Brandon turned to his father. “And you’re telling me this because...?”
Cornelius Taylor walked over to the window. “Because two birds, my son. Two birds.”
Birds? What?
“Leila’s an award-winning architect,” Cornelius added. “I’ve hired her to scope out a good section of our land for a prime location for the house she’ll design—for you and your future family. Who knows? Maybe you two will fall madly in love like some Christmas TV movie.” He chuckled. “You get your wife and your house in one.”
Brandon was not chuckling. In fact, he was frowning so hard his face was beginning to ache. “There’s a lot to cover in what you just said, Dad. But let’s start with the house that I’m not interested in.”
“Oh please,” Cornelius said dismissively in a booming voice, waving his hand at Brandon. “Of course you need a grand house of your own. You’re thirty-four. And when you find yourself a wife, you’ll have your dream home waiting for you. Win-win. Let’s go chat with Leila, shall we? Did I mention she was on the team of architects who designed BH247, that exclusive apartment complex right in town?”
Cornelius turned and headed for the door. Brandon stayed right where he was.
His dad stopped in the doorway. “Well, come on. You can talk about what style you’re looking for. Log mansion? Luxe farmhouse? Of course we’ll make sure the home is situated near this house so you and the family can easily come over for Sunday dinners.”
It was that last part that had Brandon changing his tone. His dad was a control freak, but at heart, the man just wanted his family around the big table for pot roast. Brandon’s sister had told him that, when she got really mad at their dad, she’d think of their mother, Cornelius’s first wife, walking out on him, on her family, leaving him with confused young kids. Cornelius had been a workaholic, but he’d been there for his children in important ways back then. Daphne had said she knew it wasn’t an excuse for their dad’s controlling behavior, but it helped her understand him a bit better and be less hard on herself for not hating him for how he’d treated her since she’d moved out to start Happy Hearts.
Brandon got it. He really did. But he thought his father had gone too far with Daphne. And Cornelius was going too far now. Overstepping was the man’s middle name.
“Dad, I know you mean well, but you’re going to have to send Ms. Farrington on her way. I’m not in the market for a house. Or a wife. End of conversation.”
Cornelius scowled. “I’ll tell you what your problem is, Brandon.”
Second time in a week that someone had said that to him.
“You’re being offered a mansion on the property and you’re turning it down,” his father said. “You’re your own worst enemy.”
“I like my life the way it is,” Brandon said. His father’s only reason for building him a home on the ranch was to keep him on the ranch. That wasn’t in doubt.
His father shook his head and raised his pointer finger to make another accusatory pronouncement, but he rolled his eyes and left, shaking his head.
Brandon turned toward the window and watched his father walk up to the architect and throw up his hands. Then he heard his dad calling out, “Hey, Dirk,” and saw his brother getting out of his pickup. The twins—sons from his second marriage—hadn’t grown up on the ranch and didn’t live here now, but Cornelius had always told them they were welcome anytime. Both liked to ride and often made use of the stables.
Run, Dirk, run, Brandon said to himself, shaking his own head. But his younger brother was trapped, and now the three of them were getting into the brunette’s Range Rover and off to scout house locations. Poor Dirk probably didn’t know what had hit him. Brandon had no doubt Dirk would warn Dustin to make himself scarce in the days ahead.
Brandon spun himself back around and put his feet up on the desk, next to the work he was supposed to be doing. At least he wasn’t in a hot fury.
A few months ago, this kind of controlling stunt from his dad would have had Brandon all pissed off, especially because of the way Cornelius was keeping up his pointless cold war with Daphne, who’d had the gall to want her own life. His conversation with his dad would have ended quickly in raised voices and a slammed door. Now, thanks to his sister’s empathy, Brandon had been focusing on trying to understand his father more, even if he didn’t like it. Cornelius Taylor didn’t want to lose any of his children, plain and simple. He wanted them right there in the main house, which was why he’d built addition after addition, usually with each of his marriages, to make the wings bigger and bigger. He still referred to the wing where Brandon’s suite was located as the “kids’ wing.” Brandon could go weeks in the kids’ wing without hearing another suite door open. That was how huge it was.
Brandon fully believed that his father was happy about Jordan’s marriage, but he also had no doubt Cornelius was hatching plans to build Jordan and Camilla a villa on the property. Luckily, the two were on their honeymoon for a couple of weeks and didn’t have to deal with Cornelius. But with Daphne having left the nest, Cornelius Taylor was digging his hooks into his second born—Brandon—who’d always been something of a wild card that couldn’t be labeled or boxed. His father had a problem with that.
Cassidy Ware’s lovely face and big hazel eyes floated into his mind, and what a lovely distraction it was. Perhaps he’d head over to Bronco Java and Juice for a strawberry-banana smoothie just to see Cassidy, to say hello. He could say something to let her know he hadn’t just disappeared on her, that he knew she’d never take him up on his casual sex offer and he wanted to give them both some time to put the past to rest—again.
But just as he grabbed his jacket, he started thinking. And thinking. And thinking some more. He’d see Cassidy and want to kiss her. He’d ask her out on a proper date and maybe she’d say yes. Then suddenly they’d be dating. Seeing each other. She’d want more than he could give, and they’d be at each other’s throats.
A montage of the romances that had almost undone him went barreling through his head. He had a thing for Cassidy and, if he gave in to it, he’d no doubt be adding her to his record of relationships that had come to a bruising end for whatever reason. Stick to the usual, he told himself. Flings and the short-term.
He threw his jacket on the love seat, sat back down and picked up the sheet of sales projections, but every time he tried to focus on the graphs, all he saw was Cassidy’s beautiful face.
Chapter Three
Two weeks later
At two thirty, closing time for a café that opened at 7:00 a.m., Cassidy turned over the Open sign on the front door of Bronco Java and Juice and very slowly walked back behind the counter, her eyes on her purse. The red-leather bag with its long beaded strap was on its usual hook beside the bookcase containing her binders of recipes and special mugs and beautiful glasses she’d collected over the years. She stared at the purse, which contained something so scary she was afraid to step too close.
A pregnancy test.
It had barely been three weeks since the wedding where she and Brandon Taylor had made love in a hay-strewed stall in the stables. She tried to think of the exact date of her last period, but her head was a jumble. She only knew she should have gotten it by now. If she was pregnant, she’d conceived the night of the wedding.
Come on. She wasn’t pregnant. First of all, she and Brandon had used a condom.
But her formerly very regular period always announced itself with the usual symptoms. When she’d had those for days without the actual period, she’d stopped in her tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, wondering if her strange cravings lately for a loaded baked potato with sour cream and bacon crumbles was another sign.
For peace of mind, so she could focus on her constant special orders for birthday cakes and wedding cakes—thank you Sanchez-Taylor wedding—she’d stopped into the drugstore on her break. She’d bought a test when the aisles
were clear and no one was behind the counter but the kind pharmacist, who’d long been a keeper of secrets in town. What that man knew could fill a very juicy tell-all about the citizens of Bronco Heights.
Could she actually be pregnant? Barely a few weeks along? With Brandon Taylor’s baby? She’d never gotten back to him on his proposal for a no-strings affair. And he hadn’t followed up, which told her he hadn’t been all that serious about even the most casual of relationships. A moment had presented itself in the stables and they’d both been in. Now they were both out. Fine.
Except it wasn’t fine and hadn’t been way before she’d even thought she might be pregnant. During the past few weeks, she’d tried to force away her traitorous feelings every time one conked her over the head or grabbed at her heart. Her feelings for Brandon Taylor had come rushing back the night of the wedding. She’d worked hard to put those feelings in their place. You can’t always get what you want and you have to deal with it.
She thought a slightly bruised heart was all she had to contend with.
Cassidy slowly walked to her purse and dug inside for the box, then went into the employee restroom. Heart thumping, she read the instructions enclosed with the test. “‘Wait two full minutes. If an orange check mark appears in the small window, you are pregnant...’”
She was sure there would be no orange check mark as she carefully followed the instructions and noted the exact time, to the second, that she placed the stick onto the sink counter. She bit her lip and paced the small bathroom without darting a single glance at the test.
You’re not pregnant, she told herself. You’re just taking the test to rule it out. After this, you’ll wash your hands of Brandon Taylor and how he almost scared you half to death.
Imagine if she were pregnant with his baby? She shook her head. The man couldn’t even commit to his own proposal for a no-strings fling! She let out a snort but then immediately wanted to cry.
She stared hard at the second hand of her watch. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two...one.
Cassidy swallowed. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them and grabbed the stick.
Bright orange check mark.
She gasped and staggered backward, grabbing the edge of the sink to steady herself.
What?
She stood staring at the check mark, one hand going instinctively to her belly.
Pregnant.
But they’d used a condom. Could it have broken?
She closed her eyes, her heart thumping, her head feeling like it was stuffed with hay.
Maybe because she was in shock, she grabbed her phone and found the “hi” text Brandon had sent her at the wedding. At least she had his number and didn’t have to track him down at the ranch. She texted him.
I’m at Java and Juice. Can you come here now? Very important.
He texted back within five seconds, which she found sort of comforting.
Sure thing. Be right there.
Well, at least he responded fast—not only to her text, but to the word important. He’d get here soon, she’d tell him, and they could be in shock together.
She stood in front of the mirror, looking for differences. She had to look different if she were pregnant. Something telling in the eyes. But she looked just the same as she had this morning.
Cassidy paced with the stick of the pregnancy test, eyeing the orange check mark. Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant.
Maybe she should have first called a trusted friend, like Callie. Talked it out and come to some kind of understanding about the different possible scenarios. But there was only one scenario she could think of right now. Having this baby on her own because Brandon Taylor was going to move to Alaska when he found out.
Cassidy Ware, a single mother. Like her mother before her.
Whatever you do, Cassidy, don’t get yourself pregnant by some guy, her late mother had said quite a few times over the years. Yeah, a baby is a beautiful and precious thing, but the reality of raising a child alone—emotionally, physically, financially and spiritually—is harder than most people can imagine. Be smart with yourself, girl.
Tears stung Cassidy’s eyes and she blinked them away. What she would give to have her mother back right now. Her mother’s mother had been gone when Cassidy wasn’t even two years old, and there had been very little in the way of a support system for her mom.
“Hello?” a deep male voice called out from the front of the shop. “Cass?”
He was as good as his word. Not ten minutes had elapsed since they’d texted.
“Cass?” he called again.
The sound of his voice sent a surge of protectiveness through her and she put her right hand on her belly.
No matter what, she said to her stomach. I will do right by you. That’s a promise.
She wasn’t sure she meant to, but she came out of the bathroom with the stick in her hand. Brandon was standing in front of the counter, concern on his face.
She stared at him, then looked at the stick.
He gaze went right to it, his dark eyes widening.
“What’s that?” he asked, staring from it to her and back to the stick. He stepped closer, staring harder.
“According to this, I’m pregnant.”
His head leaned slightly forward and now his expression held confusion and shock. “Pregnant?”
“Pregnant,” she repeated.
He didn’t say anything for a few moments. “And how do you feel about this?”
The question surprised her. She’d expected him to ask why she was telling him this. Then demand a paternity test. Then head for Alaska.
How do I feel about this? she asked herself. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. She hadn’t had time to even think about it. “I don’t know yet. I’m processing. I’m still in shock, which is probably why I called you instead of a close girlfriend to help me get my head around it.”
The one thing she did know? She was going to have a baby. A sudden elation whirled through her, but in seconds it was gone, replaced by fear.
She needed a little time to get her bearings here. “Coffee?” she asked, her throat dry. “Smoothie?” She pointed at the colorful chalkboard listing the offerings. “We can sit down and talk. But for a few minutes, our most pressing issue can be what we’re in the mood for. I think I’ll have the Berry Explosion smoothie.”
He looked at her, head slightly tilted, expression unreadable. “Actually, I would love a strawberry-banana smoothie. I’ve kind of been avoiding this place ever since you opened it despite my love of juices. And coffee. And pastries.”
She smiled. “Coming right up. And since the blender is so loud, we can be spared having to make small talk.” She grabbed her big knife and headed for the baskets of fruit and the chopping board.
He looked relieved and dropped into a chair at a table for two, then immediately sprang up. “Can I help? Should you be up and about?”
She stared at him, not expecting that, either. Her guard was way up with Brandon Taylor, but every now and then, he’d make it dip a bit. She had to be on guard against that. “Pregnant women can lift bananas. No worries.”
He nodded a few times, then sat back down. Every time she looked over at him, he was looking at her.
I am pregnant with your child. The words kept echoing in her head. How was this her reality? A literal roll in the hay, a half hour after fifteen years of avoidance, and she was pregnant. With Brandon’s baby.
She gave her head a little shake, snapped lids on their cups and brought over a berry smoothie for herself and his strawberry banana. She sat across from him. He pulled out his wallet, and she covered his hand with hers. “On the house.”
“Thanks,” he said, putting his wallet away. He very slowly unwrapped his straw and then slid it into the lid, finally taking a long sip. “Delicious. And fortifying.
I actually don’t feel like I might fall over anymore.”
“Is that how you feel about it?” she asked.
He took another sip of his drink. “The news is a shock, I won’t lie. But everything’s going to be fine. We’ll get married.”
She froze. “Married?”
“Married. We’re having a baby, Cassidy. So, yes, let’s get married.”
“Just like that, you’re proposing marriage?” She reached up and put the back of her hand to his forehead. Not hot at all. “Brandon, you didn’t even follow through on proposing a no-strings affair.”
“Because you deserve more than that, Cassidy.”
“You mean because you don’t want to deal with me demanding more from you,” she countered. She had this guy’s number. Please.
“Maybe both. But all that is moot now. We’re having a baby. So let’s get married for the baby’s sake.”
Part of her wanted to cry. The other part was drawn to the practicality of it. But her answer was no.
“Never in a million years would I marry without love being the driving force,” she said.
“Marriage can be about partnership. It can be about us as a team, taking care of our child.”
“Ah, so how would that work? You would have ‘married hours’ where you would dote on your child and make dinner for the family and then in your free time you’d sleep with other women as if you weren’t married?”
“Of course not!” he said. Loudly. “Sorry. If we marry, we’re married. I’m not going to date, Cassidy. Jeez.”
“So you’d be all-in for a partnership to raise our baby. Interesting. I have to say, you’ve surprised me. I didn’t think you’d take the news well at all, and here you are, preparing to forsake all others. But the wedding vows include loving your spouse. You can’t pick and choose the parts of the vows you’ll honor.”
“We can do whatever we want, Cassidy.”
She shook her head. “Some things are nonnegotiable to me. I won’t marry a man who doesn’t love me. You don’t believe in love, so you don’t seem to need it. I get it. But my answer is no.”
The Most Eligible Cowboy Page 4