Cowboy Baby Daddy (A Secret Baby Romance Compilation)

by Claire Adams

  I stepped into the office. “Can you help me load that pile out there?” I asked.

  “I can't right at the moment, but John should be able to help, or if you’re not in a rush, you can hang out for a few until we finish.” I sat down on a bench by the door and listened as they talked about the next shipment of raw wood set to be arriving. Their conversation was easy and friendly even though the stress in his father’s tone was evident. Their small, family-owned business had taken a hit after the large wildfires had ripped a hole in the logging community several months back. Shortages of wood was an issue, and unfortunately it hit the smaller businesses the hardest.

  “It'll be fine, Pops, we have enough inventory in the buildings to fill all the orders placed through next month. And I’ve already arranged to get a shipment of raw wood in from a new supplier in Oregon.” He cupped his father’s shoulder and then looked up at me. “Ya ready?”

  “Yup.” I stood, saying hi and bye to his father, and then hopped down the stairs.

  “How’s Emmy?”

  “Oh, so, it's Emmy now? What happened to Emerson?” I said sarcastically, referring to all the times he’d led me to believe a male would be my new neighbor.

  “It's always been Emmy.” He grinned up at me.

  “Good to know.” I kicked at the gravel as I walked.

  “Well?”

  “I haven't said a word to her in days. She walks around like I don't even exist and, well, I guess I've grown accustomed to it.” I leaned down and grabbed a couple of pieces of small timber and dropped them in the bed of my truck. He walked over to a large trunk that would be the centerpiece of my next table. I followed, and we lifted it into the bed with a good bit of effort then paused to take a few breaths.

  “Well, I’d suggest trying to talk to her, but I know you,” he jabbed.

  “Clearly, she doesn’t want to talk to me, so... what would be the point?”

  “She’ll come around. I mean, you’re so lovable and all,” he said and reached out to pinch my cheek like I was a three-year-old.

  I dodged his attempt. “And you’re a jackass.”

  “It’s part of my charm,” he grinned then changed the subject. “There are some pieces for our next round of workouts over by the mill. Wanna drive over there?”

  “I sure as hell don't want to carry them this far,” I laughed and walked around the truck, hopping in and laughing as Ryan stood on the lowered tailgate. He acted like he was surfing as I drove slowly around the lumber yard to the cutting mill on the right side of the property. We loaded the remaining pieces, and I headed back home.

  ***

  Emmy’s truck was gone when I arrived. I found myself wondering where she might have gone to and realizing how very little I really knew about her and her life. Not that I was going to get to find out, ya know, since she had no desire to even acknowledge my existence.

  I pulled my truck around to the shop and backed the truck up, pushing all but the large trunk to the ground and stacking the pieces for use later under the shelter so they’d stay dry. Ryan said he’d swing by with John tomorrow to help me unload the large piece and place it in my shop. It had to be handled a little bit differently because any cracks could ruin it.

  When I was done unloading, I backed the truck under the shelter and worked in the shop until the sun faded. I’d been listening for Emmy’s truck, and I sighed when I heard it coming down the long drive as I was cleaning up. It silenced, and then I heard the sound of her screen door open then slam shut. It seemed as though it was going to be one more day of silence with my neighbor.

  I finished up in the shop then headed into the backyard and laid down in the grass. It was something I often did at the end of a day. Looking up at the stars always relaxed me and put life into perspective a little. I liked laying there in the silence of the night. There were no lights for miles, and it was as though it was just me and the stars and nothing to interfere with the view. Pitch darkness.

  The sound of a door opening and then the flip of a blanket a few feet from me as it was waved through the air signaled I was no longer alone. After a bit of rustling, a dim light landed over the blanket. I looked toward the sounds and found her lying on her back with a tablet in her hands reading.

  “You’re missing the best part,” I said softly, knowing she hadn’t seen me.

  I heard a short shriek and then a laugh. “Jesus, you scared me.”

  “Sorry,” I chuckled. “I just wanted you to know I was out here.”

  “Noted,” she said a little breathless.

  “How was your day?” I asked.

  A tiny moan escaped her throat and then silence. “Not too bad, I suppose. I signed the final paperwork for my grant today, so it looks like I'll be here for a while, a year at least.”

  “That's great.” I sat up looking over at her. She was looking in my direction, but I wasn’t sure she could see me very well. Still, there was a spark of something in the way she was looking toward me. And as much as I felt like she couldn’t stand me due to her avoidance, every time I was near her, an unexplainable feeling stretched through my chest. I took in the softness of her features and the arc to her lips as the light from the device illuminated her face, and I resisted the impulse to reach over and trace the curve of her cheek. She smiled softly and blinked hard, looking away as if she had realized we were having a moment and she couldn’t allow it. She laid her head back down, placing the tablet on her chest and extinguishing the light, leaving us both in darkness once more.

  “Hopefully, I can find some answers,” she said. I assumed she was referring to her grant, but the tone of her voice suggested there might be more to her words. I waited for her to speak again, but as the sounds of the night grew louder, I figured she was done talking.

  I lay back down for a bit, enjoying the moment with her, listening to the sounds around us, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her hand or connect with her in some way. It was a ridiculous urge, considering our relationship—or lack thereof. Still, it was there.

  After what felt like an hour of restraint, but was probably only fifteen minutes, I stood to head to the house.

  “Be safe out here,” I said looking down at her. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and I could easily make out her form laying there. “Goodnight, Emmy.”

  “Goodnight, Luke,” she replied lazily as though she were so relaxed she was already half asleep. It was a soothing, beautiful sound.

  I walked away, leaving her to the night.

  Chapter Eight

  Emerson

  It was the first time I’d heard my name spill from his lips and something about it sent tingles through every nerve in my body. I laid out in the cool night for another hour trying to read, but honestly, I wasn't getting much accomplished. I was thinking about him.

  After reading the same paragraph three times, I dropped my tablet to my chest and let my thoughts wander. I thought back over the list of men I had dated in the past. Most of them were what my granddad would call city boys—sophisticated, aware of their appearance, and didn't treat me like someone who needed a man to help her with everything. But my thoughts kept going back to one thing: in hindsight, they really weren’t all that considerate. Luke wasn’t like them at all. He always offered to help, never asking for anything in return, so why was I being so cold toward him? I kept telling myself he wasn’t concerned with the environment and that his profession was in direct opposition of mine, but deep down, I had known better since Ryan’s grandmother told me Luke uses the scraps from their lumber yard for his projects.

  And if I was honest with myself, I liked that he was always trying to be helpful and kind. Granted, his schedule grated my last nerve a bit—the early morning workouts and the late-night shops noises were aggravating. Truth was, I could probably really like the guy if I wasn't mad at him all the time because I was grumpy as hell due to a screwed-up sleep schedule, but I was beginning to get used to it. I had even started running in the mornings while he was workin
g out and chopping things in the backyard. I’m sure it didn’t help that I was frustrated my furniture had been delayed by weather and I was more than ready to sleep on my own mattress and be surrounded by my own things.

  I shook my head at myself as I thought of the way I’ve acted toward the poor guy.

  “He probably thinks you hate him,” I said aloud, talking to myself.

  I decided to try to be a little nicer to him. After all, my grant had been approved, and that meant I was here for as long as Ryan was willing to rent to me... or until Luke bought him out. And if that happened, the decision to let me stay was his. And I wanted to stay. I liked it. It was surrounded by miles of forest, it was quiet—most of the time—and I had a neighbor who wasn’t a complete ass. Not to mention, every morning there was a pretty damned good view out my back window.

  I smiled, thinking about the way Luke’s muscles bulged as he was swinging an ax. Then the night I stormed into his shop popped into my head. I had to catch my breath just thinking of the knot that formed in my stomach when his eyes locked on mine. I pushed the thoughts away and gathered my things to head inside. I needed a cold shower and long conversation with Rachel. She always helped me put things into perspective.

  ***

  I came down the stairs the next morning dressed for a run. I walked out onto the porch, and to my surprise, I found Luke and Ryan stretching. I hadn’t expected to see Ryan since it wasn’t one of the mornings he was usually here.

  “You gonna join us this morning?” Ryan asked as he hopped on his toes, warming up.

  “I don't think so. You guys have fun.” I gave him a small smile then started walking toward the end of the driveway. When I hit the pavement, I started to jog. I had found a good trail by accident when I was driving around one day. I measured it when I left the driveway one afternoon, and it was just shy of four miles.

  A couple of minutes into my run, I felt someone’s presence by me. I looked over my shoulder and jerked to a stop.

  “What the hell, Ryan?” I said as I bent over, pulling the ear bud from my left ear. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Well, you wouldn't join us, so we joined you,” he smiled. It was easy to see why he was so popular. Aside from being crazy attractive, he oozed charm, and his washboard abs didn't hurt either. I looked up and saw Luke still running, creating distance between us that grew with every step. I watched the muscles in his back ripple as he ran.

  “He’s really a nice guy, ya know,” Ryan pulled my attention back to him.

  “I know.” I nodded then started running again.

  “Then why are you so standoffish toward him all the time?”

  I didn't want to talk, I wanted to run... alone.

  “I'm not.” I said trying to put my ear bud back in my ear. I wanted him to stop talking to me, and I didn't know any other way to make that happen other than to try to run ahead of him. He passed me with ease and then slowed so that we were in step again. He tapped me on the shoulder, and I finally just stopped, looking up at him.

  “What?” I put my hands on my hips.

  “Do you carry mace with you when you run or go out into the woods? Luke told me you venture out there alone all the time.”

  “I do, now can I finish my run?”

  “I would just hate to see you get hurt by something out there.”

  “I can take care of myself, Ryan, I promise,” I snapped.

  “Well, okay then. Sorry for trying to care about you. Jesus, can any of us get a break? You know... this is why Luke thinks you don’t like him. You have to understand something, Emmy,” he said with a kind tone. “We’re a small community that takes care of our own, and since you live here now, you have become a part of it. It isn't about you not being able to do things; it's about not having to do it alone. Think about that next time someone offers you help.”

  He offered a smile that I didn’t deserve and then took off running, catching up to Luke who was pretty far ahead of me in no time. I felt small and a little ashamed of myself. I had been fighting something that I didn't need to fight. I understood what he was saying, but I had always just done things for myself.

  I finished my run, thinking about what Ryan had said. When I made it back to the house, I walked the long driveway trying to figure out a way to apologize to Ryan and Luke, but they weren’t there. Luke’s truck was gone, so I knew they had to be driving down one of the roads on the property. They would have passed me on the road had they headed for town, and Ryan wouldn't take his truck into the woods.

  I grabbed a shower, put on a pair of pajama shorts and a t-shirt, made myself a bite to eat, and plopped on the loveseat. The sound of chainsaws echoed in the distance, and I wondered if they were practicing for the competitions Ryan and his grandmother had talked about. I wasn't exactly sure what the competitions were, but I knew a little about it based on a few conversations I’d had with Ryan.

  Since I didn’t have any actual work that had to be done, I got comfortable and began reading the book I had tried to read the night before. A couple of hours in, Ryan and Luke returned. It sounded like they’d both left again in Ryan’s truck this time. I thought about trying to catch Ryan and apologize, but I decided to give it a little time and apologize later.

  After a few more chapters of my book, I heard an unfamiliar truck coming down the driveway. A bigger truck. I jumped from my seat and ran to the door. The big orange logo let me know that my things were finally here. Since I didn’t want to answer the door in my PJs, I ran upstairs, pulled on a pair of jeans, and made it to the door just as the driver was about to knock.

  “Miss Myers?”

  “That's me.” I wanted to bounce up and down and clap, but I restrained myself.

  “We can leave the truck here for two days to give you time to unload it. I can show you how to work the plank that should make things easier to unload. I'll back the trailer up as close as I can to the door.” He handed me a form, and I signed it, handing it back to him.

  “Do you have someone to help you?”

  “I can get most of it by myself.” He looked at me and then looked back at the truck.

  “Okay, then.” He turned and walked back to the truck. I pulled my phone from my pocket and quickly called the closest moving company I’d researched before the move and was informed that the soonest they could provide a couple of guys to come out would be three days from now.

  I hung up and glanced next door. I could ask and he and Ryan would probably help me, but I didn't want to. I watched as the driver turned the truck around and slowly backed up until he was less than a foot from my steps. He hopped out and placed blocks at the tires, pushed some buttons, and then disengaged the truck from the trailer.

  “I’ll be back early on Thursday morning to pick up the trailer. Here’s our card. If you find you need help unloading anything, let us know, and we can arrange something for Thursday when we come back to pick up the truck. Have a nice day.”

  “Thank you.” I took the card and considered that hiring them to unload my furniture might be my best option.

  I cut the zip tie on the latch that I had placed before they left my apartment in Maine and pushed the door up. I extended the ramp and placed it on the porch so I could walk straight across. The truck wasn't even half full, and I was having a hard time getting the placer moved. I wiggled and shimmied it, but it wouldn't budge.

  “Son of a...” I mumbled.

  “You need some help?” I heard from behind me. I looked over my shoulder, and Luke was standing there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. His beard had been trimmed, and he had on a white button up shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. I sucked in a breath, trying not to be obvious, but the man was beautiful.

  “I—I can't get this loose,” I sighed.

  He walked over to me. “Here, you have to push this in and then up.” He made easy work of the placer and moved it to the side. I saw my favorite lamp teeter and start to fall, but he turned and caught it before it c
rashed to the floor. He handed it to me, and I turned and walked down the ramp and took it in the house. I unhooked the spring from the door and let it drift back to the wall so I wouldn’t have to worry about the door shutting on me as I brought boxes in. When I looked up to start back to the truck, Luke had several boxes in his arms and was walking toward me.

  “You don't have to help me,” I said as he looked around the boxes making sure he was on the ramp.

  “I know that, but I'm here, and I’m going to help if you’ll let me,” he said, giving me a look that was both questioning and affirming.

  “Well, thank you.” I smiled up at him.

  He sat the boxes down and removed his button-up, revealing a white v-neck t-shirt beneath that pulled across his broad shoulders in all the right places. I forced myself to look away.

  We worked for the next three hours, moving most of the stuff into the house. He must have sent a text to Ryan at some point because he came over and they moved all of my bedroom furniture upstairs and the larger pieces of furniture as well. It hadn't taken very long with the three of us working. A little less than four hours after we started, I was pulling the last of the stuff from a box in the kitchen while the guys put my sofa, the last of the furniture, against a wall in the living room.

  I heard someone outside, pushing the ramp to the truck back in place, as I reached into my last kitchen box and pulled out the glass pitcher my grandmother had given me years ago. I was pushed up on my tiptoes, trying to push the pitcher onto the shelf above the stove when I felt the warmth of him behind me. Taking the pitcher, he set it on the shelf for me, pressing closer to me in the process. The closeness was alarming and settling all at once. When he stepped away, I turned to say thank you, and heat flushed through my cheeks.