His Little Cowgirl. Brenda Minton

across the lawn, looking for all the world like he belonged on her farm. He was suntanned, wore faded Wranglers, and a soft, cotton T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. He was smiling like he hadn’t a care in the world.

      Every time she had imagined this moment, she’d thought what she’d say. She’d be strong, send him packing, show him she was in control and that he couldn’t hurt her again.

      Not once had she been breathless or speechless. Not once in her imagination had she thought that she’d remember how his laughter sounded on a quiet summer night in Wyoming, or how his hand had felt on hers. She had told herself that she’d only remember him saying goodbye and how he laughed when she told him she loved him.

      All of her imaginings melted like a snowman in July when faced with the genuine article—Cody Jacobs walking toward her. Now what in the world was she going to do about that? What was she going to do about the little girl inside the house, and the truth that she’d kept from him? All of her good intentions—wanting to protect her daughter from someone whose lifestyle had seemed unfit for a child—seemed irrelevant at the moment.

      Cody Jacobs was about to learn he had a daughter. She hadn’t wanted it to happen like this. Meg knew who her daddy was. Bailey had wanted to confront Cody in her own way, when the time seemed right.

      Not today.

      Blue yanked at the collar and jerked her forward a few feet, a warning that her visitor had entered the imaginary danger zone of the dog. Bailey flexed her fingers and wished she wasn’t leaning forward the way she was.

      “Bailey, you’re looking good.”

      Her foot she was looking good. She was wearing the same faded jeans and stained T-shirt she’d worn while working in the garden.

      “Thanks, Cody.”

      Still smiling, he held his hand out to Blue. The dog suddenly forgot that the man was the enemy. Pulling free from her grasp, the animal belly crawled to Cody. Bailey stood, stretching the kink from her back. Her gaze connected with Cody’s, really connected for the first time since he’d gotten out of the truck.

      Up close and in person he was still about the prettiest man she’d ever seen. Like the average bull rider, he wasn’t tall, just a few inches taller than her five feet five inches. He still had lean, boyish looks and long eyelashes that could make a girl swoon—if she were the swooning type. Bailey wasn’t, not anymore.

      “How’ve you been?” He closed the gap between them, his hand still being licked by Blue.

      “I’m fine.” Most days she really was. “What are you doing in Missouri?”

      She knew the answer. She was a convenient stop on the highway to Springfield, just thirty miles north. The town was hosting a pro bull-riding event, and Cody was in line for the world title this year.

      “I wanted to talk to you.”

      “Okay, talk.”

      Looking suddenly unsure, he took off his bent-out-of-shape, straw cowboy hat and shoved his fingers through black hair, which was straight and a little too long. When he looked at her, with his stormy blue-gray eyes, she thought of Meg and how she didn’t want Cody to learn the truth without any warning.

      Her heart shuddered at the thought. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she breathed a sigh of relief. Meg was taking a nap on the couch. That gave Bailey a few minutes to decide the best course of action.

      “Bailey, I’m here to say I’m sorry.” Cody shrugged and said, “I guess this is part of a man turned thirty and realizing he’s wasted a lot of years and hurt a lot of people.”

      “I’m not sure what to say.” The words of his apology were much as she had imagined them to be, but in her dreams they made more sense. In real life his words didn’t bring instant healing.

      “You don’t really have to say anything. This is something I have to do. I…” He cleared his throat and brought his gaze up to meet hers. “I joined AA and part of the process is making amends for the things I’ve done. I know that when I drove away from Bar A Ranch, I hurt you.”

      “So is this about wanting forgiveness, or are you truly sorry?”

      She needed more than words because words were easy enough to say. Words promised forever and something special on a summer night.

      Words said I’m sorry and even I forgive.

      Cody worried the hat in his hands, keeping his head down and his gaze on his dusty boots. When he looked up, his eyes were clear, his jaw set and determined. She had seen that look on his face before, normally with a camera focused in tightly as he gave the nod and the bull he was set to ride busted from the gate for an eight-second ride that always seemed to last eight minutes.

      “This is about me needing forgiveness, and it is also about being truly sorry.”

      It was her turn to look up, to search for something in his gaze, in those eyes that reminded her of a summer storm on the horizon. He meant it, or at least she thought he did. She nodded and took a step back.

      “Okay, you’re forgiven.”

      “You mean it?”

      Did she mean it? She closed her eyes, wanting him to be gone, wanting to walk back into the house to a sink full of dishes and chores waiting to be done. Those were the things that made sense to her these days.

      What also made sense was Meg, and the life they had here, the life they had built for themselves in spite of everything. Bailey had paced the floor alone when her daughter had been colicky. Bailey, alone, had held Meg tightly when a bad dream woke her in the middle of the night.

      Cody hadn’t been there, not even for that stormy night when Bailey’s dad had driven her to the hospital.

      Her conscience poked at her, telling her that he couldn’t apologize for the things he didn’t know. Cody couldn’t apologize for leaving her to raise a child alone, not when he’d never known about that child. They’d both made mistakes. He didn’t know it, but they both had apologies to make.

      “I forgave you a long time ago.” She smiled, feeling the heat of the August sun on her head and back.

      “That means a lot to me, Bailey. I want a fresh start, and I didn’t want to make that start thinking about you and what happened.”

      What happened—the way he said it made it sound simple and easy to forget. It wasn’t easy to forget a decision that made a person feel like she’d let down not only herself, but everyone who counted on her. Even God.

      Maybe Cody was finally starting to understand.

      “That’s good, Cody. I hope that this is the change you need.” She paused, unsure of how to proceed. She should tell him about Meg. Before he left she should let him know what she had tried to tell him the last time she saw him.

      The screen door thudded softly behind her. Bailey lifted her gaze to his, fearing the truth and the look on Cody’s face. He stared past her, his eyes narrowing against the bright sunshine. As his gaze lingered, Bailey knew that the time for truth had arrived.

      It had never happened this way in her dreams.

      “Mommy.”

      

      Cody stared at the little girl standing on the porch. He tried to catch his breath, but the weight on his chest pushed down, forcing air from his lungs as his heart hammered against his ribs. He stared into a tiny heart-shaped face he’d never seen before, and yet, and yet, the face seemed so familiar.

      The little girl had Bailey’s straight blond hair. She had a rosebud mouth, just like her mom’s. His gaze stopped at her eyes. It was there that he discovered the truth and he knew that Bailey had apologies of her own to give.

      Six years of traveling, riding bulls and putting money in the bank for a place of his own, a place he wouldn’t let his own dad buy for him, and it came down to this. It