A Baby for the Texas Cowboy

by Sinclair Jayne

  She couldn’t breathe. It was so hot in here. She turned around to look for a door, a window, an escape.

  “Tinsley.” Anders sounded far away, but the worry on his face made her feel like prey. She had to run. She had to go. She was going to have a panic attack. She’d had them before growing up—a few. She’d managed to hide most, but after John…

  Don’t think about him. Stay here. Stay now.

  But here and now was the last place she wanted to be.

  “I have to think. I have to…” She whirled around and started for the back door, but her vision grayed and the floor seemed to roll. Was this an earthquake? She’d never been in one. Did Texas have earthquakes? Was it from fracking? Texas was an oil state, right?

  Dimly, she heard Anders talking, his beautiful voice soothing the way she’d heard him talk to the bulls in the pens before his rides.

  “Hey, you’re okay.” Anders had one arm around her body, just under her breasts, as she pressed against the door, trying to get outside. His other stroked down her spine.

  Nothing was okay. It would never be okay. She had no idea how to be a mother. She’d had a terrible example. And she didn’t want to give another man any say in her life ever again.

  “Just take a breath, baby. Breathe with me, Tinsley.”

  How humiliating. And this wasn’t even a full-blown panic freak-out. She usually managed to avoid those by having space and independence. Not getting boxed in by expectations and rules and people demanding things from her she couldn’t give.

  The baby was going to be very demanding.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. What was she going to do? How was she going to cope?

  Do not cry.

  “That’s better.” His voice was so soothing. She’d always loved the way his voice was low, resonant, quiet. Not trying to out-talk anyone. He was one of the few men she’d met who truly listened.

  “You need to go,” she whispered. “You need to. I have to be alone,” she told him.

  “Tinsley, I’m not leaving. Hey, stop running.”

  But she dashed for the door. He reached out and snagged her arm, and without thinking, she pulled and spun so that he was outside facing her. She pushed hard, grabbed the dangling rope of the roll-down door, and pulled with all her strength. She shot the bolt home.

  Chapter Six

  Tinsley stared at the lock, her breath sawing in and out of her lungs.

  She’d locked Anders out of his family’s tasting room.

  What had she been thinking?

  Nothing. That was the problem. She’d acted like a drama queen—so not her.

  How could something the size of a plum start changing her life so dramatically? And its power would only grow. Swallow her whole. And what if she became like her mother? And Anders like her father? Or like John.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t act like this. She had to get control.

  “Tinsley, stop messing around. Let me in.”

  She jumped. Automatically, she reached for the bolt. Calm. She had to calm down. She had to somehow find the confident, slightly insouciant persona she’d developed bartending and traveling with the bull-riding tour and…

  “Hey, Tinsley. What do you think of the space?” Catalina and August strolled through the front door into the tasting room.

  She spun around.

  Anders’ palm slammed three times on the door.

  “Did Anders make an ass of himself?” August sounded far more amused than pissed.

  “Did you tell Anders I’d be here?” she demanded.

  “Guilty.” August grinned. “It was that or he was going to wrestle the information out of me, and I’ve seen what my baby brother can do on a two-ton bull. He’s bigger than me now. I’m the smart one and know how to pick my battles.”

  She turned her attention toward Catalina and wished her heart weren’t racing so fast, making her feel dizzy and a bit disoriented. “I wasn’t prepared for Anders,” she said, figuring they both knew why he was here, which pissed her off more. She wanted privacy and to run her life the way she wanted. She wanted to control what she told people and when. “Was the lunch an attempt at a romantic bribe?”

  Catalina laughed. “Clearly, it was a fail,” she said as Anders banged on the door again. “But I was thinking of you, not Anders. He can feed himself. I thought you might be hungry after driving from Dallas. Anders can do his own wooing,” she said. “Are you going to let him in?”

  “He’s pushy.”

  “All the Wolf men are.”

  “Part of our charm.” August cupped his wife’s baby bump. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Not likely.

  “Anders told you?” Tinsley asked flatly.

  What if she no longer had the job? Dismay filtered through her. She hadn’t really wanted it, but somehow between being blown off by Anders yesterday and researching the Texas wine industry last night and driving around the Hill Country this morning, she’d started making plans, feeling more optimistic.

  But August and Catalina were her employers. They’d insisted on a two-year contract and had said they wanted longer, but she would need—oh, God, she never thought she’d have to even think of this term for herself—maternity leave.

  “Yes.”

  “Do I still have the job?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t you?” Both Catalina and August spoke at once.

  “Okay,” she said, and a little of the tension eased out of her. “I…ah…won’t normally lock your family members out.” She looked at the closed door. After banging on it so hard, why was he now silent? Anders was not a give-up-easily guy, which did not bode well for the future. But she was strong. She’d made herself strong. She now knew how to fight for what she wanted and needed.

  “I’ll head out to the ranch soon to see the vineyard and winery and pick some furniture,” she said. “After I…um…talk to Anders.”

  Get rid of him.

  “We came to see if you wanted to catch a ride with us.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “But I’ll take my bike.”

  She wanted to enjoy it while she could. Soon it would be wildly impractical. Disappointment swept through her. The bike had represented the new Tinsley when she’d bought it. She didn’t want to go back to being who she’d been, the quiet pleaser, tiptoeing around, tying herself in knots but never quite measuring up.

  “See you soon,” Catalina said cheerfully as she and August strolled back out.

  “Get a grip,” she chastised herself and rolled the door back open.

  No Anders. It was like he’d poofed out of the barren yard. If only she’d be that lucky, although he had a lot of pride. Maybe she could piss him off so much he’d ride off into the sunset for easier pickings.

  She’d seen the adoring women lining up to talk to him in the sponsor tent, at the autograph events, outside the locker room. Anders Wolf had never had to work to get a woman in his life.

  And I don’t want him to start now.

  “Why did you lock me out?” Anders demanded, striding into the tasting room.

  “Eeek!” Tinsley jumped. “How did you…?” The fence back there was at least eight feet high.

  He rolled his eyes. “That fence was nothing to vault.”

  “Superman much?”

  “Thank you.”

  She barely stopped the smile. No. She could not let his sense of humor and easygoing style seduce her again. That’s why they were both neck-deep in disaster. Anders was so physically attractive she’d barely been able to resist him—and when she’d finally caved, she’d only wanted more.

  But it had been his attitude—even-tempered, kind, attentive, curious, adventurous—as well as his work ethic, intelligence and confidence without arrogance that had pushed her over to team Anders.

  She’d had a hard time letting him go with a wave and sunny smile.

  And that had been dangerous.

  And now, even worse, he didn’t seem inclined to move on at all.

&n
bsp; “I’m sorry for locking you out, Anders.” Tinsley dug deep for calm. “But you just showed up here unannounced. I’ve got work to do. A new job. A new life to make. I don’t want to talk about this now.”

  I can’t.

  “I don’t want to be cut out,” Anders said. His voice was low but threaded with tension. “The child is mine as well.”

  The child. A person. She’d barely been able to think about the word pregnant. Then he’d started throwing the B word around. And now child. A small person that would need so much from her. Love. Security.

  “I have to go to the ranch and meet with Catalina and tour the vineyard,” she said, nearly running out the front door. She fumbled in her pocket for the key to lock up. Her stomach was in knots, and she could feel her head pulse as if ready to explode from the headache from hell.

  Could she take Tylenol when pregnant?

  When had she last eaten?

  “Tinsley, hold up.” He followed. Of course he did. Her hand shook as she jammed in the key.

  “Hey, relax. We don’t have to solve everything today,” he said, suddenly all reasonable, which somehow made her wild swings from fear to belligerence more bewildering.

  “Let me,” he said, taking the key and locking the door. “I’ll drive you to the ranch. You can—”

  “Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “Sorry,” she said just as quickly. God, she was becoming her mother. She even had the cold tone.

  She wiped her damp palms on her leathers. She had to take these off; she was too hot. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I have a headache and haven’t eaten, and…” She hated making excuses. “I’m still processing everything,” she admitted, forcing herself to meet his searching gaze.

  His eyes were so blue. And his lashes were, of course, thick and long and curled at the ends, which always made him look like he was on the verge of smiling. The faint smile lines that were just beginning to feather from the corners of his eyes also made him look like he was about to share a joke and a good time.

  “Me too,” he said. “Definitely. I just, ah hell, I didn’t mean to confront you, but I just want to…” He paused, jammed his hat on his head to avoid the late morning sun beating down on them as they stood in front of the tasting room. “I just want you to know, Tinsley, that you are not on your own.”

  She pressed her lips together to hold back what would probably sound like a hysterical laugh. The whole point was that she wanted to be on her own. She didn’t want to answer to a man again.

  “You don’t get to decide things for me,” she said.

  “Didn’t figure you for a coward.”

  “I’m not,” she defended herself reflexively.

  “All this gorgeous red,” he ran his hand lightly through her hair, “mirrors your sexual and passionate nature.”

  Her core went liquid, and her pulse kicked up. Not what she needed to feel with him anymore. She was in trouble enough.

  “You’re running,” he said. “I never pegged you to be the type of woman to back down against her man.”

  “You aren’t my man.” And here she’d just been thinking he was easygoing and not arrogant.

  “Liar. You want me.”

  “In bed.”

  “Good. That makes it easier.”

  She huffed. “We’re not going there again.”

  He laughed. “We so are going there again. Soon.”

  “I’m outta here. I have work to do.” She turned on her heel away from the door and walked toward where she’d left her bike—only it wasn’t there.

  *

  “What?” She breathed out and then swiveled her accusing gaze toward Anders’ truck where her bike was strapped in the bed. “What game are you playing?” she demanded, her beautiful eyes flaring.

  “The bike’s not practical for the gravel roads leading to the ranch, especially not the first time. You’re tired and stressed. I’ll drive you.”

  “I told you not to manage me,” she said.

  “Just looking out for you.”

  “That’s not your job.”

  “It’s my privilege. You and the baby are mine.”

  “Why are you acting so primitive?”

  He felt pretty primitive right about now. If he gave in to his instincts, he’d pick her up, toss her over his shoulder, take her home to the ranch and let nature take its course. She was being unreasonable and selfish—two traits not on his perfect wife list. And she was denying the chemistry that zapped between them like a summer lightning storm.

  “Let’s get you to the ranch so you can meet with Catalina and see the vineyard.” And hopefully he could get some food in her. He’d grabbed the picnic basket on the way out. If they were both eating something—hopefully, a roast beef sandwich was in there—they’d be less likely to spar on the drive.

  Her panic attack and frustration couldn’t be good for the baby. It was his job to keep his cool, but, dang, she was making it hard. He wanted to get everything square with her.

  “We’ll sort out the bike later,” he said, already thinking he could store it in the garage near the house so it would be safe until she had the baby.

  “It’s my transport,” she said bluntly, but she did move forward toward the truck when he placed his palm on the small of her back. “I’m not going to rely on you for rides. Besides, you’ll be back on the tour in a week. I’m not waiting around for you to return home and gift me with your presence.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” She leaned back against his truck, her eyes hooded, and looked him up and down. “You’ll be back on the road, living your dream, expecting me to be safely tucked away waiting for you.”

  “Somehow I don’t think it will be that easy.” He beeped the remote to unlock his truck and swung open the door. “But let me have my fantasy for today.”

  Her lips kicked up in a smile. “No.”

  “Yes, and I’ll behave myself.” He leaned into her, inhaled her sultry scent. She smelled warm, like summer and fresh like the ocean with a hint of grass.

  “I wonder what that would look like,” she mused.

  He boosted her into the truck, letting his hands linger a little on the curve of her hips. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” His gaze dropped to her lips. He bent his head down as if to kiss her. He shouldn’t. He wasn’t playing fair, but then he wasn’t playing.

  Their breath mingled. Her lashes veiled her eyes and everything in the world narrowed down to her creamy skin and the soft pucker of her pink lips.

  “Tinsley,” he groaned. He speared his fingers through her hair, rolling the elastic out of her ponytail. He loved her hair, the silk, the color, the texture, the way it flowed over her body when he took her.

  “Please don’t,” she whispered, and her voice shook.

  He pulled away. “Sorry. My intentions are really just to give you a ride to the ranch and help you set up your apartment.”

  “That’s managing me again.”

  “You’re getting off lucky. Taking control is in my DNA. My father stole my mother away from her own bachelorette party.”

  She turned to stare at him in astonishment, and he laughed. He loved his family’s stories, especially the crazy ones.

  “He saw her in the bar with her friends. Fell head over heels instantly, asked her to dance, and married her less than two months later.”

  “Not really,” she breathed.

  “True story. That’s how it is with the Wolf men. They see. They want. They take.”

  “This is something you brag about?”

  “Same with my granddad. He saw my grandmother at a country dance at a grange. She was promised to another rancher. My grandfather cut in for the dance and he never let her go. Took her home to his ranch that night, and her daddy was happy that the preacher came the next day.”

  He started his truck and breathed a little easier. He felt like he’d been walking on broken glass trying to get close to her.

  “I am never dancing with you again.”


  He laughed. “Wolfs are irresistible.”

  “You are vastly overestimating your appeal.”

  He smiled, finally feeling like he had a bit of balance back after being completely freaked out over the past twenty-four hours. What would she do if he drove to the county courthouse instead of the ranch? Part of him really wanted to find out, but the wait time for a marriage license was seventy-two hours. He’d already Googled.

  He pulled out of his parking spot and headed out of town. He’d come here today to assure her that he’d marry her and that there was no point for her to move into the apartment because she could stay in his suite of rooms at the main ranch house. His two brothers and their wives lived there now so she wouldn’t be alone when he was gone.

  But now he realized that wasn’t the best course of action. Yet. He had to bide his time. Woo her. Tinsley was going to lead him on a dance. Good thing he’d spent so much time two-stepping in country-western bars.

  Chapter Seven

  “Lie on it, give it a bounce. See what your body says.” The mattress store salesman Jeff Lyons made the suggestion sound dirty, but Tinsley was so tired and overwhelmed her temper didn’t even notch up.

  Anders’ did. He puffed up and his eyes narrowed on the mattress salesman.

  Why was he acting all proprietary?

  The baby.

  Not her.

  Of course.

  Marriage because of an oops pregnancy. Just what every woman dreamed of. Not any better than a business-deal marriage—especially where the would-be groom had pretended to care about her. Anders was at least honest about why he wanted to get married.

  “We’ll be needing a king,” Anders said, his voice mock pleasant, but his blue eyes homed in on Jeff like lasers.

  Men.

  Tinsley mentally rolled her eyes.

  There was not going to be a we. After she’d run out on John days before her over-the-top, every-moment-choreographed wedding that her mother had likely started planning immediately following her birth, she’d made a promise to herself—she would follow her own path, never again subject herself to fitting into someone else’s fantasy mold. She was not ever going to be a wife.