that too. I like having a strong back around so Louise doesn’t have to lift everything. Ruined my back when I did it for years.”

  He gave the big pan of tomatoes on the table a look. “As long as I’m here, Louise shouldn’t have to lift anything. Unless she goes all stubborn cave woman on me.”

  Gram laughed, and he even heard Louise snort. He bumped her shoulder with his before he left to get more tomatoes.

  All in all, he made ten trips out for tomatoes. In that time, the sun had come up and a beautiful morning had dawned on the flatlands of North Dakota. He’d missed this fresh-air scent and the vast expanse of land that made him feel free and a little wild. As he carried the full pan in, he used his hip to hold the door, and just as he was swinging around to slip the pan through, his eye caught the pile of shoes by the door. Not even necessarily
the pile. Just a certain pair.

  They were pink. And too small to be Louise’s.

  He blinked. That was weird. He didn’t have much experience with ladies’ footwear, but he was pretty sure Louise didn’t have shiny unicorns and rainbows on her shoes.

  Did Louise babysit in addition to working at the diner? Was the family in that bad of financial difficulty that Louise had to work two jobs? He tucked that back in his brain to pull out later. He wasn’t going to be shy about asking Louise if there were money problems on the ranch. Farming was basically nothing but money problems.

  Easing the screen door shut, he hefted the pan of tomatoes and carried it in.

  By nine o’clock, they had twenty-seven quarts of freshly canned tomatoes sitting on a board on the counter. Pap had come out for a while, and he and Gram had eaten some oatmeal. After eating, he and Gram had both gone in to lie down for a rest as Louise cleaned the last big pot and Ty wiped the cutting boards.

  His back ached.

  “Did you have breakfast?” Louise asked.

  “Nope. Got up and came right over.”

  “Then how about I make us a couple of burritos?”

  “I’ll eat anything.” Maybe his stomach growling had been louder than he’d thought. “I’ll finish scrubbing that pan for you, then.” He moved over beside her. She stiffened but didn’t move away.

  “No. You go sit down. It’s not too hot outside yet. I’ll bring our breakfast out in a few minutes.”

  He put his hand over hers to get her attention. “I’m not going outside to sit down while you keep working.”

  She stilled and looked up at him. “I just figured you were tired.”

  “I’m figuring you are, too.”

  “But I’m used to this. If we were ice-skating, I’d wear out first.”

  “I’m not so tired I can’t work for another ten minutes.”

  She let go of the rag, and he took it, releasing her hand. “If that’s the way you want it,” she said, “you can sweep and scrub the floor after you’re done with the pot.”