Cowboy Baby Daddy

by Claire Adams

  And that was the last thing I wanted.

  I threw on the first pair of jeans I could pull from my dresser before I tugged on a shirt. I took one last look at my bed and sighed at the way her side of the bed tangled up, then I shut my light off and headed for my car. Maybe she would be willing to talk. I was hoping she would fling her door open to me and invite me inside.

  Part of me was even hoping she would ask me to stay and spend the day with her.

  But as I walked up to her porch, I saw all the lights were off. It was well past 10 o’clock, and I supposed she still could have been sleeping. Her car was in the driveway, so I had a pretty good chance of catching her here, but the real question was yet to be answered.

  And I got it when I knocked.

  “Stella?”

  My hand rapped against the door, beckoning for her to come to it.

  “Stella, you home?”

  I knocked a few more times before I shoved my hands into my pockets. I almost convinced myself that maybe she wasn’t here. That maybe Daisy had picked her up, and they were off getting breakfast. Maybe Stella was telling her what a terrible mistake she had made and Daisy was letting her know how fucked up she was, and I’d go back to work tomorrow, and the entire company would be hers, and she’d kick me to the curb.

  But, last night wasn’t a mistake.

  Not for me, anyway.

  I heard the patter of footsteps behind the door. I saw a shadow move across the frosted glass of the skinny side windows, and it grew larger until it stopped just short of the door.

  She was home.

  Stella was home, and she had come to the door.

  “Stella, we need to talk,” I said.

  But still, she just stood behind the door.

  “I know you’re scared,” I said. “And I know you’re freaked out. Please open the door so we can talk.”

  I heard her shuffle before a slight thump came against the door. I imagined her pressing her forehead against it, listening to every word I was saying even though her body was still refusing to open the door to me. Maybe she thought to open the door somehow meant she was opening her body. Maybe she couldn’t control herself and felt we had to have this conversation with something in our way.

  Maybe she thought I would be lost whenever she opened the door and looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes.

  “I wanted you there when I woke up,” I said. “Last night was amazing. I saw a side of you I’ve never seen before, and I want to thank you for opening up to me that way. But, I also need you to understand that this won’t ruin the company. I won’t allow this to ruin what your father started. And if you open up and just look at me, you’ll know I’m telling you the truth.”

  I held my breath for what seemed like hours before I saw the doorknob turn. I looked up into the eyes of a woman who was conflicted, frightened, and guarded. Her body was draped in a robe pulled tight against her body, and her hair was pulled back into a haphazard bun. She looked like she hadn’t slept well, what with the crookedness of her stance and the massive yawn that peeled from between her pillowy lips. But she still looked radiant.

  And I was still enamored by her.

  “Coffee?” she asked.

  “I would love some,” I said.

  I watched her make the coffee, and I counted how many times she stumbled. From the time she poured the water into the coffee maker until she got everything to the table, she had tripped six times. I was worried about how exhausted she was, but I was glad she seemed to have gotten home safe.

  “You know you could’ve crashed on the couch,” I said. “You know, after everything.”

  “No, I couldn’t,” she said flatly.

  “I know you’re worried about what this does to the company,” I said.

  “I slept with the boss,” she said.

  “You are the boss, so I technically did, too,” I said.

  “If word gets out about this, Christian…”

  “It won’t,” I said as a reached for her hand. “I promise you.”

  I was surprised she let me hold her skin against mine as long as I did before she pulled away. She drew in a deep breath before putting her coffee mug to her lips, and I was entranced with the way she moved.

  I wondered if she was thinking the same thing about me.

  “How do you feel about what happened last night?” she asked.

  “I already told you. I wanted you there when I woke up this morning, and you weren’t there,” I said.

  “I couldn’t stay,” she said.

  “And that’s fine if you think that,” I said.

  “I don’t think it; I know it.”

  It didn’t shock me that I was getting the guarded Stella, but it did hurt a bit. After seeing her so open and free with her emotions last night, it felt like we were backtracking.

  And that would hurt the business.

  “Don’t close me off, Stella. If you want to talk about what will hurt this business, that would be it. You’re at your best when you let yourself feel.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment for last night,” she said.

  “As you should. You performed magnificently,” I said, smirking.

  My comment earned me a little snicker, and my stomach warmed at the sight. She wasn’t gone. The Stella I saw last night wasn’t gone, merely sleeping.

  Which she looked like she needed more of.

  “We can’t keep doing this,” she said. “It’s not normal.”

  “I get it. I do. Trust me. So, how about this?” I asked. “What if we put last night behind us. If we keep it in the past, it won’t affect our work. Then, it won’t impact the company, and it won’t affect our working relationship.”

  “What will it do to our personal relationship, though?” she asked.

  “Our what? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we had one of those,” I said, winking.

  “You’re such a turd,” she said.

  “I’m serious. I know you well enough to know your mind is going to swirl with this all day, and that’s fine. Just know that, come tomorrow morning, it’s behind me,” I said.

  “That’s actually a good idea. We’ve been through the wringer the past couple of weeks. Last night was an awkward combination of opportunity and being caught up in all the stress that has been dealt us,” she said.

  “Exactly,” I said. “Now, aren’t you glad you opened the door?”

  “Get out of here,” she said, grinning.

  “I’m taking this fabulous coffee with me, and I’ll return the mug to you tomorrow,” I said. “In the meantime, get some rest. You look like hell. The boss will be pissed if you come in looking the way you do now.”

  “Well, tell the boss his boss says, ‘shove it,’” she said.

  I took my mug of coffee and headed back out to my car. While the conversation went well, it was nowhere near what I had wanted to say to her. I wanted to tell her how illuminating she was last night. How wonderfully the sunset played off her eyes as she drank her wine. That I was mesmerized by the way she ate her food. How desperately I had wanted to kiss her just moments before she snuck into my room.

  I wanted to tell her how soft her skin felt beneath my lips. How beautifully her body sucked my cock right into her depths. I wanted to pull her into my arms and show her, yet again, how a man should treat a powerful, respected woman like her.

  I wanted to tell her to take me upstairs so I could show her everything she missed out on by not wanting to play the game I wished so wantonly to play with her.

  But, as I settled into my car and backed down the driveway, I thought about the conversation we had. It was stereotypical Stella, backing away from something that scared her, so she had time to process. Maybe that meant I could have her again in the future. Perhaps, after some time, we would slowly get back to the place we were last night: enjoying each other’s company before falling into each other’s bodies.

  I wanted to experience more of those moments with her.

  But,
for now, I had to settle for this.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Stella

  I walked into the office to start the week with my coffee in my hand. I had taken Christian’s advice and gotten a bit more sleep, but I wasn’t alright with the images I saw when my brain whisked me away. Instead of darkness or dreams of my father, what I saw was Christian’s body. I saw his lips dipping down to my puckered nipples, and I saw the twitching muscles of his back. I saw his long legs tangled with mine, and I saw his sparkling eyes looking up at me from between my legs. I felt his tongue against me, sliding along my skin while my fingernails dug into the sculpted muscles of his arms that worked so hard for my pleasure.

  I’d woken up orgasming in bed that morning, and I knew I’d need plenty of coffee to get through the day.

  I sat on the couch in my office and pulled out a few things to work on. I had inventory to do today, which meant I had to have the inventory paperwork. After looking around on my desk to try and find it, I settled for walking over to Christian’s office to see if he had any.

  But, when I opened his door, I saw the suit he was in.

  He was in the black-on-black suit we had purchased for him for this meeting. His dark green dress shirt pulled tightly against his muscular chest, and I saw flashes of my lips on his bare skin as he stood up and looked at me. His body loomed over his desk while I took in how his suit tailored itself to his body, and all I could think about was how easily my legs clasped around his waist.

  My eyes raked down his legs, reveling in how the suit accentuated their length and strength, and I thought about how I had run my toes up and down the backs of them while he plowed his surprisingly thick length in and out of me.

  “Stella?” he asked.

  “Yes. Sorry. Do you, um, have any of that inventory paperwork? I seem to have misplaced mine,” I said.

  “Got plenty of it. In the file cabinet, second drawer down. It’s not locked, so feel free to come in and take anything whenever you need it,” he said.

  Take anything.

  “It’s probably best if I just have it all. Inventory is my responsibility, so it doesn’t really make sense for it to be in here,” I said.

  “Understandable. Take the entire file, then. Do you have a cabinet you can stick it in?” he asked.

  Stick it in.

  I felt my chest tighten at those words as they fell from his lips.

  “Got a small one by one of the bookcases,” I said.

  “Good, good. If there ever becomes an overflow situation, draw up an acquisition form and slip it under my door. I’ll get you another one ordered,” he said.

  “Are we going to talk about the meeting we’ve got scheduled for today? Or do you feel prepped enough for it?” I asked.

  “I was actually about to come knock on your door. There are a few things I wanted to discuss,” he said.

  “Lead the way, then,” I said as I pulled the massive stack of papers from the cabinet.

  We crossed the hall back to my office, and I flopped the papers on top of the filing cabinet. I was painfully aware of how incredible Christian looked in his suit, but it was heightened by the cologne he was wearing.

  It was the cologne from Saturday night, and I had to take a second to catch my breath before I went to sit beside him.

  “So, the welcome box is all put together for her. I tailored it a bit to the brands she likes, so that’s sitting in the back of my car. She should have a list of all the inventory she needs ready for us, so you’ll need to be set to get her orders and shipments started. I told her to be prepared to write us a check,” he said.

  “Actually, I went out and purchased a little mobile credit card plugin we could use on our phones,” I said. “It plugs into the phone jack of your phone, and you can just swipe the credit card. I set up the account to hook up to the company’s main bank account, and it’s a very minimal cost per transaction that we can write off every tax season.”

  “Did you fill out an acquisition and get it to me?” he asked.

  “Um, no,” I said.

  “Did you consult with me at all before purchasing this?” he asked.

  “No, Christian. I didn’t,” I said.

  “You’re in charge of inventory and updates like that, yes. But, all finances have to be run by me.”

  His good looks were slowly starting to fade as my frustration grew. Here would be one of the many issues we would struggle with when it came to this asinine plan of splitting the company in half. I could make decisions on inventory and purchase new items, but I couldn’t buy them? Was he fucking kidding me?

  “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good purchase, and one I would’ve approved, but having a set of eyes to red team a purchase helps to cut back on spending, which your father did a great deal of,” he said.

  “Red team it?” I asked.

  “It’s a newsroom term. It’s when a research team for a big story is split in half. One team investigates the story and pieces it together, then that team presents it to the red team. The red team knows nothing of the story, and they try to poke holes in it. It helps lend credibility before the story goes on air,” he said.

  “Ah.”

  “It takes after the term red blood cells,” he said.

  “Gotcha.”

  “Anyway, bring that along. We can try it out if she wants to, but all purchases, no matter how small, need an acquisition form I can either approve or deny,” he said.

  “Sure.”

  “Would you like to run the meeting today?” he asked.

  “Actually, yes. I would. There was a format my father used that I think will help us, especially if she’s interested in all the charities my father donated to.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. The meeting starts in 30. You want to ride with me or follow in your car?” he asked.

  “I’ll follow. I’m going to run and get myself a late breakfast before I get back. And don't worry, I’ll use my money to get it,” I said.

  “Stella, it’s my job to monitor expenses.”

  “I know, I know. Come on, let’s get to this meeting,” I said

  The client wanted to meet with us in a small coffee shop, which was perfect because I would need more of it. Christian and I sat in a couple of chairs, leaving the couch open for her, and she greeted us with a smile the moment she came in. We stood up and did our introductions before she went to go get us some coffee, and I couldn’t help but notice that she had a massive file with her.

  “You think that’s all inventory?” I asked.

  “Only one way to find out. You’re up, Stella,” he said.

  “It’s so wonderful to meet you,” the doctor said as she sat down. “I’m so sorry to hear about your father.”

  “He was a good man, but his company is in good hands,” I said, smiling.

  “Please tell me you’re going to keep donating to all those wonderful charities,” she said. “I absolutely love that about Harte to Heart.”

  “We most certainly intend to,” Christian said.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met yet,” I said. “I’m Stella Harte.”

  “Angela Laszlo, pleased to meet you,” she said. “So, I have all the files here that Mr. Gunn requested. How do we begin?”

  “Well, let me take a look at your files, and then I can give you some background information on the company,” I said.

  “Wonderful,” she said, smiling.

  I tried to contain my excitement at the sheer amount of orders this woman would give us. She really was beginning this from scratch, and I looked back up at her and smiled with delight.

  “Well, Dr. Laszlo—”

  “Oh, please. Call me Angela,” she said.

  “Angela,” I said, “my father built this company from just an idea. See, he was an incredibly smart man. Probably too smart for his own good, you know? He had this weird thing about cats, though. Really wasn’t sure what that was about. Anyway, he went to school for English Literature, and he read this story, righ
t? And it just sparked something inside of him, you know? It made him think about his life.”

  “Uh huh?” Angela asked.

  “You know, and he just sort of took off with this idea. He wanted to help people because of that story, and his heart was so big and kind.”

  I had to swallow back my tears, so I looked down at the files in my hand. For some reason, I couldn’t gather my thoughts. I was painfully aware of how Angela was looking at me, and I could feel Christian’s stare on the side of my face, and all I wanted to do was run and jump into a dark hole.

  And never come out.

  “What story did he read?” Angela asked.

  “I can’t remember it right now,” I said. “But, it did inspire him to start the company.”

  “Well, that’s good, right?” she asked. “That story’s responsible for you being here, then.”

  “It’s the story that started the business,” Christian began. “But, the story isn’t what keeps us moving. It’s doctors like you who do. We understand that you are motivated to help others. The Hippocratic Oath tells us that. But, many medical supply companies aren’t in it to help others. They are in it to make money and nothing else.”

  “Don’t I know it. I’ve had so many people gouge me over the years,” Angela said.

  “And it’s wrong. Here is what we do with our charities: at the end of every year, we calculate the company’s net revenue. Then, we simply donate 25 percent of that total sum to the different charities that are near and dear to the company. It’s simple and precise, and exactly what my stepfather wanted. He wanted to find a way to celebrate everything we did for the community while giving back to it in the process. That was the very easy mathematical equation he came up with, and that’s why we are sticking to it!”

  “Oh, that sounds generous. Do you have some sort of donation party? Where all the doctors you service come out and witness it or something?” Angela asked.

  “Oh, no. One thing about my stepfather is he was private. He was never one to boast about his accomplishments or his gift-giving. He just wanted to do it. He was a good man in that regard,” he said.