He swallowed his reactionary words. They sat in his gut like rocks. What would Axel say? No help there. Axel was a man of action, not measured thoughts. August? No. He was brilliant, but he and Catalina had verbally tussled for years. Seemed to thrive on it. Not Anders. He wanted peace in his home.
“I know,” he said.
Day by day.
“But we made the baby together, and I want to help.”
“I don’t want to owe you anything.”
“Owe me?” He was so shocked he flung his arms wide, exasperated.
She flinched and jumped back. Fear skittered across her face, and she brought her arms up.
“Tinsley?” he said, keeping his voice soft and arms down to his sides, loose. Her pose relaxed, and he felt like he could breathe again. “I know it’s a lot of changes.”
“And I’m expected to make all of them. Every single one. New job. New town. New apartment. Even my body feels new. And I don’t like it at all!” She raised her voice, and then, looking a bit surprised, she whirled away from him, and her shoulders hunched. “I hate this. I wasn’t going to do this with you today. Argue.”
He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling all kinds a fool as more than a few folks he’d known most his life walked up and down the achingly familiar street of his childhood home. A few had called out to him, but now that it was obvious there was A Problem, people were pretending to ignore him, and he was pretending all was well.
And that meant Axel or August would hear about this.
Damn.
“A spat on Main Street probably isn’t the Verflucht branding August and Catalina were hoping you’d develop,” he said, unclenching jaw with a Thor-like effort.
She turned around and brushed the back of her hand against one cheek and then the other.
He’d made her cry. Another punch in his gut.
I should be the one brushing away her tears.
The thought surprised him. It was dumb. Something a romantic, emasculated idiot in a cable movie would think all while having puppy dog eyes that stared at the movie star heroine helplessly.
He shouldn’t be making the mother of his child cry.
“Stupid hormones,” she muttered. “I think. I used to hate it when a woman would express a real emotion—anger because her boyfriend stood her up or flirted with another girl or was late without texting and she’d blame her period. Women have real emotions, not just during their period or pregnancy.”
Anders nodded.
Tinsley glared. “Don’t even say it.”
“I wasn’t even thinking it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get clever.”
“Not often an issue.”
“Damn you, Anders Wolf.” But the words lacked heat and now he could see the sparkle in her whiskey-colored eyes that always made him thirsty for a drink from her lips—the lips that were faintly curved in a smile.
Relief washed through him. He closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. “Tinsley, I promise I…”
“Anders, I’m sorry…” she began.
Their breath mingled, and he forgot what he was going to say. Her eyes warmed, and he felt the brush of her firm breasts against his shirt as she breathed in and out, and then his gaze naturally drifted lower.
The off-the-shoulder shirt that highlighted her beautiful skin drew his fascinated regard. Her breasts—always high, round and so sexy, a handful he had savored and never forgot their satin texture or the way her nipples felt pebbled against her lips—looked even more luscious.
“Eyes up, cowboy,” she murmured.
“You shouldn’t be so damn beautiful then. Or so sexy I can’t think with my northern brain.”
She pulled her hands out of his.
“Considering I’m pregnant, that’s not going to last,” she said. “And that’s all we had.”
What? His brain stuttered at the quick change of tone and subject.
“No, it’s not,” he objected automatically.
“Sex was all you wanted,” she stated. “All you’ve ever wanted in a relationship. You told me that straight out.”
The truth of her words spoken in her calm voice, clearly enunciated, slapped against his ears.
“Ummmm, yeah,” he admitted. “But you were good with it.” He felt stupid even uttering the words.
“I was. Sex was all I wanted from you. No relationship. No promises. No expectations. No marriage.”
Each time he felt like he’d taken a step forward, he was shoved two steps back. Maybe three.
He took a deep, calming breath. The last thing his family needed—especially in front of his brother’s high-profile tasting room—was a lover’s spat. “Let’s take this inside,” he said moving forward and gently taking her arm.
She jerked her arm away fast, spun around and dropped into what looked a little like a fighting stance. Her breaths were quick, and she watched him the way he’d seen coyotes and ranch dogs square off over the years.
But Tinsley was a woman. He’d never hurt her.
And then an ugly suspicion entered his mind. Had a man ever laid a hand on her? Someone on the tour? A customer?
“Tinsley,” he began cautiously. “What’s going on? Did someone hurt you?” He could barely voice the question and the way his blood felt like it was boiling freaked him out. He was not the hotheaded bull rider on the tour. He’d de-escalated many brewing fights and had pulled more than one drunken cowboy off another so what was with the sudden desire to swing a right hook at a man who dared to lay his hand on his woman?
My woman.
That set him back on his heels because Tinsley did feel like his. She didn’t want to be and certainly wasn’t acting like his woman, but she was. It might only be a couple of days since he discovered he was going to be a father, but he felt a sense of belonging and possession and family to his bones.
“Anders, I appreciate the truck and how you’re trying the best to handle me like I’m fragile, but I’m not. And I don’t want to be handled. You don’t need to pretend to care about me,” she said, putting her hands on his chest like she was pushing him away. “We are both adults. We were attracted and we acted on it. And a couple of months later, we indulged on impulse again. We both enjoyed ourselves, but we both walked away heart-whole. The…” She waved her hand.
“Baby,” he filled in, narrowing his eyes in disbelief at her speech that sounded rehearsed.
“Doesn’t have to change anything. We both know you were done. You told me that. One more night. I agreed.”
What a dumbass he’d been and still was. One more night. He’d been kidding himself. He’d wanted another night because he couldn’t get her out of his head. His blood. His body practically hummed whenever he saw her. Their night at the wedding—swimming at the swimming hole, watching her do a striptease wearing his Stetson in the lights of his truck, making love until he couldn’t walk, had made his craving for her, his fever for her, worse not assuaged it.
“You don’t want to settle down yet, and I… Ah the real Verflucht truck has arrived,” she said briskly pushing past him.
Anders nearly choked on his frustration. Give her time. Day by day. Those words did not seem to be ones he was able to live by. Anders had always laughed at the stories of his dad and grandpa finding their loves. The stories of the Wolf men finding brides—one won in a poker game—had always been colorful.
Now Anders was beginning to see that they might be more than entertaining and amusing. They might be good advice.
She looked back over her shoulder, her gaze sultry. “If you truly have the stencil, now would be a good time to start painting.”
Anders glared as Catalina, who waved cheerily, started backing up—the sensor beeping annoying him further.
“I’d rather stencil my name on your ass,” he growled.
She stopped, and he felt a burst of satisfaction to finally get her attention.
“What is wrong with you?”
“I know
I said some dumb BS about time and day by day, and you can have it. Fine. You need it. It’s yours. But I’m all in.”
“Anders?” Her beautiful brows that so expressively framed her eyes flattened in confusion.
“I’m not walking away. I’m not going to start checking out other women’s asses if you gain a few pounds. I’m not going to dance or do anything else that’s not work-related with another woman while I’m out on tour. I am not a cheater.”
“It’s not cheating. We don’t have a relationship,” she said, but her eyes didn’t meet his. “We just had sex. Is that what you want? To continue to have sex with me when you’re home?”
“Sex is just the beginning of what I want from you, Tinsley.”
*
Tinsley hurried forward to greet August and Catalina. Her heart raced, her skin tingled, and even more embarrassing her panties were more than damp. How did he do that—piss her off, scare her and arouse her all at once. She needed better control or she would jump into bed with him again. That would be so easy. Every atom of her body was screaming for him. But she wasn’t going to be the dumb woman at home waiting for her man who was out doing whatever he wanted—like her mom, like she’d been expected to be when married to John.
She wouldn’t tolerate a cheater. Had Anders been serious about commitment?
She shook off the memories and the questions. Time to get her head in the Verflucht game. Her research last night and this morning had helped to focus her.
“Hey girl,” Catalina poked her head out of the truck window. “I see Anders has been busy.”
“Far too busy.” Tinsley forced a smile. “He bought me a truck. Fire-engine red.”
“Ruby red.” Catalina rolled her eyes as she put her own dark green truck in park and agilely hopped out. “I spied on the boys ordering it online over coffee at dawn. They were clicking and manguing over all the upgrades and the color. Anders caught a lot of brother grief over the color. That seemed to be his line in the sand.”
“Manguing?” Tinsley echoed.
“Man-arguing.” Catalina surprised her by hugging her. Anders and August did some kind of man-shake ritual that somehow made her want to laugh and roll her eyes at the same time.
“He didn’t need to buy me a truck.”
“It’s a company truck,” Catalina said innocently. And then her pixie features broke out in another engaging grin, and her gray-green eyes sparkled with amusement.
“You’re going to have battles with Wolf men. Sometimes you lose, but hey, it’s an eye-catching color so it’s a great advertisement for us.” She linked arms with Tinsley and led her to the back of the truck where quite a few wine cases were stacked and tied down. August was already in the truck bed, unstrapping the boxes.
Tinsley made to jump into the truck bed, but Anders was there, smiling while his blue eyes glinted like steel. His jaw was set like it was when he approached the chute to prepare for his eight-second ride.
Now what?
“Aug and I got this,” Anders said easily. “You ladies…”
“There is always castration if they irritate you too much,” Catalina interrupted.
“Ouch,” August deadpanned while Anders turned to look at her, a bit shocked. “You’d miss the perks of being my wife,” August reminded her.
“A perk is it? That makes it sound small.”
August laughed and Anders high-fived Catalina. Family. Friends. Solid relationships. Envy slithered through Tinsley even though she tried to ignore it.
“Just saying, boys. I grew up on a ranch—don’t think I don’t know how.”
To give herself something to do—mainly her job and to quiet the new and disquieting rush of…feelings—Tinsley reached out and pulled a case of wine from the truck.
“Where do you want me to start stacking these, Catalina?” she asked.
“I got this.” Anders swept the case out of her arms, added another and then stalked off toward the tasting room.
“That did not just happen,” Tinsley muttered.
“Pick your battles,” Catalina advised and grabbed a case. “And while you’re braining Anders, bring the dolly. There should be two of them in the closet that’s right outside the wine storage room. And you may want to grab a sweater. The tasting room wine cellar is cooler to protect all the wine.”
Tinsley grabbed another case to be more efficient and headed into the tasting room to get the dollies.
“Got it,” Anders said as she walked into the Verflucht tasting room, and for a moment she couldn’t see as her eyes adjusted to the difference in light.
“I’m going to kick you with the pointy toes of my cowgirl boots,” she said as he took the case from her.
“Gotta catch me first.”
Tinsley held on to her temper and dignity, barely, and instead wheeled out the two dollies to the curb.
“Thanks,” Anders said, loading one up with five cases and then another, his body blocking her access to the truck.
Catalina and August smoothly fed the cases to Anders, and he stacked them with an efficiency that was admirable.
And irritating.
“I have not suddenly become some weak, swoony heroine in a melodrama,” she informed him. “I’ve lugged thousands of cases of whiskey over the past year. And lugged up until last week.”
“And today you don’t have to lug anything.” He smiled and wheeled a dolly away.
She seized the other dolly as August made a move to hop off the truck.
“Wish I’d brought some popcorn,” August called out after her as she sped-wheeled the dolly back into Verflucht.
“Stop with the ‘I am a man’ attitude,” she hissed, joining Anders in the wine cellar.
“I am a man. Proved it.” The sexy light in his eyes filled her with heat, and that sensuous, arrogant gaze landed first on her breasts, lighting her on fire despite the climate-controlled cool of the room and then slid lower to her abdomen, which made her want to kick him all over again when she had never once had an impulse toward violence ever.
But this situation with Anders required a finesse and diplomacy she lacked after five years of independence. She was fiercely determined to control her own life to please herself.
“Congratulations. You and I both effed up the birth control. Not something to celebrate.”
His features shut down—his two dimples nowhere in sight.
“What I want to say, Anders, is let me do my job.”
“With no thought to the baby’s safety?”
She jerked back, shocked by the fierceness of his question.
“That’s not fair,” she said. “Are you thinking about the baby’s safety with your job, jumping up on two tons of bucking, thrashing bull with nothing but some leather, Kevlar, helmet, mouth guard, tied-on boots, medical tape and your crazy courage?”
The silence pulsed between them, and she felt a stab of satisfaction.
“The baby is not inside me,” he finally said, very slowly as if she were dimwitted. “Have you even checked about heavy lifting during pregnancy?”
“A case of wine isn’t heavy,” she denied. “I am in terrific shape. My job is very physical. Catalina’s not sitting at home fanning herself and streaming Netflix waiting for the big event.”
But no, she hadn’t Googled anything about babies. Or pregnancy. She’d been avoiding the idea all together with the exception of the prenatal vitamins.
“I’m not interfering with how you do your job. Treat me with the same respect.”
“Respect?” he echoed in disbelief. “What the hell do you think I’ve been doing?”
“The truck was because of the baby,” she said. “And the fancy mattress was for you because you think you’re going to be spending your occasional few nights home in my bed between challenging bucking bulls and riding buckle bunnies at different cities for weeks away at a time.”
Anders jerked his head like she’d struck him.
Okay, she was being mean, but she had to be. She was goi
ng to cave. She could feel it—Anders’ concern for her health was because of the baby. Everything he was doing was for the baby. And his family was starting to make moves to include her in their lives because of the baby.
“You don’t want me. Nothing you are doing is about me. It’s all because of the baby,” she whispered.
Tell me that’s not true.
The thought scared her half to death.
“Let’s just both stop talking now,” he said grimly; his eyes glinted hard and angry. “I’ll stack the different varietals as you wheel them in,” he said, his voice tight. “I’d be helping August and Catalina with this anyway since Catalina has her assistant winemaker and crew busy in the winery today and Axel has most of the ranch hands working on the northern fence lines and checking water holes. So this, at least, is about them and not the baby.” His voice was a sarcastic whip.
He handed her the dolly and turned his back.
Tinsley hesitated. She burned to apologize. Anders hadn’t deserved her ugly tongue—all of her insecurities dragged from her past and vomited all over him. He’d been doing what he thought noble, no doubt, as the right thing. But she didn’t want to be his right thing.
A burden he’d stoically endure.
She should be happy, she thought miserably, staring at the stiff, long line of his strong back. Mission accomplished. She’d pushed him hard and far away. Instead she felt a little sick.
“Go.”
Tinsley opened the door and hurried back to the truck like she was being chased, which she wasn’t. Not anymore.
Chapter Thirteen
Four hours later—most of those in the saddle because he’d needed to get away from people—especially Tinsley with her harsh accusations about his character and intentions—Anders and his oldest brother Axel rode back toward the main stable.
“You going to be able to look at some stock for me while you’re in New Mexico?” Axel asked.
“Yeah. Fine. Text me the details.”
“I did last week when we talked about it.”
“Cool. Whatever.”
Axel didn’t verbally respond, just a fractional tightening of his lips, but Anders heard his silent question.
A Baby for the Texas Cowboy Page 11
