The Cowboy's Pride

by Charlene Sands

  Trish’s heart tripped over itself. Something more than sex was happening here, at least on her part, and it scared her silly. She was ready to back away, denying them another soft and warm exchange of kisses, but then Clay surprised her by breaking their connection first.

  He stepped back and searched her eyes, holding her captive for a long moment. She didn’t know what to think now or how to feel, she just stared back at him.

  “Tell Helen I’ll give her a ride home,” he said. “I’ll be in the car waiting.”

  Trish opened her mouth to say something, but Clay had already turned away. She watched him walk to his car and get in.

  “Oh, wow,” she whispered into thin air.

  The entire evening flashed before her eyes in a blur. She was dazed and confused. She opened the door and walked inside as if on autopilot, putting one foot in front of the other, her stomach tied in knots, her brain crowded with overwhelming thoughts. She tried to make sense of what was happening between her and her estranged soon-to-be ex-husband and nothing jumped out with clarity. Not one darn thing.

  Helen approached her in the entry, taking in her appearance and most likely, the sated look on her face. “Clayton showed you a good time.”

  “Helen!”

  Was it that apparent? Scorching heat rose up Trish’s neck.

  Helen giggled with youthful glee. Her entire face brightened and Trish felt the need to set her straight.

  “He did not. I mean, it’s not like that,” she explained. “It’s nothing. We talked business most of the time.”

  “Talking business usually doesn’t muss your hair like you just woke up or put a dreamy look on your face and make an earring disappear.”

  Trish grabbed both her ears. One of her chandelier earrings was missing. “Oh! That was one of my favorites.” Images popped into her head of how she could have lost it. Was it when Clay pulled her up against the pool-house wall and made love to her, shattering her body into a hundred pieces? Or maybe it was when he grabbed her hand and they took off running from the security guard. She couldn’t contain the smile that dug into her cheeks.

  Helen sent her an I-told-you-so look.

  A change of subject was necessary. “How’s Meggie?”

  “Sleeping like an angel. She woke up once for a bottle. Drank a few ounces, then she was out again.”

  “I’m glad she was no trouble.” She walked past Helen, toward the bedroom, eager to see the baby, and the older woman followed her into the room. Trish slowed as she approached the crib, putting both hands on the rim. Soft rays glowing from a Princess Cinderella night-light illuminated Meggie’s sweet-cheeked slumber. With Helen beside her, they watched the baby’s chest move up and down in peaceful breaths.

  “She’s precious to me,” Trish whispered, feeling unmatched love in her heart. She wanted to protect Meggie from anything that could harm her. She wanted to ensure her a happy, fulfilling life. The baby deserved as much.

  “Thank you for staying and watching her tonight. She was better off here. I knew she was in good hands.”

  “Anytime. I don’t mind watching her if there’s a need.”

  “I appreciate that.” They reached the parlor where Helen picked up her handbag and sweater. “Oh, I almost forgot. You got a call from someone named John Stevenson.” Helen walked over to the end table and picked up a note by the phone. “He couldn’t reach you by your cell phone. Your assistant, Jodi, gave him this number. Here,” she said, “I wrote down what he said.” She handed her the note.

  Trish’s brows knitted together. She took a cursory glance at the note before lifting her gaze back to Helen. “Clay’s waiting for you outside in the car. He’ll drive you home.”

  “Oh dear, I didn’t realize he was waiting on me. He didn’t want to come in?”

  “I didn’t invite him in, Helen.” She shook her head regretfully. There was no sense mincing words and at least now, Helen wouldn’t get the wrong idea about the two of them. Quick pre-divorce flings did not heal a broken marriage.

  Trish walked her out, and she felt an overwhelming urge to embrace Helen and thank her for her help. Helen hugged her back with a tight squeeze. The warmth in the older woman’s eyes brought Trish immense happiness as they said goodbye.

  Once back inside, Trish stared at the note from a Realtor in Nashville. The message read: “The house you wanted is back on the market. The seller is anxious. Are you still interested?”

  The house was a little four-bedroom cottage on the outskirts of Nashville in a great school district. It had a big backyard with green grassy areas and a playhouse that the seller would leave, if the buyer wanted it. It was a picture-perfect house for a family. Even before Meggie had come into her life, Trish had loved that house. She’d driven by it every day on her way to the office. Now she had a chance to make that house a home for her small family.

  Her mind spinning, Trish couldn’t make the decision tonight. She had Clay on the brain and a dozen other things to sort out in her mind. “Tomorrow, or the next day,” she muttered, convincing herself she’d have a clearer mind after a good night’s sleep.

  The morning came too fast. Meggie had woken up at 2:00 a.m. and heaven love her, wanted to be entertained before falling back to sleep. At six, Trish dragged herself out of bed to rise with the sun so that she could get some work done on Penny’s Song before Meggie woke up again.

  Groggy, but working efficiently under a deadline, Trish made her plan for switching over the entire fundraiser to the little ranch. She put it all down on paper, designing the night’s activities and how she would go about wowing the contributors in a much more understated way. She’d always believed in the soft sell.

  By noon, Trish had commissioned for flyers to be spread around town and had even booked a spot on the local news for an interview. She’d make calls to benefactors in the next few days and in the upcoming weeks she’d pull out all the stops and work on the details, but for now the wheels were set in motion for the Penny’s Song First Annual Gala and Fundraiser.

  Later in the afternoon, Trish drove over to the little ranch, looking for Clay. She found him by the corral speaking with three of the older children who were hanging on his every word. “You got to keep the horse healthy by brushing him every day. If he worked hard, he’s gonna have dust, dead skin and hair under his sweat. Brush him down with a strong hand. He needs his pores open and that massage is gonna keep his muscles from going lax. Keeps his tack clean, too. Don’t want to have a horse getting any infections especially under his blanket and saddle.”

  Clay demonstrated how to properly groom Tux, one of the corralled horses, by using a body brush and currycomb. “After I’m through, you’ll each get a turn, and then we’ll use a water brush to wash old Tux down.”

  Trish stood about five feet away behind Clay. Once he caught sight of her and Meggie, he nodded and lifted the corners of his mouth before turning back to the kids. She waited and watched. Meggie, wearing a bonnet today to keep the sun off her face, was keenly alert after just waking from a nap. Horses fascinated her and she took everything in. When Tux whinnied, Meggie squealed with delight and nearly jumped out of Trish’s arms. She tightened her grip immediately.

  Clay turned and looked on with amusement. His smile, aimed at Meggie, dazzled. Whenever Clay looked at the baby with affection and appreciation, the way he seemed to do lately, a hollow ache churned in her stomach. She couldn’t much blame him—Meggie was the sweetest little thing—but she wished her dang heart wouldn’t bottle up in her throat whenever Clay paid attention to the baby.

  She turned from Clay now, watching the children as they went about their daily chores. Many of them smiled and waved. Trish saw a real sense of community here. The week was nearly over and it was apparent the kids had jelled into a cohesive family.

  Wendy strode up to say that Preston needed help in the general store. Trish interrupted Clay’s grooming lesson to tell him to meet her there. And after spelling Preston, who had another commitment, Tr
ish took over the duties at the store. Primarily, it amounted to straightening shelves and entertaining Meggie with colorful items that captured her curious attention.

  Twenty minutes later, Meggie began a fussy jag. She didn’t want to go into the stroller. She didn’t seem tired, having just woken from a long nap. She squirmed in Trish’s arms even as she showed her around the store, trying to entertain her with the toys on the shelves. Why wouldn’t she stop crying? She didn’t know why the baby was so upset. After rocking her with deep sways of her hips, singing her favorite songs and offering her a bottle, Meggie continued to fuss. She was in a mood.

  When a ten-year-old boy named Henry strolled into the store, eager to spend his tokens, Trish was at a loss to help him. The baby’s cries echoed against the wood beam walls and probably reached a wide range outside. Trish was sure everyone at Penny’s Song was stuffing cotton in their ears right now.

  “Shush, shush,” Trish whispered desperately. Meggie moved to and fro restlessly against Trish’s chest. She was afraid the baby would wiggle straight out of her arms. She’d read that if a baby wouldn’t stop crying while holding her, then you might as well put her down to self-soothe. Self-soothe, now that was a concept.

  Ha! Like that was going to happen.

  Henry had his hands plastered over his ears, looking at Meggie as if she was an alien who’d sprouted green horns and wings. “I’m sorry, Henry.”

  Trish made a move toward the parked stroller by the counter and bumped right smack into Clay’s unyielding chest. Heck, she almost bounced off him. “Oh, I didn’t see—”

  The baby’s wails drowned out the rest of her words.

  “Let me have her,” he said. Somehow he’d stepped inside unnoticed and now stood beside her. His deep voice caught Meggie’s attention. The second the baby saw him, she lunged and Clay caught her midway, entwining arms with Trish as they made the exchange.

  It all happened so fast. One minute, Meggie was screaming blue murder and wrestling against her mother’s chest, the next she was in Clay’s arms, quieting down. Two hundred pounds of muscle, brawn and deadly good looks, coupled with her adorable nearly five-month-old baby, who seemed suddenly and magically mesmerized, was a little hard to take.

  Trish sat on the stool behind the counter. “Wow.”

  Clay grinned. Meggie’s tears were wet on her cheeks and he gently brushed them aside with his shirtsleeve. “There you go.”

  “Can I get my Tonka truck now?” Henry pointed to a shelf above his head. “I want that one.”

  Clay strode over to pluck the yellow truck off the shelf. “You worked hard today, Henry. Be sure to take good care of this.”

  “I will.” The boy looked at Clay as if he could turn sand to gold.

  “Give Mrs. Worth your tokens now.”

  Henry nodded and a few moments later, Trish found herself alone with Clay and Meggie.

  “I feel betrayed.” Trish reached up to curl a hand over Meggie’s head and gave an adoring pat. “I couldn’t get her to stop crying for the life of me. And then you show up.”

  “I have a way with women.” Clay winked with a sly smile, trying to cheer her up.

  “So don’t beat myself up because you have a way about you that even babies can’t resist?”

  Clay covered Meggie’s ears. “I’d like to have my way with you again.” One brow lifted in a sinister arch as dark stormy eyes bored straight through her. “Seems to me, you started something last night behind the pool house…”

  Tremors of excitement rushed through her body at the mention of their almost-illegal tryst. Last night, she’d dreamed about finishing what they’d started and her dream was definitely not G-rated.

  “Clay,” she said, breathless.

  “Admit that you’ve been thinking about it, too.”

  Trish had just battled a frantic baby and lost and now here she was, turning to putty in Clay’s hands. She was slowly softening to him. How could she not, watching the two of them together? She’d have a full-fledged Clayton Worth melt-down if she wasn’t careful. She had to get her head back in the game and knew exactly how to do it. “I’ve been thinking about business all day. I’ve got the ball rolling, but there’s one teensy-weensy thing that you have to do.”

  The baby grabbed a lock of Clay’s hair at the base of his neck, closed her fist and tugged. It didn’t seem to faze him. “Name it.”

  “A radio interview with Red Ridge local news.”

  His face pulled tight in a wince. His eyes narrowed to slits as he shook his head. “No.”

  She’d expected this reaction from him. “I wouldn’t ask it of you, but with Clayton Worth’s name behind Penny’s Song, you’ll pull in more interest and donations for the cause. Just think of all the money you can raise.”

  “I’m not a celebrity anymore. You know I like to fly under the radar now. Red Ridge is my home and the folks around here respect that. I’m through with that part of my life, Trish. I thought you understood that when I retired and came to live at the ranch.”

  “I do understand that. And that’s why I didn’t go to a major network news station. We’ll do a local story to raise interest in Penny’s Song in the county. The more recognition we get, the more funds we’ll raise and the more children we can help.”

  Meggie crawled up Clay’s shoulder and he turned to her. Her inquisitive blue eyes met with Clay’s dark ones and an innocent toothless smile broke out on her face. A special moment passed between the two of them, baby and man, that stilled Trish’s heart and brought a sliver of jealousy along with it. Her baby seemed enthralled by him.

  Clay let the baby distract him for a few long moments, visibly taken with Meggie. Then he turned to her. “I don’t want to do it.”

  “I know.” Trish smiled with assurance. “But you will.”

  Clay sucked in a breath and gave a slow nod with no small measure of reluctance. “Darn it, Trish, it kills me when you make sense.”

  “I know that, too,” she said with glee. “You need to be at the news station first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll call you with details.”

  He scowled. “Great. I’d better get out of here before you sign me to a nationwide concert gig.” He kissed the top of Meggie’s head, matter-of-factly, as if it were an everyday occurrence before handing her over. “Be careful of your mother, baby girl,” he said. “She’s tricky.”

  Trish laughed while Clay frowned his way out the door.

  Seven

  Clay pulled up to Suzy’s house just as the crimson sun was setting, the last burst blazing through his windshield. His Ray-Bans deflected the glare as he sat in the car, staring at the front door. He removed his sunglasses, folded them and placed them in an overhead compartment. He stared at Suzy’s house some more and when a bird chirped from the mesquite tree overhead, Clay tried to spot it through the branches.

  His lips twisted with disgust when he realized what he was doing.

  Stalling.

  What the hell was going on with him anyway? Before Trish showed up, he’d known exactly what he’d wanted and how he would go about getting it. Suzy was the perfect choice for him. She’d been through a difficult divorce. Had her fill of a worthless husband and had cried many a night on Clay’s shoulder. She was free now, as he would be soon, and she was like family. She fit. Clay had gone over the positives about Suzy in his head a hundred times. He liked her. She was easy to be around. And she wanted kids.

  Trish has a kid.

  The thought niggled at him all day. She has a kid and damn, she was a stunner. It tickled him how easily Meggie took to him. How it seemed almost natural holding her in his arms. He didn’t have much experience with babies. He figured he would get all the experience he needed when Tagg and Callie had their child. But Meggie was here now and he felt an uncanny connection to her. When she clung to his neck today and pierced him with her sweet baby blues, in that instant he knew he’d have moved the moon to make her happy.

  Clay rubbed his forehead, his fingers massagin
g out tension over his right temple. Suzy was expecting him tonight. Clay had offered a month ago to take her to the annual cattlemen’s dinner held in Red Ridge. It was something they both attended every year, a way of honoring the old-timers whose traditions and way of ranching were rapidly declining, being overtaken by technology. Suzy’s father was going, too. Whenever they could, the three of them attended together.

  What the hell. He got out and looked over the roof of his car. Suzy had just stepped out of her front door and he watched her lock it up before turning to him. The second she spotted him, a smile spread across her face. The same friendly smile she’d always had for him. She waved and came forward. She was pretty, no doubt about it, with long flowing dark hair and expressive amber eyes. A colorful flowing dress flounced as she walked toward him. But the second she reached him, her smile faded.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

  “Dad’s not coming. He’s not feeling well.”

  “What’s the matter with him?”

  “He’s tired. He claims he’s catching a cold and doesn’t want to infect us.”

  “But you don’t believe him.”

  Suzy shook her head. “No. I think it’s more than that. He’s been overly tired lately. He doesn’t want me nursing him, which means he doesn’t want me to butt in. He says he’ll be fine in a couple of days and to go without him and have a nice time.”

  “You look worried, Suze.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

  “You want to skip it? We don’t have to go.”

  Suzy’s head tilted to one side as she gazed up to him. “Dad would find out if I didn’t go and it would aggravate him. I’ve got orders to report back to him, you know, with all the gossip about his cronies.”

  Clay chuckled. “Got it. We’ll go, then. Don’t worry, he’s tough as they come.”

  Appreciation shone in her eyes as she touched her hand to his arm. “Thanks, Clay. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She reached up on tiptoes to press a warm kiss to his cheek.