Twins for the Rebel Cowboy

by Sasha Summers

  He smiled at her, earning a small smile in return. Ever since she’d tripped Tyler Gladwell on the playground and offered Ryder her hand, he’d known Annabeth was the kind of girl a fellow should hold on to forever. But Greg had beat him to it.

  She blew out a shaky breath, her gaze slipping from his. It was easier for him to breathe then. Where had this pull come from? All he wanted was to touch her. Which was the last thing he should do. The last thing he had the right to do.

  “So...” She stood, putting space between them.

  “Why don’t we start over?” he said, standing beside her. “I’m guessing you had a rough day?”

  “Yes.” She glanced at him, then swallowed.

  “I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong, Princess.” He took her hands in his, squeezing gently.

  She nodded. “I’ve been cranky and tired and frustrated. I have every reason, you know? Grandma’s bills aren’t going to pay themselves. Greg’s settlement covered the first two strokes and the resulting complications and therapy, but there’s nothing left, and bills keep coming in. And Cody... Ryder, I know growing up is hard, but his stutter makes it that much harder. Ms. Chavez is amazing, our new speech teacher, but it’s not like his stutter is going to go away overnight. Stress can complicate it, too.” She spoke quickly, her words pouring out of her. “And the job. I need this job, you know? So I assumed all of this was why I was feeling so out of sorts. But that’s just not me, you know?”

  He nodded.

  “But there were other things...well, actually two things. I thought it was stomach flu. And then I was late. And I’ve never been late. Except when I found out I was expecting Cody. I wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening but I’m not a coward. I had to know.” Her eyes met his. “You need to know.”

  He couldn’t breathe. He tried, but it felt like a horse had kicked him square in the chest. He knew what she was saying. Damn it.

  “Ryder...” She paused. “I’m pregnant. I’m fine doing it on my own. I know now’s your time to get out of Stonewall Crossing. I understand. I won’t stop you. I just thought you should know—so there’s some sort of plan.”

  “Plan?” he repeated, his mind racing. She was pregnant. He got her pregnant.

  She nodded.

  He stood, needing space. Her words seemed to echo in his ears. She was pregnant but didn’t expect his help. That was good...wasn’t it? Shit. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in, making him hot and uncomfortable. “Be right back.” He hurried into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

  * * *

  ANNABETH WATCHED HIM GO. She should have waited. She should have waited until morning, after a good night’s sleep. As if she’d get any sleep.

  As soon as she’d come home from work, she’d closed the bathroom door, ripped open the pregnancy test box and read the directions. Then she’d read the Spanish version of the directions, then the English version again. She’d opened the foil package holding the test and put the innocent white plastic stick on the edge of the sink. The “Results in 3 Minutes” outlined in bold was almost a threat. And three minutes later, her world changed forever.

  She’d had a few hours to process it. Superman was a long movie. Considering what she’d told him, Ryder was handling it pretty well.

  The question was simple: Would he want to be a father? But with his dream job and the promise of a new life outside Stonewall Crossing, she had her answer. And she didn’t blame him—not really.

  She wrinkled her nose, willing the tears back. It didn’t matter. She’d been managing on her own just fine so far. She didn’t, wouldn’t, need him.

  “I need some hot chocolate,” she called out to Ryder as she headed into the kitchen. “Want some?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She pulled the milk from her refrigerator, needing something to do while Ryder was doing whatever it was he was doing. With a few clicks, the old gas burner flamed to life. She turned it down low and poured two cups of milk into the saucepan. She opened the cabinet, moving cans and boxes until she found the hot chocolate packets.

  She glanced down the hall. No Ryder. He needed time, and she’d give it to him.

  The first bubbles in the milk appeared. She couldn’t leave it, the milk would scorch. She stirred the milk with a wooden spoon, feeling colder with each passing second. Once the milk reached a nice rolling boil, she sprinkled in the cocoa and turned down the burner. She poured the cocoa into two mugs and carried them to the bathroom.

  Ryder was bent over, his hands on his thighs. He was breathing hard, as though he’d been running for miles and couldn’t catch his breath.

  “Hot chocolate?” she asked, her voice sounding hollow.

  He straightened, attempting his normal careless stance and cocky grin even though his skin was an alarming shade of white.

  “Or something stronger?” Annabeth asked, nodding at the test on the bathroom sink. There was no mistaking the bright blue plus mark on the test window. “Definitely something stronger.”

  He was staring at her, his pale blue eyes so piercing it was hard not to cringe. But she didn’t. She met his gaze, refusing to buckle or fall apart. The longer he stared at her, the more nervous she became. She jumped when he took the mugs from her, placing them on the bathroom counter. When he pulled her into his arms, she couldn’t decide whether to brush him off or melt into him. Then he made the choice easy for her, pressing her head against his shoulder and running his fingers through her long hair. She could hear his heart, racing like crazy, under her ear. His breath was unsteady, too. But he stood straight, holding her so close his heat warmed her. It would be easier if he didn’t feel so damn good, if he didn’t feel so right...

  “It’s late.” Ryder’s voice was soft, his arms slipping from her. “You... I... I should let you get some sleep.”

  She stepped back, grappling with his words and what they might mean. “Okay.”

  “Give me time...to think.” He kept looking at her, his gaze wandering over her face, her stomach, before he glanced back at the test. She saw the muscle in his jaw harden, the leap of his pulse along the thick column of his tan neck. “I’ll go,” he added.

  She stepped back, out of his way. If he wanted to leave, she wasn’t going to stop him. But the look on his face, the shame and self-loathing, made her wonder if she’d ever see Ryder again.

  Keep it together, Annabeth. This is best. At least she knew what to expect. The biggest surprise was how devastated she felt when he pulled the front door closed behind him, leaving her with two steaming mugs of cocoa and one bright blue pregnancy test.

  * * *

  RYDER SAT ON his bike, staring at the closed door of Annabeth’s house.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  He couldn’t think.

  A baby.

  He stared up, sucking in lungfuls of bitter cold night air. A shooting star caught his eye, giving him a point of focus. He had to get his head on straight, had to think about what this...a baby...meant.

  Being a parent? A father? He didn’t know how to do that.

  With a quick kick, his bike roared to life. He headed straight to the gas station on the edge of town and picked up two longneck beers. After they were tucked into his saddlebag, he headed out of town.

  The city had built a fence around the Stonewall Crossing cemetery after a few headstones were shot up with a pellet gun. Kids probably. His family donated the stone and wood for the decorated, and highly effective, fence that now surrounded the cemetery. It didn’t stop anyone who really wanted in, but most kids looked for an easier target.

  Ryder parked his bike, shoved the beers into the pockets of his leather jacket and jumped onto one of the four-foot-tall decorative stone posts of the fence. He gripped the top of the fence, shoved his boot int
o the chain link and swung himself over. The drop was a little farther than he expected, making him wince when he hit the dirt.

  He paused then, his nerves unexpected.

  With another deep breath, he headed across the fields. He knew where he was going, even if he hadn’t been there in five years. He’d never planned on coming back. Greg sure as hell wouldn’t expect him to stop by. But, damn, right now he needed his best friend.

  He stood staring at the white marble headstone. He read the inscription four times before he got the nerve to step closer. Gregory Cody Upton. Loving Husband and Father. He’d never had a better friend—except maybe Annabeth.

  Annabeth. He looked up, staring blindly at the star-laden sky.

  “Hey.” He cleared his throat. “Brought you something.” He pulled one beer out, using his pocket knife to pop the cap off. “Figured you were going to need a drink.”

  He set the beer on the headstone and opened the other beer for himself, taking a healthy swig before he spoke again. He couldn’t say it, not yet, so he said, “Cody’s getting big. Good kid, smart as a whip. He can look at something and see the way it fits together, how it works. Bet he’ll be an engineer or something. He’s got Annabeth’s smarts—he’s gonna be a man you’d be proud of.” He stooped to remove the dried leaves that piled around the base of the headstone.

  When the stone was clean he sat, leaning against it as he turned his gaze back to the sky. “I need you to hear this from me.” He swallowed down some beer, easing the tightening of his throat. “Annabeth—” He broke off and took another sip. “I had no right to... I... She’s going to have a baby.” He cleared his throat again, the press of guilt and self-loathing all but choking him. “My baby...and I’ll do right by her.”

  He paused, closing his eyes. “You know. You know how I felt about her.” He turned the bottle in his hands. “I’m not you, never will be. Cody’s always gonna know who you are and what kind of man you were.” He took another sip. “I’m hoping you’ll be okay with them being my family now.” He stared up, letting the howl of the wind fill the night.

  “I’ll take care of them,” he promised softly. He meant it, wanted it, but had no idea where to start.

  He sat there, ignoring the bitter cold, and finished his beer with his best friend.

  Chapter Four

  “You’re sick?” Josie asked.

  “Yep,” Annabeth lied, pulling everything from the last kitchen cabinet. She’d been cleaning since four this morning. Her brain wouldn’t turn off and she couldn’t sit still. As silly as it was, she’d hoped she and Ryder would be figuring this out together. Instead, she was grappling with what to do—on her own. Her neatly color-coded poster hadn’t offered much comfort this morning.

  Instead of succumbing to a full-blown sob-fest, she’d busied herself. How many times had Grandma Flo told her a real lady never let her emotions run amuck? Best use that pent-up energy to do something. So all morning, she’d been doing. Specifically, cleaning. The tiny bathroom had been scrubbed, sterilized and organized. Her bright yellow kitchen smelled fresh, but she wouldn’t be done until each and every cabinet and shelf were orderly.

  “Does this have anything to do with my wayward brother-in-law’s late-night visit?” Josie asked.

  Annabeth dropped the can of peaches she’d been holding. “What... How...”

  “Lola heard him—er, his bike.”

  Ryder and that damn bike. “Dammit—”

  “She promised me she wouldn’t tell anyone else,” Josie interrupted.

  “You believe her?” Annabeth knew Lola Worley far better than Josie did. While Josie was off exploring the world, Annabeth had stayed put and knew all about Lola’s favorite pastime: gossip. Lola was Josie’s soon-to-be stepmother, so Annabeth wasn’t sure Josie could see the older woman objectively. To be fair, Lola was a lot less inclined to poke her nose into other peoples’ business now that she had a sweetie, but...

  “I do. She likes you, Annabeth. Last night’s visit might be newsworthy but she’d never cause you trouble.” Josie paused, then said, “I’m coming over.”

  “No,” Annabeth pleaded. If she had a supportive shoulder to cry on, she might actually cry.

  Josie argued, “It’s not like you to get all hermit-like. Whatever is going on, we’ll figure it out. And, if you’re getting thoroughly laid, I promise not to be horrified or judgmental, okay?”

  Annabeth laughed then. She couldn’t help it. “Oh, Josie, I wish.”

  “Hmm. Okay, well, I’m coming. And I’m bringing wine.” And she hung up.

  “Ma?” Cody was coloring at the table. “Can I build a tree house?”

  “I don’t think we have a tree big enough for one, sweetie.”

  “’Kay,” he said, the brown crayon in his hand never slowing. Tom was curled up on the table in front of Cody, his long white-tipped tail swaying back and forth with a slow, undulating rhythm.

  “You want a tree house?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He stopped coloring. “What about that tree?” He pointed out the small window above the kitchen sink.

  “That would be the perfect tree for a tree house. Only problem is, it’s not ours.” Her gaze lingered on the empty house she’d loved since she’d come to live with Florence as a little girl. The Czinkovic house was like a dollhouse. Wraparound porches on both stories, picture windows, detailed trim-work and a massive yard with fruit and pecan trees. It was the kind of house a little girl imagined living in, with her perfect family at her side.

  She glanced down at her son. All he wanted was a tree house. She wished she could give him what he wanted. After all, a tree house wasn’t all that much to ask for. “If it was our house, I’d help you build one.” Her gaze lingered on the house. “After we were done building your tree house, you could help me paint the big house. Maybe a dusky pink or purple—”

  Cody wrinkled up his nose. “Ma! I c-can’t live in a pink or p-p-purple house!”

  She sat beside him, slipping an arm around him and pulling him close. “Okay, little man, what color then?”

  Cody cocked his head, staring at the grand old house for a second. “Not sure,” he said, dumping his box of colors onto the table. “This?” He picked up a yellow. “Your f-favor-ite.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Cody sat it down, moving colors around until he found a pretty lilac blue. “This?”

  Annabeth held it up to the window, looking at the color, then the house. “I like it, Cody. A lot.”

  He smiled up at her. “Is J-Josie c-coming over?”

  She nodded.

  “Eli, too?” he asked, smiling when Tom stirred long enough to roll onto his back.

  “I don’t know.” Eli was Josie’s stepson. He was a little older than Cody and a great kid. “How’d you like to go make cookies with Ms. Lola and Carl over at the bakery tonight?” she asked.

  “Do I get to eat ’em?” he asked, grinning.

  “Some of them,” she relented.

  “Sure.” He nodded, picking up a green.

  She stared at the picture her son was creating. It was a tree house, a wonderful, whimsical tree house with a ladder that wrapped around the wide trunk of the tree. “Is that an elevator?” she asked, pointing to a rope with something tied to it.

  “For Tom.”

  She smiled, ruffling Cody’s hair. She reached forward, stroking the kitten’s head and ears until the purrs reverberated off the kitchen walls.

  “He’s h-h-happy.” Cody giggled. There wasn’t a sweeter sound in her world.

  “What’s not to be happy about? He’s got you and me, kiddo. He’s one lucky kitten.”

  Tom mewed faintly, making them both smile.

  “Think that means he agrees?” she asked Cody.

  “Yep.” Cody nodded.r />
  She pressed a kiss to his head, breathing in his sweet scent, his soft hair tickling her nose. Cody was her boy, the reason she worked so hard each and every day. He was thoughtful and considerate, funny and kind. She was proud of him.

  “Here.” Cody handed her a green crayon and pointed at the base of the tree. “Some grass?”

  She started to color, a companionable silence filling the small kitchen. She loved these quiet times, just the two of them. Tom mewed, making her smile. Fine, three of us... But starting over again terrified her.

  Cody was made from solid love. When she’d found out she was expecting Cody, she’d thought Greg would be there to help out. Greg had been so excited about a baby, even more so when he found out they were having a son. There’d been the promise of a family, happy and whole.

  Cody’s smile was Greg’s. So were the kinks in his little toes. She couldn’t help but think of Greg each and every time she saw Cody barefoot. It used to tear her up inside, but now it made her smile. Greg was a good man, a good husband. Even though he never met his son, Annabeth knew he’d left the best parts of himself here in Cody.

  This baby... Ryder’s baby. She drew in a deep breath. Poor little thing was made in a truck, clumsy and hurried and, honestly, a mistake. It wasn’t the beginning she would have imagined for her child, if she’d imagined having another child—which she hadn’t.

  She’d had a hard time imagining sex, let alone the possible consequences. Greg was the only man she’d slept with. So sex, without Greg, was a foreign concept. It hadn’t always been perfect, but they’d had the time to learn each other’s bodies, to give each other real pleasure. The exact opposite of what happened with Ryder. They’d had no time, no experience and no hesitation. And yet somehow it had been one of the most intense experiences of her life.

  “Nice,” Cody said, smiling up at her. “You can make some f-flowers if you want.”

  She should be enjoying time with Cody, not thinking about her love life. Or, more accurately, her lack of a love life. This baby was coming. There was no way to make this okay, but there had to be a way to make it less of a mess than it was.