The Convenient Cowboy

by Heidi Hormel

  “Pregnancy and marriage are not correlated.”

  “I know that, but—”

  “It’s your fault. Well, yours and Jessie’s.”

  “I don’t see how. You might be a lawyer, but even you’ve got to understand basic anatomy—”

  “Ha-ha. Very funny. She’s sick constantly. I swear she’s lost twenty pounds.”

  “I doubt she’s lost that much weight. I want to understand how she got pregnant when you’ve been married for less than a month.”

  “We met at your wedding.”

  “You hooked up at our wedding? Were you so drunk that you didn’t—”

  “The condom broke.”

  “You’re sure it’s your baby? It seems awfully convenient that you offer her a marriage proposal with money... I assume you offered her money, since you told me you might have to sell that damned truck, which you love better than any man should.”

  “The baby is mine.” Spence made himself loosen his grip on the phone. Olympia wasn’t that kind of woman, which he’d known even before she’d punched him. She lived by a cowgirl code like his sister-in-law’s. No matter what she might say about walking away from the baby and her family, she was the one who’d stepped in when her youngest sister lost her scholarship. “I didn’t call you for a lecture. I called you for medical advice. Second, Olympia didn’t know she was pregnant when Elvis married us.”

  “Really? An adult woman didn’t put together that she’d had sex, then didn’t have her period? Pregnancy never came to mind?”

  “Do I need to take her somewhere?” Spence asked, listening intently at the bathroom door. Silence. Had she passed out?

  “If you think she’s dehydrated, yes. Otherwise, make an appointment as soon as possible.” Payson’s voice was coldly clinical. “You know it’s not your job to save her, right?”

  “That’s your thing, Payson. I have a prenup contract with her, and it’s all about keeping Calvin safe. I’ll do whatever it takes. Right now, I’m married, and my wife is pregnant.”

  “Not your wife, the woman who you talked into acting as your wife. Remember that.”

  Spence hung up and stared at the closed door. He raised his hand, letting it hover there for a moment before tapping lightly. “Olympia, you okay?”

  A choked “Fine” came through the closed door.

  “Open up, so I know for sure.”

  “No,” Olympia said, her voice stronger. Water ran in the sink, making the old-as-dirt pipes clatter. The house had been built by someone with enthusiasm but a definite lack of skill. Nothing worked well, and everything needed to be updated, including the bathroom.

  “Let me get you some—”

  The door opened, and Olympia stood there, swaying just a little, dark circles under her eyes, her lips bloodless. “I’m fine.”

  “If by fine, you mean that you could audition to be one of the walking dead...” His heart beat hard in his chest. “We’re going to the ER.”

  “Absolutely not,” she said, her knuckles white as her hand gripped the jamb, her jaw thrust forward. They’d been living together long enough for him to know what that meant. A boulder would be easier to move. A stupid part of him admired her grit. “You’re going to the doctor tomorrow.”

  “I have an appointment.”

  “For next week. That’s too far away. I’ll call from the office, and if that doesn’t work, then I’ll get Payson to call them.”

  Olympia had just opened her mouth when crickets sounded from her pocket. She pulled out the phone and narrowed her tabby-cat eyes at him in an obvious this-conversation-is-not-done look. “Hey, Jessie, what’s up?” She took a small step from the door. He didn’t walk away. Her paleness worried him. He didn’t want to leave her alone until she was in bed or sitting on the couch. “Payson told you what?”

  Apparently, doctor-patient privacy didn’t count when it was your brother.

  “Yeah. That night. I can’t talk about it now. I’ve got to go.” Olympia shoved the phone into her jeans’ pocket and turned slowly to him. “You told your brother? We decided to keep it quiet until we worked everything out.”

  “I called him for medical advice. I wanted to know about morning sickness.”

  “Get that damned agreement out now because we’re going to hammer this out. I don’t want any more surprises.”

  “You do know that eventually everyone will know you’re pregnant.”

  “We’d better be divorced before then.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her that if anyone really looked at her now, they’d know. He glanced down where her shirt stretched across her breasts. The generous curves had swelled to... She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. He said hastily, “I’ll get you toast and soda, then we’ll talk about the prenup.”

  “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

  Chapter Five

  Pausing their discussion and moving to the kitchen had gotten rid of any sense of emotional connection, Olympia decided. She sat on the mismatched chair at the table she’d salvaged from a pile of trash left on the side of the road. She’d slapped a heavy coat of sunny-yellow paint on it, which had turned it into a blinding rectangle rather than a “sunny accent.” Maybe she should start buying women’s magazines rather than Barrel Racer News and Ranchers Monthly. The place still needed those homey touches that seemed beyond her. On the other hand, she had zero dollars to make it any better. On the third hand, she’d always lived with zero dollars. Would that ever change? She swallowed hard, heartburn adding to her misery. How could she even have heartburn when she’d eaten nothing?

  “What?” Spence asked staring at her hard from where he stood at the cupboard.

  “TUMS. I need TUMS.”

  “Stay there. I’ll get them.”

  Olympia fought to keep her head up so she wouldn’t knock it against the table, weeping. Because she felt like crap...all the damn—darn—time...and because her rodeo dreams and freedom from her never-ending, crushing responsibilities felt further and further away. Worse, she’d gotten harnessed to a man who would leave as soon as he got his son, no matter what he said about family. She knew how this story would end, with her holding a baby and watching him walk away—like every other man in her life.

  He stood above her holding out the plastic container of TUMS. His dusty-blue eyes were marred by a shadow of worry and something she couldn’t quite name. She took the bottle, careful to not touch him. She’d learned in their weeks together that even brushing up against him made her shivery and hot. It had to be the pregnancy that had turned her into a heap of exposed nerve endings.

  He produced a yellow legal pad from somewhere. She never imagined that lawyers actually used them.

  “The current agreement is clear about how we’ll dissolve the marriage, but it didn’t take into account—” he hesitated “—a pregnancy, as you know.”

  “I didn’t imagine being pregnant.”

  “I know. That’s what we’re trying to address.”

  She nodded and stopped as her head swam. Women actually wanted to get pregnant? Her mama had done this four times! If she’d had a different relationship—really, any relationship—with her mother, she’d call and ask when the sickness went away. Jessie had been pregnant once and was trying again, but because she’d lost the first baby, the subject was too sensitive to ask her for advice or even sympathy. “What did you say?”

  “I said I want you to sign over full custody of the baby to me in utero.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want it to be clear that the baby is mine since its conception.”

  “There you go again, getting all puffed up about your damned...darned swimmers.”

  “No,” he said, his eyes glued on the notepad. “I just want to make sure that no matter what happens over the n
ext few months, my interests in the baby are clear.”

  “You know that the baby is a human being, not a truck?”

  “I know better than you what it means to have a baby.”

  “Because you got some other woman pregnant? She’s trying to keep you from that kid. Doesn’t seem as if you know much.” She didn’t even know what words were coming out of her mouth. Was she trying to wound him? She looked across the crappy table at her attorney “husband” with his cowboy pearl-snap shirt and Piaget watch. She flushed with annoyance at his cowboy fakery and the whole danged situation.

  “You’ve said you don’t want the baby. I’m ensuring that it is clear that custody has been transferred to me. What do you care, as long as you’re not responsible, darlin’?” His mouth held no hint of a good-time-cowboy smile, and his eyes—definitely sharky now—were flat and opaque.

  His attitude and tone elevated her heartburn from two-alarm to five. She dug another TUMS out of the bottle. “I want to give the baby up for adoption, to a family that will...well... She doesn’t want me as a mother anyway, and how exactly are you going to keep her from knowing who I am when—”

  “If that’s all you’re worried about, I can write into the agreement that your name will be expunged from all the records. There’ll be no mention of the child in the divorce. We’ll do it in a separate closed agreement.”

  Olympia nodded. Suddenly, the idea of her baby never knowing her made her heart hurt. That had to be just the hormones. Olympia knew her future; it wasn’t here with Spence and kids. The rodeo. Barrel racing. Seeing the world. Yep. That was where she was headed. Her hand crept to her belly, but she pulled it away. She knew where a baby led—directly to a broken-down trailer and handouts. Before she could change her mind, she said, “Write that in there, that you’ll never reveal the mother’s name. Never.”

  “If that’s what you want.” He looked at her strangely but made notes on his pad. “Even if I get custody of Calvin before the baby is born, I will expect us to remain together.”

  “Absolutely not. I won’t be here with your son.”

  “It’s not the best situation because I certainly don’t want him to get the idea that he’s got a new mother. But I need to be there for the baby.” He nodded toward her belly.

  “How did this get so complicated?”

  “Darlin’, it got complicated the minute I took you out onto the dance floor.”

  Olympia’s heart thudded a little harder, remembering their slow dance. Their hips brushing against each other, her snuggling into his shoulder and then his hands roaming over her body. From that one dance, they’d quickly ended up in her room and then... Well, it had been... Nope. She wasn’t going to think about that night because it was the whole reason for the complication right now. “That’s not happening again. We have a business arrangement.”

  “As you pointed out, we’re talking about a baby, not a truck.”

  “Not yet. This is just a...peanut.” She pointed at her stomach. The situation still didn’t feel totally real—even with the morning sickness and the overflowing cups on her bra.

  “You look as though you’ve got more than a peanut going on,” Spence said, staring where her T-shirt strained to cover her chest.

  Sharp heat filled her breasts, making her nipples harden and the space between her thighs soften. “I...” The heat moved to her face. She didn’t know whether to be turned on, embarrassed or pissed off. She opened her mouth again to say...what? She had no idea.

  His hand moved to grasp hers as he half stood and leaned forward. She had plenty of time to pull back. Instead, she acted like a little mouse mesmerized by a snake. She sat while his softly curved lips came closer and closer. They touched hers, moved over them, nibbling until she opened her mouth on a gasp as warmth tingled from her lips throughout her body. She wanted to taste the licorice and excitement of him. She wanted to feel again that sexy connection they’d shared months ago. The one she still felt when he looked at her or brushed past her. He pulled her to her feet and against him. She didn’t even know how it had happened. She reveled in the sexiness of the kiss, the gut-level primitive need she had for him.

  Spence cradled her head. He wanted to taste every nuance of her lovely mouth. The one that made him hot and angry at the same time. Hot when he noticed the soft curve of her lip. Angry when she spewed...who the hell cared what. His free hand moved to her breast, gently cupping the heavier, new weight of it. That wasn’t enough. He heard her whimper and knew that sound. She’d made a similar demand when she’d urged him to take her in that motel room. His hand clawed at the edge of her T-shirt, pulling it up so his hand could be flesh to flesh with her breast. “Oh, dear Lord,” he gasped against her mouth. The contact aroused him. He moved his hips against her, torturing himself with the warm curves of her hips.

  “Spence...what...are we doing?” Olympia half moaned, her hands both pulling and pushing at him. She didn’t know what she wanted. Her body wanted him right here on the kitchen table. A moan started from deep inside as his hand—when did he get so many of them?—snaked into the unbuttoned top of her jeans, pushing open her zipper so his fingers could tease her. “Jeez...what are you—?”

  “I’m givin’ my cowgirl the ride of her life,” Spence said, his breath warming her ear as his fingers explored her.

  “Stop talking. I don’t—”

  His mouth covered hers as he touched her. Her hands fumbled for the snap on his pants, opening it so she could reach down to cup his muscled, taut butt. She pulled him tight against her, trapping his hand and rocking. His fingers moved a fraction of an inch, and she flew apart. She slumped against him, and Spence whispered, “I’ve got you, cowgirl. I’ll always have you.”

  His words startled her, and she pulled away. The rush of cool air brought her back to her senses. Oh, my God. What had she just done? In her kitchen. She stepped back, noticing now that her pants were around her thighs. Spence’s were open and she could see the bulge in his tighty whities. Dear Lord. She needed to get out of here. After racing to the bathroom as she pulled up her jeans, she sat down on the floor and leaned against the small tub, its cool porcelain soothing her hot skin. She’d just used Spence like a sex toy. Where was that in their agreement?

  * * *

  SPENCE DREW IN deep breaths as he leaned on the table, willing his pulse to stop racing. What had they just done? What they probably shouldn’t have. He sucked in a final deep breath, stood fully and finally noticed his pants were undone. He gingerly zipped up the jeans, telling himself that no man had died from a raging hard-on. The yellow legal pad sat on the table. That was what he should be concentrating on, instead of Olympia’s uninhibited response. He shifted as he was rubbed uncomfortably by his confining Ariats.

  He went to the refrigerator for a beer and heard Olympia’s bedroom door close. Good. This would give him a chance to cool down and figure out what would happen next. He gulped at the beer. By the time half the bottle was gone, he had himself under control. He got his laptop so he could answer emails and work on the Texas case he’d been assigned.

  But he couldn’t concentrate. Was that a noise from Olympia’s bedroom? Had she gotten worse? He hesitated for a moment, talking himself into believing the sounds had been a figment of his imagination, fueled by the unfinished business in the kitchen. This time he was sure he heard a noise. He hurried down the short, dark hall, stood for two seconds outside her closed door, then knocked and opened it in the same motion.

  “What?” Olympia asked as she grasped at a T-shirt to cover herself, which hadn’t stopped him from catching a glimpse of the glowing whiteness of her breasts or the deep, darkness of her nipples. He didn’t stop his forward momentum.

  “I heard you.”

  “I was... I couldn’t find a shirt that fit right.” Dusky rose stained the lightly tanned skin of her cheeks.

  “Oh,
” he said lamely. He reached out his hand. He had to feel again the soft weight, the taut response of the nipple, hear the moan as he rubbed—

  “Stop—” Olympia choked out. He didn’t stop pushing aside the shirt.

  He looked at her face, amazed that his hand had followed his imagination without direction from his brain. “I can’t. I’ve just got to... There.” His hand settled against her breast, the heat of her warming his palm. Olympia took a hesitant step forward.

  “Harder,” she whispered leaning into him. “I need... Touch me...harder.”

  He pulled her to him, his hands firmly taking her breast and her butt so that she stretched against him in a tight line.

  “Kiss me,” Olympia heard herself say in a husky voice that wasn’t hers. She should be embarrassed, but she wanted the sizzling link they’d shared on the table. She wanted all of him this time. His breathing went ragged as she pushed his jeans and underwear down. He stepped out of them and settled himself between her thighs. “I get to have a little fun first.” Holding his weight on his arms, he brushed his lips against hers, enjoying their sweetness as she tried to deepen the kiss. “Not yet. I want to savor this.”

  “Hell no,” Olympia said, wrapping her arms around him, yanking him down onto her.

  “I’ll squash you.”

  “Is that what you call it now?” she laughed, husky and sexy.

  Before her laugh finished, he’d reversed their positions and now she lay stretched out over him. “You’re a cowgirl, right? Prove it. Ride a cowboy. Save a horse.”

  “You got that right, cowboy.” Olympia rocked her hips forward as he entered her. Quickly, she found a rhythm, reveling in her body’s power. She barely heard Spence urging her on as her climax broke over her once again, and his hips lifted off the bed in a squeal of springs.

  “That’s how we break in cowboys around here,” she whispered against his sweaty neck, savoring the closeness of him, the safety his very presence gave her, allowing her to fall asleep in one swift blink.