Christmas Cowboy (A Standalone Holiday Romance Novel)

by Claire Adams

  It was much easier to hate him than to hate myself.

  He tried to shrug off my hand. "Just because she's having the baby doesn't mean I have to be a father."

  "Oh, but you will," I threatened him.

  The young man stuck out his chin. "What does it matter, anyway? I already explained to Madison that I can't marry her. The baby doesn't change anything."

  "Why don't we go tell your parents, then?" I asked. I hauled Falcon out into the doorway of the dining hall. "They might be interested in knowing their little heir already has a baby on the way. Families like yours don't look too kindly on bastards."

  Falcon pried my hand off his shirt. "Exactly. No matter what happens, the kid is still going to be a bastard."

  "Not if you claim him."

  "Why would I do that?" he asked. "Madison is great, she's more than great, but you know that she doesn't really fit in to our world. And neither will her kid."

  "Your child," I said.

  "Why does this bother you so much, man?"

  I tried to get a hold of myself. I tried to take a different course.

  "You're going to be miserable. You already are. You've only been engaged a few days, and you've already admitted to me that you plan to have a mistress. By the way, Madison's too good for you, and she'll never be your mistress. In fact, you'll be lucky if you ever meet your child."

  "My little bastard?" Falcon asked with a joking smile. "I'm sure it'll turn up one of these days. Probably asking for money, am I right?"

  My father caught my fist before I could ram it through Cameron Falcon's smug smile. "Hold on, son. You're making a scene."

  "You'll regret this, Falcon. I was right about you already being miserable, but maybe that's exactly what you deserve. That kid is better off without you and without this whole circus. I was born a bastard, and I can tell you there's a better world out there waiting for your kid that you'll never get to be a part of."

  That hit home. Falcon knew he was trapped by his family, the expectations of their fortune, and his own weak decisions. His casual mask slipped, and I saw him glance at the door. He knew this was his chance to do something different with his life: escape.

  "Teddy, you're making a scene," my father said again. He hauled me down the hallway and through the foyer.

  Before we hit the library doors, I knew what I had done. Guests were no longer leaving, but standing around in tight knots. Gossip was flying faster than we could walk, and I heard what they were saying.

  "I always suspected. I mean, do you remember what his mother was like?" The woman shook her head in disapproval and tugged on her diamond earrings.

  Two men shook their heads, giving my father pitying looks. "He tried to do the right thing, but the truth was bound to come out," one said.

  "Guess that's where the phrase 'ungrateful bastard' comes from," another woman quipped.

  My father shoved me into the library and shut the doors behind us. Before he could even turn to face me, there was an insistent knock. "The board chairman would like a word, Mr. Brickman," Vincent Jeffry said.

  My father's face was pale, but he nodded. "In a moment."

  Vincent Jeffry pulled the door closed. I watched as my father took two deep breaths before he turned to face me. The private library was deathly quiet, and my ears were ringing with my own words. I had just told all of New York that I was born a commoner and revealed my father had left me unclaimed for years.

  "I wasn't comparing you to Cameron Falcon," I said.

  My father nodded. "It's natural that he upset you."

  "And none of it matters. You did the right thing. You claimed me as your son." A hard rock was weighing down the pit of my stomach.

  "You will always be my son," he said, "but you are no longer my heir."

  "I know, I know. I heard you when you gave me that ultimatum," I said. "But you didn't say anything about what would happen if Whitney Barnes dumped me. I mean, that's pretty much guaranteed now that everyone knows I'm a bastard."

  My father flinched away from the distasteful title. "The ultimatum is void," he said.

  "Then we should celebrate." I clapped a hand on his shoulder and was surprised when he caught it in a tight grip.

  "No, Teddy," he said. "The board has been looking for a loophole in order to gain more control. They never thought to look at your legitimacy until now. Because I did not claim you for the first few years of your life, you are no longer eligible to inherit my shares of the company."

  Everything my father had worked for, all the long hours, a whole lifetime of dedication to the company our family started, was gone. He had fought my stubborn mother and finally won her over only to lose her to a tragic car accident. He had raised me himself, never pursuing another family, and making me his sole heir. Not only had I ruined my own future, but I had torn apart the legacy he had so carefully preserved.

  "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." I swallowed hard, but the rock in my stomach did not budge.

  He rubbed a hand over his exhausted face. "I need to go speak with the board."

  I followed him out the library doors to discover that the party had evaporated. The board chair and a handful of my father's top colleagues waited for him down the hall, but the mansion was otherwise abandoned.

  I slipped out the door, unable to bear the ringing silence of the large estate. The only place I could think to go was the garage, but as soon as I turned on the lights, I knew I had made a mistake. Row after row of shining sports cars glared at me. How could I have been so ungrateful?

  My father had given everything to me the day he found out I existed. My mother fought him, her pride and heartache colossal obstacles for him to overcome. I remembered his staunch belief that we all belonged together had made him strong enough to crumble her stubborn defenses. We had almost been a happy family.

  Her car, an ancient and mistreated Mercedes, stood in the far corner under a cover. I pulled off the dusty shroud and slipped into the passenger seat. In it, I felt like I was five years old again, getting my first glimpse of the estate.

  "She loved this pile of junk," my father said. He slipped into the driver's seat. "I wouldn't let her drive it anymore. I told her she deserved better. She hated the fancy car I got her, but drove it anyway. If I had let her keep driving this, she might never have gotten into that accident."

  It hurt. Playing the “what if” game never gave us any comfort, but I didn't feel like I deserved any. "What do you think I'd be right now if you hadn't found out about me?"

  My father sighed. "Maybe I was selfish wanting you to be part of this world. Your mother would have made sure you had a choice."

  "Maybe I could have tried harder to be the son you wanted," I said.

  My father gripped the steering wheel and shook his head. "We can't think like that."

  "When's the board making a decision?"

  "They aren't," my father said. "I am. If I let them buy me out, the Brickmans will have more money than Midas for the next half century. Maybe it's time for a change."

  I worked my mouth, but the words were choked. One careless, angry comment from me, and my father was considering selling his family's company? Over a century of hard work, pride, and building a reputation that towered over Manhattan, and I had shattered it in one fit of frustration.

  "You can't do that," I rasped. "I don't know what got into me. I deserve to be disowned."

  My father's stern mouth curved into a smile. "I know exactly what got into you. Just like your mother. She was under my skin the first few seconds we talked. I thought of her every day all five of those years. Then, there you were. The day she drove this pile of junk up the driveway with you peering over the dashboard was the best day of my life."

  "And I ruined it all," I said.

  He laughed, the deep chuckle rocking the car. "Always so dramatic. Just like your mother."

  "How can you laugh?"

  "Your mother was right. God, I hope she can hear me saying that." He grinned. "She knew you'd
turn out braver than me, and she was right. You stood up for a mother just like your own. Good thing Madison happened to have the right stepsister."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, on guard again.

  "I'm proud of you, Teddy. I'm proud that you are my son."

  The interior of the old Mercedes felt tight and too hot. The smudged windshield blurred in front of my eyes, and I had to blink hard to clear my vision. I shook my head and used my most sarcastic tone to clear the air.

  "You're getting soft, old man. I'm surprised the board hasn't tried to put you out to pasture before."

  My father grinned and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Exactly what your mother would have said."

  "Yeah, she loved you, too."

  His eyes misted over and he shoved open the car door. It took a moment before he was able to turn back to the car and to me. Then he bent over and said, "I'll inform the board of my decision. That should take most of the attention off of you. Spend a couple of months in Europe, and it'll all be forgotten."

  My father was right. I owed him that much, but we both knew I wasn't going anywhere.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kiara

  I lugged the storage ottoman up the front steps and pushed the front door open. The entryway was cluttered with boots and shoes. I kicked them aside and carried my thrift store prize down the short hallway. The twins had scored an old leather sofa off one of their friends, and my brother lounged on it with his legs outstretched.

  "Please tell me you are going to make more of that zucchini bread," he said.

  I ruffled his hair and plunked the ottoman down in front of him. "Only if you let someone else sit on the couch every once in a while."

  Finding enough seats for everyone had never been a problem before, and I smiled as I looked around at the crowded cottage. Besides the leather sofa, I had found two dark, floral armchairs. Ivy had added bright throw pillows and positioned them on either side of the fireplace. A low steamer trunk served as a coffee table and was littered with glasses from last night.

  I couldn't sit down the night before because I was too excited. It was unreal seeing my father, brother, and the twins all in the same room together. I felt as if relaxing meant I would wake up from the dream and find them all gone.

  "You can stop hovering, Kiara," my brother said. "I'll be here all night. I'll even let you sit next to me."

  I left him in the living room and headed into the kitchen. The tower of dishes in the sink was a shock. I had been eating alone so long I had forgotten how to use a dishwasher. Madison had volunteered to take care of the dirty dishes last night, but as I heard her pacing around overhead and yapping on her phone, I figured she had forgotten. I needed something to keep me busy, otherwise I would just peek at Charlie and wonder when I would wake up.

  I was rinsing the last dish and shutting the dishwasher door when it crashed out of my hands. My whole body froze as I watched my father run up the beach. It was a daily routine when he was home, but I felt as if I was seeing a ghost. The glass was clear and unweathered, the curtains new and unfaded. It all felt impossible. My father grinned and waved at me, and the tears welled up and blurred the rest.

  The newly rebuilt cottage was filling up with comfortable furniture and the clutter of a busy life. People were stomping overhead, watching television with the volume too high, and banging open the back door. My family was home.

  "You okay, Kiara? You look like you've seen a ghost," my father said. He strode into the kitchen and poured a large glass of water.

  "Just trying to remember. You know," I said, "for when you're gone."

  My father shook his head. "Just enjoy the time we've got, kiddo. Can't waste it."

  Suddenly, Teddy working side by side with me at the pizzeria played through my head. I had been stiff with embarrassment at the time, and every time I remembered it, I wished I had enjoyed it more.

  "Or you could drift off into a daydream," my father said. "Want to tell me what's on your mind?'

  "I don't know how to do it," I told him. "I don't know how to enjoy all of this without knowing I'll be missing you in a few days."

  "You have your stepsisters," he said.

  "Ivy spent the night in the city, and Madison hasn't been off her phone for more than ten minutes all day." I opened the refrigerator and hunted whatever could feed my ravenous family.

  My father shut the door. "And you haven't sat down since we got here."

  "That's what I said," Charlie called from the living room.

  "Fine." I threw my hands up in the air and headed into the living room. There, I plunked down in an armchair across from Charlie. "I'm sitting down. Who's going to get lunch?"

  "I will. I'm starving," Madison said. She jogged down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  "Have you told your mother yet?" my father asked her. Then he backed into the living room holding both hands up in surrender. "You're right, it's up to you. I won't interfere."

  "I keep telling my guys if we ever need back up, we can just call for my sisters," Charlie said. "These Davies girls are strong."

  I flinched. “Strong” was the word my father and brother used any time I was about to endure a long stretch alone while they were overseas.

  Just once, I didn't want to be strong. I wanted someone to take care of me so I didn't have to be alone.

  My eyes drifted over the still-bare walls of the cottage and out the window. Brickman's Estate stood in the distance like its own fog bank, dominating the horizon. The road had been strangely quiet all morning, and I knew that meant Teddy's guests had left. I wanted to jump over our split-rail fence and take a walk through his gardens. What if we accidentally met at the chapel?

  "I dunno, did I say strong? I should have said daydreamy," Charlie said. He studied my face and then glanced out the window. "You plotting revenge against Brickman for the whole fire thing? I think he set everything right, and Dad's negotiating to repay the cost of the construction crew."

  "Not revenge," I said, but Madison cut me off.

  "I really wanted peanut butter and jelly and, since that's all I know how to make, that's what we're having for lunch. Oh, and I found a bag of potato chips." She balanced a big platter on the low steamer trunk.

  "You need to start eating the healthy food I bought you," I said, tearing my eyes off Teddy's mansion. "Are you at least taking your vitamins?"

  "Yes, doctor," she said with an eye roll. "I thought being pregnant meant I could eat anything I want."

  "Everything but this." I snagged the can of soda from her hands and headed to the kitchen.

  The counter was a mess of open peanut butter jars and bread crumbs. I started to clean up and glanced out the window again.

  Teddy used to follow the same running path through the dunes that my father jogged. It had been over a week, but I kept hoping to see him strolling up the path and knocking on the back door. Even if it was just a friendly hello to my family, I would have been happy. Everything with Teddy was too complicated, and I needed to keep my distance, but I still wanted to see him. The twins had been reporting a flurry of rumors, and I was worried.

  "Hon, could you grab my sweatshirt? I left it out on the back patio," my father called.

  The living room erupted in laughter, and I paused with my hand on the doorknob. I was missing out on the joke, and my heart twisted. No matter how much I tried to cherish the time my family was together, I knew it was only temporary, so I scrabbled to memorize every moment.

  I let go of the door handle and then jumped a foot in the air when Teddy knocked on it. He smothered a burst of laughter when he saw my face. I waved him in as I reined in my galloping pulse.

  "I didn't mean to scare you," he said.

  "I'm fine." I forced myself to breathe. "You didn't scare me."

  "Surprise, then." Teddy smiled. "I heard your brother and father are home. Thought I should come by and fess up to the whole house fire thing."

  My father appeared in the door to the living ro
om. "Madison tells us you've more than made up for that. Nice to see you, Teddy."

  "Mr. Davies." Teddy shook my father's hand and clammed up.

  My father had that effect on people, especially young men. He was tall, with wide shoulders that dwarfed the doorframe and granite muscles chiseled by a whole lifetime spent serving the military. Even though his smile was friendly, my father's eyes swept from Teddy to me and back again in a sharp, assessing manner. A few beads of sweat broke out on Teddy's forehead.

  It was just getting awkward when Madison bounced into the room and grabbed Teddy's arm. "Please tell me again about what happened with Cameron."

  He rubbed his neck and glanced back at the door. "It was nothing. I just called him out on his sham engagement and how horrible he was to you."

  "I heard you picked him up and slammed him against the wall." She clapped her hands with glee.

  "That's what I like to hear. I knew I liked this guy." Charlie walked into the kitchen and grabbed Teddy's hand in a tight grip.

  Teddy laughed and joked, but sandwiched between the imposing figures of my father and brother, he looked a little pale. He was on Davies turf now, and it was nice to see Teddy Brickman look out of his element. His suave charm and money made him fit in anywhere—except in our house.

  When Charlie started to demonstrate ways to intimidate an opponent at close range, I stepped in to save him. "Back off, sarge. Remember what you said about Davies women?"

  Charlie laughed and reached out to capture my wrist. I spun neatly and landed an elbow in his diaphragm. The blow glanced off his rock-hard stomach, but he held up his hands in surrender anyway.

  "You're right," he said. "Watch out, T., these Davies women are fierce."

  "Kiara's not fierce. She's kind," Teddy said.

  My father and brother exchanged a glance, then my father clapped his hands. "Kiara's also a great cook. What do you say, join us for dinner? No linen tablecloths, polished silverware, or butlers here, but something tells me you'll survive."