by Hazel Parker
Sawyer chuckled. “It’ll be there later if you want to get it. But I think you should drink that water, first.”
Camille nodded and quickly emptied the glass. “I didn’t realize how thirsty I was,” she said. “Actually, I’m feeling pretty sick.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t get heat stroke. Minnesota can be pretty cold, but in the summer it’s almost as hot as Atlanta.”
“You’ve been to Atlanta?” Camille asked, watching him. “Country boy like you?”
“A couple of times,” Sawyer said. “But that’s not the point. I think maybe you should lie down. There’s a bed in the back.”
Camille laughed loudly. “You think you’re so suave, Mr. Sawyer,” she said. “You’re trying to take me to bed.”
“I mean…if you’re interested,” Sawyer sputtered. Women didn’t usually question his methods.
Camille met his eyes with a challenge. “Would you have taken no for an answer?”
Sawyer sat up straighter. “I know what rape is, ma’am, and that’s not what I’m about. I was going to ask your permission, when we…reached that point.”
“Let’s say we reach that point now, then,” Camille said, bringing Sawyer’s hand to her mouth and gently sucking on each finger.
Startled but aroused, Sawyer leaned across the dinette to kiss her.
“That’s it,” Camille whispered, pupils dilated with anticipated pleasure, seizing his bottom lip between both of hers and nibbling teasingly.
Sawyer stood, stooping in the confines of the trailer, and lifted Camille off her feet and into his arms. She moved her lips to his neck and began to unbutton his musky rodeo shirt. He carried her to the bed, peeling the comforter away so there was nothing but sheets and mattress beneath them.
As their foreplay got hotter and more clothes fell to the side, Sawyer took a condom from the box under the bed, hands trembling as he ripped open the package. Camille’s assertiveness was incredibly sexy. Women were usually too intimidated by Sawyer Adkins, resident billionaire bad boy, to really ask for anything—so when she laughed softly in Sawyer’s ear as he kissed her collarbone and slid the condom over his erection, he shuddered with anticipation.
“You do this often?” she asked, sliding his jeans further down his thighs. When Sawyer didn’t answer, she laughed again, running her nails up his back before clutching his neck. “Don’t answer that,” she whispered in his ear. “Nothing but the here and now.”
Sawyer slid into her satin wetness with a groan, and she gasped to match. Their rhythm was primal, but the sensation was heavenly—Sawyer had to force himself to slow down to pleasure her, leaning to balance on one elbow and reaching his other hand down to stroke her pussy. Her moans became higher-pitched and faster, and as soon as he felt her vagina clutch around his cock in an orgasm he came as well, breath hitching as they both slid into quiet ecstasy.
Sawyer carefully raised himself off of her and rolled to one side, closing his eyes and feeling the last echoes of pleasure wash over him. Camille was like no one he’d ever been with. It was as if their bodies spoke the same language.
“Oh, shit,” Camille muttered.
Sawyer sat up, looking at Camille. “What’s wrong?” he said.
Camille pointed toward Sawyer’s cock and the condom in tatters, his cum spilled all over the bed.
“Are you on the pill?” he asked, trying not to panic.
“Yeah,” she said. “I mean, I’m not sure if I took my dose this morning…but yeah. I think I’m fine.”
“Okay,” he said. “If you say you’re fine, it’s fine.”
“Right,” Camille said, but her voice was still uncertain. She crawled into his arms and rested her head against his chest. “Can I sleep here?”
“Of course,” Sawyer said, already drifting to sleep. “We’ll deal with it in the morning.”
Chapter 3
Camille woke up to the smell of waffles and strawberries. She thought she must still be dreaming, until she remembered where she was: Sawyer Adkins’s trailer. The memory of her orgasm made her shiver—Jackson had never made her feel that. Still, it felt wrong. Sure, she’d dumped Jackson, but she’d always thought of herself as someone who would be on her own for a while after a break-up to find herself; not as someone who ran off and had hot sex a few hours later.
Hot sex…and a broken condom. What a night.
With a yawn, she realized that none of the things she remembered explained why the trailer smelled so delicious, or where Sawyer had gone. Before she could get up to investigate, the bedroom door opened, with Sawyer behind it. Balanced on his arm was a fragrant platter of fluffy golden waffles smothered in strawberries and syrup.
“Oh my God,” Camille said as Sawyer handed her a fork. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know, but I wanted to.” He sat a respectable distance away from her in bed and began to scoop healthy-size bites of waffle into his mouth.
Camille glanced at Sawyer. She’d never had a one-night stand before, but from what she’d heard, the man wasn’t supposed to be as nice as this. Shouldn’t he be kicking her to the curb right now?
As if he had read her mind, Sawyer cleared his throat. “Do you have a way home, Camille? Back to Atlanta?
“No,” Camille said. “And I don’t have any cash, either.” She kept her eyes on her plate.
“You can stay here, you know. Just till you get things sorted out. And I can drive you into town if you want to call your ex to find out how things stand.” Sawyer’s voice was kind and a little bashful—not the cocky rodeo star she had gone to bed with the night before.
Camille finished her waffles with a sigh. “I appreciate it, but I really need to get home. Country life is definitely not for me, you know?”
Sawyer shrugged, looking away.
“There’s a bus that runs up here, right?” Camille continued. “It’ll be a long ride to Atlanta, but I think that’s my best bet.”
“It stops over in Swatara,” Sawyer said. “It’s a ways, but it’s no problem to drive you over there. And I’ll buy your ticket.”
“Thank you, Sawyer,” she said, touched by the strange cowboy’s generosity.
“Anytime. And let me know if you need anything. I’ll give you my address. I don’t use my phone or the internet much, but you can send me a letter.” Sawyer grabbed a pad of paper from the bedside table and scrawled his name and address.
Adkins West Ranch. Sounds fancy, Camille thought as she folded the paper and placed it in her purse.
******
When Camille and Sawyer embraced for the last time at the bus stop in Swatara, both were sure they’d never see the other again. The bus pulled out of the station, and Camille watched out the window as Sawyer’s muscular form got smaller and smaller, until the bus rounded a corner and he disappeared.
No more cowboys, Camille thought, settling into her seat. She was back in civilization for good—so why did she feel so lost?
Chapter 4
Two months later, Sawyer set down his father’s saddle on its stand with a grunt, wiping dust off his brow. As he took a sip of his beer, he heard a giggle from the other side of the barn. A grin broke across his face.
“September Adkins, I’m keepin’ an eye on you,” he teased, making finger guns to where he knew she was hiding, in the feed room. “Pow! Pow!”
September squealed with laughter, running out of the feed room to give her brother a hug. Sawyer squeezed his thirteen-year-old sister tightly, remembering how happy he had been when she’d been born. He’d been not much older than thirteen himself, and he’d been her inseparable protector ever since he saw her joyful smile. He’d learned later what a miracle it had been: his mother had been almost too old to carry, and she’d had a difficult delivery. It only made September more precious: there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
Wanda Adkins emerged from the barn’s office and clucked her tongue at September. “Give your brother some peace, Ember,” she said. “He has work to do.”<
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September pouted, but let her arms fall back to her sides. “None of my big brothers have time for me anymore.”
“I’ll always have time for you, kiddo,” Sawyer said with a smile. He stretched as her turned to face his mother. “Anything else you need moved?”
Wanda surveyed the dusty pole barn with resignation. “Not right now, I suppose. I never realized your father had so many things that needed to be taken care of,” she said. “But that’s what happens when you’re married almost fifty years.” She turned her piercing hazel eyes to her son. “Not that any of my boys seem to be interested in finding out anything about marriage.”
September stuck her tongue out at Sawyer as he shrugged. “I guess commitment’s not my thing,” he said with a yawn.
Wanda took a seat on a bench by the wall, adjusting her steel-gray braid. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, Sawyer realized how old she had become. Guilt pricked at him and he went to sit beside her.
“It’s all right, Ma,” he said. “One of my older brothers is sure to get his head out of business and out on a date soon.”
His mother kept her eyes closed. “It was more than marriage that your father and I wanted, you know,” she said. “We both hoped we’d see grandkids. He even put it in his will—the first of his boys to carry on the Adkins line would inherit.”
September was trying to tease him again, blowing raspberries with her tongue, but Sawyer was reeling from what his mother had just said. So it hadn’t been about business sense after all—it had been about his parents’ dreams of a real family ranch. He almost snorted aloud when he thought about what that must mean for his brothers who had shown up at the reading of the will. They had probably been taking notes—running off the names of every eligible woman in Minnesota, or hell, in all the Midwest for that matter—and were now attempting to outdo one another to bed every one.
Well, Sawyer had an advantage there, since women couldn’t seem to resist him. It was just a matter of finding the right girl, and the ranch would be his after all—he could pay his brothers to run the place and still have enough money for a lifetime of luxury. He imagined the satisfaction of signing his brother’s checks. Let them joke about me and my rodeo trophies all they want, he thought. I’ll prove myself more of a man than they could ever hope to be.
“Tag! You’re it,” September shouted when she managed to sneak up on Sawyer, lost in his thoughts. Wanda laughed and clapped Sawyer on the shoulder.
“Play with your sister,” his mother said. “I suppose grandkids can wait for now.”
******
Butterflies filled Camille’s stomach as she got closer to where she had circled Adkins West Ranch in marker on her map. When she had returned to Atlanta, she’d dragged her stuff out of the apartment she shared with Jackson, deleted his number, taken her truck back, and moved in with her parents for a few months till she could find a job. She’d found one pretty quickly, too, waiting tables at a greasy spoon down the street—until she spent more time throwing up in the bathroom than she did actually serving customers. Thoughts of the broken condom hanging over her, she bought a drugstore pregnancy test, and it confirmed what she already knew: she was carrying Sawyer Adkin’s child.
As if things could get any worse.
Her parents had offered to take care of her for as long as she needed, and strongly disapproved of her plan to drive back to Minnesota to tell Sawyer. But Camille had been unable to forget not only her hot night with the cowboy, but his kindness as he brought her breakfast in bed and drove her to the bus station when he had no reason to do so. Surely a man like that deserved to know he would have a child out there somewhere, even if he wanted nothing to do with Camille.
So she’d set out on the long drive to Smiley, Minnesota, and now as she coasted over the last hill on the map, she could hardly believe her eyes.
When she’d pictured Adkins West Ranch, she had thought it would be a small family operation with a few horses, and, of course, cows. It was an operation, all right, but more on the scale of something in a movie. Picturesque green pastures soaked up the late August rain, and healthy cattle napped in the shade of leafy oaks, chewing their cud. She spent so much time checking the arch over the long driveway to make sure that she had the right place that she almost crashed the truck.
No way, she thought. Maybe he just works here. Whoever owns this place has to have a lot of money. Now I feel terrible…what if he thinks I’m just a gold digger? I shouldn’t have come at all.
Swallowing her nerves, Camille continued up the driveway, which was so long she couldn’t see the house at the other end. When she got closer, she saw that it wasn’t just one house, but four of them, all enormous, clustered near a stand of sugar maples.
She stepped out of the truck, trying to decide which door to knock on first. But before she could make up her mind, the door to a nearby pole barn opened and Sawyer stepped outside, a young girl who was his spitting image in tow.
“Who’s that?” the girl asked, tugging on Sawyer’s arm.
He looked at Camille with confusion, happiness, and surprise all mixed up into one expression that made her heart skip a beat. She suddenly felt faint, and stumbled back against the truck so she didn’t fall. Sawyer was at her side in an instant, putting his arm around her and carrying her toward the closest house—which also happened to be the largest, in a gorgeous, hunting-lodge style.
“Tell Mom to bring a cold cloth and some water,” Sawyer instructed the girl, and continued to help Camille to the house. Thankfully he didn’t seem to expect her to say anything, and she leaned against his chest as her world spun—from shock or the baby inside her, she wasn’t sure. Sawyer set her down on a daybed in a guest room, sitting beside her and stroking a dark curl out of her face.
“Relax, Camille,” he said softly. “My mother will be here in a moment. She trained as a nurse, so you’ll be in good hands.”
Camille nodded, closing her eyes again. “I’m not planning to stay long,” she said, her mouth dry. “I don’t want to impose. But I thought you should know.”
Sawyer squeezed her hand tightly. “You can stay as long as you want,” he said. “I’m surprised—you didn’t send a letter or anything. What did you need to tell me that was so important?”
Camille took a deep breath before speaking. “I thought you should know, I’m…pregnant.”
Sawyer’s eyes lit up with what Camille hoped was joy, but before he could speak, the young girl from outside the house burst into the guest bedroom.
“You’re my brother’s girlfriend?” she asked, wide-eyed. “And you’re going to have a baby? Do I get to babysit? Please, please, please!” She skipped around the room. The girl’s mother—and, Camille guessed, Sawyer’s mother, too—carried a small medical kit under her arm and knelt over Camille, all business.
“How far along are you?” she asked, sticking a thermometer under Camille’s tongue. “Hold up—don’t answer that till it beeps. I’m Wanda Adkins.” She glanced at Sawyer. “I’m hoping my son will introduce you so I don’t have to ask all the questions. I must say, I’m surprised.”
Sawyer cleared his throat. “Mom, this is Camille. We…met…at the rodeo several months ago. We haven’t been in touch, so I didn’t know she was coming, but I’m very happy to see her.”
Wanda clucked her tongue, still glaring at Sawyer. “I’m sure my son has met many women, but I hope you’re the first one he takes responsibility for.” Her expression softened when she looked at Camille and finished checking her temperature. “You’re very beautiful, dear, and thankfully, no heat stroke. I imagine you were just in shock.”
“I had no idea that your home was so nice,” Camille said with a sigh, thinking about how many millions the lodge must have cost and feeling ashamed again that she had bothered them. “But really, I don’t need to stay. I can head back to Atlanta in the morning. I just wanted to give the news in person.”
“What impression did you give the poor girl, Sawyer? Did yo
u make her think we’d kick her out? Nonsense. I’m not letting the woman carrying my grandchild leave because she has nowhere to go. Especially not back to the city. Country air is good for pregnant women—I should know,” Wanda spoke quickly as she took Camille’s blood pressure and pulse. “I’m happy to say, you look healthy enough,” she said with a smile.
Sawyer grinned. “I was going to tell her she could stay,” he said. “But I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”
Wanda caught Sawyer and Camille up in a tight embrace. “This is wonderful news. I’ll make an appointment for the ultrasound right now, and Sawyer will drive you to the clinic in the morning. We’ll get a bed ready for you, and we’ll make sure you eat all the right things.” A tear of joy trickled down the older woman’s cheek. “This is such good news.”
“It is,” Sawyer and Camille said in unison—surprising each other with their smiles.
Chapter 5
“Looks like your baby is right on track,” the ultrasound technician said warmly, pointing out where the baby rested in Camille’s womb. Camille could hardly look at the screen, she was so nervous. She never could have imagined she’d end up here, carrying a near-stranger’s baby so far away from everything she’d known.
As if he had sensed her discomfort, Sawyer squeezed Camille’s hand gently. She squeezed back as the technician gave her a towel to wipe away the gel. She pulled her T-shirt back down over her belly, which was just beginning to show.
“Is there any way to get a picture?” she asked.
“Of course,” the tech said. “If you want to head to the check-out desk, they’ll set up your next appointment and I’ll get a print-out ready for you.”
My next appointment. It’s so strange to think I’ll be here for the next six months at least.
Camille had called her parents that morning and told them she’d be staying in Minnesota for a while. They hadn’t asked for details, but she could tell they weren’t happy—until they had spoken to Sawyer, who assured them he was taking good care of their daughter and that he would be happy to pay for their plane tickets out when their grandchild was born. When he’d handed the phone back so she could say goodbye, her parents sounded bewildered, but reassured. Right now, everything felt too good to be true. Every time she blinked, she was worried she might wake up from this good dream.