A Cowboy’s Baby
The McGavin Brothers
Vicki Lewis Thompson
A COWBOY’S BABY
Copyright © 2018 by Vicki Lewis Thompson
ISBN: 978-1-946759-56-6
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.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Ocean Dance Press, PO Box 69901, Oro Valley AZ 85737
Cover art by Kristin Bryant
Visit the author’s website: VickiLewisThompson.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
But Wait, There’s More!
Also by Vicki Lewis Thompson
About the Author
Chapter One
“So that’s the story.” Gage Sawyer glanced over at his brother Wes as they sat at one of the little bistro tables in Pie in the Sky. “She shot me down. I’m embarrassed to tell you about it. Probably wouldn’t except I figured I had to after I let you in on my grand plan to go see her.”
“I hate that it turned out that way.” Wes sighed. “Did she give you any encouragement at all?”
“Not an ounce.” He took a swig of his double-shot latte. The bakery had stopped serving the triple-shot Firecrackers at the end of July or he would have ordered one of those. “Said she was sorry I’d driven all the way up to Great Falls for nothing, closed the door in my face and locked it. Doesn’t take a genius to get that message.”
“Guess not.”
“It appears that nineteen months is too long to go without contacting a woman. Who knew?”
“Probably depends on the woman.”
“Or the man.” He scowled at his brother. “Wore my lucky hat, too. I clearly overestimated my manly appeal yesterday.”
Wes pushed the plate of brownies in Gage’s direction. “Are you gonna have any of these?”
He shook his head. “Thought I would when I ordered them, but reliving that fustercluck has ruined my appetite.”
“I’m not letting them go to waste, then.” Wes picked up a brownie and bit into it.
“Go right ahead.” He stared out the bakery display window at the folks walking along Main Street enjoying the beautiful fall afternoon. “You know what makes it suck even worse?”
“She’s prettier than you remember?”
“She is, as a matter of fact, but that’s not what sticks in my craw.” He turned back to his brother. “She wasn’t even mad. If she’d yelled at me and slammed the door, then I’d have figured maybe groveling would make a difference. Instead she quietly closed and locked it, like I was some annoying salesman.”
Wes chewed and swallowed. “I hate to say it, bro, but—”
“Don’t say it. I get the picture.”
“What now?”
“I see several longnecks in my future.”
“You didn’t get that out of your system when you came home last night?”
“Oddly enough, I did not. Just didn’t appeal to me.”
Wes eyed him across the table. “Whoa, this is serious. I’ve never known you to be too discombobulated to drink a beer.”
“I was then, but not anymore. Walking into town just now helped.”
“You walked here?”
“It was only about four or five miles.”
“I’ve never known you to walk even one mile.”
“Me, either, to be honest. I don’t intend to make a habit of it, but the exercise mellowed me out some. My feet hurt, though. I should’ve worn those gym shoes I bought for flag football but then I’d be walking around town in gym shoes looking dorky.”
“I’ll give you a lift back.”
“Appreciate it. I need to fetch my truck, anyway. I’m thinking I’ll head to the Guzzling Grizzly tonight. It’s Friday. Bet I could find some single ladies who are in the mood for dancing.”
“You just might.”
“You and Ingrid want to join me? I promise to be the life of the party. Hangdog is not a good look on me.”
Predictably, a mention of Ingrid had his brother glancing past the bakery case to the open kitchen where his blond sweetheart was kneading bread dough. He was twitter-pated over that lady. Gage was jealous of his happiness but pleased for him, too, if that made any sense.
Wes was smiling like a love-struck teenager when he turned around again. “I’ll ask her, but we can’t stay long. She has to get up at three in the morning.”
“I keep forgetting that. But you could at least have dinner, take a few turns around the dance floor. Don’t want to let yourself get rusty. The Sawyer men have a reputation to uphold, you know.”
He grinned. “Then you’d better inform Pete of that fact. I can’t remember the last time he went dancing.”
“Good point. I’ll drag him along tonight, too.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Wes looked over at his sweetie again. “I’ll ask her once she gets that bread in the oven. I’ll bet she’ll want to go.”
“’Course she will.” He picked up his coffee mug. “I need to put a shine on my dancing boots. Mark my words, this ol’ boy is gonna…” He lost track of what he’d been about to say as a familiar scent drifted his way. His back was to the door so he couldn’t see who had just come through it, but nah, couldn’t be who’d popped into his mind.
“Could you please tell me where I can find Gage Sawyer?”
He froze. No way.
Clearly she hadn’t noticed him sitting there, which gave him a moment to collect himself. Meanwhile Abigail, the bakery’s owner, was hedging, politely inquiring how she knew Gage. Thank you, Abigail.
Wes leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Do you know her?”
“Sure do.” Gage carefully put down his coffee mug. “That’s Emma.”
Wes’s eyes widened. “Well, she’s not alone.”
“A guy?”
“A baby.”
His body jerked as if he’d grabbed a frayed electrical wire. His vocal cords tightened as he stared at his brother. “A baby? How old?” His heart was thumping super loud, but not loud enough to block out Emma’s voice as she talked with Abigail.
Wes glanced toward the counter. “Might be a year or so, give or…” His attention swung back to Gage and he hunched over the table. His lips barely moved. “Could it be yours?”
“No.” Gage’s jaw clenched. “I always used a—”
“I believe you. FYI, they’re leaving.”
“Can’t have that.” Snatching his hat off the table, Gage stood and faced the door. “Emma.”
She stopped in mid-step. The baby peered over her shoulder and looked straight at him.
Holy shit. The blond hair was all Emma, but the big b
rown eyes were the same ones that gazed out from every picture of him at that age. His stomach bottomed out. He hadn’t looked at the old albums in years, but he didn’t need to. This was his kid.
His kid. He fought panic. His kid! Yet how in the hell….
Emma turned slowly. So did the little guy, twisting in her arms while he focused on Gage with the intensity of a gunslinger at high noon. Cold sweat trickled down Gage’s spine.
She said nothing, just stared, skewering him with her green eyes. Clearly she was once again taken aback by his sudden appearance, but today there was a subtle difference. She looked…prepared. She had on makeup. “Where’s your truck?”
“It’s not…” He paused to clear his throat. It was the only sound in the bakery. Abigail, Ingrid and half-a-dozen customers stood in suspended animation, like figures in a wax museum. “It’s…not here.”
“I know. That threw me off.”
He’d thrown her off?
“Gage, we need to talk.”
He gulped. “I can see that.”
She adjusted her hold on the baby and grabbed at the strap of a small purse dangling from her other shoulder. “Privately.”
“You can go up to my apartment.” Wes’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood. “That’s handy.”
Gage sent him a quick glance. “Thanks, bro. Much obliged.” He damn near asked Wes to come along. As a referee.
Wes dug in his pocket, pulled out a key and handed it over. “Take all the time you need. Help yourself to…oh, wait, there’s not much in the fridge. Or the cupboards, for that matter. There’s water.”
“It’s okay.” Gage struggled to breathe normally. “I can…I don’t need—” Oxygen would be good. He could use a tankful of that.
“Take the brownies.”
“Yeah.” He picked up the plate so fast he had to tip it quick or the brownies would’ve hit the floor.
Emma frowned. “Where is this apartment?”
“Over the bakery.” Gage moved closer, but he was hesitant to get in her space. Or even more scary, in the kid’s space. Yesterday she’d given him the bum’s rush. Today she was the mother of his son. Crazy didn’t begin to cover it.
“’Scuse me.” He scooted around her so he could hold the door. “It’s this way. I’ll be right behind you.”
The baby’s unblinking gaze continued to track him as Emma carried him through the doorway and out to the sidewalk. Then the little guy bounced in her arms and gave him a grin that revealed four teeth, two on the top and two on the bottom. “Da-da!”
Gage almost passed out.
“He calls everyone that, including me.”
“How…confusing.”
“He’s eleven months old. He has no idea what it means.”
“Right.” Stepping outside, he let the door swing shut. “Over here.” He started toward the outside entrance to the upstairs apartments. Then he nearly dropped the brownies again as he fumbled with the key. Get it together, Sawyer.
After he opened the door, she walked past him trailing a sweet, flowery scent that brought back those hot December nights in her bed. Which time had the condom failed to do its duty? They’d been fresh from the pharmacy, damn it. A reliable brand. A baby. Dear God, he had a baby.
After glancing up the stairs, she snugged the little boy in tighter and began the climb.
His manners kicked in. “Would you like me to carry—”
“I’ve got him.”
“Okay.” He was in no rush to make contact. The way his hands were sweating he might drop him.
He followed her up. Her taffy-colored hair had been loose yesterday, but today she’d gathered it back with a silver clip. The baby stared over her shoulder, keeping tabs on him. “Go right at the top of the stairs. First door. Should be open.”
“Thanks.” She was puffing a little.
“How much does he weigh?”
“Twenty-six pounds.”
His baby weighed twenty-six pounds. What else should he ask? Oh, yeah. “What’s his name?”
“Josh.”
“Short for Joshua?”
“No, just Josh.”
He’d never known a Josh. He didn’t hate the name. He could get used to…wait. Kids usually got two names. He was Gage Brendan, after an uncle he hadn’t seen in years. What if she’d used Gage? Josh Gage sounded weird. “What’s his middle name?”
“Preston.”
Preston? “Why?”
“My dad’s name.”
News to him. “Do your parents know?”
“Of course.”
Naturally. Her folks, who’d moved to Green Bay, Wisconsin, years ago partly because they liked being the Greens from Green Bay, were now grandparents. She would have informed them, even if she’d decided not to tell him.
The door to Wes’s apartment was not only open, but ajar. She walked in and he followed.
She surveyed the living room where nothing was out of place. Even the navy-blue throw pillows on the beige sofa were perfectly arranged. “I can’t believe someone actually lives here.”
“Mostly Wes is at his girlfriend’s. Go ahead and sit wherever you want.”
“Thanks.” She chose the sofa and struggled to keep Josh on her lap as he crowed happily and strained to reach the plate of brownies Gage was holding.
“Does he want one of these?”
“Oh, he sure does. But in nothing flat he and I would both be wearing it. We’d need to be taken out back and hosed down.”
“Then I’ll make them disappear.” Carrying the plate into the kitchen, he stuck it on a shelf in the mostly empty fridge. The cold air felt good. He breathed in a few lungsful.
When he returned to the living room, Emma had put Josh down. He was slowly working his way around the coffee table, his steps determined, his concentration intense.
Gage followed his progress, mesmerized by each wobbly step taken in impossibly tiny gym shoes. His baby was almost walking. His wispy blond hair had a slight curl to it, like Emma’s.
“He still needs to hold onto something. But soon he won’t have to.”
He glanced over at her. She was watching the baby as intently as he was.
Just then the little guy lost his balance. He sat down with a soft thud and a very adult-sounding oh.
“Whoops.” Gage started toward him, ready to help.
“Let him do it.”
“But—”
“This table is a lot like the one I have at home. He can get back up.”
Sure enough, the kid shifted to a crawling position, motored back to the table leg and used it to haul himself upright again.
“Smart little guy.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve baby-proofed the heck out of my house and he still gets into things.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
Her expression grew wary. “Well, I…” She paused and drew in a shaky breath. “Would you please sit down?”
“Okay.” He took the easy chair since he figured she’d rather have him there than cozied up next to her on the sofa. Laying his hat on the arm of the chair, he sat back and waited.
Instead of looking at him, she focused on Josh. “I kept meaning to call you. Well, after I faced the fact I was pregnant.”
“I swear I’d just bought those condoms.”
“I know. I was the one who opened the box, remember?” She gave him a quick glance before returning her attention to Josh. Her cheeks were pinker than they’d been a moment ago. “It was a fluke.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Evidently discussing their former sexual activities got to her. It got to him, too, but he’d keep a lid on it. Her first reaction to seeing him again had spoken louder than words. “You still had my number?”
“I never deleted it from my phone. At first I put off calling you because I was in denial. Then I couldn’t figure out what to say. In the end, I decided you’d be better off not knowing. You didn’t seem like the daddy type, so why throw a monkey-wrench into your life when I didn’t expe
ct to ever see you again?”
“And you didn’t. Until yesterday.”
Turning her head, she met his gaze. “We’d agreed we were just having fun, nothing serious.”
“True.” Yet those nights with her stood out in vivid detail all these months later. “So if I hadn’t come to see you yesterday…”
“You’d be none the wiser.”
His chest tightened. Finding out about Josh had knocked him six ways to Sunday, but never finding out….
“Anyway, you did come to see me.”
“And you told me to leave.”
“I wasn’t prepared. I panicked. I had no idea how you’d react.”
“You didn’t know how I’d react today, either, but you still brought him down. Why?”
“Because seeing you again and not telling you felt like a lie. I couldn’t make that decision for you again. You deserved to know.”
He regarded her silently. Bringing the baby down here had taken courage. “Thank you.”
Some of the tension eased from her expression. “You’re welcome.”
“What now?”
“I guess…we need to talk about it. But please understand that I don’t expect anything from you. You deserve to know, but you don’t have any responsibility, here. You’re free to go on with your life as if Josh and I don’t exist.”
He stared at her. “Are you kidding?”
“Not at all.” Her expression gentled. “You didn’t choose this, Gage. I don’t want to saddle you with a child you never intended to create.”
“You didn’t choose this either.”
“Not initially, but after I made my decision, I never looked back. I haven’t regretted it for one second. You had no say, though. Expecting you to adjust your life to fit a choice I made is unfair.”
He met her gaze. “I don’t know what’s fair or unfair. This is all so…”
A Cowboy's Baby (The McGavin Brothers Book 11) Page 1