Having the Rancher's Baby (2 page)

Yet he
was
Cole Dempsey and wrong for her for too many reasons to list. Not only was he her boss, which in itself was bad enough, but he'd been adamant from the day he arrived that he had no intention of remaining in Mustang Valley. Violet didn't blame him; she might feel similarly in the same circumstances. But she needed someone who was willing to put down roots.

She certainly wasn't traipsing after a man whose only interest was the next town and the next rodeo. Not in her condition. Not any time, ever.

Would Cole insist on staying when she told him? Violet had no expectations. The only reason she'd considered saying anything today was because she couldn't hide her pregnancy much longer. This morning sickness—correction,
all-day
sickness—was kicking her in the butt and difficult to explain away.

That was new, but not the other symptoms. She'd been pregnant three times previously, back when she was married. She'd miscarried all three times, never making it past week seven. Until now.

She was over eight weeks along. There was no question as to the date of conception or the father's identity. She'd broken her celibacy streak only once in the past three years, and that was with Cole.

Pregnant from a one-night stand? No one was going to believe her. She hardly believed it herself.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts and returning her to the present.

“That I shouldn't have eaten chicken salad for lunch.”

She started for her truck, parked near the stables, deciding she'd been wrong to approach Cole today. Better to wait until her second trimester. With her history, the odds of carrying to term weren't in her favor.

A painful lump promptly formed in Violet's throat. She wanted this baby with the same intensity she'd wanted all the others. After the last miscarriage, and her marriage falling apart, she'd given up the dream of ever having a big, happy family.

Then, suddenly, she'd been thrown a crumb. A tiny positive sign on the early pregnancy testing wand and a second one a week later, just to be sure.

Could fate be playing another cruel trick on her, or was it answering her prayers at last?

Another wave of nausea struck. Violet reminded herself it was a good sign. The more numerous her symptoms, the stronger they were, the better chance the fetus was thriving. Not like before.

“Are you going home?” Cole asked.

Honestly, could he be any harder to shake loose? “Yes. See you tomorrow.” Her truck was only a few feet away.

He kept pace with her, and she groaned softly. Apparently, she needed to be blunt. Tell him straight out to beat it.

“I can follow you home,” he said. “In case you feel dizzy again.”

She stuffed her hand in her side pocket, searching for her keys. Finding them, she wiped her damp brow. Sweet heaven, it was warm today. “No, you need to put Hotshot away and return those steers to the pasture.”

“Is that an order?” A hint of amusement colored his voice.

If her stomach wasn't busy trying to empty itself, she might have found his remark funny. As it was, she desperately needed to get away before she lost whatever small amount of her lunch remained.

“Now that you mention it.” She tried to smile. All she accomplished was a trembling of her lower lip.

“Vi, let me help you.”

He sounded sincere and well-intentioned. If only he weren't waiting for the day when he could hit the road.

“I'm fine.”

She might have maintained her composure if he hadn't reached for her hand and linked their fingers. She'd always been a sucker for a man who held hands. It was so intimate and personal. Her grandparents had been like that, holding hands until the day Papa Hathaway passed away.

A soft sob broke free, and Violet pressed a fist to her mouth. Besides being sick every waking hour, she was also fast becoming an emotional wreck, crying at the least little thing.

Hormones, she reminded herself. Manufacturing lots of them was another sign that her pregnancy was progressing. Still, hormones were nothing but trouble when facing her baby's father and not wanting to tell him in case the worst happened.

“What's wrong?” he asked, his startling blue eyes filled with concern.

She'd lost herself in those eyes before.

“I'm just tired.” It was true. She slept more than ever, yet struggled to stay awake during the day. “Think I'll go home and take a nap.”

When she would have opened her truck door, he held fast to her hand, waylaying her. “Don't take this the wrong way...”

Uh-oh. She suddenly tensed, not liking his tone. “Cole, please. Let me go.” When he didn't, every nerve in her body went on high alert. “Please,” she repeated.

He hesitated, his thumb caressing the back of her hand, then blurted, “Vi, are you by any chance...pregnant?”

No! He couldn't have guessed. How could he? Men weren't that astute. Especially single, childless ones.

Panicking, she brushed him aside. “Why would you even think that?”

“I bunked with a friend and his wife for a few months last summer. She was pregnant. Had a lot of the same stuff wrong with her that you do. Tired. Throwing up. Dizzy. Moody.”

“Moody!”

He outright laughed. “It wasn't an insult.”

“Glad you find me so funny.” She concentrated on trying to hold down the contents of her stomach. “And, in answer to your accusation, don't be silly.”

“No reason to get defensive.” He released her hand, only to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was gentle and, there was no mistaking it, affectionate. “If you were pregnant, we'd need to make some decisions.”

He assumed he was the father. She didn't know whether to be appalled at his arrogance or flattered that he took for granted she didn't go to bed with just anyone and at the drop of a hat.

“It's hot.” Sweat pooled between her breasts. “I need to get out of the sun.”

“Let's go to the ranch house. No one's home till suppertime.”

She shook her head, which only exacerbated her nausea. “We have nothing to talk about.” Yet.

He stepped closer. “You're saying there's no chance you're pregnant?”

Her reply was to double over and throw up on his boots.

Chapter Two

Cole set a paper plate with a slice of dry toast in front of Vi. “Here you go.”

“You don't have to do this.”

She watched him intently as he slid in beside her at the kitchen table. Despite her earlier protests, he'd convinced her to accompany him to the ranch house.

“Eat up before it gets cold.”

She did as he told her, delicately nibbling on a corner of the toast and following it with a sip of herbal tea.

“Have you decided what to do?” The question was foremost on his mind. Her answer would dictate the course of their conversation and, possibly, impact the rest of their lives.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“For what?”

“Not asking if I was sure the baby's yours.”

“We've worked together awhile now. I know you're a person of integrity and would tell me if I wasn't the father.”

She nodded, examining the toast before taking another bite.

“Too done for you?” he asked.

“It's perfect.”

“I pride myself on my toast. That and heating canned soup are my specialties.” He offered her a grin.

She sighed. So much for his stab at humor.

“Fortunately for me,” he continued, “Raquel's a wizard in the kitchen. If not, I'd starve.”

At the mention of his late father's longtime companion, Vi become even more quiet. Cole didn't ask why. The Dempsey family dynamics were unusual to say the least and gave him his own share of somber moments.

Odd as it might seem, Cole liked Raquel, though he had plenty of reasons not to. She'd been his father's mistress for over thirty years, living with him the last twenty-five. She was also the reason Cole's father had cheated on, then divorced, his mother. The reason he'd ignored his two legitimate sons for most of their lives in favor of their half brother.

But Raquel was kind to Cole and Josh and doted on Josh's two children, whom she regularly babysat. She insisted on cooking big breakfasts and dinners every day, which the entire family shared, sparing Cole from relying on his own pathetic culinary skills.

She also wasn't responsible for his father's actions. August Dempsey had made his own choices. At any time, he could have reached out to his sons and included them in his life. As far as Cole was concerned, the blame lay entirely with his father.

It had been six months since he and Josh had returned to Dos Estrellas, and they were still struggling to find their places. Josh was doing a better job of fitting in than Cole, undoubtedly because he'd met and fallen in love with Cara, a family friend of Raquel's.

He also didn't resent their father to the degree Cole did. Josh's heart was unencumbered and free to love. Cole's was weighed down and locked tight.

Vi finished her toast and propped an elbow on the table.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything.” She let her hands drop to her lap. “I think Raquel might have figured out I'm pregnant.”

“She's pretty observant.”

“So are you, apparently.”

“Not really.”

“You guessed easily enough.”

“Well, about that.” At her raised brows, he admitted, “I wasn't entirely honest with you earlier.”

“You don't have a friend whose wife was pregnant?”

“That part's true. He's a good friend of mine.” Cole shifted. “There was this other pregnant woman.”

Vi stared at him pointedly. “My, you get around.”

He immediately regretted opening his mouth. She might not appreciate this story. “It was a long time ago and doesn't matter.”

“Then why not tell me?”

Talk had flowed easily between them the night they'd spent together. He'd revealed things about himself only his brother knew. How Cole's anger at his father, and his mother's bitterness, had tainted his entire life, prompting him to leave at eighteen and pursue a career in rodeo. The hardships endured during his years on the circuit. The rewards, which were few and far between.

Opening up to her now shouldn't be so difficult. Yet it was. That night, Vi hadn't been pregnant with his child. She'd been a woman he was attracted to and wanted to become better acquainted with. A woman he genuinely liked.

And because he liked and respected her, he supposed he owed her the truth about the kind of man she'd gotten herself tangled up with.

“I once dated a woman who was pregnant.”

Violet gasped softly. “You have a child?”

“No.” He shook his head. “She said the baby was mine, and I believed her. After about two months, I found out she was lying.” It happened when he'd almost reconciled himself to the prospect of becoming a father. “Another cowboy was the dad. Seems when he left her high and dry, she went after me. I'd asked her out a few times before, which I suppose made me an easy target.”

“How did you find out?”

“Josh and I were competing at the Frontier Days Rodeo, and one of my buddies clued me in. I told Josh, and he insisted I have a DNA test done before I committed to anything. When I suggested the test, she was furious at first, then came clean.”

“What happened to her and the baby?”

“I saw her only once after we broke up. It was a few months later. She was with another cowboy. Not the baby's father,” he added.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Naw. I just walked away. Figured it wasn't any of my business.”

“Weren't you angry at her for lying?”

“Heck, yeah, I was angry. She told a huge lie. One that was unfair to both me and the baby.”

“She must have been desperate.”

“That doesn't make what she did right.”

“Of course not.”

“For the record, I'm not angry anymore.” But he hadn't walked away from the relationship unscathed. In the nine years since, he'd yet to have a committed relationship. “Really, she dodged a bullet. I was twenty-one at the time and constantly broke. Hardly ready for a family or capable of supporting one.”

He doubted he was better father material now. It wasn't just his occupation—a life on the road tended to be hard on loved ones. He was simply too much like August Dempsey. Selfish and unreliable.

“Are you or Josh going to insist I take a DNA test?” Vi asked.

Cole hesitated. This was a tricky question. He had every right to request the test, and it made good sense, considering what had happened in his previous relationship.

“Let me save you the trouble,” she responded before he could. “I have no problem taking the test as soon as it's feasible.”

“Okay.” He leaned back in his chair. “Then I guess we can skip it.”

“We'll see.” She lifted her chin.

She had a lot of backbone, not that he'd thought differently. It was one of the qualities he'd liked about her from the day they'd first met, right here in this kitchen, in fact.

“How about this? I'll let you decide.”

“Aren't you accommodating,” she answered flatly.

“Cut me some slack, will you, Vi?” Cole had his faults. Beating around the bush wasn't one of them. “You've had, what, a month to get used to the idea? I've had maybe thirty minutes. The fact is, I'm not sure how I feel, what I think or what we should do. I need a little time. I don't think that's too much to ask.”

He immediately regretted his small outburst.

Vi, however, reacted with reason. “Fair enough.”

“I can tell you that I'll take responsibility for the baby. Pay you support.”

“All right.”

Was she mad? It was hard to tell.

Cole opened his mouth to defend himself, then promptly shut it. God, he sounded just like his father. Not his words so much. Cole remembered very little about his life at Dos Estrellas before his parents divorced. Rather, it was his attitude. August Dempsey had believed paying child support was plenty enough to do right by his sons.

“Are you planning on staying in Mustang Valley?” she asked.

“I rodeo for a living. I have to travel.”

“You aren't now.”

“I'm not making any money, either. I need an income.” The ranch couldn't afford to pay any of the brothers a salary. Not while the bills owed totaled more than the revenue. He and his brothers withdrew only enough funds to cover their living expenses, and Cole's personal savings were almost depleted. “But I'll return as often as possible. Every few months at least. And be here when the baby's born.”

Vi turned her head as if she, too, were biting her tongue.

Was visiting every few months too infrequent? Cole had no idea of what a reasonable schedule might be. His father hadn't made one trip to California and never offered for his sons to visit him. Every few months seemed like a lot in comparison.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. Vi might be expecting him to propose. Should he, or would that be rushing headlong into disaster?

“Can we wait a little while before deciding on the specifics?”

“Actually,” she said, “I agree with you. Another month at least. But not for the reason you think.” She paused. “I was married before. A long time ago.”

“No fooling!”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No. Heck, no,” he added for emphasis. “You just never said anything.” Neither had Gabe or Raquel, not that Cole had inquired. “Were you married long?”

“Three years.”

“You must have been young.” She was only twenty-eight now. Three years of marriage plus “a long time ago” equaled early twenties by his calculations.

“I was. Young and idealistic and convinced we'd be happy the rest of our lives.”

“What happened?”

Cole discovered he was interested. Very interested. While they'd lain wrapped in each other's arms, she'd told him about her first crush and having her heart broken in high school. Not one single peep about a husband. Ex-husband, he amended.

“Denny was a real sweetheart,” she said. “Our breakup wasn't his fault. It wasn't mine, either. We simply weren't equipped to deal with the...problems we faced.” Her voice cracked. “Some people never are, regardless of their age or how much they love each other.”

Cole was tempted to take her hand again or run his fingertips along the curve of her cheek. He didn't, not sure she'd welcome the gesture.

“I got pregnant and lost the baby. Then it happened twice more.” She sniffled. “Denny tried his best to give me what I needed. Love. Support. Encouragement. But it just wasn't enough—my grief overwhelmed us both. When I finally recovered, it was too late for us. I'd lost him, too.”

“That must have been tough.” Cole hoped Vi saw past his lame response and realized how sorry he felt for her and her then-young husband. “No one should have to go through that.”

“I'm afraid of miscarrying again.” Her teary gaze met his. “Very afraid.”

Oh, the hell with it, he thought, and reached for her hand. “Who wouldn't be, in your shoes?”

She didn't pull away and, instead, squeezed his fingers. “I'm also afraid of losing what's important to me again. That was the hardest part.”

Was she talking about him and their fledgling relationship? Apparently not, for she straightened and gently withdrew her hand from his.

“I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. I should know more then.”

“What time?”

“After lunch. Why?”

“Let me drive you.”

Her eyes widened. “There's no need.”

“I'm the baby's father.”

“And you didn't bargain on that. I should have told you I wasn't using birth control.”

“I shouldn't have assumed and taken precautions.”

“Cole.”

“Vi, let me go with you.”

“Because it's the responsible thing to do?”

“Because I want to.”

“People are going to ask questions or make assumptions. Especially Raquel. I'm not ready for that.”

“We'll come up with a cover story. Stick with the stomach flu and say you're too dizzy to drive yourself.”

After a moment, she relented. “Okay, you win.”

“This isn't a contest.”

“Sorry. I'm still getting used to this, too.”

He smiled. “That offer to follow you home still holds.”

“I'm better now,” she insisted. “Why don't you return those steers to the pasture?”

He decided to follow her, anyway.

They left the ranch house by the kitchen door and walked to the horse stables, where Vi had parked her truck.

Before they parted, he said, “Call or text me later to let me know you're okay. Humor me,” he added, when she started to object.

True, Cole was still grappling with impending fatherhood, but he had no doubts of his fondness for Vi or his concern for her well-being. He'd also bet money she harbored a similar fondness for him.

With luck, it might be enough to get them through the coming months, or possibly years.

* * *

V
IOLET
PASSED
THE
clipboard holding her completed medical forms over the counter to the receptionist, along with the pen she'd used.

“Do you have your insurance card?” the woman asked, more efficient than pleasant. She accepted the card Violet gave her and made a copy before returning it.

“You have a thirty-dollar co-pay,” the receptionist informed her. Once the transaction was complete, she said, “Go ahead and take a seat. We'll call you when we're ready.”

Violet didn't ask how long that might be. She'd been seeing Dr. Medina for eight years, long before her first pregnancy. In all that time, nothing in the office had changed. Not the neutral decor, not the generic furniture and definitely not the long wait times. Even the vase of silk flowers on the reception counter was the same.

On second thought, there was one big difference, and he sat in the corner, cowboy hat balanced on his lap. Every few seconds, one of the other two noticeably pregnant patients cast him a glance. An admiring one.