Catching the Cowboy

by Kennedy Fox

  “You nervous or something?” I ask when I see Elle in her truck. “You’re sweating.”

  “It’s hot.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I snicker, hopping into the passenger’s seat. “Maize coming?”

  Before she can answer, we see her walking down the steps of the B&B porch looking like she got hit by a bus.

  “Oh my God…” I laugh when she opens the back door. Turning, I raise my brows at the dark circles under her eyes and the messy bun on top of her head. “What the hell happened to you?”

  Elle starts driving, and Maize groans at the bumpy road.

  “I went to the bar last night to keep Kenzie company, and well…” She sighs. “Do either of you know a Gavin?”

  I purse my lips, thinking about all the regulars and townies who come into the bar. “No, doesn’t ring a bell,” I tell her.

  “Thank God. I hope he was just passing through.”

  “Maize…” The corner of my lips tilts up. “What’d you do?”

  “I think the question is who did you do?” Elle mocks.

  “You hooked up with a stranger!” I laugh, shocked and kinda impressed. Maize doesn’t do hookups.

  “Don’t talk so loud!” she scolds. “My head’s still pounding.”

  “Go figure, the one night I’m not working you find a hottie to bang. What’d he look like?”

  “Like all the other cowboys in this damn state. Ugh, fuck my life. I’m gonna be so embarrassed if I run into him again after being a sloppy drunk and probably a horrible lay.” She hangs her head in shame. Elle and I try to hide our laughter, but it doesn’t work.

  “Stop worrying. I doubt he’s from here.”

  “So…how was it?” Elle asks.

  “Yes, do tell.”

  She rolls her eyes, but I see a half-smile on her face, which is enough for me to know she had a good night.

  “Even drunk, he was good. Like really good.”

  “Did you get his number?” I ask.

  “No! I didn’t even get his last name. And to make matters worse, I left before he woke up.”

  “What?” I screech. “You didn’t!”

  She buries her head in her hands. “I was embarrassed! I didn’t want to be the one he bailed on, so I got dressed and got the fuck out.”

  Her face is so red, I’m tempted to ask if she’s running a fever, but then I think better of it when she smacks her forehead against the window.

  “I can’t believe you left…” I chuckle to myself.

  “I wanna meet this guy,” Elle adds. “He’s got you all kinds of flustered.”

  Maize turns and glares.

  “Do you remember anything else about him?” I ask as Elle turns into a gravel driveway.

  “I think he mentioned something about bull riding…like he used to or something.”

  I snap my fingers. “I bet that’s why he’s just passing through town. Probably on the way to a competition or something.”

  “Wait, where did y’all hook up?” Elle asks.

  “At some apartment but he said it wasn’t his.”

  “So he must be visiting a friend,” I say, trying to put the pieces together. “Did you see anyone else there?”

  “No, but it was like two in the morning, and I was on the tipsy side,” she states dryly. “This is humiliating. What was I thinking?”

  “You were thinking you needed some dick.” I snort.

  “I hate you. If you’d been working, you could’ve stopped me from making a fool out of myself.”

  “Oh, this is my fault?” I ask, amused.

  “Yes,” she states firmly. “Where were you anyway?”

  “Visiting my friend, Camila,” I tell her, the guilt immediately creeping in as I lie right to her face.

  “Alright, we’re here. Think you two can manage to help me so I don’t fuck this up?”

  “You’ve done this dozens of times. Why are you so nervous now?” I ask as we all get out of the truck, and she grabs her bag of supplies.

  “Connor made it very clear these were very close friends of his and to treat them well.” She shrugs when I pop a brow at her, not buying it. “I don’t want to disappoint him, okay?”

  “Because you love him,” Maize teases. “I wouldn’t mind having one night with him.”

  “Alright, drunky, you stay in the truck,” Elle orders.

  “Oh c’mon, I’m fine! I just know you have a thing for your boss, and you’re too chicken to tell him.”

  “How could you not, though? He’s ridiculously sexy!” I fan my face when Elle glowers at me.

  “You two are hopeless.” Elle starts walking toward the barn, and Maize and I follow. “Y’all gonna get me fired.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  DIESEL

  I’ve had a permanent smile on my face ever since I got back from San Angelo with Rowan. Being with her has been a dream come true and something I’ve always fantasized about but never imagined would happen. After I got home, I almost told her we needed to just tell her family. I’m tired of hiding the way I feel, and considering the way she looked at me when we last saw each other, I know she is too. Riley would get over it, and then she could move in with me. Every night and morning, I’d make sure to pleasure her in all the right ways. I’d treat her like the queen she is and prove to her I was the right choice.

  “What the hell are you smiling about now?” Riley looks at me as he stuffs his face with sausage. I actually didn’t realize I was cheesing so much. It’s hard to hide happiness like this.

  “Just thinkin’ about your sister,” I tease, but I’m being truthful, which is even more funny to me. If only he knew I wasn’t joking this time. Rowan. Damn, just thinking about her causes my temperature to rise as memories of this weekend cause heat to shoot through my veins.

  A biscuit flies toward my head, and I quickly move out of the way only for it to swiftly hit one of the guests. Riley immediately stands and goes to her.

  “I am so sorry, ma’am. I was just horseplayin’ and didn’t mean to hit ya,” he tells her.

  She smiles. “It’s okay, honey. I have grandkids your age, so I understand.”

  A clearing of a throat comes from the doorway, and I see John looking at us incredulously. “Riley!” he snaps, curling his finger. “Come over here, boy.”

  I snicker and pull my phone out of my pocket to see a text from Rowan.

  Rowan: I miss sitting on your face in the mornings.

  I swallow hard.

  Diesel: And I miss having you for breakfast. I mean, Maize’s cooking is great, but it’s nothing compared to eating you.

  Rowan: You’re bad, but in a way I love, Cowboy.

  Diesel: Did you just say you love me?

  I smirk, knowing it’s way too early to exchange those words, but there’s no other way to describe the way I’ve always felt about Rowan Bishop. Now that I have the chance of a lifetime with the woman my fifteen-year-old self jerked off to nearly every night in the shower, there’s no way in hell I’m fucking it up.

  Hurrying, I send another text, not wanting to put her on the spot.

  Diesel: I’m just kidding.

  Rowan: Shut the hell up.

  Diesel: Why don’t you make me? I can think of a few ways.

  Riley returns, and I tuck my phone in my pocket and stuff my mouth with food so I don’t have to talk. The smirk isn’t lost on him, though.

  “You’re a dickhead,” he murmurs, keeping his head low.

  “Surprised John didn’t murder you back there,” I tell him.

  Riley glares at me. “If I wasn’t family, he probably would’ve. Just picked up extra chores for hitting a woman with a biscuit because you don’t know how to shut the fuck up.”

  I shrug. “And you don’t know how to control your temper.”

  A few seconds later, Riley takes his attention from his plate and glances behind me. I turn around and see a blonde walking toward us, but I don’t recognize her, so I go back to my breakfast.

  “Diesel?
” she asks when she gets closer, looking directly at me.

  “Howdy,” I greet. “Can I help you?”

  I wonder if I’ve met her before, but she doesn’t look too familiar, so I’m fairly certain I haven’t.

  She looks at me, then at Riley. “Is there any way we can chat in private?”

  Riley shoos me away.

  “Sure, no problem.” Though I’m curious as to what she has to say.

  Looking around, I lead her out onto the back porch because it’s fairly empty. Once we’re outside, she turns to me.

  “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced.” She hesitates as if she’s waiting for a reaction.

  I give her a grin and shrug. “It’s no problem, ma’am. What can I help you with?”

  She sucks in a deep breath, and I can tell she’s nervous. I wish she’d just spit it out, though. “I wrote you a letter a couple of months back…”

  It takes me a minute to comprehend what she’s talking about. “Letter?”

  …but I know exactly what she’s referring to.

  “Yeah, my name is Laurel. You didn’t call me even though I left my number so you left me no choice but to come here. My sister, Chelsea, needs your help, even if she’s too proud to ask for it.”

  I blink hard. “Chelsea?”

  She nods. “Chelsea’s my sister. You two hooked up in Vegas three years ago. She gave birth to your son nine months after.” Laurel grabs her cell phone and swipes through her photos, then turns it around and shows me the screen.

  “There he is. Just look at him. There’s no doubt he’s your son. I knew the moment I saw your Facebook photos that you were his daddy.”

  I look down at the picture of the beautiful boy who’s a spitting image of me when I was that age. He has my mouth, nose, and even my green eyes. Learning I have a son that Chelsea never told me about makes me sick to my goddamn stomach.

  “Why would she keep this from me?” I search Laurel’s face. Her cheeks flush, and her pink lips tuck inside her mouth.

  “I have no idea. Anytime I brought it up, she’d tell me to mind my own business. But now—”

  “But now you’re not?” I stare at her.

  She shrugs, unapologetically. “Not when it comes to my nephew. I love him more than anything.”

  My heart races, and I don’t know how to feel or what to think. I take one last look at the boy’s photo, a toddler at this point, and allow the image of him to burn into my memory. Then I walk off the back of the porch.

  “Where are you going?” she asks, trailing me.

  “I got some thinkin’ to do,” I tell her without turning around. Right now, I need to be alone, but she doesn’t take the hint. The only thing that stops me is her grabbing my hand and spinning me around.

  “Can you at least give me your number? I want to stay in contact with you.”

  I study her, then swallow hard. “Tell me what you hoped to accomplish by coming here, Laurel. Chelsea obviously doesn’t want me involved so what can I really do?”

  She tilts her head and looks at me. “You can be a father to your son. It’s your right.” She digs in her purse and hands me a business card. “My cell is on there. If you change your mind about wanting more information, call or text me. I did my part. I can’t make either of you do the right thing for Dawson, but I can sleep better at night knowing I told you. The ball’s in your court now.”

  After she’s finished, she turns on her heels and walks toward the B&B. Once she’s out of sight, I go to my truck, crank the engine, and mindlessly drive around.

  Never would I have imagined that today I’d wake up and discover I’m a dad. This news was so unpredictable, I feel as if I’m living in an alternate universe. Of course, it’d come when Rowan and I took the next step in our relationship.

  This could change everything.

  The plane lands on the runway in sunny Phoenix with my heart lodged in my throat. All I can think about is how Rowan will react to me being a dad and the fact that my son lives hundreds of miles away from me. I took off work, needing some emergency vacation days, but couldn’t bring myself to tell Rowan I was going out of town. How do I even explain this to her when I barely understand it myself?

  Regardless, as soon as I have all the details, she’ll be the first to know. While Dawson bears an uncanny resemblance to me, it’s important to have proof that he’s mine. Once I have that, I’ll figure out my next steps.

  Chelsea has no idea I’m here, and my nerves get the best of me as I’m handed the keys to a rental car. Showing up unexpectedly is not what I wanted to do, but after I spoke to Laurel two days ago, she suggested it’d be better to blindside Chelsea because she’d never agree to meet me otherwise. I’m not the type of man who gets a woman pregnant and walks out on my kid, and even though I didn’t know, I can’t help feeling guilty for missing Dawson’s first two years of life. After seeing how much Riley’s in love with his kid and how much pride he takes in being a dad, it’s a dagger straight to the heart.

  Considering my life was finally going in the right direction with Rowan, I feel like the universe is laughing at me. Riley always said I’d hurt his sister, and though I’d never do it intentionally, this could be what it takes to screw things up. I hope she still gives me a chance after all this.

  I feel uneasy as I drive to Chelsea’s apartment. I’ve never felt this level of anxiety before, but it’s like my mind can’t stop racing, and my heart is pumping in overdrive. I’ve been living in the twilight zone ever since Laurel showed up, but when I pull into the complex with brick buildings and neat hedges, I know I have to do this.

  I park, wondering if this is the right decision, but my mama raised me better than to be a coward. My conscience couldn’t handle not stepping up, and running away from my problems isn’t a way to solve them. Not to mention, if she does need help supporting my son, I want to contribute any way I can.

  After a deep breath, I get out of the car and walk down the sidewalk until I see her duplex. I take the stairs two at a time, and when I get to her door, I hesitate for a moment. I can hear cartoons playing and child’s laughter on the other side. Sucking in another breath, I tap on the door.

  The handle jiggles, and the hard wood swings open. Our eyes meet for the first time in three years.

  “Diesel,” she gasps, then swallows hard. “W-what are you doing here?” she stutters, looking around until she realizes I’m alone.

  “I’m askin’ myself the same question,” I say honestly.

  Her brows furrow, but she keeps her voice in a hushed tone. “How’d you get my address?”

  “Laurel found me.”

  “Fuck,” she whisper-hisses. “I told her to stay out of this.” Chelsea looks over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back, sweetie,” she says before stepping outside, but leaving the door cracked open.

  “Look.” I keep my voice as calm as I can. “She told me about Dawson. I felt it was my duty to come here and see for myself. If he’s my kid, it’s my right to know.”

  Her face softens, and she looks up at the sky, releasing a slow breath. Tears well on the rims of her eyes, and she tries to play it off, but I notice her wiping her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced. Laurel has Dawson’s and your best interest in mind. She cares about you, but I gotta admit, you’ve got a lot of explainin’ to do.” I pause briefly until our eyes meet. “Like why it wasn’t you tellin’ me.”

  Chelsea looks around as if she doesn’t want any of her neighbors to hear us. “Would you like to come in?”

  Shaking my head, I rub my palms down my jeans. This whole situation is making me sweat.

  Chelsea gives me a small smile and tilts her head toward the inside of her apartment. “I think it’s time you met your son, Diesel.”

  My mouth falls open, and I lick my dry lips. “Okay,” I muster, but my emotions are going haywire, a convoluted internal mess.

  She opens the door, stepping aside for me to enter. I see my son sitting on t
he couch with a toy tractor in his hand, watching TV. He smiles at me but has no idea who I am.

  “Hi,” he says in a small voice. When he grins, an overwhelming amount of joy and fear rushes through me. I’m his dad. Holy fuck.

  “Hey,” I say, then look back at Chelsea who’s standing with her hands in her pocket, but she seems happy. She nods for me to move closer to him, so I do. “What kinda toy do you have there?”

  “This is my favorite tractor,” he says, raising it up high where I can see it better. Then he waves it proudly, giggling as he hands it to me.

  I sit down next to him on the couch, angling my body toward his. “You know, I have one like this at my house. A real one. A big green John Deere.”

  “You do?” he asks with wide eyes.

  “Yep. I have lots of tractors actually.” I pause briefly, then continue, “Maybe I can show you someday?”

  He smiles when I hand it back.

  “Yeah!” he shouts loudly, causing Chelsea and me to laugh. “I’m thirsty.”

  I swallow hard, not sure how to interact with a two-and-a-half-year-old. This feels like some weird reality show, and I’m waiting for Ashton Kutcher to come out and say “You just got punk’d!” But now that I see Dawson, as scary as it sounds, a part of me wants it to be true.

  Chelsea walks into the kitchen, then returns with a sippy cup of water and hands it to Dawson.

  “What do you say?” She gives him a pointed look.

  “Thank you, Mommy.”

  “You’re welcome, baby.” She glances at me, then lowers herself to Dawson’s eye level. “My friend and I are going to talk in the other room. Can you be a good boy for me and stay here for a bit?”

  “Okay, Mommy,” he says, then sits back with his cup.

  I stand and follow her to a small breakfast nook. It’s hard not to look around her quaint home where she’s raising our son. While it’s small, it’s clean and perfect for them.