The Cowboy’s Pregnant Sweetheart (McCall Ranch Brothers Book 3) Read online

  It wasn't as if he hadn't known the two of them were chummy. Winding Creek was a small town, after all, and the judge was an old family friend of the Petersons’. But hearing the two discussing details professionally and seeing them out on the town were very different things. Even after everything he’d done, including leaving her twisting in the wind when they were young, Karen’s dealing with the judge behind his back felt like a betrayal. More than anything, he felt as if things were slipping out of his control, a situation he simply couldn’t tolerate.

  “Carson?” Karen asked, her voice coming out of nowhere.

  Startled, he dropped his rake with a sharp, "What the—?" He had to hop a few times on his good leg to catch his balance again, and then he pulled his hat off of his head and ran an agitated hand through his hair. He'd gotten so lost in cleaning and trying not to be pissed off anymore that he had completely lost track of time. Looking up, he saw Karen and Devon standing there, looking at him like some kind of basket case. Worst of all, he didn't feel any more settled than he had before.

  "Oh, McCall," Karen gasped, obviously doing her best not to giggle and losing the fight. "I'm so sorry. I actually called your name when we were at the door, but you didn't hear us. Whatever you were thinking about had you pretty far out in la-la land."

  “Don’t call me McCall,” he groaned, adding a rueful laugh as he picked up the rake and leaned it safely against the wall. He smiled and raised a hand in greeting to Devon, who was standing several paces behind Karen, looking uncertain. Apparently, whatever expression had been on Carson’s face when they had walked in had him a little spooked.

  "Okay, okay," Karen said, still giggling. "I'm sorry. ‘Carson’ from now on, cross my heart and hope to die." She solemnly made the gesture as she spoke the words.

  Carson gave a sharp nod, shoving his hands into his pockets because he didn't know what else to do with them. Yes, he was mad at Karen for picking up meddling in his life again right where she had left off. But try as he might to distance himself, he couldn't seem to help himself from finding Karen as distracting as she’d ever been.

  Under the winter white knit hat, pulled low, her hair spilled over her shoulders in a flaming cascade. She was biting her bottom lip, an expression he recognized from long acquaintance as meaning she was trying to stop herself from laughing at an inappropriate time. The practice had driven him crazy back in the day and apparently still had the same power. Even though cold was blowing in through the open door, he suddenly felt hot all over. Taking off his jacket, and maybe his flannel shirt, almost felt like a good idea.

  “Are you up for the lesson today?” she continued, cocking her head as if trying to read his expression.

  That was the last thing he wanted, given where his thoughts were running. He cleared his throat, scooped up his cane, and brushed past her. “Of course,” he called over his shoulder, resisting the urge to take another look at her face to see if she was as annoyed by his heading away as she had been back in the day. “My man Devon and I have big plans.” He moved down the line of stalls, Karen and Devon following close behind.

  “Okay,” he heard Karen say as they reached the stall he was aiming for, her voice sounding uncertain. “But it’s really okay if you need to reschedule for tomorrow, or something. You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind, and—“

  He turned around impatiently. "Look," he interrupted in a low tone meant for Karen’s ears alone. Her micromanaging ways were as exasperating as seeing her all buddy-buddy with the judge at the coffee shop, but he didn’t want Devon's feelings to be hurt. "I said it was good. You got what you wanted, okay? You don't have to control my every move. If you're going to stay during the lessons, you have to let me do my job.” He forced a laugh. “Otherwise I’ll go crazy, you know? I’ll start to feel like Big Brother is watching me."

  In the moment of thick silence that followed his lame attempt at a joke, Carson felt immediate regret.

  “Um, okay,” Karen said at last. “Sorry. If you’re good, you’re good. I won’t interrupt the lesson again.”

  “Karen, I—“ he said with a sigh, slapping his thigh with his free hand. Why was he blowing things out of proportion? Things had always worked better in the past when he’d made a joke.

  Before he could offer any kind of half-hearted attempt at an apology, though, she wrapped her arms around herself and took a seat on a nearby bale of hay. "You ready, bud?" she asked brightly, ignoring Carson as if he’d suddenly winked out of existence.

  Devon nodded, though he still looked a little dubious about the whole thing. He couldn't stop looking from Carson to Karen and then back again as if trying to work out what was up between these adults that could make a simple riding lesson so tense.

  “Good!” Carson chimed in, doing his best to match Karen’s level of enthusiasm and even clapping his hands to add to the effect. “Let’s get you on a horse, what do you say? We’ll start with tacking up.”

  The boy didn't say anything, as a matter of fact, but he nodded again, and this time, Carson thought he saw the boy’s lips twitch in a smile. When he introduced Devon to the horse he was destined to ride, the smile grew wider, and the boy’s eyes began to shine behind their thick lenses. Carson was gripped by that same feeling of familiarity, the idea that something in Devon resembled Carson himself as a boy.

  Despite his protest at the start, he began to relax as he and Devon worked together. He found the boy to be an attentive, almost rapt student. Carson had the feeling that the boy took everything he said like a message delivered by some kind of sage. And while Carson knew he had the tendency to maintain a bad mood, almost taking guilty pleasure in the indulgence, Devon, as quiet as he was, made it difficult to keep any negativity going.

  The afternoon would likely have ended on a far more positive note than it had begun, if not for a stupid mistake. Carson knew that nobody with a lick of sense—a real teacher, anyway—would have been so careless. That said, twenty-twenty hindsight was about as useless as tits on a bull.

  He knew better. From seeing his younger brother Randy with Heather's three-year-old twins, he understood that you needed to keep your eyes on kids at all times, but he’d let himself be distracted by the thought of Karen somewhere behind him, watching every move he made. He turned to look at her, and the afternoon fell apart.

  One minute, Devon was sitting happily in the saddle, gaining confidence and starting to try to push the horse a little faster. The next moment, the boy’s scream shattered the relative peace of the afternoon.

  "Oh, my God!" Karen exclaimed, jumping up from her hay bale and clapping her hands over her mouth.

  Carson hopped around as best he could, catching his balance on his cane, every muscle in his body suddenly tense with fear. Thankfully, while the boy was clearly afraid, he’d fallen onto the soft surface of the riding area and evidently hadn’t hurt himself badly.

  Karen ran to Devon’s side, her face white. She fell to her knees and reached for him tentatively. "Oh, Devon," she said gently, running her hands over the boy’s limbs and checking for any breaks. Carson could have told her that the likelihood of a break was slim, but he was feeling enough guilt at the moment about his lapse that he kept his mouth shut.

  “Tell me where it hurts, Devon,” she continued, not letting the young rider get up. “Do you think anything is broken?”

  “No,” Devon answered, glancing at Carson as he spoke as if needing backup. “I’m okay.”

  "I don’t know," Karen countered, slowly pushing herself to her feet when Devon insisted on rolling to his hands and knees and standing up. She picked up Devon’s glasses from the soft surface, dusted them with the tail of her shirt, and handed them over, saying, "Maybe we should stop the lesson, at least for today. I want to make sure you're doing all right, and I know your mom would want to know about the fall."

  “I…” Devon started and swallowed hard. In a shaky voice, he insisted, “I want to finish.”

  Karen turned to look at Carson, ha
nds on her hips and eyebrows knitted together in a frown. Her expression clearly said that she was still pissed about his attitude at the start of the lesson, but it also appeared to him that she was afraid and looking to him for some kind of confirmation. Ironic, when he thought of it—coming to him for help when he was the one who’d caused the problem in the first place.

  But somehow, even though the thought surprised him, he had become invested in Devon. He understood that the kid had difficulties, even had a feeling that the boy had perhaps been a little coddled because of it. Maybe Carson might only accomplish a small amount with Devon, considering how brief their stretch of lessons was planned to be, but he still wanted to help the boy.

  “It’s okay, Devon,” he said, nodding and putting on his most confident smile. “If you’re up to it, I think you’re good to go. That’s one of the things about riding—and not just rodeo, kid. When you fall off the horse, you’ve got to get right back on again.” He thumped his chest with his thumb. “Look at me. Case in point. I fell off, but good, but I’m planning on getting back in the saddle just so soon as I can.”

  He was pleased to see Devon’s nod.

  Karen threw up her hands, obviously still uncomfortable but willing to follow Carson's lead. In her eyes, though, he thought he could see clearly that she didn't trust him—at least, not to take care of Devon. Maybe she was right. Carson hadn't been able to keep his own career on track, or to keep himself in check, and so far, he was proving that he couldn't take care of some simple riding lessons, either.

  He turned to limp after the horse, standing patiently a few steps past where Devon had fallen. Thankfully, cow ponies were taught to ground-tie, meaning they’d stand still when their reins hung down. At least he wouldn’t have to try to chase the gelding down with his gimpy leg. He patted the soft face that turned inquiringly to him as he reached for the reins. “Not much I can do,” he muttered under his breath. “Not without messing it up.”

  4

  Carson spent the rest of the week trying to keep busy, a new, unwelcome theme in his life. To him, it seemed that everyone in his life was moving on to bigger and better things. Meanwhile, he was standing still. Both of his brothers had finally found their place in the world. Professionally. Personally. They had families of their own, were settling down and building up their own happiness, brick by brick. And what was he doing?

  "Standing still," he muttered as he puttered around the kitchen, trying to find something to stay busy until this afternoon’s lesson with Devon. He heard the crunch of tires on the snow outside the house and felt a surge of pleasure, quickly followed by a wave of dull despair. He wasn't sure when he had let his life be reduced to looking forward to giving a kid riding lessons, but he knew one thing for sure. That wasn’t even standing still. Nope—his brothers were moving forward, and he was going the opposite way.

  "McCall?" Karen called from the front porch. He could hear the shivers in her voice, could practically hear his visitors hopping from one foot to the other to keep warm. "Hey, you in there?"

  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, wondering how many times he was going to have to ask her to stop calling him that before she took it to heart. He raised his voice so they’d hear him. “I’m here! Just hold your horses.”

  Carson opened the door and saw, to his surprise, Devon giggling softly. Karen shrugged in answer to his questioning look, chewing on her bottom lip again and making him feel as if he needed to take a walk to clear his head. Maybe a cold shower would be better.

  Standing there in the winter afternoon, Karen was almost painfully beautiful. Worse, he thought, she didn’t seem to have any idea of it. She’d always been like that, though. Or maybe, he thought, she simply hadn’t ever noticed the effect she had on him.

  “What?” he asked, clearing his throat and trying to get his thoughts back on track. “Did I miss something? What’s the joke?”

  “He thinks,” Karen said, rolling her eyes, though her lip-chewing had been replaced by a grin, “what you said was funny.”

  “What did I say?” Carson asked, grabbing his jacket and hat and nodding toward the arena as he spoke. “I won’t lie, I’ve been known to be the jokester from time to time—“

  “Oh, yeah,” Karen groaned. Her hand accidentally brushed against his as they both reached for the doorknob, and she pulled it back in a quick jerk, her smile growing thinner around the edges. “I remember.”

  “But,” he continued, his voice cracking at the zing of electricity that had shot up his arm at the feel of her brief touch. “I wasn’t trying to make a joke. So tell me, what gives?”

  “Hold your horses,” Devon answered, mimicking Carson perfectly though he didn’t meet Carson’s eyes. “And we’re going to ride a horse.”

  Carson looked at Karen quickly, his eyebrows raised, but she only shrugged. Honest to God, he could see that her body was actually shaking with silent laughter. Somehow it struck him as funny, and soon Carson was laughing, too. By the time they reached the arena entrance, all three of them were hooting like kids, a rare moment of complete levity as opposed to his mood when he’d opened the door. It struck him as strange, how often he was finding such moments with Karen. The feeling was almost enough to make him forget he wasn’t doing this by choice.

  “Karen,” Devon hissed, tugging on her sleeve as they moved into the covered arena. His eyes, staring at the roof beams, were wide, the kind of wide that hinted at an entire conversation Carson couldn’t hear. He looked at Karen again, frowning a little, and she bit her lip again, her eyes dancing with mischief.

  “All right, I’ll bite,” Carson said. “What’s going on here? Looks like the young man has something on his mind.”

  “Well, Devon was talking to me on the drive over here, and he’s got an idea,” Karen said slowly, glancing at Devon and smiling at the boy’s vigorous nod of approval.

  “Okay, sure,” Carson said, although he was starting to get a bad feeling about where this conversation was going. “I’m listening. What’s the idea?”

  Instead of answering, Karen looked to Devon, nodding her head when he started to shake his. Carson wasn't thrilled—whatever was hovering in the air between the two was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention—but that didn't stop him from being glad to see Karen taking a step back from doing things for the kid. In Carson’s humble opinion, which nobody seemed all that interested in asking for, it would do Devon a world of good to have somebody force him out of his comfort zone. The kid needed to find his voice, and that wasn’t going to happen with people trying to speak for him all the time. Carson could only hope that whatever Devon was asking for was something that Carson was prepared to give.

  “It’s okay,” he said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder lightly. He couldn’t help feeling a little burst of pleasure when Devon let the hand rest there instead of shaking it off. With every lesson, Devon seemed to trust him a little more. “You can tell me. I can’t promise that the answer will be yes, but—“

  “I want you to ride with me,” Devon said quietly, addressing Carson’s chest with wide, hopeful eyes. “Instead of holding the lead rope. If you ride with me, maybe I’ll learn faster.” He flicked a quick look at Carson’s face and looked away again, standing tense, listening for the answer.

  Carson nodded, stalling for time. A part of him had known this question was coming, or at least some version of it. The reason Karen had given when she’d suggested Carson take on the job of teaching Devon in the first place had been his rodeo experience. It was only natural that Devon would want to ride together with him. Carson would have wanted the same, if their roles had been reversed.

  Except that he couldn't do it. It simply wasn’t in the cards. For starters, he still had a medical boot on his leg, and it wasn't fixing to come off anytime soon. He hadn't tried to swing into a saddle since his injury. He suspected it wouldn't make a pretty sight. On top of that, he felt rusty and sluggish. He had a sinking suspicion that giving in to Devon’s request would
only lead to disappointment. For everybody.

  “Are you?” Devon asked, his face hopeful, hands clenched into little balls of excitement at his sides. “Are you going to ride?”

  “Aw, come on now,” Carson said with an easy laugh to hide the nerves the question had stirred. “If I’m sitting on a horse next to you, who’s going to be there to catch you when you fall?”

  He waited for the laughter that should have followed the punchline. He had used comedy all his life to deflect anything and everything he wasn’t sure how to handle. Making things into a joke had been an easy way to work himself out of a tight spot and hang on to his friends at the same time.

  In the back of his mind, a small voice reminded him that Karen had been the only one who’d ever been consistently bothered by it. He probably should have seen that as a sign of trouble to come.

  This time, though, he knew almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he’d made a mistake. The lack of laughter was the obvious clue, but the worst part was the way Devon's expression suddenly and completely went from hopeful pleasure to guarded pain.

  Carson heard Karen’s sharp intake of breath and winced, shutting his eyes briefly. He should have known better than to handle a boy like Devon with vaguely insulting humor. The kid was too literal, too sensitive for that. Carson had been so busy trying to save himself the embarrassment of failure that he had let himself forget it for a minute.

  "Hey, no," Carson said, clearing his throat. He knelt down awkwardly in front of Devon, medical boot and all, and looked up intently, trying for even a little eye contact in return. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I do that sometimes—I open my mouth, and the next thing I know, I’ve got my foot so far in, it’ll take a crane to get it back out again.”