Название | Coming Home to a Cowboy |
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Автор произведения | Sheri WhiteFeather |
Жанр | Вестерны |
Серия | |
Издательство | Вестерны |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781474002363 |
He was so darned excited when he’d gone off to school, chattering about the anticipation of meeting his dad. He’d even printed Kade’s bio from his website and stuck it in his notebook so he could study it again at recess.
Her baby boy had a serious case of idol worship. Once upon a time, Bridget had felt that way about her father, too.
Trying to get a grip on her emotions, she returned to the kitchen and waited for Kade to show up. At least she’d seen pictures of him on the internet so she knew what to expect in that regard. As far as she could tell, he was still as hot as sin, with the same piercing brown eyes, granite-cut jaw and striking cheekbones.
The instant the doorbell rang, she dashed off to answer it. She opened the door, and there he was. All man. All six foot four inches of solid muscle. His hair was combed straight back, the ends skimming his collar, and his clothes consisted of timeworn denim. Seeing him in person was far more breathtaking than viewing a picture could ever be. He’d aged, of course, going from his midtwenties to midthirties, but it looked incredibly fine on him.
Bridget was in her thirties, too. Thirty-one, in fact, with a birthday that had just passed.
“Hello,” he said, shooting her a smile she remembered from long ago.
“Hi,” she replied, warning her heart to be still. A dizzying moment later, he leaned in for a hug.
Dang, he moved fast. She would have preferred a less intimate greeting. But she put her arms around him and buried her face against his shirt. He was more than a foot taller than she was, and as she stood on the very tips of her toes to reach him, it almost seemed as if he was sweeping her off her feet.
She ended the embrace and regained her footing, refusing to let him see the ache that being near him caused.
“Come in,” she told him.
He thanked her and crossed the threshold, his boots sounding on the hardwood floor. He had a rugged way about him, the kind of cowboy confidence that appealed to her. Having him around wasn’t going to be easy.
“Something in here smells good,” he said.
“It’s beef stew. Would you like some?”
“Yeah, sure. That sounds great.”
Well, there you go, she thought. He’d reacted quickly once again, accepting a meal without hesitation. She didn’t doubt he was going to want their conversation to happen fast, too.
She offered him a seat at the kitchen table. Her house was neat and cozy, with simple furnishings she’d purchased at flea markets and yard sales. Her favorite items to decorate with were crocheted doilies and antique mason jars. She routinely filled the jars with wildflowers, picking them herself nearly every day, since they grew freely on her property.
“I’ve got some coleslaw in the fridge,” she said as she removed flatware from the drawer. “Would you like some of that, as well?”
He watched her move about the kitchen. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”
“Then, I’ll warm up some bread, too.” She tried to keep from getting self-conscious. He was looking at her as if he was remembering how it felt to kiss her and touch her and put his naked body next to hers. “I baked it yesterday.”
He continued to watch her, much too closely. “You bake your own bread? That’s cool.”
“I bake pies, cakes and cookies, too.”
His smile returned, only it was slightly crooked this time, giving him a strangely boyish edge, especially for a man so big and broad. “I think I’m going to enjoy hanging out with you again, Bridget.”
He wasn’t here to hang out with her. He was here to meet their son. But she didn’t correct him, because they both knew darn well why he’d come back to Flower River.
She prepared their plates and put a basket of the warmed bread on the table, along with a stick of butter.
As she poured two glasses of water, she fought to keep her hands steady. He was still keeping a dark and masculine eye on her. Finally, she sat down across from him, trying to look more composed than she felt.
He reached for his fork. “I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. Not that you made this specifically for me. But it’s still nice.”
“I did make it with you in mind.” She wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. “I took a few days off from work, too, so I’d be around when you and Cody are getting acquainted.”
“Do you still work at your family’s farm equipment store?”
“Yes. And we sell more than farm equipment now. We carry feed and pet supplies, too.”
“Well, I’m glad you took a few days off. It’ll be easier having you around when I’m talking to Cody. I’m uncertain about what to say to him.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. He’s a chatterbox, so I’m sure he’ll get the conversation going. He’ll probably ask you tons of questions. He wants to know everything about you.”
Kade buttered a slice of bread and dipped it into the stew. “I want to know all about him, too. But I haven’t decided how long I’m going to stay. I’m just going to play it by ear. For now, I checked into the motel where I stayed last time. That old place is still there.”
The place where they’d spent that glorious week together. She reached for her water. “It’s the only motel in town.”
“I know. But it doesn’t look as if it’s changed a bit. You have, though. Not so much in the way you look, but the way you carry yourself. Motherhood suits you.”
She felt her lonely heart go bump. “I love being a mom.” Being a single parent, however, wouldn’t have been her first choice. It wasn’t what she’d envisioned for herself.
“I’m sorry that I never called you, Bridget. If I’d known how important it was, I would have.”
“I took you at your word. But I should have known better.”
A frown furrowed his brow. “You still should have called me when you found out you were expecting. I had the right to know that you were having my baby.”
She took a jittery breath, preparing to relay the explanation he was waiting to hear. “I really liked you, Kade. I was smitten from the moment I met you. But I hadn’t intended to sleep with you. I’d never done anything like that before.”
“Had a fling?”
“Had sex at all. You were my first.”
He flinched, good and hard. “Damn, Bridget. You’re full of surprises. It never even occurred to me. I had no idea.”
“It’s not always that obvious.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on either of us beforehand. And after it was over, I didn’t need to explain since there was no real evidence of it.”
He scrunched up his face. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“It was a little uncomfortable at first. But after that...” She let her words drift, recalling how wild and sexy and dreamy it had been.
“So I wasn’t too rough or anything?”
“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just didn’t want to point out that I was a twenty-year-old virgin.”
“Even if that’s what you were?”
“I’d done other things. I’d just never gone all the way with anyone.”