The Virgin Cowboy Billionaire's Secret Baby

by Lauren Gallagher

  Oh, hello pregnant stomach. There you are.

  She swallowed hard to keep the nausea at bay and offered up a tight smile. “Wow. Talk about a blast from the past.”

  “How are you?” Heather asked. “I can’t believe how long it’s been!”

  “I’m good,” Dara said. “It’s, um, nice to be back in town.”

  “Are you just visiting?”

  Dara shook her head. “No, I’ve moved back.”

  Heather nodded toward the arena. “Are you riding tonight?”

  Dara glanced over her shoulder and then shrugged. “No, no. I haven’t been back that long. And I’ve been out of the saddle for a while.” Too long. Way too long. “Might have to start that up again, though.” She turned to her former classmates. “What about you? Are any of you riding?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “My husband’s doing roping,” Heather said.

  “Mine too,” Jamie said. “And reining.”

  Jenny smiled. “I’m just here to watch my kids.”

  Heather glanced toward the warmup ring, then at Dara. “You know Matt Coolidge is riding tonight, right?”

  “I do. I came to watch him, actually.”

  The three of them exchanged knowing looks.

  “Well,” Jenny said, “you’ll be in good company. He’s the reason every single woman in the county is here whenever there’s a rodeo.”

  “Really?”

  “Are you kidding?” Heather laughed. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

  “Right?” Jenny grinned. “Who knew? Matt Coolidge. A billionaire.”

  Dara blinked. She knew he’d made enough to land him on a few Most Eligible Bachelor lists in glossy magazines in recent years, and he’d retired early, but billions? “A billionaire? Really?”

  “Of all people, you didn’t know?” Jenny scoffed. “You really have been gone a while, haven’t you?”

  Dara’s mouth went dry. “A few years, yes.”

  Heather chuckled. “And somehow, we all eventually end up back in Aspen Mill.”

  The other girls nodded in agreement. Dara just put on the best smile she could and turned toward the warmup arena again.

  In the middle, Beth had stopped beside Matt, and the two of them were talking, oblivious to Dara and their three former classmates watching them.

  “Time has sure been kind to him,” Heather said under her breath.

  “Yeah, it has,” Jenny said. “He’s even better without that hat on.”

  Jamie nodded. “Mmhmm. That man looks good with a little gray.”

  And all those extra zeroes behind his net worth, right? Dara tried not to roll her eyes. They hadn’t given him the time of day in high school—Heather probably never knew he’d had a hopeless crush on her all through their sophomore year—but they sure were enamored of him now. What a shock.

  Heather turned to Dara. “Whatever happened with you guys anyway?”

  Dara’s blood went cold. How many people knew? “Sorry, what?”

  Jenny elbowed her gently. “Oh come on. Everybody knew you two would end up together.”

  “Us? Together?” Dara laughed and waved her hand. “No, no. We never dated. We’ve always been just friends.” Always except the last decade, her conscience added, as if she needed that guilty little prod below the ribs.

  “Really?” Heather asked. “I can’t believe you’ve never dated him.”

  “Nope. Never.” And wouldn’t the three of you shit yourselves if you knew I’m having his baby?

  Dara’s heart sank. Matt was struggling enough with dating. Now he’d be a single parent too. Probably the first virgin single father in the history of Aspen Mill’s dating scene. Sure, women fawned all over men with babies, but adoring a man with a baby in his arms wasn’t the same as dating a single parent.

  Explaining that would be fun for him too.

  “So, yeah. I have this kid. But I’m a virgin. Crazy, huh?”

  As if she didn’t feel guilty enough for compounding his problems with his family. She’d moved back to town with a whole bag of monkey wrenches to throw into his life.

  “Oh!” Heather startled her out of her thoughts. “The barrel racing is about to start.”

  Dara glanced at the warmup ring, and sure enough, everyone was filing out and making their way to the main arena’s in-gate. Matt and the other guys hovered near the rail so they could watch, and the women who were in this class stayed near the gate.

  Along with her old classmates, Dara went up into the stands and found a seat. Someone must’ve finally decided that the rusty metal bleachers had to go, and they’d installed rows of cushy—if dusty—fold-down seats. So much better than they used to be.

  The first few competitors were definitely a mixed bag. One made it around all three barrels with no trouble, but she wasn’t quite fast enough. The next two were on point—fast, tight turns and final sprints that made her jaw drop. The fourth was going great until her knee knocked over the third barrel. That hurt her time, and probably her leg too. God knew Dara had done that a few times herself, and the sound of the rider’s kneecap clipping the barrel made her skin crawl.

  Then came Beth Coolidge. She had been an absolutely unstoppable barrel racer as a teenager, and that sure hadn’t changed. Her gelding was fast as hell, and they hugged that last barrel dangerously close, tilting so hard they were almost horizontal, but cleared it. Then he ran like hell for the finish like someone had shot him out of a gun.

  Before the clock had even stopped, everyone was roaring. And when it did stop, she’d secured a nearly two-second lead. No one else had a chance.

  After Beth had collected her ribbon and trophy, it was time for the men’s barrel racing. Matt was sixth in line, and, like his sister, he hadn’t lost his touch. That gray mare moved like greased lightning, and after they’d rounded the last barrel, spraying dirt everywhere, Matt stood in his stirrups and leaned over the horse’s neck as she made her final sprint. Their time wasn’t quite as good as his sister’s, but he’d secured a top spot that would be hard to beat.

  Outside the gate, Beth was standing beside her horse. Matt leaned down from his saddle, and they high-fived.

  Behind Dara, someone snorted derisively. “Oh, big surprise. The Coolidges win everything.”

  Another guy muttered, “Well, when you can buy the best horses…”

  Dara rolled her eyes. Matt had always trained his own horses, usually from the ground up. She doubted his money had changed that—his philosophy had been that winning wasn’t nearly as satisfying if you didn’t build the race car yourself. It was the same reason he’d turned down lucrative employment offers after college and started his own business instead. Starting a company with some venture capital and a prayer was a gamble, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. He could afford any horse he wanted, but that mare he’d just torn up the arena with was probably somebody’s backyard no-name horse they’d sold for a song. Assuming she wasn’t one of Beth’s home-bred stock.

  And of course, when the barrel racing was over, he’d won.

  While the organizers collected the barrels and set up for the next class, Dara left the stands to meet up with Matt.

  Beth was gone, as was Matt’s horse, and he stood by the fence, chaps rolled up above his boots so they wouldn’t drag on the ground.

  “Lose something?” she asked.

  He turned around, and when he saw her, he smiled. “Hey, glad you made it!”

  She smiled back. “Me too. Where’s your horse?”

  He nodded toward the barns. “Beth took them back to their stalls.”

  “Got her doing your dirty work now?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” He chuckled. “No, she was heading back that way anyway, and I was going to watch the next class.” He stepped away from the fence. “Enjoying yourself?”

&n
bsp; “Of course. I can’t believe how long it’s been since the rodeo was my Friday night thing.”

  “Yeah, I know that feeling.” He looked around as they started walking away from the arena. “I didn’t know how much I missed it until I came back.”

  “Me too. I just wish I could get back in the saddle.”

  His smile fell a little. “Well, there’s time. The pole-bending isn’t the same without you.”

  “Give me a few months.” She gestured over her shoulder at the arena. “I thought you wanted to watch?”

  Matt shrugged. “Nah. I should probably make sure Beth’s got everything under control.”

  “Do you really think she won’t?”

  “Please. She’s probably got the horses cleaning their own stalls.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  But they kept walking anyway, leaving the noise of the arena behind as they wandered up the wide dirt path toward the barns.

  “Do you have any plans tonight?” he asked. “After the rodeo, I mean?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “After we take the horses home, we’re all going to Hanson’s Place for a few beers. You want to come?”

  “Hanson’s Place?” She blinked. “That place is still open?”

  Matt laughed. “Of course it’s still open.”

  “Sure, I’m in.”

  “Great. Why don’t you meet us back at the farm, and we can take one vehicle. The parking at Hanson’s Place is still a pain in the ass.”

  “Good idea. I’m looking forward to it.”

  At the farm, they put the horses away for the evening, and Dara helped them feed. Then Matt drove them over to Hanson’s Place.

  Surprise, surprise, this place hadn’t changed at all—Hanson’s Place was a dive bar if there ever was one. Outside, it was a shitty little clapboard building that may have started out life as a house back in Aspen Mill’s early years. In the windows, the neon beer signs all had amber halos thanks to the yellowed glass from the days when smoking was allowed.

  Inside, the air was thick from the fritters, fries and chicken cooking in the back, not to mention the vaguely sweet scent of the sawdust on the floor. On the walls, some of the old beer-ad posters were starting to curl around the edges in between the mounted deer and antelope heads. Those trophies were also starting to show their age despite the recent additions of baseball caps and, in the case of one pronghorn, a half-smoked cigarette hanging out of its mouth. Dara had long suspected those things were so old, their hunters and taxidermists were already long dead.

  And behind the bar, pouring beer just like he had for years, Old Man Hanson hadn’t aged a day. He’d looked a hundred back then, and he looked a hundred now. Dara smiled. She was glad to see the old man still here and still kicking. He’d always been such a nice guy—everybody’s grandpa.

  The friends she’d made in Los Angeles would’ve walked into this bar, turned up their noses and run screaming back out the door, but she loved it. Hanson’s Place was one of the few places in Aspen Mill that didn’t have to be quaint and perfect like all the storefronts down on Main Street. This was where every teenager in town had their first beer, and where everybody over twenty-one hung out after the rodeo. This was the place to drink and curse on Friday and Saturday nights before church on Sunday.

  Tonight, by the time Dara arrived with Matt and Beth, the place was packed. It was belt buckles and beer bottles as far as the eye could see, everyone chatting and laughing while the ancient jukebox played some Merle Haggard. Just like old times.

  “So.” Dara turned to Matt. “Should we get drinks and—wait, where’s Beth?”

  “At the bar. She lost a bet, so first round’s on her.”

  Dara glanced toward the bar, where sure enough, Beth was ordering from a guy who must’ve been the old man’s grandson. To Matt, she said, “Uh, does she know I’m not drinking?”

  Matt lowered his voice. “She knows. And yes, she knows why.”

  “What?” Dara stared at him. “You told her?”

  He put up his hands. “Look, I needed a little advice about dealing with my parents.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Fair enough.” She pursed her lips. “What does she think? About our…”

  “Situation?” He shrugged. “She’s looking forward to spoiling him rotten, and if I know her, she’s already picking out one of the older horses for the kid’s lessons.”

  Dara laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like Beth.”

  Beth returned a moment later with a couple of Cokes for them and a longneck for herself. They clinked their glasses and her bottle together.

  “Congrats, by the way.” Beth smiled at her.

  Dara returned it. “Thanks.”

  They didn’t push the subject any further than that. Beth was undoubtedly smart enough to be discreet, even here at Hanson’s Place. Every wall in Aspen Mill had ears.

  The three of them mingled, and eventually, they separated. Beth disappeared to play pool with some of the guys. Someone pulled Matt aside to ask him about something Dara didn’t hear. Some more old classmates wanted to catch up with Dara.

  When her conversation reached a lull, she searched the crowd for Matt and found him standing in a small group near the edge of the room. His eyes darted from one person to the next. He shifted his weight, alternately glancing at the people around him and into his glass. One of the women in the group sidled closer, letting her arm brush his. She smiled coquettishly, and he smiled back but then took a deep swallow of Coke. He had mayday! written all over his face, so Dara quickly excused herself from her conversation.

  She made her way over to where he was standing. When she was close to him, she didn’t dare put a hand on his elbow or do anything that might be misconstrued as non-platonic, especially not with the other woman clearly trying to get his attention. Instead, she bumped him as she walked by, and when he turned around, the instinctive “sorry” already coming out of his mouth as if he’d been the one to crash into her, she mouthed, Want to get out of here?

  He glanced at the group and at the woman beside him. Turning back toward Dara, he shook his head. “Not yet.”

  She smiled. “Okay.” Man, some things definitely never changed. All she had to do was offer him an out, and he was fine. It was like once he knew he had an escape, he could breathe, and then he didn’t want to leave.

  She smiled to herself.

  “We don’t have to stay,” she heard herself telling him over the music on prom night. “We can take off whenever you’re ready.”

  He’d stopped. Taken a breath. Wiped a few beads of sweat off his forehead. And then he’d smiled and shaken his head. “No, I’m good. As long as you’re having a good time?”

  Beside Matt, the other woman narrowed her eyes at Dara, but Dara didn’t bother with a silent glarefest. Instead, she slipped back into the crowd and headed up to the bar for another drink.

  Have at him, sweetheart. He’s not mine.

  Something tightened in her chest. She looked back, and sure enough, the woman had gotten Matt’s attention. And was she ever working it—shoulders back, tits out. Dara knew the game and couldn’t blame her for trying, but her stomach knotted at the prospect of things turning out like Matt’s last few dates had gone. The attraction to his wallet, the inevitable realization that she was with a virgin—Dara cringed. If she was honest with herself, she’d have been put off if she’d found out a guy had never had sex. Not as rudely as that bitch he’d gone out with, but she definitely preferred men with experience.

  She swallowed as she watched their conversation.

  Go easy on him, honey.

  The woman’s eyes darted toward Dara, and her lips tightened. So did Dara’s.

  Fuck with him, and we’re gonna have a discussion out in the parking lot.

  Chapter Seven

  “Are you still here?”
<
br />   Matt turned around to see Beth staring at him. “Yeah, why?”

  “Because you’re you, and”—she made an exaggerated gesture of checking her watch—“it’s almost last call?”

  “So?” He shrugged. “I was having a good time.”

  “Uh-huh.” Her eyebrow arched, and he didn’t have to ask why. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stayed at Hanson’s Place until closing time, but tonight, before he knew it…

  He cleared his throat. “I guess we’d better go. Where’s Dara?”

  Beth grimaced. “Last I saw her, she was talking to Paul Worley.”

  Matt searched the thinning crowd for that familiar cowboy hat and found it near the bar. Paul had an elbow resting on the back of a barstool, and he was grinning as he said something to Dara, which made her laugh. Matt gritted his teeth. Paul was freshly divorced too, and it was a miracle his ex-wife had ever convinced him to get married in the first place. She’d left him not three months ago, and rumor had it he was already working his way through every single woman’s bed in Aspen Mill. As if he hadn’t already done that during his younger years.

  Matt turned to Beth. “I’ll let her know we’re going to take off.”

  “Good idea. I’ll pay the tab and meet you two outside.”

  He followed her up to the bar, and while she took care of the tab, he approached Paul and Dara.

  Paul glanced at him, and his jaw tightened. “Coolidge.” He raised his beer. “Nice riding tonight.” Matt didn’t miss the unspoken now get the fuck out of here.

  “Thanks.” Matt looked at Dara. “Beth and I are getting ready to head out. Do you—”

  “Oh, is it that time already?” She pulled out her phone. “So it is. Shit.” She turned to Paul and smiled. “Well, it was nice catching up with you.”

  “Yeah, you too.” Paul didn’t sound all that sincere. Maybe even a little defeated. “Have a good one, Dara.” He gave Matt a slight nod. “You too, Coolidge.”

  “Same to you.”

  On the way out, Dara glanced back at Paul. “It’s funny. When we were in high school, I was convinced he would never grow up.”