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

  “Ready for him to fly solo,” Carson said, watching her levelly as if waiting to see whether she would keep her cool or completely freak out. “Without me holding the lead rope.”

  “Oh,” Karen said, giving a brisk nod and pasting on a smile that felt unnatural.

  Carson was right to be watchful. This was exactly the kind of thing she would get nervous about, and with good reason. It would be just their luck to get to the very last lesson and have Devon get injured. Still, the last thing she wanted to do after the recent undiscussed weirdness between her and Carson was to give him the satisfaction of being right.

  "Oh?" Carson echoed, raising an eyebrow and watching her intently as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. "And?"

  “And that’s super exciting!” she gushed, putting more enthusiasm into her voice than was strictly necessary. “That’s what we’ve been working up to after all, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right,” he nodded, sporting a smug and humorous look that she was itching to wipe right off. “That’s why we’re here.”

  She nodded back. To her amusement, so did Devon. She and Carson got the boy onto his horse and ready to ride. Carson went over his list of safety reminders, explaining each one methodically and with the practiced patience of a born teacher. All the while, Devon sat and listened with rapt attention as if the moon and stars hung off of Carson’s every word.

  Karen fiddled with a strand of her hair as she watched the two, instructor and student, her mind going instinctively to ideas that were better left unexplored. Seeing Carson’s manner with Devon, she couldn’t help imagining what a good father he would be somewhere down the line. That led to thoughts of his baby, the baby he still didn’t know about, and her eyes welled up with involuntary tears. She cleared her throat reflexively and did her best to look normal.

  “Well, will you look at that?” Carson asked, grinning at her over his shoulder as Devon signaled his mount to move slowly forward. “We’ve got ourselves a gen-u-ine cowboy on our hands.”

  An hour later, Carson, Devon, and Karen sat around Carson's kitchen table, the remnants of a hearty winter meal before them. Devon had ended his last official lesson over-the-moon excited and more stimulated than usual. Because Kelly had sent them off to this lesson saying she wanted to be the one to pick him up from his final go around the arena, they'd had time to kill after the lesson was done. Somehow, the three had wound up in this likeness of a family supper: all together on a chilly winter evening, nourishing both body and mind.

  “Seriously, kiddo!” Carson called from his chair, his boot-clad leg stuck out awkwardly in front of him and his cane resting against the windowsill beside him. “When did you learn how to cook like this? I don’t remember you having this particular skill set.”

  "Kiddo?" Karen repeated wryly, giving Devon a look that made the boy giggle as she spooned the last of the leftovers into plastic containers for Carson's future dining pleasure. "When did you start calling me kiddo again?"

  He’d called her that when they were younger, something that she had claimed annoyed her as much as her calling him McCall bothered him. Secretly, though, she had always sort of loved it. The nickname had made her feel like a character in one of the old Bogart films her grandmother had always loved watching on late-night television. She was mildly dismayed to find that it still had the same effect on her, all these years later.

  “When you revealed this secret ability of yours,” Carson said, tipping Devon a wink. “Believe me, Karen, I think it’s safe to say that we’re both very impressed.”

  Devon was nodding as a car horn sounded from the front of the house. The boy’s eyes shot in that direction, and he popped quickly up and out of his chair, almost toppling it backward. Without a word, he hurried in the direction of the noise, his excitement at seeing his mother evident in every move.

  She saw Carson start to get up as well, slowly, showing more discomfort than he could possibly be comfortable about her noticing. Instinctively, she held out a hand to stop him.

  “No, please,” she said hastily. “Don’t worry about getting up. I’ll make sure he’s handed off to his mom. With him being so excited, he might knock you clean over without batting an eye.”

  “Well, all right,” Carson agreed with a chuckle as he relaxed back into his chair, although she thought she detected a hint of relief in his eyes. “If you say so. But if he’s that dangerous, make sure you watch your back.”

  Karen nodded and hurried after Devon, her cheeks burning as she went. Although she certainly didn't want Carson to exacerbate his injuries, she had another motive for not wanting him to meet Kelly at the door. Although her sister was, surprisingly, more than satisfied with the way Carson had handled Devon's lessons, she was still far from a fan. Karen wasn't interested in the two seeing each other again and Kelly making that fact clear as she inevitably would have. Kelly was not good at keeping her opinions to herself, and Karen didn't want the night to end on a sour note. Not after that lovely dinner.

  "How'd it go?" Kelly said as soon as the door opened, putting her arms around Devon as he flung himself at her. Her eyes were trained on a spot somewhere over Karen's shoulder, and Karen would have been willing to bet that she was looking for some hint of Carson. She was glad she had convinced him to stay put.

  "It was great," she said now, smiling down at Devon, who was nodding his head against his mother's chest. "He got to ride all by himself today, without a lead rope. I really think he's a natural, Kelly. He could be really good at riding if he keeps it up."

  “Right,” Kelly said, frowning. “Well, we’ll have to see. Horseback riding lessons aren’t exactly cheap, and without this little arrangement…”

  “Right,” Karen echoed, her heart fluttering a little at the reference to the end of the lessons. “Well, something to keep in mind, anyway.”

  “Sure,” Kelly agreed, craning her neck to peer inside the house. “Now, do you want to follow me out?” She took a breath and added, “Maybe you can come over. We could watch a movie or something.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Karen said, twirling her hair around her finger nervously. “But I’m still cleaning up back there.”

  "Cleaning up?" Kelly scoffed, her eyebrows knitting together. "Seriously, you’re cleaning up for him now? You're not his maid, Karen, and he definitely doesn't deserve rock-star treatment after what he did."

  “I know that,” Karen said quietly, taking deep, even breaths and doing her best to keep a flair of irritation from showing on her face. “But I made supper for the three of us, a sort of a celebratory thing, and I don’t want to leave him with all the dishes. He’s still in kind of rough condition.”

  “Okay,” Kelly said and shrugged, turning to head down the porch steps. “If you say so. I’ll see you soon, all right? We’ll do some catching up. I just want to remind you, though, that when it comes to Carson, you’re basically the worst decision-maker in the world. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but—”

  “No,” Karen interrupted, her face all at once on fire. “You’re right, it’s not. I’m not a kid anymore, okay? I don’t need you to take care of me.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Kelly countered, maddeningly calm. “I swear, he’s like your kryptonite. You’d be better off coming with me. Don’t play with fire, for gosh sake!”

  “I’m fine,” Karen said in a tight, clipped voice. She took a deep breath, relaxed, and forced herself to speak more evenly so that Kelly would lay off the big sister act. “Just take Devon home. I can take care of myself,” She loved her sister, and she didn’t want to say anything she wouldn’t be able to take back, but she could feel herself approaching the point of no return.

  “All right,” Kelly sighed. “You can’t say I didn’t try. Don’t forget, we need some sister time soon, okay?”

  Karen nodded and shut the door, heading back toward the kitchen. She knew that Kelly was only trying to protect her, but she couldn't help thinking those parting words held some kind of hidden thre
at. She shook her head at herself and returned to the kitchen. If only Kelly understood that her needling had the opposite of its intended effect. If anything, Karen was more tempted now than ever to throw caution to the wind, even if she might regret it later.

  "He get going all right?" Carson asked, two beers sitting on the table in front of him now as if appearing out of thin air. "You could have invited them in."

  “Yeah, they were in a hurry to get home,” Karen said, hugging herself protectively and hoping Carson wasn’t watching her face too closely. “Which I can totally do, too, if you like. I know you’ve got to be pretty tired.”

  “Nah,” he said, nodding in the direction of the unopened beer. “I’m actually feeling more energetic than I have in a while. I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’m glad I got to work with Devon. He’s a special kid, isn’t he?”

  “He really is,” she agreed happily, using the edge of the table to pop the cap off of her beer. She took a long swig. “I’m really glad you could see that. He doesn’t have a whole lot of people in his life that he can look to as role models, and none of them are men.”

  "Well, that's a shame," Carson said quietly, peering thoughtfully across the room as if looking at something only he could see. "I'd like to keep helping with him while I can. I don't know how long I'm going to be around, but if his mom would be interested in us continuing the lessons while I'm here, I'd be happy to do it."

  “Really?” she exclaimed, jumping up out of her chair so quickly that some of her beer foamed out of the bottle’s mouth. “Oh my God, Carson, you better not be messing with me. Would you seriously consider doing that?”

  “Sure I would,” he laughed, his eyes gleaming. “Why not? Like I said, he’s a good kid. I wouldn’t want him getting too used to having me around, so if you think there’s a chance that us keeping these lessons up will make things worse for him in the long run—”

  “No,” she broke in quickly, already mentally going over how she would present this new possibility to Kelly without making it seem that she was getting back into bed with Carson. “I think it will be good for him. And I think you’re amazing for offering to do it.”

  She bent down and hugged him tightly, holding her beer precariously to one side. She suddenly realized that she could feel his heart beating through his flannel shirt, almost perfectly in time with her own. At the same time, her skin felt as if it had spontaneously burst into flame, and every nerve ending she had was telling her to throw caution to the wind and kiss him again. While her head understood that it was a ridiculous, potentially dangerous thing to do, her body was making a seriously compelling argument.

  “Um, really,” she said, coughing a little as she stood up again. “Thanks. Maybe I should…”

  “How about we go for a ride?” he asked suddenly, sitting forward in his chair and staring at her with an intensity that made her feel tingly all over. “Me and you, riding in the moonlight, just like old times. What do you say?”

  No was the obvious answer. She knew it, and if Kelly had stuck around, Karen would have been shouting the word repeatedly from the rooftop. She took a deep breath, bought a few seconds with another swig of her beer, and prepared to disappoint him.

  “Yes,” she said, somehow shocked by her own response. “My answer is yes.”

  8

  Truth be told, going for a ride was the last thing in the world Carson felt like doing. These days, evenings were hard for him. All the aches and pains of the day seemed to fall on him at once, leaving him feeling three times his actual age. Evening rides had pretty much been off the table since his accident.

  Even so, staying alone in this house with Karen, a house full of memories so clear that they felt like living, breathing things, was a mistake. Every time he shut his eyes, he was in the arena, seeing her moving closer, throwing her arms around him, and kissing him as if they had never skipped a beat. He could still taste her sweetness—like all the best fruits of summer warmed from a sunny day. If he wasn't careful, they might well wind up doing a lot more than kissing, and he didn't know where they’d end up after that.

  Karen was quiet as they made their way to the arena’s stalls. She murmured to the horses as she saddled and bridled them but had nothing to say to Carson as he stood watching. He remembered teaching her how to do just that, laughing, her cursing up a storm as he went through the steps for the fourth or fifth time. He’d thought removing the warmth of the house from the equation would mean safety, but now he wasn’t so sure. Every part of the ranch or the greater Winding Creek area held some kind of meaning for the two of them. Walking through a minefield would have felt less dangerous.

  "Come on," she said warmly, breaking into his thoughts. She patted one of the saddles. "Let's get you up and into this thing. I'll even throw a blanket over your legs, and you can look like one of those invalids from an old movie."

  "Ha-ha." He rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the hairs standing up on the back of his neck at the touch of her hand. "Very funny."

  “Hey, I just call them like I see them,” she said with a shrug, her eyes twinkling as brightly as the stars beginning to peek out from behind the clouds outside. “Now seriously, come on. Wasn’t this your idea?”

  “Don’t remind me,” he grumbled, leaning heavily on her as she helped him up.

  Not long after leaving the building, he felt totally reinvigorated. Having a horse beneath him always felt like coming home, and the fresh, frigid air brushing softly across his face seemed to promise something exciting was about to happen. The snow crunched under the horses’ hooves while their breath rose as clouds of steam, ghostly in the light of the moon peeking shyly around the top of a distant mountain. Carson smiled. As a boy, he had secretly believed that the Montana moon had magic in it. Now grown, he supposed a part of him might believe it still.

  “What?” Karen asked with a sideways glance, a curious smile on her face. “What’s that look?”

  “Nothing,” he laughed softly, turning his face up to the sky and shutting his eyes briefly. “I just forgot how good it is to be out here like this, even when it’s so cold it’s like to freeze your face off. Guess I don’t take it for granted the way I used to, you know?”

  “No,” she said softly, her hair falling across her face, hiding her eyes. “I guess you wouldn’t, would you?”

  “I’ve had some times, recently,” he continued, not entirely sure why he was telling her any of this but seemingly incapable of shutting himself up. “Right after the accident, I thought I might never ride again.”

  "I was worried about the same thing," she said quietly, steering her horse to one side so that his mount moved in the same direction, heading them toward the old miner's shack, their secret spot as teenagers. "I still worry about you being on a horse, if I'm being honest. I guess I don't entirely understand why you're in such a hurry to get back into the ring."

  “That makes sense,” he nodded, swallowing down the lump of irritation that rose in his throat, tasting like bile. “And you’re certainly in good company. My brothers think I’m nuts for even considering throwing my hat back into the rodeo thing.”

  “Especially Trevor, right?” Karen said with a little laugh, and suddenly he couldn’t help joining in.

  “You nailed it,” he agreed, stroking his horse’s neck with a gloved hand. “It probably doesn’t make a lick of sense unless you’ve actually been out there, experiencing it.”

  “So explain it then,” she said, guiding her horse through a drift of snow that the wind had blown up against the old shack. Pulling the mare to a stop, she slid easily to the ground. “To me.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” he began, grudgingly letting her first remove his warming blanket, then help him down. He balanced on his good leg, hanging on to the saddle while she tied the horses to the hitching post and patted each one on the nose. They’d be out of the wind there. Not that their riders would be spending much time in the shack. Sheltered or not, it would still be pretty cold insid
e. Carson went on, “There’s something about a whole grandstand full of people cheering you on. It makes a man feel alive. Without it, I don’t really feel like myself anymore. I know, it sounds pathetic…”

  “No, it doesn’t,” she said, pulling his arm over her shoulders and supporting him into the old, musty shack. She spread the blanket over the creaky wooden flooring. “it just makes me a little sad.”

  “Sad, huh?” he asked, wincing as he eased himself down next to her. Seeing her shiver, he unbuttoned his heavy sheepskin coat and slid his arm around her to envelop them both in its warm folds. “Well, lucky for me, that’s exactly what I was going for. Nothing makes a guy feel sexier than a woman pitying him.”

  “I don’t, Carson,” she said, turning to face him and grabbing for his hand. “That’s not what I’m trying to say at all.”

  “Okay,” he nodded slowly, running his thumb lightly over her knuckles. “Then tell me. What do you mean?”

  "Just that you've never seen yourself for what you really are. Rodeo is a part of you, but it's not everything. All the other things about you are amazing, too."

  "You don't have to say that, kiddo," he said, pulling his hand reluctantly out of her grasp, his jaw working convulsively. "Although it's sweet."

  “Believe me, McCall,” she said, scooting forward, out from under the warm shelter of his coat, and turning toward him. She stilled, her face hovering in front of his. “I’m not trying to be sweet. Furthest thing from my mind, actually.” She reached for his face with one hand, smoothing a lock of hair out of his eyes with the other. “And don’t call me kiddo.”

  For a moment, they seemed to be suspended in time, each daring the other to make the first move or stop things before they went too far. Then she leaned forward, brushing her lips lightly against his.

  All at once, long-buried feelings came flooding back. Any reluctance at riding in the dark and cold was long gone. He was shivering, bordering on uncontrollably, but it had nothing to do with the cold outside.