Jaw set, he spun away and strode toward the front of the house where his office was. “It is a huge deal, even in this day and age to have ‘unknown father’ on your birth certificate.”
Okay, she thought, reeling at the implications. Maybe that was a little different. She watched him check the security screens, find nothing amiss. “Are you saying your mom didn’t know who sired you?”
Cullen dropped down into his desk chair, deep frown lines bracketing his mouth. “No. She knew. She just didn’t want anyone else to know that she had a child by one of the Texas McCabes.”
Bridgett leaned against the front of his desk, facing him, and took a moment to absorb that. Her denim-clad thigh almost touching his, she peered at him closely. “So, what did she tell you then?”
He rocked back in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him, looking sexy as all get-out. “Nothing—except that it wasn’t important who my biological father was. She was parent enough.”
“And that was a problem because...?”
“She refused to accept the shame in the continued public perception that she ‘had no idea’ who her baby daddy was, and instead, cast herself as the lead in some romantic, ongoing stage play of life.” He shook his head in obvious regret. “Raising me on her own was all part of the drama and the angst.”
“She made you feel like a burden?”
“It wasn’t her intention. But it was definitely the outcome.” His expression didn’t change in the slightest, yet there was something in his eyes. Some small glimmer of sorrow. “My mother worked as a ranch-house chef. She never had a problem getting jobs, because she was very talented. But she never stayed in one more than a year or so, because by then her romance of the moment would have fizzled out, and she would need a fresh start and move on.”
Bridgett began to see how this had all played out for Cullen. “Taking you with her.”
He gave a terse nod. “To another small, rural town, often in yet another state, where I would again have to register for school.” His lips thinned in frustrated remembrance. “And to do that, I would have to provide my formal birth certificate. The administrators would see I had ‘no known father.’ My mother would tackle the subject head-on. Treat it as a joke and wear it as a badge of honor.”
Gently, Bridgett said, “That must have been difficult for you to deal with at such a young age.”
Cullen accepted her empathy with a downward slant of his mouth and a harsh exhalation of breath. “Pity was the most common reaction.” He shook his head sadly, recalling, “I just felt embarrassed and degraded. To the point I begged my mother to tell me the truth.”
The pain in his eyes matched his voice.
“I wanted her to get the name on the birth certificate and be done with it. I even promised her I would never contact my father.” He walked to the windows overlooking the front of the house, then paced to another window, another view. “I just didn’t want to go through the rest of my life wondering who I was, where I came from. But—” he spun around and flung out a hand “—she wouldn’t budge.”
Bridgett’s heart broke for him. Yet she had to ask, as she edged closer yet again. “Is it possible she really didn’t know?”
Cullen shook his head, certain. “No. She was very much a one-man woman for as long as she was with someone. That was part of her own moral code. And, besides, I knew her. I could see that she knew my father’s identity. She just wasn’t going to tell me.”
Bridgett stood opposite him, her shoulder braced against the window. She hadn’t expected him to reveal this much about himself. Now that he had, it had opened up the floodgates of emotion within her, too. “Then how did you end up with Frank?” she asked curiously.
“My mom died in a car accident when I was fifteen. I was put in foster care for about a year, which was a horrendous experience, mostly because I was so angry about the fact that now I was never going to know who my dad really was or have the chance to meet him.”
He exhaled. “Luckily, I had a social worker who understood how torn up I was about that, so she got a detective on the local police force to help. He used my birth records and my mother’s work history to figure out where she had been employed when I was conceived.” He grimaced. “From there, he found out she’d had a romantic relationship with Frank McCabe that lasted almost a year.”
She studied the sober lines of his handsome face. Thought about the hell he’d been put through, not just after he’d been orphaned, but throughout his entire childhood.
“Frank apparently wanted to get married. Mom didn’t, so they broke up, and she took off for parts unknown.”
She listened empathetically, unsure how to help. Cullen’s eyes took on a stormy hue. “A couple years after that, Frank married Rachel and no one ever gave my mom another thought. Until the social worker told Frank her suspicions.”
“How did you verify it?”
“I had some belongings of my mom’s. A hairbrush still had some of her hair in it. So they used that and Frank’s DNA to determine I was their child.” His manner guarded, he continued, “Frank immediately brought me to Texas. Rachel welcomed me as part of the family. And so did my five half siblings.”
She shot him a commiserating look, guessing, “No one in Laramie made you feel demeaned...?”
“Of course not.” He straightened and moved away from the window. “I was part of the legendary Texas McCabes. But they wouldn’t have, even if I hadn’t been from a well-known Texas family,” he said gruffly. “Laramie isn’t that kind of place.”
“No. It’s not.” It was why she loved it so.
“Here, it’s all about neighbor helping neighbor,” he continued. “Everyone feeling like family, even if there isn’t an actual biological connection.”
“That’s why I’ll never leave here. Because it was that kind of community support after my own parents died when I was in middle school that helped me move on.” He nodded and she touched his arm gently, feeling the kinship between them grow. “Is that why you came back to Laramie County? Because you wanted to live in a warm and welcoming place again?”
Was he perhaps more sentimental and idealistic than he wanted to admit? Was it possible they could connect on that level, too? Because if so...
Unfortunately, he hesitated just a second too long for comfort. Finally, he said, “My family all wanted me here.”
Bridgett’s heart sank as she read the reluctance in his expression. “But you didn’t really want to come back home, did you?”
* * *
CULLEN WASN’T SURE how to answer that. Not in a way a woman like Bridgett would understand, anyway. Finally, he said, “I hoped being with my dad and his family—as an adult, this time—would give me the kind of peace I’ve never had. Instead, it just feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Something to happen. Some evidence that I am just as much my heartless, irresponsible, overly sentimental mom as I am my strong, hardworking, responsible father.”
Bridgett let out a slow breath, the warm understanding in her eyes a balm to his soul. “And now it’s happened. With this baby and this puppy.”
Keeping his gaze meshed with hers, he confided ruefully, “On the surface, at least to other people, including Frank and Rachel and the rest of the McCabes, it would certainly seem so.” He leaned in closer. “Which is why I have to find out who Robby’s real parents are. Otherwise...”
Bridgett stared at him unhappily. “I’ll convince DCFS that I’m the right mom for Robby and Riot, and foster-adopt them and they’ll both be loved and cared for and have an amazingly happy life?”
He regretted the angry flush in her cheeks. “I know it hurts you to hear this.” He captured her wrist before she could turn away. “But it’s true. Robby will never be as happy as he could be unless the mystery is solved and he knows who he is, what his past is and why his mother or father—or whoever it was—left
him and Riot at the fire station to be given into my care.” He gave a ragged sigh. “And you won’t be happy, either, if you and Robby and Riot have to live the way I have all my life, just waiting for the truth to finally come along and blow your life to smithereens.”
Her silky skin warmed beneath his touch. She pulled away and threw up her hands in frustration. “But if that happens, Cullen, and you do find out who surrendered him so heartlessly and irresponsibly, I could end up losing Robby and Riot forever.”
“Or end up keeping them forever,” he pointed out sagely, looking deep into her eyes. “Either way, Bridgett, for all our sakes, we have to do whatever it takes to discover the truth.”
Chapter Five
“The Monroe family wants to do something for you-all. We’re just not sure what’s appropriate,” Bridgett’s older sister, Erin, said later that evening.
Bridgett pushed the speaker button on her cell phone. With Cullen out on the ranch, prepping the Western Cross barns for the upcoming video tour in advance of the virtual cattle auction, and Robby and Riot both snoozing peacefully in the next room, she was free to talk to the closest thing she had to a mom these days.
“I know. And I appreciate it.” If she’d come by a baby the traditional way, there would have been showers and parties galore to celebrate.
“I’m mailing some of my boys’ old newborn clothing, and a few toys. Plus a few new things. Sleepers, T-shirts, booties, knit caps.”
Tears blurred Bridgett’s eyes. “Thank you,” she managed. “It will really help.”
Gently, Erin continued, “Mac and I were surprised not to see anything about the foundling on the news.”
Bridgett saw Cullen’s pickup truck coming down the lane toward the ranch house. She turned away from the window, relaying what she had initially been stunned to learn, too. “The authorities don’t publicly announce any infants turned over via the Texas Safe Haven law. The assurance of privacy—for both baby and parent—is what keeps the program going.” And little ones who might not otherwise be well cared for, safe.
“So, when will they know if the child has any other family willing to claim him?”
Bridgett’s heart twisted in her chest at the thought of losing the little boy she was quickly coming to think of as her very own. “I’m not sure.” She explained everything currently being done, the lack of results thus far.
Erin paused. “How long do you get to foster Robby?”
Bridgett tensed at the worry in her sibling’s voice. “Another twelve days, until the DCFS makes its recommendation to the court.”
“Well, if you need any character references...”
“I’m hoping my care will speak volumes. And make me the exception to the rule.” Bridgett looked up to see Cullen standing in the portal. They hadn’t parted well after their last discussion. She had to get her thoughts in order.
Struggling not to notice how good he looked with the blue chambray of his shirt bringing out the deep navy of his eyes, she fastened her gaze on the strong column of his throat and the tufts of curly espresso-colored hair visible in the open collar of his shirt.
When she felt composed enough, she returned her glance to his. His eyes lit up in the way they always did when he wanted her full attention and knew he had it.
Aware they had to find a way to make peace, even when they didn’t agree on something, she flashed him a brisk, businesslike smile and said, “Listen, Erin, I have to go...”
* * *
CULLEN HADN’T KNOWN what kind of reception he would get upon returning to the ranch house. Bridgett hadn’t exactly been happy with him when he’d left. But there was no helping it. He’d had to be honest with her about his intention of doing everything possible to discover Robby and Riot’s real family. Even as Bridgett worked to keep them with her.
Fortunately, that was a bridge they didn’t need to cross quite yet. It was enough right now to take things as they had been, an hour or two or three at a time.
He went to the sink to wash up. “Sara Anderson called. She’s going to be over tomorrow to certify the health of the herd for the virtual auction. She suggested she do the puppy physical at the same time.”
Finished, he grabbed a towel and turned back to her, noting how pretty Bridgett looked in a buttercup-yellow Western shirt and jeans. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to be there...”
Bridgett lit up at the mention of the puppy they had both quickly come to adore. “I do.”
“It’ll be later in the day. Not sure exactly what time.” Kneeling down to the cushion where Riot dozed, he smiled at the pup’s sleepy-eyed glance and affectionately patted his head. Then he moved to the Moses basket on the sofa table where the swaddled newborn slept, while Bridgett went about measuring powdered formula into the bottles she had lined up on the countertop.
“How was Riot this evening?” he asked casually, savoring the sweet intimacy of the situation.
She slanted him a contented smile. “I don’t know what the two of you did when you were out on the ranch today, but he’s pooped.” She moved down the line, adding filtered water as she went. “He slept the entire time you were gone.”
“Good.” Cullen nodded, and inched closer to the slumbering child. Touching Robby’s cheek with the back of his hand, he felt the fragile warmth of his skin.
He watched as Bridgett finished and put the baby bottles into the fridge.
He remembered kissing her, right here, right about this time, the evening before. Knew he had to do something—anything—to distract himself. Not sure why this felt so much like a date that wasn’t going particularly well, he said, “I’m guessing you already had dinner?”
She wiped down the counters where she had been working, dropped the disposable cleaning cloth into the trash. “Around seven.”
She was definitely the model of efficiency. Another thing they had in common. “How was it?”
She swung back to face him, her soft lips twisted into an aloof smile. “You’re in for a treat. Rachel’s chicken tortilla casserole was fantastic.”
Could this get any more awkward?
“Rachel’s a great cook.” He took the containers his stepmother had brought over earlier out of the fridge. “She’s always bringing food by for me and dropping it off.” He spooned a generous amount onto his plate. “That’s where last night’s meatloaf dinner came from, too.”
Bridgett moved to the other side of the island. Her slender hands folded in front of her, she perched on the edge of a stool. Drew a breath that raised and lowered the shapely lines of her breasts. “Sounds nice.”
“Yeah. It is.” He covered his plate with waxed paper and put it into the microwave to heat. “She says she’s forgotten how to cook for fewer than a dozen people and has to do something with all the excess.”
Bridgett twisted the length of her hair and put it back up into a clip. “Not buying it?”
Aware he liked her glossy dark brown hair up as much as down, he shrugged.
“I think she just likes an excuse to drop by and see her kids.”
The corners of her luscious lips curved up. “You included.”
Cullen nodded.
And if he stood here much longer, talking with her about the intimate details of his life while she looked so sexy and beautiful, he’d end up kissing her again. Still waiting on the microwave to finish, he opened the fridge and pulled out an icy-cold beer and the green salad.
In the Moses basket, Robbie began to fidget and fuss a little in his struggle to wake up. “I think I’ll take him upstairs to feed him and get him ready for bed,” she said.
He couldn’t blame her for wanting an exit.
The situation between them was making him want family, too, and not just any family. And that couldn’t be good for any of them, given how this was likely to end.
* * *
THE EVENING B
EFORE, Bridgett had been cool to Cullen. The next morning, Cullen was polite but distant to her. And though the new caution with each other was probably wise, she still didn’t like the way it felt. As if they were erecting artificial barriers around their hearts.
It couldn’t be good for Riot and Robby, either. They seemed to sense the underlying tension between the two adults caring for them and were a little more fussy than usual. Not surprisingly, the little ones’ cantankerous moods ended when the four of them split up for the day. Riot went off with Cullen, accompanying him on ranch work, while Robbie stayed at the ranch house with her.
Bridgett worried about what it would be like when they met up again, but luckily, at the end of the day, they had Sara Anderson’s cheerful professional presence and the puppy’s exam to distract them.
“Word around town is that little Riot here is a dead ringer for a stray you took in as a kid. Which is funny because I never knew you had a puppy also called Riot in the past,” Sara Anderson said, lifting the new Riot onto the scale to weigh him.
Neither had Bridgett.
And even more curious...why hadn’t Cullen mentioned this to her? He’d said he had one dog as a kid. He hadn’t said that dog had been named Riot. And that was a pretty big deal, having a stray show up that was named after the dog he’d had in his youth.
Although he certainly did not owe her an explanation, deep down she felt a little betrayed he hadn’t confided in her.
Cullen looked equally unhappy about the fact this part of the story was also now public knowledge. Frowning, he folded his arms and moved closer to the ongoing exam. “Who’d you hear that from?” he asked Sara.
The veterinarian listened to Riot’s heart and lungs with a stethoscope. “I think it might have been my receptionist, who heard it from your little sister.”
Cullen groaned. As well he might, Bridgett thought. Lulu McCabe was a chatterbox and then some.
The Texas Cowboy's Baby Rescue Page 5