Daddy Wore Spurs. Stella Bagwell

a plastic tray. He’d never spoken that way to any woman before and he wasn’t quite sure what had prompted such a thing to come out of his mouth. Except that ever since he’d arrived on this ranch, she’d been subtly goading him. As though she considered it okay for her to judge him as a cad for having a romantic interlude with Aimee. As if she were infallible and would never stoop to such human impulses.

      With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet and walked over to where she was pulling a baby bottle filled with formula from the refrigerator. After giving him a cursory glance, she shut the door on the appliance and moved over to a microwave. Finn felt compelled to follow.

      “I’m sorry, Mariah,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. I was way out of line.”

      While the microwave whirred, she kept her back to him. It wasn’t until the bell dinged that she retrieved the bottle, then turned to face him.

      “Then why did you say it?” she asked stiffly.

      The icy stare she’d stabbed him with earlier was gone. Now her gray eyes were dark with shadows, and Finn realized his question had touched far more than just her female pride. The notion made him feel even worse.

      “Because you seemed set on judging me for spending a weekend with Aimee. That’s not— Well, for your information, I don’t go around having affairs, short or long, on a regular basis! Yet you want to make me out as a cad. What’s the matter with you? Are you a prude or something?”

      Outrage popped her mouth open and Finn expected her to flounce off in huff. But after a moment, her shoulders sagged and she glanced away. “Making a baby is a serious thing,” she murmured.

      She was avoiding his question, but he was hardly going to point that out to her now, Finn decided. Besides, he had the feeling that before this ordeal with Harry was finished, he was going to find out plenty about Mariah Montgomery.

      “That’s why I’m here,” he said curtly. “Because there is a baby. A baby who’s lost his mother.”

      She reached for Harry then, but Finn continued to hold him firmly against his chest. “Give me the bottle. I’d like to feed my son.”

      Her chin came up to a challenging angle. “It’s yet to be determined whether Harry is your child, Mr. Calhoun.”

      “You decided that. I didn’t. I agreed to a DNA test because you wanted one and my family back home wants one. But as far as I’m concerned, Harry has Calhoun blood running through his veins. And by the way,” he added, “call me Finn. When you say Mr. Calhoun you make me think you’re addressing my grandfather.”

      “All right, Finn. I guess I should appreciate your frankness. At least I’m not in the dark about where you stand with Harry.”

      She handed him the bottle. Finn carried it and the baby back over to the breakfast bar. After he’d taken a seat on one of the stools, he cradled Harry in a comfortable position in the crook of his left arm and offered him the warm bottle.

      “Here’s your dinner, little one,” he told the baby. “Go for it.”

      The infant latched onto the nipple with a hunger that brought a faint smile to Finn’s lips. Oh, what a stir this little guy was going to make on the Silver Horn, he thought. Especially with his grandfather Bart, who was all for the expansion of the Calhoun family.

      He looked up as Mariah approached the bar carrying a tray with the coffee and containers of cream and sugar. As she placed it a safe distance from his elbow, she asked, “Would you like cream or sugar? Since you have your hands full, I can fix it for you.”

      “Just black. Thanks,” he said, grateful that she was being somewhat hospitable. Especially after that sexual taunt about inviting her into his bed. No telling what she was thinking about him now. Her impression of him had most likely slipped from cad to pervert. But why her opinion of him should matter, he didn’t know. Except that something about Mariah Montgomery got under his skin. He wanted to see approval in her eyes and a smile on those lovely lips.

      Cradling one of the mugs with both hands, she stood a couple of steps away, watching Harry feed. After a long stretch of silence, she asked, “Where did a bachelor like you learn how to feed a baby?”

      “My sister, Sassy, has two kids. A son, J.J., and a daughter, Skyler, born three months ago. And two of my brothers have small children.”

      “Playing with your little nieces and nephews is not the same as actually caring for them,” she said bluntly.

      Defending himself to this woman was definitely getting old, Finn thought, but he was going to do his best not to let his impatience show. Sparring with her wouldn’t help matters. “I’ve done more than just play with them,” he informed her. “I’ve babysat Sassy’s kids while she and her husband went out for the evening. So I know about bottles and diapers and those sorts of things.”

      “You, a babysitter? That’s hard to imagine.”

      Ignoring that jab, he said, “Sassy trusts me to care for her kids like they’re my own. And I’m glad to do it for her.”

      “So the two of you are close,” she said thoughtfully. “Aimee and I were that way once. But time and...other things caused us to grow apart.”

      The contents of the bottle had lowered to the point where Finn was forced to tilt it higher so Harry would ingest formula rather than air. She watched him make the adjustment, then seemingly satisfied that he knew how to feed a baby, she took a seat on the stool next to his.

      Using his free hand, Finn reached for the mug of coffee, then carefully leaned his head away from Harry to take a sip. The brew was stronger than what he was normally used to, but it tasted good. The long drive up here, coupled with the stress of meeting Mariah and the baby, had worn him down.

      After downing several sips of the coffee, he asked, “Do you have any other relatives living close by?”

      “No. Our parents divorced when Aimee and I were small, and ever since, our mother has lived in Florida near her parents.”

      “Do any of them ever come to visit?”

      A bitterness twisted her features. “Not hardly. Aimee and I were lucky to get a birthday or Christmas card from any of them. Now that I’m the only one left, it’ll be easy for them to forget they have family back here on a dusty ranch.”

      So Mariah clearly wouldn’t be getting any emotional support from that branch of the family. The idea bothered him greatly. Mariah was so young. She needed someone to embrace and encourage her through the loss of her sister and the transition it was making on her life. She needed a loving family surrounding her. But she had none.

      He said, “I guess you can tell that Aimee didn’t share much about her family life with me. But to be fair I didn’t ask her a lot of personal questions. We mostly talked about horses and the things we had in common. I thought we’d have plenty of time for family talk later. I never believed...well, that things would end up like this.”

      Over the rim of her mug, she regarded him solemnly. “After you left Reno did you ever try to contact her?”

      “Sure. I called several times. But the phone signal would break or she’d never answer. I even left messages on her voice mail, but she never returned them. I finally decided she wanted to put our weekend behind her. So I did the same.”

      She turned her head away and Finn could hear a heavy sigh swoosh out of her.

      “I should apologize to you, too, Finn. You were right. I wanted to think of you as a cad. I’d made up my mind even before you arrived that you were the one who’d left Aimee in the lurch. That was easier than thinking my sister was...callous or indifferent or—” Her head swung back and forth. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”

      Aimee’s true intentions toward Finn or her baby had died with her. And none of it could change the future now, Finn thought—unless the DNA test proved some other man had fathered Harry. But already his mind was balking