The Virgin Cowboy Billionaire's Secret Baby

by Lauren Gallagher

  She’d known the words were coming, but they still hit her in the chest. “Okay. I understand.”

  Matt searched her eyes, uncertainty etched all over his forehead and the slightest twist of his lips.

  Resisting the temptation to reach for his hand, she forced a smile. “This was what we agreed on, remember? It’s okay.”

  “But you’re…” He chewed his lip.

  “Well, you don’t expect me to be thrilled, do you?” She laughed, but it sounded even less real than it felt, so she sobered. “Look, it was fun. Of course I’m going to be a little bummed that it’s over. But it’ll be fine.” She managed a smile. “And I really hope things work out with her.”

  Matt hesitated, but then he smiled a little too. “Thanks. We’ll, uh, see how it goes. It’s only one date so far.”

  “Gotta start somewhere.”

  “Yeah.” He held her gaze. Then he came closer and hugged her gently. “Thank you, Dara. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome.” She held him tighter, and his gentle embrace became a tighter one too. Forcing her voice to stay even, she said, “She’d better be good to you, or I’ll kick her ass.”

  He laughed, stroking her hair. “You and Beth.”

  “Yep. There won’t be anything left of her.”

  Matt chuckled, and then he let her go. “I guess…I guess I could’ve just called or…” He shook his head. “I don’t know. This seemed like something to talk about face-to-face.”

  Dara nodded. Over the phone would’ve been easier. She wouldn’t have had to keep a stoic face, or compose herself while the bastard hugged her. It wasn’t like this was a big shock. This was what they’d wanted, after all, for him to connect with another woman and start working toward the kind of relationship he’d been missing out on all these years. Of course, what they’d had had been the kind of sex Dara had been missing for too long. Who knew it would be such a novelty for a man to take his time and actually want her to enjoy herself?

  He cleared his throat. “I should, um, get going.”

  Dara wanted him to stay, but she nodded. It was probably for the best. He hugged her once more—dammit, Matt, do you know how hard you’re making this?—and then he left.

  Leaning against the door, she closed her eyes, listening to first his footsteps and then the truck’s engine fading into the distance. Now that he couldn’t see her anymore, her composure was cracking, and she swore under her breath. Why the hell was she so upset about all this? She’d known from the get-go that everything they were doing had been temporary. Scratching an itch for her, getting some experience for him. Of course the end would be disappointing.

  She just hadn’t expected it to hurt like this.

  Hormones. Had to be the fucking hormones. She didn’t feel all that volatile these days—she certainly hadn’t broken down crying at the grocery store over a cracked egg like a friend had one time—but that was the only explanation. As her eyes stung and the tears started coming faster than she could wipe them away, she told herself it had to be the damned hormones. A good cry, maybe a little bit of Ben & Jerry’s and a trip to one of those sex-toy shops in Goldmount, and she’d be fine.

  Even if Matt was still gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Matt’s cousin and his bride married in one of the few remaining buildings in Goldmount untouched by the tsunami of progress—the pristine little white church whose steeple had been visible for miles before the shopping mall obscured it. Maybe fifty people gathered in the age-old pews to watch the couple say their vows.

  Then a white limousine whisked the couple away, and the guests headed over to the Goldmount Country Club. And here, the bride’s family pulled out all the stops. For this black-tie reception, they’d spared no expense.

  When those who’d attended the ceremony arrived, another two hundred people or so were already there, sipping top-shelf drinks from the open bar and nibbling hors d’oeuvres from bone china plates while a string quartet played unobtrusively in the background. Where anyone had found an ice sculptor, Matt had no idea, but there were two intricate dolphins on either end of the main buffet table. Behind that, crystal champagne glasses were arranged in front of an immense, seven-tiered cake.

  Things like this reminded him of prom, only no one had to hide the alcohol. Except he’d enjoyed prom. No small part of that, however, had been because he’d had a friend on his arm who always knew exactly when to tug him away from a conversation or step outside for some fresh air. Just knowing she was there and that she’d never make him stay when he got overwhelmed was enough to keep him relaxed for most of the evening—all night long, they’d only stepped out a couple of times, and once was because he’d realized she’d had enough.

  But he was on his own tonight.

  Maybe he should’ve brought Julie. They were still trying to nail down a second date, and he did want to see her again. On the other hand, Dara was probably right—no sense scaring the woman away by introducing her to his family quite yet. Or, for that matter, showing her the side of him that struggled to cope with social functions.

  Most people who knew him had long since accepted that he preferred being a wallflower at things like this. He didn’t mind conversations, and he didn’t mind meeting people, but when the crowd was thick and there were too many people talking over too much music, he couldn’t handle it. It used to be that nobody would try to drag anything out of him in a situation like this. Back in the day, that was brushed off as “Oh, Matt’s being shy again.” And he was fine with that. Perfectly fine.

  But tonight, from the moment he walked into the reception, things were different.

  “Matt, it’s so good to see you! I’d like you meet my daughter, Ellie.”

  “Oh, Kristen. Do you remember me telling you about Matt Coolidge?”

  “Have you met my sister-in-law?”

  When one conversation ended, another quickly took its place. He’d never been so grateful for the wedding party introductions, the toasts and all the reception traditions. Anything to give him a minute to catch his breath.

  But all that ended, and as soon as dinner was over, the dancing commenced, and everyone who wasn’t dancing was standing around talking.

  And so the gauntlet began again.

  As he stood with several people from high school—as well as a daughter, a cousin and a friend he’d been introduced to—he clung to his soda for dear life. Tonight, he desperately needed that accidentally-on-purpose bump and the “You okay, or do you want to take off?”

  No, I’m not.

  Yes, I do.

  Except there was no safety net tonight. This was dozens of people, way too many of them trying to talk to him. Strange faces he was supposed to impress. A giant room that was getting smaller and hotter by the minute.

  An all too familiar sensation crawled up his spine. The air was getting too thick to breathe. His bow tie and this damned vest were suddenly too tight.

  He cleared his throat, which took more effort than it should have. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”

  The woman beside him—her name suddenly escaped him—blinked. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I…” Think fast. Faster! “Just need to step out and make a call.”

  Everyone shrugged and nodded, and he got the hell out of the ballroom. Despite his pounding heart and tightening throat, though, he kept his gait casual. There were a couple of restrooms just outside the ballroom, but there were more down the hall, and while those were farther away, they were more likely to be empty.

  The other men’s room was indeed deserted, thank God. He rested his hands on the sink, closed his eyes and breathed slowly—in through his nose, out through his mouth.

  Now that he was alone, the shaking kicked in. First his hands, with the tremors echoing up his arms as he gripped the sink to steady himself. Then his knees. His field of vi
sion narrowed, so he closed his eyes. Like the throbbing before a migraine, this wasn’t a point of no return, but he was getting there fast.

  Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

  He wasn’t breaking down. Not tonight. Not here.

  It was just a wedding. They were just people. It was just conversation.

  He could do this.

  Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

  Slowly, the panic began to subside.

  Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

  He opened his eyes. The tunnel vision was easing. The spinning was slowing down, and his heart didn’t feel like it was going to explode out of his chest. His hands were still shaking, and his knees still felt like they might drop out from under him, but even that was getting better. Slowly but surely, he was coming back to earth.

  Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

  Once he was steady on his feet, he took a paper towel and dabbed the sweat from his forehead and neck.

  He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the stall doors. Then he splashed some cold water on his face, and dried off again. A few more deep breaths, and he was almost back to normal. Thank God—and his therapist—he’d gotten the hang of recognizing a panic attack before it started, and most of the time he could talk himself down before it got out of hand. Maybe it was time to take the doc up on her offer of anxiety medication. He was usually fine, but damn, when he wasn’t…

  He met his own gaze in the mirror. If anyone walked in right now, they wouldn’t know anything had ever been wrong. He gave himself another minute or so, just to be sure, and then he put his jacket back on, checked the mirror again and left the men’s room to rejoin the other guests.

  He could handle this. It was just a room full of people. It wasn’t like those conferences he’d given up on attending early in his career. He couldn’t get through one of those without feeling like he was drowning, so he’d deferred to his colleagues, who thrived in that environment, and stayed at the office while they rubbed elbows and talked up their product. The pressure to impress people out of millions of dollars had been too much.

  All he had to do here was be polite. Smile. Carry on a conversation. Then go home and puke.

  “Hey, you.” Beth materialized beside him, a glass of champagne in her hand, and her brow creased with worry. “You okay? You disappeared for a little while.”

  “I am now, yeah. I just, uh…” He gestured at the room with his drink. “Crowds.”

  She grimaced. “I thought so. But you’re—”

  “I’m fine now. Promise.”

  “Are you—”

  “I’m sure.”

  She eyed him but then shrugged. “Okay. But come find me if you’re not, all right?”

  “Will do.” He gestured at the other guests. “What about you? Having a good time?”

  “Eh. As good a time as I can have when Mom’s trying to hook me up with anything that has a good name and a set of balls.”

  Matt snorted. “As she does.”

  “As she does.” Beth rolled her eyes. “In fact…” She looked past him and groaned. “Here she comes now.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, Mom was on her way over with someone he’d never seen before, and the way she was smiling and gesturing at Beth, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

  “You need me to bail you out?”

  “No, I’ve got this.” In an exaggerated Southern accent, she added, “If you’ll excuse me, I have a gentleman suitor who wishes to make my acquaintance.”

  Matt laughed, and as she walked past him, they elbowed each other. Well, at least he wasn’t the only one being paraded around. He silently wished his sister luck and sighed. Aspen Mill weddings might as well be held in meat markets these days.

  Dara had the right idea tonight. Even if she’d been invited, she wouldn’t have come, and if he knew her, she was kicked back on the couch right now in a faded T-shirt and jeans, probably binge-watching whatever cop drama she was addicted to these days. Or cursing a blue streak into her headset while she kicked ass on Call of Duty.

  “Fucking campers,” he could hear her snarling. “Keep hiding like a bunch of pussies, and I’m shoving grenades up every one of your newbie asses.”

  He chuckled, but his stomach was in knots. God, he envied her.

  And for that matter, as he scanned the crowd for the women he’d been introduced to this evening, he couldn’t picture any of them kicked back beside him playing video games or snarking over pornos or cracking jokes until the other wasn’t in a bad mood anymore.

  He wasn’t being fair, though. He’d known Dara forever. Julie was new. All the women here were new. It wasn’t realistic to expect to click completely at first sight. He just needed to get a grip and see where things went.

  At the bar, he ordered a ginger ale, tipped the bartender and quickly swallowed a migraine pill just to be safe. After all, he still had to drive himself home tonight.

  Drink in hand, Matt looked around the sea of elegantly dressed members of Aspen Mill and Goldmount’s wealthy elite. Though his family had never been particularly wealthy, they’d always been respected, influential members of society in his hometown. And his cousin had just married the daughter of a banker-turned-Congressman. In fact, he’d been the richest man in his district before Matt moved back. Something everyone here seemed to know, which made his skin crawl. No one had been too eager to introduce him to anyone at weddings in his twenties, but the last few years, every gathering—even his grandpa’s funeral three years ago—had turned into a gauntlet of small talk with people he had fuck-all in common with except being single. He wasn’t a person—he was dollar signs and nothing more.

  Well, whatever. He was here, and he’d be polite.

  As his gaze wandered the room, he wasn’t at all surprised that there wasn’t a Marley in sight. Even if the groom hadn’t been a Coolidge, it was an accepted fact that you either invited Coolidges or Marleys to a social event. Never both. It was stupid, and always had been, but things like that didn’t change quickly in places like this.

  Despite the stupid rivalry between their families, he wished he’d had the balls to bring Dara as his date tonight. There were too damned many people here—too many people who wanted to get right up in his face and force him to talk to single women he’d never met. He was awkward enough with one at a time. The matrimony-inspired matchmaking going on tonight was more than he could handle.

  Dara wouldn’t have chased off the other women. She would’ve just mingled on her own, emerging from the crowd once in a while—always at just the right moment—and making sure he was okay. And then he would be. Knowing she had his back, that she was his one foot out the door if he decided he’d had enough, would bring his pulse back down and loosen that panicky tightness in his chest.

  As he stepped away from the bar, a friend of his father’s was suddenly in front of him. “Oh, Matt. I’ve been looking for you. I’d like you to meet my niece, Rachel.” Beaming, he gestured at his gorgeous niece.

  She smiled, holding out her hand.

  Matt returned the smile, and he shook her hand gently. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too.”

  Her uncle left them to their conversation, and it immediately turned into uncomfortable silence. She struggled to hold his gaze. He struggled to hold hers.

  Okay, small talk. I can do this.

  “Um. Are you having a good time?”

  She shrugged as she looked around. “I don’t really know anybody.”

  “That’s the fun of weddings, I guess. Meeting new people.”

  Her smile was tentative, as if she were as nervous as he was. “I guess.”

  He chewed the inside of his cheek. “So, what do you do?”

  “I teach. Second grade.”

  “Here in Goldmount?”

  She nodded.
r />   Shit. He was going to have to carry the conversation, wasn’t he? Because that was his strong point.

  He absently swirled his drink, letting the ice clink against the sides. Well, that match had fallen flat in a hurry. As difficult as it was for them to even make small talk, he couldn’t imagine it would be any better if they ended up on a date. If they were out somewhere alone without friends to bail them out or drunken guests as possible distractions. Or if they wound up alone for an evening. What would they talk about? What would they do?

  Yeah. What would they do?

  He gulped. What if they miraculously found their way through a conversation and somehow ended up in bed? Great. Now that he’d gotten a little bit of experience in that department, he had one more reason to worry himself stupid over how a potential date could go wrong. Awesome.

  It hadn’t occurred to him before tonight that there was more to sex with someone than knowing what to do physically. The one woman he’d kissed since Dara had left him feeling nothing. Not cold, not put off. Just…nothing. None of the women here were sparking anything either. He couldn’t imagine that would magically change when the pressure was on to get physically intimate.

  The only sex he’d had so far had been relaxed and fun. And hot. He’d never experienced it like in the one porno they’d made fun of, where the two people had as much chemistry as a couple of half-thawed trout. Their bodies were hot, and they obviously knew how to perform, but they looked at best bored, at worst uncomfortable. Was that what it would be like when he made it that far with another woman?

  No, that wouldn’t happen. He just needed to find one who caught his attention in the same way Dara did. Someone who gave him that hurtling-down-a-mountainside feeling. Julie hadn’t…yet. Maybe they just needed to get to know each other. Same with the women here—he just didn’t know them yet.

  Maybe he just wasn’t in the mood to meet people tonight. Every conversation felt like a cage, and every time, he had to find a new combination of words to open up an escape so he could bow out.