Cowboy Six Pack

by Kari Lynn Dell

  The coffee stand at the grocery store offered the scents of caffeine-infused Heaven. London paused in front of it. Limiting her caffeine intake was even harder than suffering through the morning sickness that still reared its ugly head at times.

  Just half of a white chocolate mocha latte. Half. That’s better than nothing. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her willpower was dangerously low. She’d had a full cup of half-caff black coffee at breakfast. Baby steps. We’ll start with a small.

  “Are you all right?”

  London opened her eyes.

  A woman perhaps in her early sixties stared at her. Curly dark blonde hair liberally streaked with gray framed her thin face. Her brows drew together over her brown eyes.

  “I’m supposed to cut my caffeine back and I’m having a moment of weakness because I’m dying for a latte. But thanks for asking.”

  The older woman’s eyes dropped to London’s stomach.

  “Yep. A baby on the way. My first.” She kept her hands on the shopping cart although she itched to touch the small bulge growing at her waistline.

  “Congratulations. Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

  “Either is fine with me. Although, I have experience with girls since I am one.” She laughed. “I don’t find out for a couple more weeks, but I’m excited.”

  “Does your husband have a preference?”

  London cleared her throat. “I’m not married. The baby’s father wasn’t interested in a family.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s how some people are doing it these days. If you’re happy, it doesn’t matter, does it?” The woman wore a heavy set of sparkling stones on her ring finger, but no judgment for London’s situation.

  “I’m pretty happy. I did start seeing someone though. I don’t know how that’s going to work out, but he’s a cool guy.”

  The older woman nodded. “I hope he’s the kind of man who doesn’t mind responsibility. It can be tough, raising a baby even with both parents in the picture.”

  “He’s very responsible. A really good guy. Who knew there were any left?” She pulled her wallet out of her purse. Her keys jingled and her new Trulove keychain flopped into sight. She tucked it back inside her purse. “I can’t talk myself out of the coffee. I’m sure a sip or two will satisfy me.”

  The woman pressed her lips together. “London Bingham?”

  She started. “Yes?”

  “I’m so glad to meet you at last. Clara Trulove.” She offered her hand. “I’ve been trying to get Dean to bring you to supper since you started at the stockyard. I suppose I can extend the invitation myself now.”

  London took her hand out of habit as her mind raced to process. Was Darren somewhere nearby, about to descend on her like a hawk on a mouse? “Dean’s mom. Well. It’s nice to meet you. He adores you, but I guess you know that.”

  Clara laughed. “He’s sweet. A…really good guy.” Her brow rose. “That wouldn’t be who you’re seeing now?”

  London’s heart sank. “Ma’am, I assure you this just started and we’re not serious yet. I mean, we might never be more than really good friends. I would never, ever do anything to try to mislead your son. I’m nervous about all this anyway because I just started at the stockyard and I really like my job. I don’t want to jeopardize it.”

  “You might slow down and take a breath, honey.” Clara patted her hand. “Maybe reconsider the caffeine. You seem pretty wired.”

  “I’m…” Flustered, embarrassed, unsure of what’s even happening. London dropped her wallet back to her purse. “Maybe. It was really nice to meet you, ma’am. I should be going.”

  “Did I say something wrong?” Clara frowned. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s just…Mr. Trulove sort of warned me against seeing your son. I don’t want to cause problems.”

  Clara’s eyes narrowed. “He did?”

  Uh-oh. “He might’ve mentioned interoffice relationships are frowned on a little bit. I don’t want to get in trouble. Or make trouble for Dean. It’s hard enough trying to transition and fill in his father’s footsteps.”

  Clara’s frown stayed in place. “I don’t think who Deans sees or where he sees them has been much of Darren’s concern since Dean turned eighteen. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Oh, please don’t. I don’t want him to think I’m…” Tattling. Or complaining. “It’s not a big deal, Mrs. Trulove. I swear.”

  “Clara. The only people who call me Mrs. Trulove are salespeople and strangers. Anyway, Sunday supper. It’s usually around six. You don’t have to bring anything. I like to cook, always did. I used to do it at the cantina, but I quit that years ago. I’m sure Chrissy, Mark, and the twins will be there too. You just get Dean to pick you up and we’ll have a good time. I promise.”

  “I—”

  “There’s no use making excuses. I have a bad heart. I find people bend to my will a little easier when I bring that up. I shouldn’t have to, and lord knows, I shouldn’t want to use it to my advantage, but I’m going to just the same since it’s my cross to bear. No excuses. Dean will show up at your door no matter what anyhow. Pretty thing like you.” Clara winked. “Good to meet you.”

  She gave a little wave, then pushed her shopping cart into the produce section.

  “Hunh.” London blinked. “How did such a nice lady end up with a stodgy fart like Darren?” No need to wonder why Dean was so charming and pushy. He came by it honestly. She shook her head. Yep, she needed the coffee.

  * * * *

  London made it through the Sunday supper. At the same time Dean opened the door for her, his dad came out of the house with his keys in his hand. After a hasty explanation that he’d given the vet an emergency call over one of his sick bulls, he merely nodded his goodbye to Dean and gave London a squinchy glare. Chrissy called while Dean was giving his mother a hug with the news that one of the twins was feverish, so it seemed like a bad idea to drag the boys out. Supper turned into a quiet affair and London didn’t suffer any disappointment over it.

  She enjoyed Clara’s stories about Dean as a boy, and the promised family albums were brought out. The whole history of how his grandfather purchased the land fascinated her.

  “I don’t have much in the way of family. No cool history like this.” She traced the edge of an old photograph in the album. “You’re so lucky to have this stuff.”

  She couldn’t even give her child a proper background of her family if he or she ever expressed the interest. How sad.

  “Your parents aren’t in the picture?”

  “I don’t know if my mom even knew who my dad was.” She hated admitting it. “I was a foster child. We weren’t the warm and fuzzy type to send Christmas cards or have get-togethers though. I was sort of in and then out when I turned eighteen.”

  “That’s horrible. You’re a bright young lady. I can’t imagine your foster family letting go like that.” Clara frowned over her coffee cup. “Shame on them.”

  “I was a little bit of a mess back then. I didn’t really want to go to school. It took a while to straighten myself out.” She flipped the page in the album. “Oh, how cute.”

  In one photograph, Dean wore a tank top, long athletic shorts, and cowboy boots that were clearly too large. He held a pony by the halter and beamed toothily at the camera. His hair stood up every which way.

  “Don’t look at that.” He tried to cover it with his hand. “Can I throw that one away?”

  “Absolutely not. It’s precious,” Clara answered. “Do you want a big family, then, to make up for not having much of one as a child?”

  London met her gaze. “I never gave it much thought. I’d like to have a couple of kids. Believe me, I know the ins and outs of foster systems. I would never put a child through that. I’ll do whatever it takes to make my family stick together.”

  “That’s a girl.” Clara nodded. “When you’re dedicated, you do what you have to do.”

  “You may not have had much family growing up, but we believe in family in
this house and at the stockyard. Whatever you need, we’ll help you get it.” Dean covered London’s hand with his. “I want to help you with the baby. Chrissy even lets me babysit the boys sometimes. The fact that they were returned to her, unharmed and healthy, should bolster your confidence in me.”

  London laughed. “I can just imagine you juggling two babies. What a time that must’ve been.”

  “We managed. It got a little hectic between feedings and diapers, but we came through unscathed.” He grinned. “Kids love me.”

  “I’ll bet.” Who didn’t?

  “You two are the definition of adorable together.” Clara beamed at them. “Too bad it’s not Dean’s baby. I’m sure it’ll be cute no matter what, but I wouldn’t object to another grandchild.”

  “Maybe next time.” Dean winked at London. “Give it time, Mom. We’re going slow.”

  Clara set her coffee cup on the table. “Well, whatever happens, don’t you hide that baby from me, London. I want you to bring it here so I can hold it. If you don’t, I’ll have to drop in at your apartment unexpectedly whenever I want. Babies are treasures.”

  “You’d really want to see my baby?” Tears welled in London’s eyes. “That is too sweet of you.”

  “Of course I want to see it. I never say no to babies!” Clara laughed, but after a moment it turned to coughing.

  “Take it easy, Mom. You need some water?” Dean hovered at her side.

  Clara rubbed beneath her throat, then shook her head. “No, no. I’m okay. Got choked on nothing. I’m a silly old woman.”

  Dean’s worried frown stayed fixed. “You sure?”

  “I’m not about to fall over and die. Good grief, boy. It was a little coughing.”

  But Clara looked paler than she had before.

  “I’ve got good reason to worry. You are the only mom I have.” Dean took his seat again. “We’ll wait till Dad gets back, then get out of your hair. You should probably rest.”

  “Never get old, London. People fuss unnecessarily.” Clara rolled her eyes. “You can go any time you want. I don’t need a keeper for crying out loud.”

  He met London’s gaze.

  She shrugged. “I’m good with staying.”

  Clara sighed. “You’re well-suited. The two of you can’t leave a poor a woman to herself to enjoy quiet time while her husband is out playing with the cattle.”

  “You’ve spent years enjoying quiet time. You’re thrilled that Dad is home with you every day.”

  His mother smirked. “In fact, I am. It’s about time I got to see my husband for more than a couple of hours a night. And no kids in the house demanding our attention. That’s the great thing about it. So that’s why I insist you two leave. There’s going to be a baby before you know it. You’ll want all the time you can get with each other.”

  “We’ve got plenty of time. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you, Clara. You have a lovely home and the meal was outstanding. Doesn’t hurt that the handsomest man in Swells brought me here and makes great eye candy.” London smiled at Dean. “I wasn’t sure about coming at first, but I have to thank you for inviting me.”

  “Any time. I hope we get to be good friends, London.” Clara patted her hand. “Maybe I can call your baby my honorary grandchild until the two of you come to your senses and get married.”

  “Mom!” Dean slapped his hand over his face. “It’s too early to talk about that.”

  “It’s never too early. Think about your grandparents. They got married on a whim because of World War I. When he went off to Europe to fight, your grandma took care of the ranch. You never know what will happen.”

  “Times have changed. The only people who run off and get married quickly either don’t have any brains or they’ve got something to hide.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to exercise some caution.” Clara picked up her coffee cup. “I’m going to get a refill. Anyone in the mood for a second cup?”

  The living room door opened.

  Darren entered and his gaze went straight to his wife. His expression softened. “Hi, hon.”

  London’s shoulders tensed. Her happy mood vanished.

  “Hey, lover.” Clara winked at him. “I was getting coffee. Want some?”

  “I’m good. Need a shower. That got messy. The bull was colicky. I drenched him, but it didn’t do much. Dr. Brown fixed the bull up with the bloat needle.” Darren sighed. He nodded at Dean. “Son.”

  “Dad. Glad the bull will be okay.”

  “He should be. Going upstairs now.” He moved through the living room to the hallway without looking at London.

  “I’ll be right back.” Dean got up, then followed his father.

  London rose. “Well, it was a lovely afternoon, Clara. I think I’ll go wait for Dean in the truck. Thanks for having us.”

  “You don’t have to run off.”

  “It’s not that. I’m sure you want to spend the evening with Darren. Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon.” She hoped. It seemed unlikely that Clara would let Darren dictate who she was friends with. London gave Clara a hug, then headed outside.

  Several minutes passed before Dean exited the house. He didn’t seem upset, but he was quiet as he started the truck and headed toward his place.

  “Did Daddy Trulove disapprove of you bringing your trashy girlfriend into his nice, clean house?”

  He glanced at her, then back at the road. “You’re not trashy.”

  “In other words, yes.”

  His fingers tightened, then loosened on the steering wheel. “I had a question about the cake for Patty’s retirement party. Mom’s going to bring it. He didn’t say anything about you.”

  “You sure?”

  He shifted in the seat. “I’m sure.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Dean. I don’t want to fight, I just want the truth. I’m a big girl. Believe me, I’ve probably heard worse.”

  “All he said was that he heard we were seeing each other. He hopes I’m happy.”

  “But he doesn’t really hope that. He meant it in a sarcastic way.” She folded her arms. “Your parents are polar opposites. I can’t believe it.”

  “It’s awfully confusing the way they butt heads sometimes.” He relaxed. “Don’t let him get to you. He’ll warm up.”

  “Sure. As long as you don’t do something stupid like ask me to marry you.”

  “That’s a long way off, but I’m not opposed to the idea.”

  She slouched in the seat. “I’m going to have to bake him a cake or something. Have all my friends write reference letters—although you and Patty haven’t convinced him I’m not a snake in a dress yet. Maybe your mom will sway him.”

  He laughed. “You’re worrying about it too much. Hey, it’s just you and me and the rest of Sunday evening. Let’s enjoy it. I’ll let you use my jetted bathtub.”

  “Offers like that will get you everywhere, Mr. Trulove.” She batted her lashes. “That’s what won me over, you know. The promise that I might someday get to lounge in that big ol’ tub.”

  “Here I thought it was my charm.”

  She leaned over the armrest and put her hand on the top of his thigh. “That I might get to lounge in it with you.”

  The truck engine revved as he pushed the gas. “Damn. Let’s make that happen.”

  She laughed as the truck ate up the ground between his parents’ house and his.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Brightly colored streamers hung around the sitting area in the cantina. A long fold-up table held a variety of goodies and a five-gallon water cooler full of jungle juice. Dean avoided that, settling for a Coke from his mini fridge. Eighties classics poured from the little stereo someone had set up in the corner. Patty’s retirement party was in full swing with the stockyard’s employees and their families in attendance.

  Photographs dotted a corkboard on an easel. They dated back into the eighties, when Dean had been a child. Lots of pictures of his mom and dad, Patty, Ryan, and many of the other employees, some st
ill at Trulove, some long gone. The most recent was of Dean sitting on London’s desk, grinning like a moron.

  She sat behind the desk, an expression of shock on her face. They’d nearly been caught kissing, which was exactly what Patty had meant to capture with her digital camera.

  “I’m pulling that off there.” London reached for the thumbtack holding it to the corkboard.

  “Ah, leave it. She’ll let you have it if you wait. It’s not exactly news that we’re seeing one another.” He took her hand. “It’s cute.”

  “I look like a fish gasping for air.”

  “A cute fish. Trust me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Your dad turn up yet?”

  Unease made his Coke-filled stomach churn. “I left him two voice messages.”

  “Maybe you should go over there and see if they’re all right.” London squeezed his hand. “No one here will miss you.”

  “He’s only forty minutes late. It’s nothing, right?” He pulled his phone from his pocket again. “Forty-five. He would have called if something was wrong with Mom. She’s probably fussing with her hair and makeup. She always likes to look perfect, even if she’s just running to the grocery store. Now that everyone knows she’s having surgery, she won’t want them to think she looks sick.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” London’s smile wasn’t quite genuine. “I’m going to have some of that seven-layer salad. You want any?”

  “Is that going to upset your stomach? Think of all the stuff that’s in it.”

  She waved away his concern. “Honestly, I haven’t felt that bad lately. I think the worst of the morning sickness passed.”

  “That’s good news.” In the two weeks he’d known her, it seemed as though her stomach had grown a little. She complained that her skirts were tighter and even the t-shirt she wore tonight stretched over the swell of her stomach.

  “Six more weeks and we can find out if it’s little Johnny or Janie.” She scooped a heaping spoonful of the salad onto a paper plate. “You about done with that crib? I’d like to get it moved into my place before I get too big to carry something like that.”