“Hi, Cassidy!”
She turned to find her friend Susanna Henry smiling as she stepped up to the counter. Susanna was several years younger than Cassidy and an office manager for Abernathy Meats. Cassidy knew that Susanna had once dreamed of becoming an actress, and though she did volunteer at the community theater, Cassidy wondered if Susanna was happy. There was just something in her friend’s expression sometimes—Cassidy couldn’t quite put her finger on it
“I definitely need my caffeine fix,” Susanna said, pushing her layered brown hair from her face and adjusting her long, filmy scarf. Susanna had great style. “I’d love a caramel macchiato.”
Cassidy smiled. “Coming right up. How about a treat to go with it? There’s only one chocolate-fudge cupcake left. So good.”
“Oooh, I’ll take it. I need chocolate to get me through the afternoon. I’ve been trying to get in touch with Geoff Burris all day and his team isn’t returning my calls.”
Cassidy held up a hand as she set Susanna’s cupcake in a small box on the counter. “I’d better stop you there. I’m...friends with Brandon Taylor and he was talking recently about trying to get in touch with Geoff for Taylor Beef, so neither of us should say anything else. Conflict of interest or whatever.”
“Definitely,” Susanna said with a smile. “May the best company win—which will be Abernathy Meats, of course.”
Cassidy grinned. Susanna had been working for the company since high school, so she clearly had pride in her employer. Cassidy had always thought her friend had a little crush on Dean Abernathy, one of the five heirs to the Abernathy Meats company and the family cattle ranch. Dean was eight years older than twenty-five-year-old Susanna and, according to Susanna, he’d always treated her like the kid sister he’d never had.
A few more customers came in, so Susanna waved goodbye and left. Finally, it was two thirty and closing time, and Cassidy headed to the front door to turn the sign around. Ah, a little me time was definitely in order. This had been some day. On top of some night.
Just as she turned the sign, Brandon Taylor appeared in front of Java and Juice, holding up a hand in greeting. Surprised to see him, she opened the door, wondering what had made him stop by. Maybe just to check on her to see how she was feeling.
He looked too good in dark jeans, a white T-shirt, black leather jacket and cowboy boots.
“Have I got a story for you,” he said, his dark eyes sparkling. “Firsthand, or I wouldn’t believe it myself.”
Cassidy tilted her head in curiosity, then walked back behind the counter to start cleaning up. “A story?”
He closed the door behind him and followed her, stopping at the counter. “I made an appointment at Wisdom by Winona. Do you want to know what my fortune is?”
She gaped at him. He’d had a reading? Brandon Taylor? He didn’t strike her as the psychic-reading type. “Yes, I really do.”
“A parenting class in Lewistown. It’s for both of us.”
Okay, now she was really confused. “What? A parenting class?”
He launched into the story, from knocking on the purple moon-and-stars-painted door of Wisdom by Winona to the startling result of the reading: the class. “I was expecting having my palm read. A crystal ball. Tea leaves. And a real reading of my future. I mean, Winona sure looks the part.”
Cassidy gasped. “Brandon, I just realized something. There’s only one way Winona could have known I’m pregnant and that you’re the father. If she’s truly psychic. Only two people know in town—your sister and Callie. And I doubt either told a soul.”
“Yeah, I thought about that, too. I’m sure they didn’t tell anyone, so it’s not like Winona could have heard about the pregnancy from gossip. So maybe there’s more to this parenting class? Maybe the teacher is a wizard or something.”
Cassidy laughed. A magic wand on Brandon would speed things along for sure. “Or maybe Winona is wise enough to know we could use a little help in all areas going forward—the class, some time away from Bronco and everyday life.”
“Yeah, she also seemed to know what I was thinking at the end of our session, when I was sitting there trying to figure it all out.” He chuckled. “So what do you think? Getting out of Dodge might be just what we need. I know I can use a parenting class, and being away will give us a chance to talk on neutral ground.”
She nodded. “I’ll need my own room at the B and B.”
“I figured you’d say that. I’ll register us for the class and call the inn the minute I leave here.”
“Okay,” she said. “Pick me up at seven forty-five on Thursday morning? That should give us time to get there and find the place.”
“Will do.” He held her gaze. “I have a good feeling about this, Cassidy.”
She was too surprised to have a good feeling—yet. But she could use a parenting class, too. And some time away from Bronco. And the opportunity to work on Brandon Taylor in a neutral setting.
Yes. The more she thought about it, the more comfortable she became.
Excited, almost. If she would allow herself to go there.
And when she got back from the trip, she’d make an appointment with Winona herself. Who knew where she’d send her and Brandon next?
* * *
Last night, Brandon’s father had a tirade when he’d heard that his executive VP was taking two days off—today and tomorrow—for personal reasons. Cornelius had demanded to know what those personal reasons were, but Brandon had been tightlipped, which had infuriated his father even more. “That’s my business,” Brandon had said.
“Your business is my business,” Cornelius had bellowed, but Brandon had reiterated that it actually was not, resulting in the stink eye, a finger jabbed at him, steam coming out of Cornelius’s ears, and a tantrum about Brandon taking valuable time off to “gallivant around Lewistown.”
Two words finally had made Cornelius not only calm down but change his tune completely.
Geoff Burris.
Brandon had assured his father that he expected positive news from Geoff about agreeing to sign with Taylor Beef for the ad campaign by tomorrow at the latest. Suddenly the man had been smiling and clapping Brandon on back saying, “You go enjoy yourself, son. You deserve some time off.”
Now, as Brandon drove through the gates of the Taylor Ranch at seven-thirty, he let out a relaxed sigh. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed a break from his father’s controlling ways and booming voice. Not that this trip would be a vacation, but Brandon sure was looking forward to it. To the class. The B and B. And spending two full days—and one long night—with Cassidy.
She was waiting in front of Java and Juice with a cardboard tray of coffees in her hand and a small suitcase beside her feet as he pulled up. She looked so pretty in black skinny jeans, ankle boots and a thick, long, off-white cardigan that belted around her waist. Her blond hair was in a loose bun, soft tendrils around her face. He wished he could kiss her hello. Maybe he could—on the cheek, anyway. But what he really wanted was a long, hot kiss, not a friendly kiss, and she’d already made it clear that friends was all they could be.
He parked and hopped out to open her door for her.
“Thanks,” she said, sliding into her seat. “I made you a mocha latte and a mixed berry scone.” She held up another bag. “I snagged a molasses cookie for myself—I had the strangest cravings for it this morning.”
“Appreciated. I could use the caffeine boost,” he said, taking a long sip before he set it into the console cup holder and pulled out of the spot. “What else do you find yourself craving?”
“All sorts of things. From soups—like the ones you brought me—to twice-baked potatoes with a ton of sour cream. And lemon zinger tea. I’m having that now.” She took a sip, then set it in the other console holder and glanced out her window. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m actually taking two days off. My trusty employee
Helen will take over the front counter, and my part-timer, a hardworking community college student, will help Hank in the kitchen, so the place is all set. They’re great staff.”
“I’m glad you won’t have to worry about your business. You can just focus on yourself, the class, doing some shopping in Lewistown, if you want, relaxing. Whatever you’re up for.”
She smiled. “Sounds pretty dreamy, actually. I owe Winona one.”
“Have you seen her for a reading?” he asked as he turned onto the freeway.
“Not yet, but I’ve wanted to for a while. Part of me doesn’t want to know what’s to be. I mean, I’m not supposed to know till I get there, right? But part of me wants assurances. Then again, psychics don’t give assurances—they give you truth.”
“My truth is a parenting class?” he asked on a chuckle before taking a sip of his coffee, then another. It hit the spot. Between being on the road, having Cassidy in his car, and the caffeine, everything was A-OK right now.
“She must mean something by it. That’s all she gave you? The date and time of a parenting class?”
“Well, at my brother’s wedding, she told me my problem was that I didn’t know how to love. So she got that out of the way already.” He hadn’t meant to say that. But it did sort of validate what he’d said the night they’d babysat, right before he’d had to leave. It was important to him that Cassidy knew he wasn’t just making stuff up about his abilities—or lack, rather—on the subject of romance and relationships.
Her words echoed in his head.
So you see us married, having a sexual relationship, as married couples do, just without the emotional angle? It wouldn’t be a love match. Is that it?
Yes, that was exactly it. And now a psychic had explained why. He didn’t know how to love. He’d known how once, clearly. But he’d given all that up and so, at this point, he’d not only forgotten how to love, he planned to remain blissfully ignorant. For the rest of time.
And as he’d told Cassidy the night they’d looked after Maeve Abernathy, he was strictly talking romantic relationships. Not the parental one he’d have with his child. He believed there was a difference. But man, had that gotten Cassidy up in arms.
He felt her eyes on him. “Does Winona think the parenting class is an answer for that?”
“How could it be?” he asked. “What’s the connection? It’s just a how-to class for first-timers.”
She seemed to be thinking that over. He glanced at her and could see her hazel eyes working furiously, pondering what he’d told her.
“A couple days ago,” she said, “I found Winona staring at me through the back door at Java and Juice. She told me, ‘You’ll be glad you did it.’ I asked her what she meant, but she wouldn’t say. I mean, I do a lot of things all day long. What, specifically, will I be glad I did?”
“She’s a cryptic one, that Winona Cobbs,” Brandon said. “Frankly, she scares me a little. Maybe more than a little.”
Cassidy smiled but instead of responding she took a long sip of her herbal tea, wrapping both hands around the cup. He sensed she needed some time to just sit and think, so he stayed silent. And so did she.
When they arrived in Lewistown at eight forty-five, the bigger town was bustling, people walking, jogging, window-shopping. Brandon used his maps app to find the community center. He parked in the back lot, and then he and Cassidy walked up the brick path to the double doors. He checked his registration receipt on his phone. Room 225. Inside, they took the elevator to the second floor and found the class.
A tall blond couple in their thirties stood at the front of the medium-size room. The woman was pregnant, but Brandon had no idea how far along. Three rows of chairs formed a semicircle in front of a table they stood behind. There were all kinds of props on the table, from a weird-looking plastic contraption that Brandon didn’t recognize to a few stuffed animals and bottles of laundry detergent. There was a basket with a sign reading Class Syllabus. Take One! Cassidy took two and handed him one.
He followed Cassidy to the second row, where she chose seats near the aisle. There were at least forty people of varied ages in the class; from a few who looked too young to be parents to a few in their fifties and sixties. Perhaps grandparents with responsibility for childcare needing a refresher. In any case, Brandon appreciated being one of many instead of a smaller, more intimate group where the teachers might make him talk. He was about to scan the syllabus, but one of the teachers started speaking.
“Welcome!” the blond woman said. “I’m Gwen Woodsley and this is my husband, Paul Woodsley.” She touched her belly. “As you can see, I’m expecting. I’m six months along and due right around Christmas. We also have a fourteen-month-old, an adorable girl who just started to walk, so whether you’re expecting or have a baby, we’ve got you covered.”
So far, so good, Brandon thought. The teachers were right there in the trenches.
Gwen nodded. “Now, if you look around the room, you’ll see a varied mix. Single parents-to-be. Divorced. Partners who are not married. And married couples. No matter the type of family you’ll form, first-time parenting can be challenging.”
Paul then went on to describe those challenges, some of which Brandon had never thought about. Such as: if you’re divorced or not married but sharing custody, who gets the child on Christmas? Who gets the child on his birthday? Making those kinds of choices couldn’t be easy, Brandon figured. He made a mental note to tell Cassidy that it was exactly one of the reasons they should get married. Neither would be away from their child on holidays. Neither would miss their kid’s birthday.
“Okay,” Gwen said with a clap of her hands. She went on to describe needing a support system in every sense of the word.
There were murmurings of agreement.
Brandon made a running list of who he could call in an emergency. His dad and Jessica in a heartbeat. And they’d come running. Interesting and unexpected, he thought. But the truth. And his siblings. Each and every one. He had some good friends he could count on, too. He sat a little straighter, already feeling more in control now that he had that vital aspect covered.
He felt Cassidy’s eyes on him and turned to her, but she shifted her gaze straight ahead toward the teachers. Her expression seemed a little...stony.
“I want you all to take out your syllabus,” Gwen said, “and a pen. And I want you to underline the heading of paragraph one—Support System.”
He watched Cassidy underline Support System. He wondered what hers was.
“Okay, next, this is for all of you who are expecting,” Paul said. “Three-quarters of you.” He went on describe the importance of reading and research, knowing what foods were toxic to pregnant women, seeing your OB for prenatal checkups and taking prenatal vitamins. “Your syllabus has a list of no-no’s and super yeses—but your homework is to read up on those lists and the reasons behind it.”
Brandon was writing furiously, taking more notes in the past twenty minutes than he had in all of high school combined.
Cassidy turned to face him. “I like that you’re taking the class seriously.”
He held up two fingers. “Scouts honor that I will give up Caesar dressing—a no-no for pregnant women—on my salad in solidarity.”
She laughed. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do.”
For the next hour and a half, the Woodsleys talked about how to know it was time to call your doctor and go to the hospital, how to time contractions, that there was something called false contractions. They talked breastfeeding and formula, how to care for the umbilical stump, when to introduce solids, teething, self-soothing, sleep schedules. Brandon’s head was beginning to spin. Finally, the Woodsleys called for a fifteen-minute break, noting that light refreshments were on the buffet table at the back of the room.
“I seriously need coffee,” Brandon said. “My third cup of t
he morning.”
“I wish I could have caffeine. But I’ll settle for decaf. It’ll trick my brain.”
They made their way to the back of the room, waiting in line for the refreshments table.
“So, how are you finding all the info?” Cassidy asked. “It’s a lot.”
“I feel like my head must have expanded by five sizes—that’s how much new information is stuffed inside. And we’re only halfway through the first day.” He slapped a palm to his forehead. “But seriously, I’m getting a lot out of the class. I didn’t know three-quarters of this stuff.”
She nodded. “A lot is new to me, too. I don’t have a ton of experience with newborns. And, um, the, umbilical stump? What?”
“Right?” he said with a conspiratorial smile. “You can be in charge of that.”
“Well, you’ll have to be when the baby is with you.”
“Not if we get married,” he whispered.
“Brandon. We covered that.”
They reached the coffee urns and made their drinks, Brandon adding an extra pack of sugar for the rush or he might not survive the second half.
Based on everything he’d heard so far, convincing Cassidy to marry him was now number one on his to-do list. Who was her support system? She didn’t have family.
And if they got married, they could trade off tasks. She would take care of the umbilical cord stump with the alcohol-soaked cotton balls, and he’d do the bathing, breathing in that baby-shampoo scent.
He had to convince her. And he had this entire little trip to do it.
Chapter Ten
After class was dismissed for the day at noon, Cassidy suggested having lunch first and then heading to their bed-and-breakfast, since check-in time wasn’t until two o’clock.
“If you still have a craving for that twice-baked potato,” Brandon said, “I know a great bar and grill that has them. And a little bit of everything.”
The Most Eligible Cowboy Page 12