Having the Rancher's Baby (7 page)

“You're supposed to be resting.”

His voice startled her, and she involuntarily jerked. He sat up, taking his sweet time and not bothering to cover himself. Hair the color of tarnished gold stuck out at funny angles, somehow making him look sexy rather than silly.

Damn, there went her heart again.
Bump, skip, bump.

“I needed coffee.” She held up the mug in her hand.

“Caffeine's bad for the baby.”

“It's decaf.” He'd been listening to Dr. Medina. Violet went from being disappointed to being pleased. He did care. “Can I fix you a cup?”

“Have any regular? Decaf's not enough to start my motor revving in the morning.”

After looking at him for a full ten minutes, her motor was purring louder than Diamond Girl's. “Sure. Coming right up.”

“I'll make it. You go back to bed.”

“Cole.” She crossed her arms over her middle. “I'm allowed to be on my feet an hour a day.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Are you timing me?”

“If that's what it takes.”

His concern was...adorable. Oh, God. How could she continue resisting him? Especially in such close proximity.

Afraid her voice might betray her, she cleared her throat. “Are you hungry? I have oatmeal muffins to go along with the coffee. Packaged, not homemade.”

“My favorite kind.” He stood.

Her mouth went dry at the sight of his boxer briefs riding low on his hips, and her fingers resumed clutching the fabric of her bathrobe collar. He obviously didn't have a self-conscious bone in his body.

“I'll get your coffee.” She spun on her heels to avoid giving herself away, if she hadn't done so already. The next two nights with him promised to be just as long and restless as the last one.

When Cole joined her in the kitchen, she was relieved to see he'd slipped on his jeans and a T-shirt. With clothes on, she had a much better chance of being able to face him, to sit across from him at the table, without losing her thinly held composure.

She placed a mug in front of him, coffee black, the way he liked it. They'd shared enough breakfasts at the ranch house for her to be familiar with his tastes. The morning after their night together, she'd been in such a hurry to get him out of the house, she hadn't offered him so much as a glass of water.

The muffins, three of them, fit nicely on a paper plate. They went onto the table, along with a tub of butter, two glasses of orange juice, Violet's prenatal vitamin and a couple bananas. She didn't care much for the fruit, but she'd been bothered by nightly leg cramps lately and read somewhere that the potassium in bananas helped.

“You're too good to me,” he said, helping himself to a muffin and the knife. He broke the muffin in two and slathered a huge glob of butter onto each half.

Thankfully, conversation flowed easily over breakfast, perhaps because it centered on work and not on the two of them. She almost wished they weren't getting along. Her choices would be easier then and she could insist on Raquel or Cara staying with her rather than Cole.

They were just finishing when Violet's cell phone went off, playing a familiar ring tone. She groaned, scrubbing a cheek with her hand.

“Someone you'd rather avoid?” Cole dusted off the crumbs that clung to his shirt. He'd wolfed down a banana and two of the muffins like a starving man.

“It's my mother.” For a moment, Violet considered not answering, but at the last second, she got up and went to the counter where she'd left her phone. She swiped the screen and put the phone to her ear. “Morning, Mom.”

“Honey, tell me,” her mother blurted in a rush. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Are you sure? Some woman just called to confirm your doctor's appointment. When I told her you didn't live here, she apologized and hung up. Are you sick?”

Violet shook her head in confusion. She'd listed her mother's number in the event of an emergency, not as a primary contact. Someone at the doctor's office must have made a mistake.

“I'm not sick, Mom. I'm—” Violet's phone beeped, signaling she had another call. Checking the screen, she saw it was Dr. Medina's office. “Let me phone you right back. It's the doctor on the other line.”

“I'm not going anywhere. Don't you dare hang up on me.”

“Fine.” Violet placed her mother on hold, then took the call from the doctor. After confirming her follow-up appointment and correcting the phone number mix-up, she returned to her mother. “Sorry about that.”

“You still haven't told me what's wrong.”

Violet caught Cole's eye. He remained seated at the table. In fact, he appeared permanently rooted in the chair. Didn't he have to be at the ranch soon? She supposed, as one of the owners, he could set his own hours. But there were a hundred pregnant cows left to check, and that would take most of the day, even with help.

“Don't you have work?”
she mouthed.

“It'll wait,”
he mouthed back.

Drat. She either ended this call with her mother, asked Cole to give her some privacy, left the kitchen and sought refuge in her bedroom, or bit the bullet and leveled with her mother in front of him. Well, at least he'd see firsthand how persistent her parents could be.

“It's a follow-up exam, Mom.”

“Follow up to what?”

In the background, she heard her mother drawing on an electronic cigarette. Violet wasn't sure she approved of the practice, but quitting smoking was hard for her mom, who'd tried countless times in the past. The electronic cigarette seemed to be helping with her efforts.

“I wasn't sure if and when I was going to tell you.”

“Violet!” her mother practically screeched.

She hesitated, bolstered her courage and said, “I'm pregnant.”

Her mother audibly gasped. “Is it Denny's?”

“No! Why would you think that?”

“You haven't mentioned seeing anyone.”

“Because I'm not.”

“You must be. That's how these things usually work. Unless... Violet! Don't tell me you went to one of those sperm clinics.” She all but choked on the last two words. “You're young, your biological clock can't possibly be ticking.”

“I didn't go to a clinic, Mom.”

“Who is he, then?”

No inquiries about the baby or about Violet's health. How far along she was. How she felt. If she was happy. Then again, what did she expect? Her parents, both of them, had always been completely and totally self-absorbed. All that mattered to her mother was whether or not the father was someone she considered acceptable.

Violet held the phone to her chest. “She wants to know who the father is. Should I tell her?”

“That's your business.” A twinkle lit Cole's blue eyes. “But if you're asking do I mind, the answer's no.”

She returned to the phone. “It's Cole Dempsey.”

Her mother sucked in a breath. Or perhaps she'd taken another drag on her electronic cigarette. It was hard to tell. “August Dempsey's son?”

“Yes.”

“The one you don't like?”

“That's not true.”

Violet proceeded to fill her mother in on a few of the details, during which Cole wore a none-too-subtle smile. If she didn't find him so damn sexy, he'd irritate her no end.

“You will keep me posted,” her mother said when Violet finished describing yesterday's scare and the doctor's cautiously optimistic prognosis.

“I will.”

“I'll tell your father tonight when he calls. He got a suite at Manor House, in case you're interested.” She took another drag. “He'll want to come see you. Probably this weekend. Make certain you're doing all right.”

Violet bit back a groan. “That's not necessary, Mom. In fact, I insist.”

“I'll come, too. I can help with the house. Take care of you.”

That was a joke if ever Violet heard one. It had always been the other way around. “I'm fine.” She sent Cole a fleeting glance. “I have help.”

His brows shot up, but he didn't comment.

“We'll talk more about this later. I have to run. Tennis with the girls, then a board of directors luncheon for the community arts committee.”

What, Violet wondered, would her mother do postdivorce? All her activities were directly or indirectly related to her role as wife to one of the city's more prominent financial brokers.

Violet disconnected, then laid the phone on the counter, her hand instinctively going to her belly.

“Bad news?” Cole asked.

“My parents want to come for a visit. Soon. This weekend.”

He lifted his bare foot and, placing it on the bottom rung, pushed her chair out. “Sit.”

Not exactly gentlemanly, but very much Cole and, okay, she admitted it, appealing.

Doing as he'd instructed, she sat and let out a long breath.

“I take it you don't want your parents to visit.”

“They love me, don't get me wrong, and will be happy about the baby. But they have an agenda, they always do. Even before they started divorce proceedings, they tried their best to get me to take sides. It's one of the reasons I dropped out of college my freshman year and hit the road. What kid wants to be constantly put in the middle?”

“That's not very fair of them.”

“They aren't terrible people. Not really. They used to hate my job and my lifestyle, but they've come around. Mostly because they liked your father and Raquel. It didn't hurt that your dad was one of the valley's leading citizens. Position in the community matters to my parents. Makes telling people what I do a little easier. According to my mom, I'm a bovine management specialist employed at a premier cattle operation.”

Cole would be described as one of the owners. Not—gasp!—a professional cowboy or rodeo champion.

He sat back, and Violet sensed his disapproval.

“It's complicated,” she said, feeling suddenly defensive.

“You don't have to explain complicated family dynamics to me. I'm an expert. At least tell me they're happy about the baby.”

“Mom sounded glad. I think Dad will be, too.” Violet paused. “They'll probably want me to move back to Seattle.”

Something flickered in Cole's eyes, an emotion hard to define. “Will you?”

“Absolutely not. Mustang Valley is my home.” She didn't add that he was here, too, since his stay continued to remain undecided.

Cole got up and made himself another cup of coffee, appearing at ease in her kitchen despite it being only his second time there.

“I was supposed to graduate with a degree in finance like my father,” she said, surprising herself with the admission.

Cole returned to the table. “Me, too, with a degree in business management. My mother went crazy when I started rodeoing. Having one son competing professionally was bad enough. To have two?” He chuckled.

“She probably didn't expect you to marry a junior executive on the career fast track like my parents expected of me.”

“You got me there.”

Violet absently swept muffin crumbs into a small pile with the side of her hand. “They're still hoping. They tried to lure me home after my divorce.”

“I'm glad they didn't.”

She gazed at him, curious as to his meaning. “I can already feel the screws tightening, and they haven't even arrived yet.”

“You don't have to move,” Cole said. “There's nothing wrong with being a livestock foreman.”

“I love what I do. Your father didn't just give me a job when I showed up on his doorstep, he ignited a passion and gave me a purpose. I'll always be grateful.”

“Was it him who taught you to ride?”

Violet noted the curiosity in Cole's expression and found it interesting. He didn't talk much about August. He certainly didn't ask questions. Not of her. This was a first.

“I started riding when I was six. My parents sent me to summer camp and horseback riding was my favorite program. When I got home, I asked for lessons. They refused, and I literally pitched a fit for weeks until they relented. English pleasure, hunter-jumper and dressage, naturally. My mother didn't approve of Western riding. I never sat in a Western saddle until your dad hired me. He said good riders are born, not made, and it didn't matter what style I first learned.”

“And a horse is a horse.”

She smiled. “He said that, too.”

Cole looked away. “I don't remember much about him.”

“A shame. He was a good person. Kind. Generous. I was flat broke when I arrived in Mustang Valley.”

“Your parents refused to help you just because you dropped out of college?”

“Oh, they'd have given me money. On the condition I come home. I refused. I was on my way to Rio Verde when my car ran out of gas. I had no idea what to do, other than cry, when your dad drove by. He stopped, put a couple gallons of gas in my tank from the spare can he carried in the back of his truck, handed me twenty dollars and directions to the ranch. I spent the night parked behind the café. The next morning I drove to Dos Estrellas. He hired me on the spot even though I didn't know the first thing about cattle. I learned fast, though, and worked my way up. He promoted me to livestock foreman right before he got sick.”

“It's a nice story, but you're not going to alter my opinion of him.” Cole's voice hardened. “He turned his back on Josh and me, and on our mother.”

“I'm not trying to change your mind, Cole. I may, however, try to open your heart.”

After a moment, his sexy grin appeared in full force, potent as ever. “Now, that's different, and something you just might accomplish if you're talking about us.”

Chapter Seven

Cole passed the plastic water gun though the rails of the round pen and into the hands of his niece, Kimberly. “Don't fire this until I tell you to, okay?” He leveled a finger at her.

Giggling, she promptly pointed the water gun at him, squeezed the trigger and soaked the front of his jeans. “Ba, ba, ba.”

“You're supposed to spray the horse. Not me.”

Her answer was to soak him a second time.

What was he thinking, expecting a fourteen-month-old toddler to follow directions? His nephew would probably be equally unreliable.

“Are you ready?” he asked the boy.

“I ready, Uncle Cole.” Nathan also stood outside the round pen, not far from his sister. Only he held a different type of plastic gun. This one fired foam darts.

Cole had been recruited to babysit while his brother went to meet with his attorney. Josh's ex-wife was pushing for increased visitation, probably in retaliation against Josh and Cara moving in together. At least, that was Cole's opinion. Even though Josh gave his ex the benefit of the doubt, and treated her more than fairly, he'd scheduled the appointment to discuss his legal options.

Raquel would have watched the kids, but she'd come down with a nasty cold. Cara was busy, frantically laboring dawn to dusk in preparation for the upcoming launch of the equine therapy program. That had left Cole. He was okay with the task as long as he could call Vi periodically.

After three days, she was still doing fine. That didn't stop him from worrying.

Since training wild mustangs wasn't an option today, not with two young tagalongs, he'd decided to work with one of the horses Cara had selected for the therapy program instead.

This particular mare was called Mama because she'd once fostered an orphaned colt. Her gentle and nurturing nature extended to small children, as well. Training her had been about the easiest job Cole had taken on. As one last test of Mama's reliability, he was putting her through an obstacle course consisting of objects to navigate around and over, along with surprises designed to scare or startle her. Hence the water and foam dart guns.

If she reacted calmly, then she'd be cleared for use in the program. If not, then either her training would continue or she'd be returned to the herd and another horse selected. Cole's niece and nephew would be the determining factor.

Cole had faith in Mama.

“All right.” He picked up her lead rope. Up till then, the horse had been standing patiently. A good start. “Wait until I say go,” he told the kids.

Kimberly squeezed the trigger again, wetting Cole's boots. He sighed and gave up.

Mama didn't so much as flinch when he led her past the pole with the flag fluttering in the wind, the scarecrow dressed as an old lady and the boom box playing loud rap music. She merely snorted and shook her head when struck with six foam darts. By the time Cole led her past Kimberly, the little girl had lost interest in the water gun and dropped it on the ground.

Cole reached through the rails and retrieved the gun, then sprayed Mama. She looked away as if bored. Cole deemed the test to be a rousing success and gave the mare a well-deserved pat. “Good job. You're hired.”

“Cara!” Nathan sprinted off in the direction of his father's girlfriend, Kimberly right behind him. “I help Uncle Cole,” he announced proudly.

“I see.” She swooped up both children and, balancing one in each arm, approached the round pen, her long black hair blowing in the breeze. “Looks like things are going well.”

“Mama's amazing.” The dusty brown horse followed Cole to the railing and stopped when he did, ears pricked forward and tail swishing. “Completely bombproof.”

“I'm glad. That gives us four horses in total. Enough to start, though I'd like to add two more over the summer. I'll take Mama's picture later and upload it to the website.”

Cara had discovered that potential students—they were never referred to as customers or clients—and their parents enjoyed seeing the riding stock on the website and often requested a certain horse. The fact that all the horses were once wild mustangs only added to their appeal.

Nathan and Kimberly objected when Cara put them down.

“You're much too big for me to hold the both of you,” she said, letting her arms go limp in an exaggerated motion. “My muscles are tired.”

Kimberly hung on to Cara's leg, and she stroked the child's head. Cole knew Cara was careful about her relationship with the kids, determined not to replace their mother, only to be their devoted friend and caregiver. That hadn't stopped the kids from falling in love with her or her with them.

“How have you been?” she asked Cole.

“All right.”

“I see your truck's still in the shop.”

“Tell me about it.” He winced.

“What's wrong? Are they taking too long?”

“Yeah, and I'm going to have a gaping hole in my wallet where my money used to be.”

“Guess that'll teach you not to haul ass through the desert.”

“Everyone's a critic.”

The kids resumed playing with their toys, finding delight in shooting water and foam darts at each other. Cole kept an eye on them, planning on intervening if the playing went too far and became rough. He wasn't entirely irresponsible.

“You look tired.” Cara studied him critically. “Was the couch at Violet's not comfortable?”

Vi had made it clear to everyone at the ranch that she and Cole weren't sleeping together. He'd done the same, understanding it was important to her.

“The couch was fine.” The lumpy cushions weren't what kept him awake for those three nights. Rather, it was the idea of Vi snuggled warm in her bed. Alone. He'd have liked to be snuggled under those covers with her. “I have a lot going on.”

Cara arched a brow. “Understandable. You're going to become a father soon. Which reminds me, how is Violet doing?”

“Good.”

“No...relapse?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“What a relief.”

Cara's smile was sincere and kind, demonstrating what a truly big heart she possessed. A few years ago, she'd lost her young son in a tragic accident. That she was able to accept Josh's kids in her life and wish nothing but the best for others was a true testament to her character. It also showed how much she loved Cole's brother.

For that, Cole fully supported her relationship with Josh. But he was less accepting of interference from her when it came to him and Vi, if that was indeed the reason for their conversation.

“You're going to be a good father, Cole. I'm sure of it.”

“I'm not like Josh.”

“You're more like him than you think. You're also a lot like your father.”

That was the second time in less than a week he'd been accused of resembling his father. Vi had made a similar remark.

“Those are fighting words.” Cole was only half teasing.

“He was a good man.”

Cole grumbled to himself. What was it with everyone praising his father lately?

“He'd be tickled pink to know he was having another grandchild.”

Cole tensed and would have walked away if not for the kids. “Can we talk about something else? What other horses did you have in mind for the therapy program?”

“I get that you're angry. August did hurt your mother.”

“Not just my mother.” Cole stared off into the distance, recalling an event from long ago he'd prefer to forget. “I came here once when I was seventeen. I'd had a fight with my mom, one of many, and decided maybe everything she'd said about my father wasn't true. Rode a bus over six hundred and fifty miles, then hitched a ride from the bus stop to the ranch.”

“I didn't know.”

“I'm sure good ole Dad didn't advertise it.” Cole cut off Cara when she would have said more. “Because he sent me away. Took one look at me and told me to go home.”

“That must have been hard on you.”

“When Vi landed in Mustang Valley, broke and needing help, he took her in. Not me. His own son.”

“Holding on to your anger and resentment won't change a thing, and it certainly won't make you happy.”

“You can stop with the lecture, Cara.”

“I didn't mean to give you one.” She bent, kissed each of the kids on the cheek and then straightened. “Violet needs you. Now and after the baby's born. I just hope you won't let your feelings for your father prevent you from doing right by her and staying in Mustang Valley.”

“And now you're telling me what to do.”

“I'm sorry. I've overstepped. It's just I care about the both of you very much and want you to be happy.”

Her words stayed with Cole long after she'd left.

Lugging Kimberly in one arm and with Nathan trailing behind him, he returned Mama to her stall in the area reserved for therapy horses. Josh was due back shortly, and not a minute too soon. Cole needed to get ready for the arrival of Vi's parents.

They'd refused to listen to her protests and were due this afternoon, insisting on meeting the father of their first grandchild. Cole's guess was they were coming to size him up or, if what Vi said was true and they wanted her to move back to Seattle, determine how much of a fight, if any, Cole would put up.

A big one, he decided. Vi wanted to stay here. That was good enough for him.

“Daddy!” Nathan hollered, when Josh's truck pulled around the side of the stables.

Cole delivered the kids safely into their father's hands, then hurried to his room in the ranch house, where he cleaned up and changed into fresh clothes. Hopping into one of the ranch trucks, he drove to Vi's house, glad to see there wasn't a rental car in the driveway. He'd beaten her parents.

When she didn't immediately answer the bell, he pushed the door open. Yes, he was taking liberties, but he felt justified. What if something had happened? She might be in distress and unable to come.

“Vi? Where are you?” When she didn't respond, he hurried to her bedroom. Without hesitation, he went in. “Vi?” The room was empty.

All at once, she stepped out of the adjoining bathroom, wearing only a towel, and came to a sudden halt. “Jeeze, Cole.”

“Sorry.” He should have turned away, except he couldn't. His feet were frozen in place.

She was stunning. Wet hair clung to her neck and shoulders. A pair of killer legs peeked out from beneath the terry cloth. Small, shapely hands clutched the front of the towel, holding it together. Enormous green eyes focused on him.

“Do you mind?” She glowered at him when he didn't move. “Cole!”

“Sure, sure.” He was amazed he could speak, what with his jaw hanging open.

The next instant, the doorbell rang. It could only be Vi's parents. Their timing was impeccable.

“I'll get the door.” Cole left, but not before giving her another long, lingering look.

It was clear from the expressions on her parents' faces that they weren't at all happy to see him instead of their daughter.

“Where's Vi?” her father demanded.

Cole refused to be intimidated. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Hathaway. It's nice to meet you.”

* * *

V
IOLET
SHOULD
HAVE
figured on her parents arriving early. It was a tactic her father frequently employed in business, with the intent to rattle the other individual and gain an advantage. It irked Violet. She was neither an adversary nor a business associate. She was his daughter.

Unfortunately for all of them, the qualities that made Edgar Hathaway enormously successful in his job didn't serve him well in his personal life, and tended to alienate those closest to him. If not, he wouldn't now be facing the end of his thirty-one-year marriage and residing four states away from his daughter.

“Hi, Mom. Dad.” Violet breezed into the living room, where her parents waited with Cole, a lead weight residing in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't needed her father to unsettle her. Cole had accomplished that easily enough.

What were the chances of him walking in on her at the same moment her parents arrived on her doorstep? She'd dressed as fast as possible, choosing capri pants and a blouse instead of jeans solely because it would make her parents happy. Seeing approval in their expressions, she was glad she'd taken the time.

Cole's expression did more than gladden her. A sliver of pleasure wound through her at his appreciative stare, more intense than when he'd discovered her wearing only a towel. Come to think of it, he hadn't ever seen her in anything but jeans, either.

Wrong as it might be, she enjoyed his reaction. Violet didn't always feel like a girl. Cole succeeded that in spades.

“I take it everyone has met,” she said with as much cheer as she could muster, giving first her father and then her mother a kiss and hug.

“Yes, we have.” Her mom held her tighter and longer than usual. Violet smelled the faint minty odor from her flavored electronic cigarette.

“Good,” she said. The momentary rush of affection and sentimentality was unexpected. Could their divorce be affecting her more than Violet thought?

“Let me have a look at you.” Her mother studied her for several seconds. “You're positively radiant,” she gushed.

“Pretty as ever,” her father interjected, his eyes shining as they roamed her face. “I'm surprised this young man hasn't run off with you. If he doesn't wise up soon, some other guy is going to steal you away.”

“Dad!” Did he have to say that?

She'd attempted to explain her relationship with Cole to her mother when they'd spoken yesterday, along with their reasons for postponing certain decisions. Some of those reasons were becoming less important as her pregnancy advanced, but Cole still hadn't said anything, and Violet refused to bring up the subject. Her patience was beginning to wear thin.