“Actually, no. I attended a two-day class with someone special. And in fact, since this will be a family party, you can add one more to the guest list.”
“You get married or something?” Cornelius asked, eyes narrowed on him. He looked like he was bracing himself for terrible news.
“No. But I’m going to be a father. Cassidy Ware is pregnant.”
Cornelius’s eyes practically popped out. “Am I supposed to congratulate you? I can’t tell.”
He felt like he’d just taken a left hook to the jaw. His father had to ask?
“Yes, Dad. Congratulations are in order. Cassidy and I are a couple and we’re expecting.”
Cornelius picked up the Scotches and handed him one. “A new generation of Taylor Beef heirs! Brandon, that’s wonderful. Today just keeps getting better.”
Hadn’t Brandon just thought that earlier about his own day?
“You’re happy about having a grandchild or happy that you’re getting a baby heir?” Brandon asked.
“They’re one and the same, son. I couldn’t be more thrilled.”
So Cornelius Taylor. “I expect you to babysit, Dad,” Brandon said with a smile.
“With Jessica’s help, sure. Where’s my cell phone?” he asked, looking at his desk and the credenza and the bar. “Who can ever find that thing? I have some gloating calls to make around town. A new generation of heirs! That is something else. Well done, Brandon. Well done, indeed.”
Good Lord. He really hadn’t known how his father would take the news. Part of him had expected Cornelius to erupt with rage over losing another son to a personal life—and this time a baby. His dad might be 100 percent focused on the word heir, but maybe deep down where he barely knew his father, the man was actually happy about being a granddad.
“Hold off on making any calls, Dad. Cassidy’s very newly pregnant. I’ll let you know when you can call everyone you know.”
“Fine, fine,” Cornelius said. “You get in touch with your sister about the party. We’ll have it here at the ranch. Oh, and I’ll call that nice architect back and set up a meeting for you. She can design you a grand house right here on the ranch with a nursery.”
Cornelius took that moment to raise his glass in a toast.
Brandon kept his glass down. “I’m not sure of my plans, Dad. Or what Cassidy wants.” Now that they were a couple, getting married was definitely off the table. He had to ease into being in a real relationship. A platonic marriage—no problem. A real marriage? A shiver ran up Brandon’s spine.
Cornelius scowled, but again, he was too happy about his heir-to-be that it didn’t last long. The mirth was back in his eyes. “Well, you bring Cassidy to the party.”
Brandon clinked to that.
Chapter Twelve
A potbellied pig named Tiny Tim was sniffing his cowboy boot. Brandon had wanted to stop by Happy Hearts, his sister’s animal sanctuary, this afternoon before he got bogged down in a few hours of work. Daphne, in overalls and muck boots, was feeding the pig and a surly-looking goat in their pens. Tiny Tim’s snout was more interested in Brandon’s boot than in his breakfast.
“Aw, he likes you,” Daphne said, pushing her long strawberry-blond ponytail behind her shoulder. “So you said you had some very interesting news for me. I’m all ears.”
He explained about Geoff Burris. And their father’s invitation.
“So he envisions my attendance as an opportunity to reprogram me, is that it?” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and shook her head. “Dad will never change, will he?”
“Nope,” Brandon said. “Think you’ll come?”
“To spend time with the whole family, yes, I absolutely will. Having Evan by my side, even figuratively, will give me strength to deal with Dad. To be completely ignored by Dad, I should say.”
Brandon grinned. “I’m glad you’ll be there.
“So how are things with you and Cassidy?” she asked, adding what looked like kale and spinach to Tiny Tim’s huge food bowl.
“I found out what she needed,” Brandon said. “And came through.”
Daphne’s blue eyes lit up. “Yeah? Can I ask? I’m dying to know.”
“She needs us to be a couple, a real couple. She needs me to try to give it my all. So that’s what I’m doing.”
“Brandon, that’s great. Good for both of you.”
“Not necessarily good for the baby,” he said on a sulky note.
“What? How could it not be? The baby’s parents are in a committed relationship.”
“And if it doesn’t work out? If Cassidy and I just piss each other off after this honeymoon phase and suddenly we’re fighting and break up? Then we’re both all bitter and arguing over who gets the baby what days.”
Daphne turned to look at him. “Why get so ahead of yourself—and to a place that you very likely won’t go?”
“How can you know, though? Not one relationship of mine has worked out. Why would this one?”
“Because of how you feel about Cassidy,” Daphne said. “Plain and simple. And I’ll tell you, Brandon. I don’t even think how you feel about her is connected to her being pregnant. I mean, it’s powerful stuff—she’s going to be the mother of your child. But your feelings for Cassidy are because of her.”
“How could you possibly know that?” he asked, reaching down to touch Tiny Tim’s soft ear. He got a snort of thanks before the pig went back to eating.
“I could tell from the way you were talking about her the day you told me she was pregnant. You feel about Cassidy the way I feel about Evan. When someone is that right for you, it’s obvious. It’s also out of your control.”
He frowned. “I like to be in control of myself.”
Daphne chuckled. “Love is big stuff. Just let it do its thing. Stop trying to mess with it.”
“I never said anything about love. Cassidy and I are in a relationship, a romantic relationship. Stop putting words in my mouth.”
Daphne laughed again. “Poor Brandon. Madly in love and fighting like hell against it.”
“Those are more words, Daphne.”
Luckily, her phone rang and she had to get over to the adoptable animals barn. He couldn’t take much more of his sister right now.
Madly in love. He and Cassidy were testing things out. No one said anything about love.
He and Cassidy were about need. She needed real romance out of him. He needed—
Brandon froze, realizing that what he needed was at odds with what she’d gotten from him.
He needed a platonic marriage so that they could raise their child in peace and harmony. But instead, she would be leading him to a real marriage—the natural progression from a real relationship.
For a smart guy, he sure was stupid sometimes. She’d all but spelled it out, that for their baby’s sake, they should try the real thing. What the hell had he thought she’d meant? He shook his head.
Calm the hell down, he told himself. Just go slow.
“Later, Tiny Tim,” he told the potbellied pig and stalked toward his truck.
He got in, his shoulders bunched, his head out of sorts. A drive would do him good.
Distracted, he ended up turning onto a road that would lead him right into Bronco Valley, the area of town where Cassidy had grown up. He remembered where she lived: 401 Elm Street.
He didn’t spend much time in the Valley since his life was focused in the Heights. And now that he thought about it, he didn’t have any friends in this part of Bronco, either. But he had no doubt that many employees of the Taylor Ranch lived in the Valley, and the Taylor family should be more involved in the community than it was. Fancy fundraisers were one thing. Real involvement, doing the work itself, was another. Taylor Beef was deeply involved in investing in ranching communities, but Bronco wasn’t all ranches.
He found the house by memory, al
most surprised it came back to him. The peeling, faded yellow one-story home was the same boxlike structure, with a chain-link fence on one side. He parked across the street and stared at the uninviting residence, having a hard time imagining Cassidy, as a young girl or a teenager, finding inspiration walking that uneven path and up the broken steps—the top one, raised on the left side, had a dangerous gash in the concrete—and going inside. Then again, she must have, given how driven she was. She’d wanted to have her own business since she was a preteen. She’d seen it as a way out, something that was hers.
A young couple with a toddler wearing a pink wool hat with bear ears came out of the house. The woman, her long dark hair in a ponytail, was singing a song about a meatball rolling off a table and out the door, and the toddler joined in when she knew a word, making the man with them laugh. They looked happy. Very happy.
You didn’t need money to be happy, Brandon knew. He had too much money and he hadn’t been happy for a long time—until Cassidy had come back into his life.
But then the man tripped on the uneven step and almost fell, and the little girl screamed, “Daddy!”
Brandon grimaced, got out of his car and held up a hand. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” the guy said. “Do it every day even though I know it’s there.” He shook his head on a chuckle.
The woman smiled. “You always forget to step over that part of the step where it’s split. Amanda and I always remember, right, honey bunny?”
“Right!” the little girl said. She looked up at Brandon. “I’m two.” She held up two fingers.
Brandon grinned at her. “I like your hat,” he told her. He turned toward the couple. “I know the family that used to live here. Do you own this house now?”
“Yeah,” the man said. “Bought it five years ago and meant to fix it up, but times are tough.”
Brandon looked at the steps. Were they like that when Cassidy lived there? He couldn’t remember. The couple of times he’d dropped Cassidy off here, he did recall staring at the house and being confused that anyone could live in a tiny box like this. Rich privilege, he thought, shaking his head. And snotty and wrong. People did the best they could with what they had.
Brandon looked at the couple. “As I said, I know the family that lived here and, in their honor, I’d like to send out a mason to take care of these steps. No charge to you whatsoever.”
They stared at each other then turned to Brandon.
“You’re serious?” the man asked. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. Just in memory of the woman who owned the house. She was a single mother and raised one heck of a daughter. Now you’re raising a daughter here. I’d just like to do something in her memory.”
“That’s really nice,” the woman said. “No strings?”
“No strings.”
“Thank you,” the man said. “We’ll definitely take you up on that. The people that lived here, we didn’t meet them, but they must have been good folks if you care that much about them.”
Brandon extended a hand and both shook it. “The steps will be repaired this week. Take care.”
As he walked back to his truck, he wasn’t sure if he’d mention this to Cassidy. It seemed like something that was between him and her mother, who he’d never gotten to meet because she’d been at work the couple of times he’d been over. Or maybe it was just between him and his conscience—for not doing more to build up Bronco Valley. He’d talk to his brother Jordan about forming a revitalization company; he had no doubt the entire family would get involved.
As he headed back to Bronco Heights, he thought about her mother’s sacrifices, her dreams for her daughter, her support of Cassidy. And Cassidy’s own dreams, her goals. An idea fixed in his head and the more he thought it over, the more right it felt. He wouldn’t tell Cassidy about this, either. He’d let it be a surprise.
With that idea taking center stage in his brain, he was thankfully distracted from his conversation with his sister, which now seemed like yesterday. He made a call, then a stop in town, then drove to the Taylor Ranch, ready to get back to work. Because he’d spend most of it anticipating tonight with Cassidy.
Then again, maybe he should cancel. Given his frame of mind, he’d be on the quiet side and she’d know something was wrong. And something was wrong.
But he wanted to see her, had to see her, even if their very real relationship was causing his chest to tighten on him.
* * *
“Something smells amazing,” Brandon said, sniffing the air as he stepped through the door of Cassidy’s apartment.
She kissed him on the lips and then closed it behind him. “I’m making a stir-fry and it’s almost done. Go make yourself comfortable. You can root through the TV for a movie or show. I love how domestic all this is,” she called in a happy voice from the kitchen.
Domestic. He’d never really liked that word. He dropped down on the sofa, aiming the cable remote at the television on the wooden stand. He scrolled through the channel guide—movies, reality shows, documentaries, romantic comedies. Nothing caught his eye. He shifted on the sofa, crossing a foot over his knee. Uncrossing. Trying to get comfortable. The back of his neck itched. Now his shoulders felt tight. Bunched.
Weird. What the hell was wrong with him?
I love how domestic this is...
He stood up, shutting off the TV. Something was bugging him.
Suddenly, the smell of the stir-fry seemed cloying more than anything. This whole set-up seemed kind of...homey. Marriage-y. The kind of thing married people did. Domestic.
When they’d originally made these plans, he hadn’t realized how domestic it all was. A home-cooked meal. Watching TV. Sharing popcorn on the couch and talking about their days. When was the last time he’d done that with a woman? Brandon and his dates always went out to fine restaurants. And if they went back to the woman’s place, it wasn’t to watch a romantic comedy while snuggling on the sofa.
He stared at her sofa and it suddenly seemed like the gateway to walking down the aisle in a tuxedo, his bow tie strangling him. He didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want this beautiful thing with Cassidy to turn bitter and ugly. He had to protect his relationship with his child.
Okay, calm down, buddy. You’re having some kind of confirmed bachelor panic attack.
Cassidy used the words try us out and give us a chance, he reminded himself. She hadn’t been talking about marriage.
But that’s what she wants. That’s where this is all leading.
He dropped back onto the sofa, half expecting ropes to come darting out of the cushions to trap him forever.
“Dinner’s ready!” Cassidy called.
He slowly got up. No ropes pulled him back.
He had to be losing his mind. What the hell was going on with him? His head and heart and mind and body seemed to be at war, each yanking him in a different direction.
Poor Brandon, he heard his sister say in his head. Madly in love and fighting like hell against it.
No. Once again, he’d never said anything about love. This was a trial romance. Feeling each other out to see if they were good together. It wasn’t going to last. He’d known that when he’d agreed to give it a shot. He’d tried and now he was quickly discovering that he wasn’t cut out for a real relationship. No surprise there.
He also knew he’d have to get out before things got too out of hand. Maybe he should tell Cassidy tonight that he thought they should go back to the way things were before Lewistown. Platonic partners in pregnancy and child-rearing. He could make a stronger case for marriage now that they’d tried this real relationship thing and it wasn’t working out. For him, anyway. Cassidy seemed fine with it.
She was happy.
Very happy.
And he was going destroy that? Um, Cassidy, we have to break up because this isn’t what I want
and it’s messing with me. Love doesn’t last. Marriage doesn’t last. Let’s just get out of this now and save our friendship. For the baby’s sake.
He told himself to wait for a pause in their conversation and go from there.
He stepped into the kitchen, hoping his expression didn’t match the turmoil inside his head. Cassidy was bringing two plates of steaming stir-fry to the table. A bouquet of flowers was in the center of that table, and he realized he hadn’t brought them.
“I should have brought you flowers,” he said. “I got caught up in conversation with my dad and then my sister, and my head exploded.”
That was an in. Of sorts.
“Yikes, what was the gist?” she asked, sitting.
He sat, as well, and explained about the celebration party and how Cornelius had only invited Daphne to reprogram her into someone she wasn’t and would never be.
“Why isn’t it enough to be his daughter?” Brandon asked. “Why must she be a meat-eater? Why can’t she protect animals? Why can’t she just be who she is?”
“I agree,” Cassidy said.
“People should be allowed to be who they are, not who others want them to be.” Yes. That was true. He was who he was. Cassidy was trying to turn him into a TV husband and father.
No. She’s not trying to do anything but be who she is, he corrected. Leave her alone.
Losing. His. Mind.
“You know what?” he said. “Let’s change the subject to something that has nothing to do with my father.”
He couldn’t say a word about the rest of the conversation with Daphne. About them. Him. And how uneasy he’d felt in the Happy Hearts’ barn, being accused of loving Cassidy.
She took a bite of her stir-fry, then popped up and grabbed a magazine off the counter. “How’s this for a change of subject? A parenting quiz in Baby magazine.”
He ate a bite of the chicken and vegetables and rice, which was delicious and did not turn to sludge in his stomach. The change of subject had helped already. “With all the reading I’ve done and the two-day class, I should ace this.”
The Most Eligible Cowboy Page 15