Aidan: Loyal Cowboy: Aidan: Loyal CowboyThe Family Plan

by Cathy McDavid

  In the end, he’d trust his instincts.

  Suddenly, the chute gate flew open and True Grit exploded into the arena, front hooves solidly planted on the ground, his back ones reaching for the sky. Not the biggest horse there by any means, his claim to fame was his ability to bend himself into the shape of a twist tie while achieving incredible heights.

  Today was no exception.

  Rocking onto his hind legs, True Grit reared, standing almost completely vertical. Ace clung to the rigging, leaning so far back his head lay against the horse’s rump and the toes of his boots touched the horse’s ears. Even in that impossible position, Ace spurred the horse, urging him to buck higher, buck harder.

  True Grit gave it his all, hitting the ground with his front feet and spinning in a full circle with such force, Ace was almost knocked off.

  Flynn gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

  What was wrong with the timer? Surely eight seconds had passed. More like a full minute.

  True Grit executed another gravity-defying buck, his goal to fling Ace over his head and into the stands. By some miracle, Ace hung on.

  The buzzer went off. Instantly, Flynn was out of her seat. “He did it!”

  Applause and cheers broke out from the crowd as the pickup men surrounded Ace, hauled him off the horse and deposited him—still in one piece, thank God—onto the ground. As Ace walked across the arena, he picked up his hat from where it had fallen and waved it at the crowd.

  Flynn started toward the aisle.

  Her father grabbed her wrist, waylaying her. “Where are you going?”

  To congratulate Ace, but she didn’t want to tell her father that. “Walk Fancy Gal.”

  “Don’t you want to see Ace’s score?”

  It didn’t matter to her, only that he’d finished. “Sure.” She sat back down.

  A few seconds later, Ace’s score was blasted from the speakers while simultaneously appearing on the scoreboard.

  “Eighty-three,” her father muttered. “Not great, not bad.”

  “Pretty good for someone who only competes occasionally.”

  “I’m glad to see him get Fancy Gal and whatever other horses he wants.”

  “Not Hoyt Cammeron?”

  “Hoyt was never interested.”

  “What!” Flynn stood, braced her hands on her hips and glared at her father. “Then why the bet with Ace?”

  “It was for you.”

  “Me?”

  “I wanted to see how bad he wants you. How hard he’s willing to fight.”

  “This was about the horses,” she insisted.

  “No, it wasn’t. And he knows it, too.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Maybe so.” Her father wore a smug smile. “But now we have an answer.”

  * * *

  ACE REACHED FOR HIS RINGING cell phone, groaning in agony as every muscle in his body rebelled. Gracie’s number appeared on the display. “Yeah,” he barked.

  “You said to call you when Flynn McKinley arrived.”

  “Thanks. Have her meet me at the main paddock.” He disconnected, let his phone drop onto the mattress and didn’t move for a full two minutes.

  Finally, when he’d mustered enough strength, he pushed to a sitting position with the agility of a ninety-year-old man and lowered his feet to the floor.

  Two days since the Western Frontier Pro Rodeo, and he still hurt like a son of a bitch.

  Lasting eight seconds in bareback bronc riding and winning his bet with Earl had been great. Finishing in seventh place and beating out his brother and cousins, even better. He didn’t even mind buying a steak dinner for his friend Austin, who’d finished second.

  Thank goodness Ace hadn’t qualified for the finals on Sunday. He’d be a cripple. Colt, Beau and Duke had been left with overseeing the loading of the livestock for the long, long return trip home during which Ace had suffered their endless ribbing. Deserved ribbing.

  What had made him think he could compete once or twice a year and not come away feeling as though he’d gone for a joyride inside a cement mixer?

  Rising from the bed, he tucked his shirt into his pants, put on his boots and grabbed his hat off his dresser. Break time was officially over.

  He hobbled through the adjacent sitting area and out a door that lead to an enclosed patio. Some years ago, when it became apparent Ace would be staying on the ranch and helping his mother, he’d remodeled two of the downstairs bedrooms into a master suite with a private outside entrance. That way he could come and go at all hours, one of the hazards of being a vet, without disturbing the rest of the household.

  Plus, Ace liked his solitude—until lately, anyway.

  Waking up next to Flynn had been nice, her smooth, warm curves snuggled next to him, her hand folded inside his even in sleep.

  Then he’d realized what a mistake he’d made. Not sleeping with her, but letting her get close. Letting her glimpse the raw need he ruthlessly kept concealed behind a competent, take-charge exterior.

  Ace wasn’t weak like his father had been. He wouldn’t use alcohol or berate others to compensate for his insecurities.

  His Polaris sat parked beside the patio entrance in its usual spot. The all-terrain vehicle was his usual mode of transportation around the ranch when not riding a horse.

  There would be no riding horses for several more days if the ibuprofen he’d been swallowing like Halloween candy didn’t kick in soon.

  Starting the Polaris, he drove to the paddock, the same paddock where they’d put Wally Dunlap’s mares after the auction. The drive took only a few minutes. A bumpy, excruciating, teeth-grinding few minutes.

  He expected to find Earl or one of the McKinley hands with Flynn, only she’d come by herself.

  “Thanks, Gracie,” he told the ranch hand after crawling out of the Polaris.

  She picked up on his cue. Striding toward the barn, she said, “See ya later, Flynn.”

  “Geez, Ace, are you all right?” Flynn gave him a concerned once-over, taking in his bent posture.

  “It’s nothing.”

  She covered her mouth and laughed.

  “Not funny.” He went to the back of the horse trailer and inspected the five mares and one gelding inside, Fancy Gal and True Grit among them.

  “It is too funny.” She came up behind him, trying not to smirk. “That’ll teach you to bust broncs without getting into condition first.”

  It would. If he were smart, he’d quit rodeoing for good. He couldn’t afford to be laid up.

  Unless he and Flynn had a son. Then he’d teach their boy everything about horses and cattle and ranching and rodeoing. On second thought, he’d teach the same things to a daughter.

  A fresh wave of determination surged inside him. There would be a new generation of Harts. Rebuilding their flagging business, securing the future, took on a whole new meaning. As did carrying on family traditions, instilling in his children a love and respect for the land and the animals that inhabited it.

  Wait a minute. Children?

  Who exactly was he planning on having more children with? Flynn had turned down his marriage proposal. She was also moving to Billings.

  He unlatched the rear door on the trailer, suppressing a groan.

  “Wait, I’ll help.” Flynn reached for the handle and instantly withdrew when their hands touched. “You, um, don’t want to injure yourself any worse than you already have.”

  There’d been a time when she wouldn’t have been jumpy around him.

  Was that a good sign?

  “Cut me some slack,” he joked in an attempt to relieve the awkwardness. “I’m getting enough grief from everyone else as it is.”

  He opened the trailer door, wincing at the pain. Maybe he should h
ave accepted her help.

  Eventually, all six horses were unloaded and exploring the paddock. Ace and Flynn stood side by side at the fence, watching them.

  “You picked the best from my dad’s string,” she observed.

  “Yeah.” Ace was pretty happy about his selection. Several of the horses were nothing special to look at, but they could buck, and that was what counted. “Fancy Gal have any more problems with colic?”

  “None, and I’ve kept a close eye on her.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Good. Fantastic, in fact.”

  “No nausea?”

  “A little last night.”

  “When’s your next doctor appointment?”

  “May first.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Flynn pushed off the fence. “There’s no need.”

  “I want to.”

  She started back toward the truck.

  Ace caught up with her, though it was with some difficulty. “What’s the matter? You don’t want me to go?”

  “It’s not that.” She shoved her hands into her down vest pockets. “What’s going to happen when I leave?”

  “With your doctor appointments?”

  She sighed. “The more attached you get, the harder it will be.”

  “I’m going to be attached to my kid.”

  “I was talking about me.”

  “We agreed we’re going to try and get along. Do things together.”

  “Getting along doesn’t include kissing.”

  She had him there. “Was it so awful?” he asked, attempting a wry grin. “You did participate.”

  Her defenses visibly shot up. “You’re missing the point.”

  “I don’t think I am.” He waited until she’d shut the trailer door. “Don’t go to Billings, Flynn. Marry me.”

  “I told you no, and I told you why. Nothing’s changed.”

  “You have to admit, there were some pretty serious sparks between us.”

  “Sparks aren’t enough.” She gazed at him pointedly. “Sometimes, love isn’t enough. But it has to be there for a marriage to survive.”

  “Then don’t marry me, but stay in Roundup. We need more time to figure this out.”

  Her expression fell, telegraphing her disappointment with his answer.

  He scrambled to gain ground. “Our kid deserves to have both his parents raising him.”

  “Couples who live apart successfully raise children all the time. My parents did. Well, my dad did.”

  “And he ran a demanding business.”

  “But he always put me and my sister first. There wasn’t a single dinner he missed.” Her gaze fastened on him. “Can you make the same promise? Because I won’t consider staying otherwise.”

  “I’m willing to change.”

  “How?”

  “Once the business is operating profitably and the loan is paid down, I’ll cut back on my hours.”

  “When will that be?”

  “A year. Possibly a little longer.” In reality, it would be more like three years.

  “You haven’t cut back in the last ten years,” she said skeptically.

  “Yeah, but now there’s a baby on the way.”

  “Which is all the more reason for you to focus on your family’s business. It’s your livelihood. I can’t support this baby on my own.”

  And he’d promised to take care of his child. He couldn’t do that with only the income from his vet practice. Neither could he saddle his mother with the entire responsibility of managing the ranch and paying down the loan.

  His determination returned tenfold. He’d do it all, work and be there for Flynn. Be a better man than his father.

  “Give me a chance to prove myself.”

  “I am. That’s what we’re doing.”

  “If we were married, there—”

  “I was married to Paul, and it didn’t make a bit of difference. He still put his career above me.” She headed for the cab of her truck. “There’s no reason for me to think you’ll be any different.”

  “I’m going to continue proposing until you say yes.”

  “That should be interesting,” she said over her shoulder, “since I’m going to continue saying no until you propose for the right reasons.”

  “What’s more important than our child?”

  “You should be asking yourself, what’s just as important as our child.”

  Chapter Seven

  Flynn stepped into the stark, utilitarian lobby of the Roundup Sheriff Station, a white plastic grocery bag clenched in her hand. She came here on occasion to visit Dinah and once when she was a senior in high school. Dinah, Flynn and a few of their friends had been questioned in the matter of a teenage prank that had involved drinking and several cans of spray paint.

  Flynn had been innocent. Dinah, a little less innocent. Funny, her friend was now the sheriff and the one questioning delinquent teenagers.

  A lot had changed since those days. Flynn would have never guessed she’d be married and divorced, living at home again and about to embark on single motherhood.

  “Is Sheriff Hart in?” she asked the male deputy behind the counter.

  “Your name?”

  “Flynn McKinley.”

  She took a seat on a bench in the lobby to wait. Dinah appeared a few minutes later, a bright smile on her face, her khaki uniform neatly pressed.

  Seeing her friend often gave Flynn a start. Dinah closely resembled Ace, though her eyes were hazel as opposed to brown. Even so, there was no mistaking their relation.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?”

  “I brought you a peace offering.” Flynn held out the plastic bag.

  Dinah peeked inside at the package of miniature Snickers bars and grinned wickedly. “Come on back.” She led Flynn down the hall and to her office. “Not sure why you think you need to bring me a peace offering, but I won’t complain.”

  Snickers bars were one of Dinah’s guilty pleasures.

  Behind the privacy of her closed door, Dinah gave Flynn the brief hug she wouldn’t in front of the other deputies and clerical staff.

  “What’s up?”

  “I wanted to apologize.”

  “Did you do anything requiring an apology?” Dinah sat behind her desk while Flynn settled in the chair across from her.

  The package of candy was opened, and a handful of bars quickly distributed between them. The image of Dinah, all proper and official in her uniform and chomping on candy, brought a smile to Flynn’s face.

  “I should have told you about the baby,” she said between bites. “Not waited until Ace did.”

  “No worries. I get it.”

  “I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Heck, I’m still not sure.”

  “Marry him,” Dinah said matter-of-factly, catching Flynn off guard.

  “Did Ace tell you he’d proposed?”

  “He didn’t have to. I know my brother.” Dinah evaluated another Snickers bar before popping it in her mouth with a contented sigh. “When’s the big day?”

  And here Flynn had thought she’d be the one to break the news to her friend.

  “There is no big day. I refused.”

  “Why? You love him.”

  “But he doesn’t love me.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Dinah, he doesn’t.”

  “Ace holds his cards close to his chest. He’s always been that way. Got worse after Dad died. He’s afraid of being hurt.”

  It was hard for Flynn to imagine Ace as being afraid of anything. Then again, she’d seen his vulnerable side the night they’d made love and she’d conceived.

  “I’m not sure I want to b
e married to a man who won’t or can’t express his emotions.”

  “Isn’t that better than a man who tells you he loves you and doesn’t mean it?”

  She was referring to Paul.

  “Selfishly, I’m asking you to give him a chance.” Dinah made a pleading face. “There isn’t anyone else I want for a sister-in-law.”

  “Me, either.” Flynn didn’t think there was anyone she’d rather have for a husband than Ace, but only if he returned her feelings.

  “I love Colt and Tuf. They’re great guys in their own way. But the truth is, if I were in a jam, Ace would be the first one I’d call. He’d come through for me. He will for you, too.”

  “Is it wrong to want a man who will sweep me off my feet?”

  “Are you so sure he won’t?”

  “I thought he might. Once. Then he left. Ducked out of my bedroom like he’d done something wrong.”

  “Thank you, Dad.” Dinah snorted and sat back in her chair.

  “What does your dad have to do with this?”

  “He had two sets of rules. One for us, one for him. He always put these unrealistic expectations on my brothers, Ace in particular. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ace woke up the next morning thinking he’d wronged you. The guilt probably ate him alive.”

  “He had nothing to be guilty about.”

  “Try telling him that.”

  “Great.” Flynn slumped in her chair. “He not only doesn’t love me, he proposed to me out of guilt in addition to duty. Be still my foolish heart.”

  “Come on, that’s not true.”

  “It is, according to what you just told me.”

  “Flynn, don’t move to Billings. Not yet. Give Ace a little more time, he won’t disappoint you. Once he gets the breeding business off the ground and the problems with Midnight resolved, he’ll be able to think clearly, realize how he feels about you.”

  “Falling in love with someone isn’t a decision you make. It’s either there or it isn’t.”

  “No, but letting yourself embrace that love is a decision.”

  Flynn wanted to talk to Dinah longer about Ace, except her desk phone rang.