The Cowboy's Christmas Baby. Carolyne Aarsen

and turned off her car, her ears ringing in the sudden silence.

      Though she had arranged to meet her sisters, Lauren and Jodie, at the ranch, she’d thought of stopping at the café to grab a soda because she was parched.

      Her thirst was only part of her reason for her detour.

      The other was that each mile she clocked northward from California to Montana increased the shame of the last ten months digging its unwelcome claws deeper with every roll of her car’s tires. Now that she was so close she had to fight the urge to turn her car around and drive back south.

      So she used the excuse of a pit stop to delay the inevitable surprise and questions.

      I should have told them, she thought, her mind ticking back to a time when she was a more innocent girl walking down these very streets. I should have told Lauren and Jodie everything that was happening in my life.

      They would know soon enough, she reflected, stretching her hands out, making a face at her chipped nail polish. She eased her stiff and sore body out of the car and looked around the town with a sense of nostalgia.

      The same brick buildings lined the street but the trees in front of them had grown taller and many of the flags flapping from their standards looked new. A bench and a couple of tables stood on a sidewalk in front of the Grill and Chill, but otherwise it was still the town of her early childhood.

      A cool wind sifted down the street, tossing some stray papers and tugging a few leaves off the trees. It was mid-September. The kids were back in school and soon the leaves would be changing color.

      I’m almost home.

      The words settled into a soul in need of the solidity of this place. A soul disillusioned by life and by people. A soul that had grown tougher the past year.

      The door of the Grill and Chill opened and a tall, lean figure stepped out, dropped a cowboy hat on his head and painstakingly worked his way down the three steps leading to the sidewalk. He moved with a pronounced limp, though he didn’t look that old. His plaid shirt was sprinkled with sawdust. A leather belt and a large rodeo competition buckle cinched frayed, faded blue jeans that ended on scuffed cowboy boots with worn-down heels.

      He was the real deal, Erin thought, mentally comparing him to the fake cowboys she’d seen advertised on billboards on her drive up here from San Francisco.

      When he lifted his head sea-green eyes met hers and her world spun backward.

      The face looking back at her was hardened by time, grown leaner over the years. Stubble shaded a strong jaw and his eyes were fanned by wrinkles from spending time outside. But Dean Moore still held that air of heedlessness. The tilt of his head, the angle of his battered cowboy hat showed her he still looked at the world like it was his for the taking.

      Then he smiled, his eyes lit up and his features were transformed.

      The old curl of attraction that she had always fought when she was around him gripped her heart. Her mouth, if it was possible, became even drier.

      He walked toward her, his smile growing. “Hey, there. What are you doing here?”

      Erin stared at him, surprised at his casual question. But to her consternation, even after all these years and all that had happened to her, he could still lift her heart rate. “I’m headed home,” she managed.

      “Vic said you were too busy to come to town. I thought you were getting ready for a visit from your uptight sister, if you’ll pardon the little joke.”

      And then realization dawned.

      He thought she was Lauren. Her twin sister. And she knew the exact moment he realized this himself.

      His mouth shifted, his eyes narrowed and he visibly withdrew.

      Crazy that this bothered her. Dean was so far in the past he may as well have been a character in the fairy stories she had once loved reading and drawing pictures of.

      “My apologies. I thought you were—”

      “Lauren,” she finished for him. “Sorry. I’m Erin. The uptight sister.”

      He frowned as he assimilated this information, his hands slipping into the back pocket of his worn blue jeans. “Jodie and Lauren said you were coming this evening.” He didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed of himself.

      “I’m early. Heavy foot.”

      He was silent a beat, as if still absorbing the reality of her presence. “So. How’ve you been?”

      She wanted to make some glib remark about what he’d said about her character but didn’t have the energy so she simply went with “Fine. I’m fine.”

      “Right.” He gave her a tight smile, visibly retreating.

      She shouldn’t be too surprised at his reaction or what he’d said about her. Every time he’d asked her out the summers she spent on her father’s ranch, she’d turned him down. He was a rough-living young man who rode hard, drank hard and played hard.

      And yet, there had always been something about him that appealed. Some measure of self-confidence and brash self-awareness she knew she lacked.

      In spite of the attraction she’d felt, her practical self had told her that Dean Moore was not the kind of man a good Christian girl wanted in her life.

      And now?

      She was hardly the sweet, innocent girl who’d left Saddlebank all those years back. Hardly walking with her Lord like she used to. She’d turned away from God nine months ago. When she’d found out she would be a single mother.

      “So, you headed to the ranch?” Dean asked.

      “Eventually. I thought I’d make a quick stop at the Grill and Chill.” Her mouth was even drier than before. Some soda or tea and a few moments to settle her nerves before seeing her sisters was just what she needed.

      “Okay. Well, I’ll see you around.”

      She held his gaze a beat longer, surprised at the twinge of attraction he still created. The usual battle of her head and heart, she thought. Drawn to the wrong kind of person.

      Then a muffled cry from the car pulled her attention away from him and to her baby still tucked in her carrier in the backseat.

      Erin opened the door and took a second to inhale the sweet scent of baby powder and Caitlin’s shampoo. With a gentle finger she stroked her baby’s tender cheek, still amazed at the rush of love this tiny infant could pull from her. Six weeks ago she’d come into Erin’s life and since then regardless of the exhaustion and confusion that dragged at her every day, Caitlin had been a bright spot in a life that had, of late, had some dark and hard valleys.

      Erin grabbed the muslin blanket from beside her and laid it over top so her baby wouldn’t be exposed to the wind or the sun, then gently pulled the seat free, tucking her arm under the handle and straightening.

      Dean still stood there, frowning as if still trying to absorb the reality of her situation. His puzzlement grew as he glanced from the car seat hanging on her arm to her ringless left hand.

      Yes, I am a single mother, she wanted to say, and no, this was not in my long-term plan when I left here that summer. After turning you down yet again.

      Their gazes locked for a few heartbeats more as if acknowledging a shared past.

      As she closed the door of the car he touched the brim of his hat in a surprisingly courtly gesture, then turned and left, his steps uneven, his one leg hitching with every movement.

      She guessed this was from his rodeo accident almost a year back. Lauren had alluded to it in the texts they had exchanged the past few months.

      Sadness winged through her. How much had changed for both of them since that summer, all those years ago.

      She took a few steps almost getting bowled over by a young woman.

      “Hey,