Daddy Wore Spurs. Stella Bagwell

      So she was going to hold on to that notion, he thought grimly. Well, he supposed she had that right. Just as much as he had the right to believe Harry was his son.

      The thought had him looking down at the boy in his arms. The child was so tiny and vulnerable, so precious. He wanted to hold the sleeping baby’s face next to his own, to breathe in his sweet scent and let the wonder of being a father settle deep inside him. He might have been gullible with Aimee, but he wasn’t about to let Mariah dupe him. Especially when it came to Harry’s parentage.

       But what if Harry’s DNA doesn’t match yours, Finn? You’ll have no argument to keep the boy. Maybe you ought to ask yourself if you’re playing a fool’s game.

      Silently cursing the voice of warning in his head, he looked up to see Mariah’s attention fixed on a nearby window. As he studied her pensive profile, he wondered if there was a special man in her life. Even though she wasn’t married, there was still the possibility she had a boyfriend or fiancé. For all he knew, she might even have ideas of marrying and keeping Harry as her child.

      Crazy or not, the mere idea of losing the baby in his arms left him cold inside. It changed the whole landscape of the future he’d been mentally painting for himself and his son. Harry gave him a purpose that he’d never had before, and he liked it.

      “I believe I am that man,” Finn said. “Aimee put my name on Harry’s birth certificate. She did that for some reason. I only wish she’d contacted me. I could’ve helped—before things here on the ranch started falling apart.”

      She glanced at him, her expression wry. “We needed help all right. About a month before her accident, we were forced to sell off part of the horses just to keep the bills paid. Seeing them go opened Aimee’s eyes somewhat. But it was already too late.”

      Finn frowned with confusion. “If money was that tight, how did she get the money to go on a skiing holiday?”

      “Two of Aimee’s girlfriends paid for the trip. They were hoping a break from the baby and the ranch would help her get her head on straight. Now they blame themselves for her death.”

      “Do you blame them?”

      Frowning, she looked at him. “No. Accidents can happen anywhere.”

      “You’ve never told me exactly how Aimee died. Do you believe it truly was an accident?”

      The widening of her eyes told Finn his question had surprised her.

      “Why, yes, I do. Her friends said that one minute they were all headed down the slope together and everything was fine. Then a steep embankment appeared several yards on down the path. One of the friends managed to swerve around it, but Aimee and the other girl chose to ski over it. Both of them ramped the ledge and fell on the other side. There was soft powder on the ground that day, but something about the twisted way she landed severed Aimee’s spinal cord.”

      “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But after all you’ve said about Aimee it got me to wondering if maybe she was depressed or wasn’t herself and—well, that she was deliberately being reckless.”

      Her brows pulled together in a scowl. “I’d be the first to admit that Aimee liked to live on the edge. Most normal folks would be terrified to climb on a horse that had bucking on its mind. But my sister relished the challenge and excitement. Still, as for that day on the ski slope, no, I believe it was an accident. Nothing more.”

      Finn was thankful for that much, at least. He hated thinking the responsibility of mothering Harry and the weight of the floundering ranch had pushed Aimee to the point where she hadn’t cared whether she lived or died.

      Still, the facts of Aimee’s accident didn’t change what was happening to Mariah now. She was on the verge of losing everything, he thought bleakly. How was she going to pick herself up and start a new life without her home? Without Harry?

      Shoving the troubling questions aside, he said, “Aimee’s death. Harry being born. There’s some reason it all happened. And no matter the circumstances of how he was brought into the world, just holding this little guy in my arms makes me feel like a blessed man.”

      She said nothing to that. Instead, she stared at him, her gaze frozen on his face. While Finn waited for her to say anything, silence stretched between them like a taut highline.

      After several more moments passed without a response, he finally asked, “Is something wrong?”

      She jumped to her feet and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice choked. “Please excuse me.”

      Before Finn could react, she was rushing toward the arched doorway and as he watched her retreating back, he knew there were already tears on her face.

      Damn it! Now what?

      With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet and carried the sleeping baby out of the kitchen and back to the nursery.

      As soon as he walked into the room, he spotted Mariah standing by a window near the crib, gazing out at the rugged landscape in the distance. Was she thinking about leaving this ranch? No doubt everything about the place reminded her of her father and sister. Or was it the fear of losing Harry that had caused her to break down in tears?

      Finn placed the baby in the crib and covered him with a light blanket. It wasn’t until he straightened from the task that he noticed Mariah was looking over her shoulder at him. Thankfully, there were no tears on her face, but Finn didn’t miss the redness of her eyes. The sight hit him far harder than it should have.

      “I’m sorry for rushing away like that, Finn,” she said huskily. “Everything suddenly piled up on me.”

      He moved from the side of the crib and went to stand next to her. “I hardly need an apology,” he told her. “But it would be nice to see a smile on your face.”

      Turning slightly, she cast him a sidelong glance. “I’m not in a smiling mood,” she admitted. “Harry is on my mind. I’m thinking this ranch should eventually be handed down to him. It should remain his home. But sooner rather than later it’s going to belong to someone else. And if it turns out you’re his father, then none of that will matter anyway. You’ll be wanting him to live with you.”

      “That’s my plan. If Harry is my son, then he’s going home with me. The child belongs with his father.”

      Her mouth fell open, snapped shut, and opened again. “I can’t let that happen, Finn.”

      A cool chill rushed through him. “Excuse me, but if DNA proves Harry is mine, then I have every right to take him.”

      Her expression bleak, she turned her back to him. “Okay, I’ll admit that as his father you’d have the right. But that’s not all there is to it,” she said in a low tone. “I mean, Harry is used to me. I’ve been his mother since...well, practically since he was born. To pull him away from me would be traumatic for both of us. Besides, I don’t know anything about you. I wouldn’t be much of an aunt if I simply turned him over to you without learning who you are.”

      Finn’s first instinct was to remind Mariah that he’d already been robbed of the first few months of his son’s life because her sister had deliberately left him in the dark. But now was not the time to get into a bitter battle with her, he decided. It wouldn’t help his cause to have her thinking he was a hothead who had no business dealing with a baby. She’d learn soon enough that he was Harry’s father and that he wasn’t about to allow her, or anyone, to come between him and his son.

      Drawing in a deep breath, he tried to remain cool and collected. “I have all kinds of identification with me. And if you’d like to call and speak with someone about me or my family, I can give you plenty of character references.”

      * * *

      Biting down on her lip, Mariah closed her eyes and tried to calm the churning fear inside her. What could she say? How could she make this man understand that Harry was all she had left in the world? He was her