Home on the Ranch--The Cowboy's Dilemma

by Pamela Britton

  Amy didn’t know what to say. Actually, she did. “You bet your husband that Flynn would sleep with me?”

  Charlotte had the grace to look abashed. “Well, not really sleep with you. Just that you’d end up together.” She frowned. “Hmm. That does sound kind of bad.” Her face cleared. “But whatever. I think it’s great.”

  Amy shouldn’t be surprised that Charlotte supported her, but she couldn’t keep a frown from creeping across her face. No matter what she told herself, it’d really bothered her that Flynn had slipped away without so much as a peck on the cheek.

  “What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked.

  She rested her hands on her belly, staring off into the distance. “This isn’t going to work out.”

  She felt a hand land on her arm. Charlotte’s look of concern was nearly her undoing. “What makes you say that?”

  She shrugged. “What happened just now, when we came in.” She bit her lower lip. “Did you see the way he acted as if nothing had happened? But it’s more than that,” she said.

  Just staring at the vista below her served as a stern reminder of what she was up against. Flynn came from money. Maybe not his own, but he’d had the love and support of his family for his entire life. She’d had to claw her way to the top. But it wasn’t that she didn’t think Flynn worked hard, because he clearly did. It was more that their two worlds were so different. And then there was the whole having-a-child thing. She’d have to be stupid not to recognize what a terrible strain that would put on a relationship, especially one that was just beginning. And then there was the craziness of her job. What kind of man would put up with ten thousand Christmas ornaments hanging from a family room curtain? Okay, not really ten thousand, but close enough. Clearly, her crazy life had driven Trent away, and others, too. Why would Flynn be any different?

  “I think you’re selling yourself too short,” Charlotte said, pulling her legs up so that she could wrap her arms around her knees. “Let me tell you a story.”

  Amy glanced over at Charlotte. She was staring out at the horizon and she realized Charlotte was really, really pretty in a way not many women could pull off. A natural beauty that didn’t come from just the symmetry of her face, but from something that welled up inside.

  “I grew up in foster homes,” she admitted. “Some were good and some were very, very bad.” She shook herself a bit, then turned to look Amy in the eyes. “It left scars. Not the physical kind, but emotional ones, and they ran deep. I thought that I would never marry or get involved with a man or have kids. But then I met Maverick and here was this wonderful man who didn’t care about my past. And his family. Whew. They were all so sweet and kind and so happy to welcome me into their ranks, but deep inside, I didn’t feel worthy. But Maverick made me see that I did have value, and that I shouldn’t let my past get in the way of my future.”

  It was Amy’s turn to look away and to stare out at the horizon. “But you weren’t pregnant.”

  Charlotte huffed. “No. I wasn’t. But that won’t matter, not if Flynn loves you.”

  And that was just it. They’d made love and Amy had fallen ever closer to the precipice of love, but Flynn? He’d kissed her and held her tenderly, but there’d been no heartfelt declarations, not that she’d expected any, especially not with her track record with men. She’d just sort of thought...

  “Thank you for sharing that with me,” she said to Charlotte. “I’ll try to keep the faith.”

  “Do,” her friend said emphatically. “Don’t be like me and push him away.”

  But when they went back inside and she spotted Flynn standing by a massive table that’d been set up on one side of the house, he barely looked at her. Granted, he was talking to his dad, but their gazes met and there was no smile, and no waving her over. Nothing but a quick glance. She told herself she was being a ninny. That it didn’t mean anything. He was just busy and she was feeling clingy, probably because she was in a house full of people she barely knew. A lot of people would feel the same way.

  “All right, everyone,” Flynn’s aunt Crystal said an hour later. “Let’s all sit down and eat.”

  The word eat instantly perked her up. It seemed like these days she couldn’t get enough food. It didn’t matter that there were times when she’d barf it up later, the little girl inside her insisted on being fed at all hours of the day.

  “Wow,” she said when she spotted the spread laid out on the table in front of her. “That’s a feast fit for a king.”

  Someone laughed. Shane, she realized, another of Flynn’s brothers, his wife standing next to him, their twins already seated in high chairs. They were only a year or so older than Maverick’s daughter, Olivia; all of the Gillian kids were seated at the table, too. It was a little overwhelming to have so many people she didn’t know staring at her. Her eyes sought out Flynn’s, but he wasn’t even looking at her. He was still talking to Maverick, and from what she could hear, discussing horses. Flynn’s uncle picked up the platter that held pieces of turkey, and that seemed to be the cue for other people to start serving themselves before passing the dish to the next person. Before she knew it, she had a plate full of food, and although she felt so tense and out of place, her stomach grumbled. Some things never changed.

  Someone tapped the side of their glass. Flynn’s aunt. She sat next to Uncle Bob and she smiled in her direction.

  “Okay, so before we say blessings and dive into our food, I just want to welcome our guest, Amy.”

  One of Flynn’s cousins lifted a glass and Amy smiled and tried not to hide beneath the table. She glanced at Flynn again, but he was staring at his plate, and for the first time since she’d met him, she felt a keening sense of disappointment. It wasn’t that she’d expected him to take her hand and introduce her around as his girlfriend. Their relationship—or whatever they wanted to call it—was too new and too tenuous for bringing her home to Dad, so to speak. But she did expect more. A smile maybe. Heck, at this point, she’d settle for a wink.

  She was so lost in thought that all she did was nod her head for the blessing. And when it came time to eat, she dug in, but she would never be able to name anything she tasted. By the end of the meal, she was so uncomfortable that she was the first person to volunteer to clear dishes. And then she found herself washing them. After which she helped put everything away. When, at last, she had nothing left to do she turned to Crystal and mentioned leaving.

  “But you can’t go home,” she said. “We haven’t even had dessert.”

  Dessert? Her interest perked, but then she quashed it down. She had to stop eating 24/7. At this rate, they’d have to roll her into the delivery room.

  “Actually, I’m thinking the walk would do me good. I ate way too much.” She added a smile. “And it was delicious.”

  “Well, thank you, but I still think you shouldn’t walk. It’ll be dark soon.”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t take me long—”

  “Flynn,” called Crystal. “Amy wants to go home. Be a dear and take her, would you? If you don’t, she’s threatening to walk.”

  She hadn’t even noticed Flynn had entered the kitchen, and she felt her cheeks heat when she met his gaze. Clearly, he didn’t want his family to know about them, and that was okay with her. But she hoped he didn’t think she was trying to force him into spending time with her or something.

  “Sure,” he said. “I can do that.”

  “It’s really no trouble for me to walk,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Crystal’s right. It’ll be dark soon. Plus, I brought you up here. I can take you home.”

  “Exactly,” Crystal said. “Go, you two. I’ll save some dessert for you, Flynn.”

  But when she stepped outside, the first thing she said was, “You don’t have to do this.”

  “No, it’s okay.”

  She waited for him to touch her. To maybe place his hand o
n the small of her back. Give her some indication that their time together hadn’t been forgotten, but all he did was open the door of his truck and wait for her to climb inside.

  He’d hurt her feelings.

  But as he crossed in front of her, never once looking in her direction, she knew he’d been trying to protect them somehow. That he’d guarded their relationship because he didn’t want to answer questions, and that, at the root of it all, he was probably trying to save her from feeling awkward.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said. “We do.”

  Chapter 17

  She didn’t say anything while he backed his truck out of the driveway, pointing it down the hill. That was good, Flynn thought. Gave him time to form an apology because he could tell she was hurt.

  “They don’t have to know what’s going on between us, you know,” he said.

  “I know,” she answered right back. “But it’s too late, anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She peered over at him and the look in her eyes, it reminded him of when they’d first met, only this time he was the one who’d disappointed her.

  “Charlotte,” she said. “She guessed.”

  Son of—

  “But don’t worry. She won’t say anything.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  If Charlotte had guessed, that meant Aunt Crystal might, too, and if she figured it out, it was only a matter of time before the whole family knew.

  “If you’d wanted to keep it quiet about us, you should have warned me,” she said. “I could have told Charlotte she was wrong.” She looked out the window.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “When I walked into my aunt’s house and everyone turned to look at us, I just sort of freaked out. I wasn’t ready to announce to the world that we were a thing.”

  She nodded, but she still wouldn’t look at him. He reached across the seat, grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry. I should have explained my feelings in private.”

  She nodded again.

  “No, really. I should have said something, pulled you to the side and explained, but I was afraid someone would see us together and start asking questions, and I just wasn’t ready for that yet.”

  “I understand.”

  But did she? He wasn’t certain he understood himself.

  “Can I make it up to you? Bring you back some dessert in a little bit? Take you out to dinner one day this week?”

  “What if someone in town sees us and tells your family?”

  It was a valid point. “Then I’ll just have to suck it up and tell them that you and I are dating.”

  “Suck it up?”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “And when I’m bigger? When it’s obvious to all your friends that I’m pregnant? Will you want to take me out then?”

  Her question struck a nerve, one that thrummed along his nerve endings and made him wonder if she sensed something he didn’t. What would it be like to answer questions about her pregnancy? The invariable curiosity about how far along she was and if he hoped it would be a boy or a girl? And the awkward explanations that would follow.

  “That’s a long ways off.”

  “No, Flynn, it’s not. In another month I’ll be showing. Not a lot, but enough that people will guess what’s going on. What, then?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

  They lapsed into silence and he wondered if he really was ready for this. Tonight had been a huge eye-opener for what he faced. And that was just his family.

  “Maybe we ought to slow things down,” she said. “Take a break.”

  He didn’t want to slow down, though. He liked things just the way they were. Friends and now lovers.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Yes, I think it is.” He heard her take a deep breath. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Flynn.”

  He hit the brakes. She thrust a hand out, stopping herself from sliding off her seat.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  She just shook her head, her hand falling into her lap again. “I think I’m falling in love with you and I need to know, Flynn, if you’re going to be there for me in the long run, or if this is just some kind of fling for you. A detour from your usual reality. Something to fill your time while you’re waiting for something better to come along, because I have to tell you, that’s not what this is for me.”

  He didn’t know what to say.

  Falling in love.

  She couldn’t mean that. They barely knew each other.

  But as he turned and stared out his front windshield, he admitted that he knew her better than he’d known a lot of his girlfriends in the past. He knew that she liked hip-hop music and that she enjoyed bacon with her eggs and that when nobody was looking, she danced around the house. She enjoyed climbing trees and turning ordinary objects into works of art, and that, in her opinion, everything could be improved with a little bit of glue and a lot of glitter.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted out loud.

  “Then don’t say anything. Think about it.”

  But as he drove her home, his heart slamming against his rib cage, he wondered if he was up to it. But then he glanced at her, and the way she stared at him, with a look of hope and uncertainty and fear, he knew that it was worth it, or that it would be in time.

  He stopped her with a touch. “I’m not going to hurt you, you know,” he said.

  “Not intentionally,” she answered right back. She shook her head and her lips flattened as she lost herself in thought for a minute, and Flynn would have given anything to know what was going on in her head. “I know you would never do anything to me on purpose, Flynn. But I’m glad this happened now, early on in our relationship. Maybe you need to think about what you’re in for.” She waved at her belly. “And maybe I need to think about it, too. Both of us.” She looked him in the eyes. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

  She slipped out of his truck.

  “I’ll call you,” he said.

  She didn’t look like she believed him. “Okay.”

  She stepped back and he looked away, clutching the steering wheel as if holding on to it for dear life...and maybe he was.

  * * *

  Amy shut her front door and leaned up against it, closing her eyes. Still, as she listened to him drive away, a part of her hoped he’d change his mind.

  Pick me, she silently chanted. Pick me, pick me.

  But why would he do that? Trent hadn’t. Neither had any of her other previous boyfriends. Why would Flynn be any different? Different from her own mother, who’d moved so far away? Not that she blamed Flynn. It was a lot to ask. She wasn’t just asking him to be a boyfriend. She was asking him to be a daddy, too. To be there for her in a way most men wouldn’t have to experience until they were married to the women of their dreams, and clearly she wasn’t that to Flynn.

  Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  The next morning, when she still hadn’t heard from him, she sat out on the porch, leaned her head against the post and tried not to cry. She told herself to be patient. She needed to give him time, but every second of every minute that turned into hours was agony for her, and in the back of her mind she still kept wondering if maybe her mom was right. Maybe no man would ever want her again.

  So when, later, she heard the familiar clop of a horse’s hooves, her heart rate shot up so fast it was like she’d been injected by a shot of adrenaline. She wobbled when she stood up. Only it wasn’t Flynn. The man in the cowboy hat was Maverick.

  “Flynn told me he rides this way,” he said when he spotted her standing there like a lovelorn fool. “I just followed the tracks.”

  Love.

  Yes, she admitted. She wasn’
t falling in love with Flynn. She was in love with him. No sense in denying it. Not anymore. And, damn, that had happened fast. Of course, she shouldn’t be surprised. She had a habit of falling head over heels. And, yet, this time... This time it seemed very, very different.

  “How’s it going?” she asked, trying to act as if inside she wasn’t shattering into a million little pieces because if Maverick was riding that meant he’d seen Flynn and if he’d seen Flynn, Maverick had probably told him where he was going, which meant he didn’t want to ride over to see her.

  “Good,” Maverick called. “Trying to ride off some of that Thanksgiving dinner.”

  Or maybe she was overthinking things. Maybe Maverick had saddled up his horse at his place or something.

  “Tried to get Flynn to ride over with me, but he’s too busy.”

  The words were an arrow to the heart. He hadn’t called this morning. She’d been hoping that he’d at least do that, but he hadn’t, and it hurt, damn it.

  “That’s too bad,” she said, still trying to act as if it was no big deal. Had Charlotte told him what had happened between them? Was he just playing along? Acting as if he didn’t know?

  Maverick dismounted, tying his horse up in the same spot as Flynn did. The tree with the low-hanging branch. And a new thought penetrated. Maybe Flynn had sent his brother over to her. Maybe Maverick was Flynn’s emissary.

  Flynn wanted me to tell you he’d like to be friends.

  Flynn was wondering if you could forget the whole making-love thing.

  Flynn doesn’t ever want to see you again.

  And the thing was, Maverick looked so much like Flynn that it hurt all the more watching him walk toward her. And what was it with the Gillian brothers that they always seemed to find her sitting on her porch, trying not to cry?