The Bad Boy's Baby (Hope Springs)

by Cindi Madsen

  He was nowhere to be seen, though, and she could only walk so slowly without being crazy obvious.

  And as she fired up the loud engine of the work truck and started down the road, Emma told herself it was for the best.

  But for some reason it didn’t work as well as it usually did.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cam listened to the voicemail Dad had left him and groaned—sure enough, news about Zoey had reached him. After his last parting shot at Dad, Cam had been hesitant to tell him about his newfound daughter, but he didn’t want Zoey to be a secret, like he was ashamed of her.

  She was a great kid, not to mention so dang cute that he’d looked at her picture on his phone several times. But he was still worried about not screwing it all up, and throwing in more drama—which was inevitable where Dad was concerned—meant things would get messier before they got easier, and they were already tricky.

  He thought about how close he’d been to kissing Emma earlier today. And how he’d wanted to charge over, grab that Pete guy by the collar, and tell him to stay the hell away from her.

  He’d been damn close, too, despite trying to get his aggression out by finishing the bed frame, and it only reminded him that he sometimes struggled to control his temper.

  What would Emma think if he lost control? She wouldn’t want to be around him, and she definitely wouldn’t want him around Zoey, and considering his temper, maybe they’d be better off.

  Frustration rose, and he raked his hands through his hair. The official Mountain Ridge meeting with Quinn and Heath hadn’t exactly helped him calm down. They discovered that while Quinn had the personable side of the business down, as well as the food and housekeeping areas covered, and he and Heath had plans for the tours, everything from hiking to camping, snowmobiles, and horse rides, no one was very well equipped for the bookkeeping portion of the business. There were dozens of minor details—and then the major one involving figuring out the budget—and they were going to attempt to split them up, but it’d overwhelmed them all, he could tell, their first bump on the road to becoming entrepreneurs.

  Cam glanced at his phone, telling himself he should call Dad back, but then he saw he had a new email, and checking that was easier. He grinned when he saw it was from Torres, his best army buddy, and the guy who’d been by his side through every mission, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

  Torres had been the one to absolve Cam for losing his cool the last time it’d happened, telling him they’d all wanted the information, and if he hadn’t been the one to snap and push the interrogation so far, Torres would’ve beaten the information out of the man they’d caught setting the roadside bomb himself.

  While Cam had finally gleaned the information on where the group planned on attacking U.S. soldiers next, his yelling had been why his squad hadn’t heard the enemy approaching until they were right on them, which was why he’d never forgive himself. The rest of the guys insisted that Jones would’ve put knowing the location before more of their brothers in arms were killed above anything else, but it was hard for Cam to swallow, because Jones wasn’t here to say what he wanted anymore.

  Trying to focus on all the good that’d been done with the information his squad had extracted, he opened the email and quickly read through it.

  Torres had gotten hung up in transfers and said he was emailing while awaiting his flight home to Colorado. He asked about Mountain Ridge and when the tours would start, because he wanted to come visit and head to the mountains that Cam had talked so fondly about.

  Then he ended with, “I’ll give you a call in a couple of weeks. I’m going to be busy with my girl for at least that long.”

  They’d all given Torres crap for talking about his girl nonstop, and there’d been a lot of jokes about how whipped he was. The last time they’d been together, Torres had been telling them they were just jealous because his girl was so hot and constantly sending him care packages and then followed that up with the news that once he arrived back home, he was going to propose.

  Cam had told him good luck with that—he’d sworn off relationships and said a big no thanks to marriage, ever—and Torres had ribbed him, saying he’d meet the right girl and end up eating his words. Cam couldn’t say that he’d completely changed his mind, but he knew Torres would get a kick out of his current situation, so he typed up the email about Emma and Zoey, and how even though he’d always thought a kid was the last thing he’d wanted, he found himself looking forward to the next time he’d get to spend time with her. He even confessed that after he got over his anger, he could kind of see Emma’s side, and told him that there was something different about her, and that honestly he couldn’t stop thinking about her—but not to get any ideas.

  He was currently trying to smother the ones he was having.

  As soon as he sent that off, the phone call to Dad couldn’t be avoided any longer. So he steeled himself and dialed the number, hoping that he’d get lucky and go to voicemail.

  But Dad answered, and he knew his luck was just about the same as it always was. Pretty much nonexistent.

  …

  Cam had gone to the diner for dinner and ended up parked in front of Emma’s. For the past few hours, he’d told himself that she was probably better off with that scrawny Pete dude—he probably never freaking lost his temper.

  A few people in town had eyed him as he’d eaten his meal, and he could tell they’d wanted to ask questions, but apparently he still had enough of a reputation for people to leave him alone. Everyone but Patsy Higgins, that was, but she hadn’t been around tonight.

  He hadn’t meant to stop in front of Emma’s, only to slow down and give the place a quick glance. To check up on the house and verify that everything was secure. Then he thought that he should check her car’s oil since it was sitting out in the driveway, and make sure it wasn’t using too much. She’d told him it was driving so smoothly she could hardly believe it was the same machine, and he wanted to keep it that way.

  He should probably talk to her about his dad, too. He’d put him off when he asked when he could meet Zoey, saying he needed to talk to Emma before making any plans, and they were trying not to overwhelm her. But it’d come up eventually…

  He opened the door of his truck and started up the sidewalk. This visit was preventative maintenance, really.

  He knocked on the door and was almost ready to give up when the door swung open. The first thing he noticed was the wet T-shirt and how he could see a hint of her lacy bra. So much for what he’d planned to say, because he forgot how to even speak for a second.

  “Daddy! Daddy!” Zoey streaked across the room and ran over to Cam. He squatted and held open his arms, lifting her up when she made contact. His heart expanded as she wrapped her little arms around his neck. Her curls were wet, and she had her pajamas on, leading him to believe he must’ve just missed bath time.

  “Throw me, Daddy.” Every time she called him Daddy, she wrapped him that much more around her finger.

  He tossed her a few inches in the air—with Emma looking on, much more conservatively than after the mud puddle incident—and she giggled.

  “Don’t get her all wound up,” Emma said. “I’m trying to calm her down for bed.”

  “No bed!” Zoey shrieked.

  Admittedly, for a minute, he was tempted to just give Emma the news that his dad had found out about Zoey and wanted to meet her and then hand Zoey over to Emma and leave her with the struggle of bedtime. But he figured that’d be a double jerk move. So he found himself once again in over his head, but diving deeper anyway. “How can I help?”

  “I usually put on a video, but I’m trying to get her on a schedule in hopes the mornings will go smoother. I was about to read her a story and tuck her in.”

  Story. That seemed easy enough. “I’ll do it.”

  Emma glanced at the laptop on the coffee table and the stack of envelopes next to it. “That’d be awesome. Then I can take care of some of this paperwork. As long as you�
�re sure?”

  “I got it.”

  “Holler if you need me.”

  Cam took Zoey back to her bedroom, where he got suckered into reading three stories, all tales with princesses, but her eyes finally drifted closed.

  He crept out of her bedroom and closed the door, holding the knob and then slowly letting it go. The laptop and envelopes had been cleared, and Emma was digging something out from under the couch, her butt wiggling back and forth, and he took a moment to admire the view before announcing his arrival.

  “Hey,” he said, and she drew up to her knees, a sippy cup in her hand. “She’s out.”

  Emma glanced at the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes earlier than usual, too. Maybe this schedule thing will actually work.” She stuck the sippy cup on the coffee table and flopped onto the couch with a sigh. “I always wait for this moment where I can finally unwind from the hectic day, but I’m usually so tired I can hardly enjoy TV. But having you here to help…I’m plenty tired, but not at the brink of exhaustion.”

  Cam moved over to the couch and sat next to her. “So I’m doing an okay job?”

  She tucked her leg under her, spinning to face him. “You’re doing an amazing job—especially for how short of a time you’ve been doing it. You must’ve had some experience somewhere? Maybe Oliver?”

  A pang of guilt went through him. “No. Since he came into the picture after I’d already left home, I barely know the kid. I should really make more of an effort. Growing up, I helped Heath as much as I could, but since there’s only a year and a half between us, I couldn’t do as much as I wanted to. Then I left as soon as possible, when I probably should’ve stuck around until after he graduated.”

  “It wasn’t your job to raise him—and I can tell you two are close.”

  “Yeah, it did make us close, I guess.” He reached up and ran his fingers over his jaw. “I missed out on Oliver, though. Missed out on two years of Zoey’s life, too.”

  Emma flinched. “Again, that’s my fault.”

  He put his hand on her knee. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I know. But still.” A lightbulb seemed to go off, and she reached toward the end table, stretching far enough that a stripe of her creamy skin showed between her shirt and pants. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and glide his hands across it—more and more, the urge to touch her overwhelmed him.

  The problem was, they couldn’t casually cross lines, not since they had a kid together. Anything they started would automatically be that much more serious, and that thought made him hesitate.

  Emma spun back around, a large book in her hands. “I can’t change the past, but I can show you some of it.”

  The booties on the front cover clued him in to the fact that it was a baby book. The first picture showed Emma in the hospital holding a tiny, pink, and sort of wrinkly baby Zoey.

  “Who was with you?” he asked.

  Emma ran her fingertips over the edge of the picture. “My grandma, and a really nice nurse who cheered me on.”

  “What about after?”

  “My mom visited briefly, and my grandma came over when she could, but she was dealing with some health issues at the time. The two-year-old stage is busy, but I’d take it over those first months of her crying all day and night, when I was here by myself, no idea how to take care of her. Those were some of the longest days and nights of my life—I thought they’d ever end.”

  Even in the field, during the most hectic missions, he always had a team. He couldn’t imagine how alone Emma had felt. “I can’t believe you’d choose to do that alone.”

  “At the time, I didn’t feel like I had a choice.” She glanced up at him. “Honestly, what would you have done if I’d emailed and told you I was going to have your baby? Would you have come home?”

  He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’d be shocked at first. I’d probably also want proof she was mine—I know that makes me sound like a jerk, but it’s the first reaction.”

  “I get that. As I’ve said before, you and I didn’t know each other that well. Or at all, really.”

  “I remember you from school, though. You always had your hand up. Always had the right answer.”

  A small groan escaped her lips as she brought her hands to her face and shook her head. Then she slowly dragged her hands down her cheeks before letting them drop in her lap. “Yeah. I was a huge nerd and super eager about it. I was so awkward. And pretty much all the things that make you unpopular in high school. I’m not surprised that you and I never hung in the same circles.”

  “I’m sure you remember me as the town bad boy. My brother and I were blamed for every bad thing that ever happened.”

  “That’s not how I remember you,” she said. Then she quickly turned the page, her attention going to the pictures. “This one’s from Zoey’s first day home.”

  He grabbed her hand. “Uh-uh. You can’t just say that’s not how you remember me and then change the subject. Spill.”

  “No way. I was awkward, and you were Mr. Cool, and all the girls wanted to date you. Let’s leave it at that.”

  How was he supposed to leave it at that? “Did you want to date me?”

  She dropped her gaze and tucked her hair behind her ear. He took that to mean yes, and it amused him to no end. Of course, back then he’d been stupidly wrapped up in Angie—not to mention overwhelmed with his crappy home life—and dealing with all the drama both of those things brought along with them. How different would his life be if he’d paid more attention to Emma? Maybe he wouldn’t have felt the need to flee.

  Okay, now you’re getting carried away. Besides, the army was good for him. He’d channeled his rage and learned skills to protect his country and the people in it. It helped him kick the rebellious streak that had pushed him toward slightly illegal activities, too, like underage drinking and hanging around guys who shoplifted and started using harder drugs that gave them even stupider than usual ideas.

  He’d never regret his time in the army.

  What he regretted was the one time he’d gone too far, focusing so much on the mission and extracting information that he’d let his anger free and his guard down, and then the enemy had found them, and all hell broke loose.

  Then he’d had to drag two of his injured guys out, and one of them hadn’t made it.

  “Cam? Are you okay?”

  He shoved the bad memories away and looked up into her pretty face. “Yeah. Just thinking about how all of our decisions lead to places, some good and some bad, and how it doesn’t do any good to wonder what if.”

  She ran her fingers over the top of his hand, and it managed to calm the storm inside that he hadn’t been able to shake away—he knew it’d never be gone, and that despite what he’d just said, a part of him would always wonder what would’ve happened if he’d gone by the book that day, even if he’d saved countless lives by occasionally pushing hard.

  He focused on Emma, on her soft touch and the way she was looking at him, and something tugged in his gut. He thought about her earlier words, about how she apparently thought she’d seen something more in him, even back in high school.

  Maybe this pull he felt whenever he was with her wasn’t totally one-sided. Hope, fragile and dangerous, rose up, and he wasn’t sure whether to embrace it or tell it to take a hike.

  “If I’m being honest,” he said, returning to Emma’s original question, “if you’d sent me an email that said you were pregnant with my baby, it’d be easier to deny. Meeting Zoey and seeing so much of myself in her was proof enough. But without that…?”

  He hated to face the harsh truth about himself, but she’d asked for honesty, and he resolved to give it to her. If they were doing this—whatever this was—she deserved to know the type of guy he really was. “I probably would’ve told you I was too busy to deal with it. Eventually I would’ve come back for a short visit and a paternity test during my leave—most likely I would’ve been an asshole about it, to
o. Back then, I wasn’t in a very good place. And the truth is, even after I found out she was mine, I wouldn’t have been there for either of you much. My job in the army…I don’t think I could’ve done what I needed to do while thinking about having a daughter out there. So I don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for not telling me.”

  “Are you saying…you forgive me?” Her voice cracked as her eyes locked onto his.

  This time he didn’t stifle the urge to touch her—he reached out and cupped her cheek. “I forgive you. I can’t even count on two hands the mistakes I’ve made. I’m just sorry you had to go through so much alone. But for the record, you’ve done an amazing job.”

  She threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly and whispering, “Thank you.”

  Before he could get a good grip in return, she sat back, looking embarrassed again. In school, he would’ve pegged her as shy; that night at the bar, she’d been anything but. He wanted to know what had flipped the switch, and he hoped that they’d get to know each other well enough that she’d be comfortable with him again, regardless of everything that’d happened. Their lives were connected forever now, after all, whether they crossed into more or not.

  But you’re not going to cross that line, remember… He couldn’t help but wonder for one quick second if she’d be open to it, though.

  She hadn’t turned down Pete, which meant she might already have her eye on someone else to fill that position.

  Jealousy rose, fast and furious, and he curled his hand around his knee and squeezed, working very hard to redirect his thoughts so he didn’t lose his mind and demand Emma stay away from the guy, as well as any others who dared to ask her out.

  He cleared his throat. “Okay, show me more pictures. I want to know everything about the time I missed.”

  Emma explained each picture and told little anecdotes about Zoey as she flipped through the pages. He grinned at the expressive faces his daughter made, seeing himself and Emma in so many of them—the scowling ones definitely looked more like him. When he pointed that out to Emma, she laughed.