A Cowboy’s Secret Baby
Billionaire Western Hockey Romance
Savannah McCarthy
Copyright © 2020 by Savannah McCarthy
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Prologue
1. Elizabeth
2. Wyatt
3. Elizabeth
4. Wyatt
5. Elizabeth
6. Wyatt
7. Elizabeth
8. Wyatt
9. Elizabeth
10. Wyatt
11. Elizabeth
12. Wyatt
13. Elizabeth
14. Wyatt
15. Elizabeth
16. Wyatt
17. Elizabeth
18. Wyatt
19. Elizabeth
20. Wyatt
21. Elizabeth
22. Wyatt
23. Elizabeth
24. Wyatt
25. Elizabeth
Epilogue
Epilogue
Prologue
Wyatt
The crowd roared with appreciation and, for the first time all night, Wyatt Sounder let a smile slip.
This was a rare occasion. The forward used to flash his pearly whites almost as much as he flashed by opposing team’s defences, but the past ten years had been rough on the hockey star. His dreams had come true and his life had shattered into a million pieces all at the same time.
It was a miracle he was still playing, let alone so well.
“... For his 500th career goal...” blared a booming voice overhead. Wyatt heard the wave of cheers crescendo as he glided back to the bench. His teammates waited for him with big smiles of their own. Half-hidden faces with big beards and black eyes and missing-tooth grins patted him on the back and cut through the noise to congratulate their assistant captain.
“Enjoy it,” nodded his head coach, Butch Casey. The grizzled ex-player pointed up to the scoreboard that hung over the ice. Wyatt leaned against the boards and glared up. He could hardly hear himself think in all this noise—he didn’t mind; actually, that’s the way he liked it best. The ice had always held a special place in his heart, but now it was something even more precious—it was an escape.
There was no time to think about the past out here. No time to doubt bad decisions or linger on broken hearts. All that mattered was the puck. All that mattered was the game.
The arena lights dimmed and an awed hush came over the restless crowd. Up on the big screen, a tribute to Wyatt’s career began. The talented forward felt his heart clench as a photo of his little hometown found its way onto the giant monitor. There were more people in this stadium now than there had been in Watford City when he was growing up.
Wyatt flinched at the unwelcomed memories brought about by the picture. He didn’t want to think about his past—not now, not on the ice. This was his sanctuary.
Photos of his childhood slid across the screen.
There he was, a little boy with big talent and a head full of hopes and dreams.
There were the old arenas his parents used to drive him to. The chilly barns in far off cities that he imagined as the very type of stadiums he now played in.
There were his parents...
Wyatt’s gut lurched as a photo of him with his mother and father materialized into view.
The crowd cheered in respect. Everyone here knew what had happened to him. Still, even with an arena full of supporters, Wyatt felt alone.
Conflicted tears of both sorrow and pride welled up just behind the burly hockey player’s eyelids. He held them back and forced himself to watch it all. He owed it to the fans and the organization.
Wyatt watched as more memories flooded the giant screen. His first nationally televised game, his draft day...
Then, out of nowhere, a completely unexpected photograph appeared.
No, not now, not here, he thought as his gaze was finally forced away from the tribute.
He stared down at his skates, trying to forget what he’d just seen, but it was too late. The image was seared into his mind all over again.
Despite the freezing temperatures of some of the rinks Wyatt had played on in his youth; despite his propensity for pond hockey, he had never truly felt cold—not on the ice; not with his passion for the game.
Now, though, for the first time ever in a hockey arena, Wyatt was fighting back a chill. His spine shivered and his chest constricted. He couldn’t look up.
The video playing above finally ended. The crowd roared once again and his teammates patted him on the shin pads with their sticks in congratulations. The bright lights came back on and the refs blew their whistles.
“Want to take a break or try for another one?” grinned Coach Casey.
Wyatt immediately knew his answer. He just wanted to get back to the game. He just wanted to forget. He worried that if he sat down on the bench, he’d drown in old memories and regret.
He didn’t care that he had already played a full shift. He needed to be out there.
Wyatt struggled to speak. His throat was full with emotion. So, he just nodded towards centre ice. His coach nodded back.
“1st line, stay out there!” he yelled, buttoning up his form-fitted suit.
Wyatt skated towards the puck drop with his head down. He was desperately trying to shake out the memories that had just invaded his mind.
He felt a stick tap against his shin pads. “You alright, buddy?”
Wyatt looked up. It was his long-time winger and best friend, Chase Ember.
“Yeah,” nodded Wyatt, unsure if it was a lie or not. “Let’s get another one.” He furrowed his brow and tried to force the sadness out of him.
“Line up, Sounder!” shouted the ref.
Wyatt complied. He bent down over the blue dot and stared into the ice—it was deep and full of cuts. Countless wounded layers lay beneath the one they currently skated over.
Suddenly, the puck dropped.
Wyatt was snapped back to reality with a shoulder to the face. He lost the face-off but quickly chased after the loose puck. An opposing defender got to it first and cleared it down the boards. Wyatt turned and got into position as his teammates gathered back in their end.
He tried not to think, but he couldn’t help it. Old memories were leaking out from the back of his mind in a flash flood of thoughts he didn’t want to have right now.
Where did the organization get those pictures they had shown for his tribute?
He hadn’t given them up. In fact, he didn’t know where half of them even came from. He recognized most of the places in the photographs, but not the photographs themselves—well, except for one.
He remembered the photograph that had made him look away. At one point in his life, that picture had been comforting to him. He had kept it in his wallet and looked at it whenever he felt alone—now, it only made him feel truly alone.
Lizzy...
He thought of that night as he half-watched the puck being fought for behind the net.
A split-second later, the puck broke free and grazed along the boards right towards him, but Wyatt was hardly paying attention.
He was lost in a wistful daydream. The game might as well have been a memory itself. He didn’t see Ilya Radulov, the General’s biggest defenceman, race towards him like an angry bull from back in his rodeo days. He barely even felt the hit.
There was simply a quick explosion of pain and then total darkness.
Chapter 1
Elizabeth
“Mommy! Mommy!”
The sweet singing birds that chirped just outside of Liz’s window flew off in a hurry at the commotion.
Elizabeth Turk turned over in bed just in time to be met with a face full of her daughter.
Little arms wrapped around her body and hugged her tightly. Bindi’s soft fresh scent wafted into Liz’s nostrils like a gift from God himself. Her long restless night faded away with the darkness of her loneliness – she had her little girl with her now.
“What’s the matter, baby?” she asked, nuzzling her nose into Bindi’s shoulder.
“I had a bad dream,” mumbled the little girl. She was limp in her mother’s arms, but Liz could tell she was already feeling better—that’s just what a mother’s loving touch could do to you, she figured.
Liz swept her daughter’s hair aside and kissed her forehead. Droplets of cool sweat evaporated from her hot forehead. The two snuggled in the growing light of the soft summer morning.
“What was it about?” asked Liz.
She could feel Bindi thinking. The five-year-old had developed a habit of bringing her index finger to her mouth and playing with her lip while she tried to figure things out. Right now, she was trying to figure out what she had been so scared of.
“... I don’t remember,” she finally admitted, burying her face deeper into Liz’s chest. Liz could feel her smiling, and that made her smile too. There was no better way to start a morning than with her little girl.
“Was it about a monster?” she asked playfully. Liz walked her fingers across Bindi’s back until the five-year-old squirmed free.
“No!” she giggled, clearly already over the nightmare. Bindi sat on her knees and bounced on the mattress. Her finger found its way to her lips again.
“Was it about ALIENS!?” Liz asked, shouting the last word as she pounced at Bindi.
Bindi laughed and let her mother tackle her back down to the sheets. “No!” she giggled incessantly as she half-heartedly tried to escape Liz’s tickles.
“Hmm,” Liz hummed, pulling back from her tickle attack. Her own finger lifted to her lips as she considered what else Bindi might be afraid of. “Couldn’t have been that scary, then, huh?” she finally smiled.
Bindi smiled back. “I’m not scared anymore,” her chest puffed out and her cheeks filled with air. She started jumping up and down on the mattress and Liz accepted the wake-up call. She was exhausted – she found no rest last night – but if there was one thing that could make her feel alive and ready for another day, it was her daughter.
She sat up on the side of her bed and pulled up the blinds on the half-open window by her nightstand, then she stretched out her hands to the ceiling and yawned. She heard Bindi take a break from her jumping to echo her actions in the background.
“Time to get ready for a new day!” Liz beamed. She stood up and looked down on her heavenly gift. Bindi sat in the sunlight like an angel. She knew if she didn’t get moving, though, her energetic daughter would get restless.
She picked up her growing munchkin from the bed and let out an exaggerated groan. Truth was, she could barely carry Bindi anymore and it made her sad. Her little girl was getting so big and she didn’t need her mother as much anymore. Liz was glad her daughter was becoming so independent—she knew first-hand how important it was to be able to take care of yourself—but she also longed for the days when the two of them were inseparable. Bindi was starting 1st grade next year, which meant Liz wouldn’t be able to see her at work anymore. The school she taught at also had a daycare attached, but the school where Bindi would be going was all the way across town. It was rare for such a small city, but Watford had two schools—Liz figured that’s what you got when you’re town found itself at the center of an oil boom.
She led Bindi out of her bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. Her daughter walked on Liz’s toes and let her mother direct her arms like a marionette.
Liz reveled in her touch. They had the entire summer together, but then they’d be apart for longer than they ever had been before. Entire days without her little girl, how would she manage!?
These next few months would be a precious time in both their lives.
“Appreciate what you have together now,” Liz’s own mother had told her just a few weeks ago. “Before you know it, she’ll have gone off to university and left you behind!”
That had made Liz laugh. Her mother was only joking, though her jokes were often laced with a passive aggressive jab or two for not visiting her enough. Liz knew her mother meant well; now more than ever. She just wanted to see her daughter.
A chill ran through her spine at the thought of Bindi going off to an out of state university like she had. How would she ever manage that loneliness? At least her mom had her dad...
Liz let that thought slip from her mind. She wanted to live in the now, and right now, she had to get the both of them ready. They had a fun day of park visits and ice cream lunches planned.
The two fiery ladies got washed up and dressed with gusto. Country music blared from the radio in the bathroom and Liz held her toothbrush up to her mouth as she lip-synced along. Bindi followed suit, completely enraptured by giggles. By the time they were both prim and proper, Liz’s belly hurt from all the laughter.
This is going to be a good day, she thought as she locked up behind her.
The soft July sun washed against her face and her daughter’s hand filled her with warmth. Birds chirped happily. A lawn mower buzzed somewhere off in the distance.
Elizabeth Turk felt happy. She had been greeted by a perfect morning and she was confident the rest of the day would follow suit. After all, how much could really go wrong in a town as small and quaint as Watford?
Chapter 2
Wyatt
“Staying out of trouble?”
Chase chuckled on the other end of the phone. His voice cut in and out from the dodgy reception at Wyatt’s remote North Dakota ranch.
“There ain’t enough out here to find trouble with,” Wyatt grumbled. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat up in his bed. The mattress creaked under his weight.
“Why are you even at Stony Brook?” Chase asked. “Are you renovating Gold River ranch or something? I can barely hear you with your connection. You’re too rich to be so hard to reach!”
Chase’s voice crackled like static. It was giving Wyatt a headache. He couldn’t afford to get another headache. “Maybe I don’t want to be reached...” He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes. “Listen, bud. I should go. This connection is giving me a headache...”
“Say no more, bro,” interrupted Chase. “You have to be careful with these concussions. They can still come back to bite you for months after the fact. I’m glad you were finally feeling good enough to get out of the city, I just wish you would have let me come with you. I know I’m not much to look at, but I could be a good maid—you’d just have to find me a suitable uniform!”
That made Wyatt chuckle. Chase was a huge, beast of a man. He was so masculine he made bikers look like little kids. The image of him in a tutu or some other ridiculous maid outfit gave Wyatt his first real laugh in months.
“I just need to be alone, I think,” Chase sighed. He did miss his teammates, but he also had to get better and he knew the only way that was going to happen was if he was devoid of distractions—it was part of the reason he had sequestered himself at Stony Brook instead of Gold River.
Stony Brook was his family’s original ranch. It was all they could afford before the oil boom. The land was rocky and harsh and remote. Wyatt could climb and hike and stay in shape but he couldn’t do much else, which is exactly what he needed.
Gold River Ranch was much nicer. It had all the amenities that his fortune could afford, but it was a little too close to Watford. He still wasn’t ready to face the memories that awaited him there—not that he was sure he ever would be, but the least he could do for now was keep his distance. The little town had already caused him enough pain,
there was no need to go looking for more.
“Well, if you need anything, just give me a call. You’ve always been there for me and I feel bad that you won’t let me be there for you, but I guess that’s just kind of how you are. Independent to a fault! Can’t wait to have you back, bud.”
“Can’t wait to be back.” And with that, the phone line went dead.
Wyatt Sounder was truly alone once again.
He lifted himself off his bed and shuffled to the bathroom. He was still a little sore from a particularly good hike the other day, but other than that and his waning headache, he was feeling better than he had since the hit.
The two months immediately following his concussion were awful. The slightest change in noise or light could turn his head into a fireball. He felt so foolish, almost like he deserved it.
How could I have let my guard down like that? he would think as he sat in the dark rooms that plagued his off-season.
Inevitably, he would be reminded of that photo and his heart would threaten to hurt even more than his head.
Where did they even get those pictures?
He had never remembered that question for long enough to ask it. His memory was dodgy at best for those first two months, but ever since, he had slowly been improving. When he was given the all clear from the team doctors, he made a beeline for his family’s old ranch. There were no horses or cattle there, but it was quiet and without temptation, and that’s exactly what he needed.
Two months into his stay at Stony Brook, though, and he was getting antsy. He didn’t want to be back in the city quite yet, but he did want a little more than what he could find here. Maybe a horse ride, or some hay shoveling, or just a change in scenery. He’d been over every trail a thousand times. He was in good shape, physically, but his mind was starting to dull from the isolation.
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