Cowboy (The Busy Bean) Read online

  That’s one thing I’ve noticed already changing about my body—the libido shift. Sex is on my mind more than ever, and the way he’s looking at me, I’m ready to pounce on him like I did in the bathroom the other day. I’ve been reading up on heightened sexual desire in baby books, and what the experts say is normal is a relief. I want it, and I want him, and that is all kinds of not a good idea, Scarlett.

  “Yeah, I think you’re you, too,” Bull says, turning up the wattage on that lopsided grin, and I chuckle, feeling the tension ease just a little bit between us.

  “So, it could be his?” Bull nods slowly. A hand lifts and swipes through his ink and silver hair, mussing up the short strands and making him finger-licking delicious.

  “Or it could be yours.”

  “How long before you and I . . .” He drifts off, pointing between us.

  “One week.” It was one week between sleeping with my husband and sleeping with Bull.

  His eyes close briefly. He’s a foot before me, but he might as well be on the other side of the river. Slowly opening his lids, he asks, “Do you want it to be his?”

  “No,” I whisper as I seek his gaze. “No, I do not want him to be the father. Does that make me a bad person? I mean, I already know I’m a bad person. Never in a million years did I set out for this to happen. And I’d understand if you want no part of it if it is your child. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never ever thought this could happen to me. I’m on the pill. You used condoms, but I’m pregnant.”

  And I don’t know who the father is.

  Tears fall in earnest this time, and I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees as I cover my face. This is another new development—emotion. I’m normally solid and steady. Nothing ruffles me, but lately, I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams. I cry over tissue commercials and insurance advertisements when I generally don’t get worked up over sad stories or the misfortunes of others.

  Bull plops down on the bench beside me. “You’re not a bad person, sweetheart,” he offers, rubbing a hand up my spine. His fingers find their way under my hair, and he massages the base of my head. Frick, that feels good. After a few seconds, I can’t help the sound of contentment escaping as my tears settle.

  “Like that?” Bull asks, his voice dropping and reminding me of our night when he often asked the same question in the same tone.

  I wipe at my cheeks. “Do you hate me?”

  “No,” Bull admits, dropping his hand and looking off at the river. “But I need time to process this.”

  I snort. “I totally understand. It’s taken me more than a hot minute.”

  Bull glances back at me. “Is that why you were holding those baby overalls the other day?”

  I nod.

  “You said it was a gift.”

  “They would have been . . . for the baby.” Something in Bull’s eyes drifts from stormy midnight to deep lake blue. “I didn’t buy them, though.”

  Bull doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes my hand and holds it, allowing us to just stare out at the river with our own thoughts for a few minutes. All I’ve told him is a lot to take in, and I will understand if he tells me to go to hell. Somehow, I don’t think he will, though. The heat of his palm against mine hints that he isn’t a man who walks away that easily.

  “I’d make a good dad,” he says under his breath. Startled by the hopeful sound in his voice, I pop my head up and look at him. With one glance, I know he’s right. Sitting here, holding my hand, he exudes the qualities of a decent man. A man who would love and take care of his children and perhaps love a wife one day.

  “I’m sure you would.”

  Bull pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. His eyes momentarily close, but his entire face expresses how much he wants to be a father. Would he want to share that experience with me?

  “I never thought I’d be a mom,” I admit. Bull turns my hand palm up and strokes his against mine. “The irony in all this is Shelton didn’t want children, and now he might have two women pregnant.”

  I shudder at the thought. However, I also have this weird sense it isn’t Shelton’s child. Like I’d just know if it was. Maybe it’d be a sense of the devil inside me, but I don’t truly feel that way. No matter whose child this is, it’s not something evil, though I’m scared out of my mind.

  Am I too old to have a child?

  “If it’s all the same to you, I don’t think I want to consider your husband right now.” The words are said with teasing sarcasm, but it’s a hint to his alpha-ness. He’d be fiercely protective of his woman. Instantly, I recall our night together. He was all about me. What I wanted. How I felt. How I made him feel.

  “Right, of course. And he’s soon to be an ex. There’s no going back,” I remind Bull. I will not be getting back together with Shelton, although I suppose he deserves to know about my condition. The thought makes me sad, and I glance up at Bull one more time. Would it be wrong to want him to be the father?

  “You’re going to be great.” His voice is low while he concentrates on our hands.

  I huff. “How can you even say that? You don’t know anything about me, and I’m obviously a hot mess lately.” I’m not being defensive, just stating the facts.

  Bull shrugs, squeezing my hand. “While this might seem like a crazy situation, I just have a feeling about you, Scarlett Russell. It’s like with my cows. I just know which ones are good and which ones are done.”

  My mouth falls open. “You did not just compare me to your cows.”

  He chuckles. “’Fraid I did.”

  “Do not do that again,” I demand.

  “Are you saying I’ll have the opportunity to see you again?” His eyes focus on where his hand is still skimming over mine.

  “Not if you’re going to compare me to your cows,” I tease, and Bull smiles, spreading my fingers with his, then linking them together. His hand is a comfort I didn’t know I needed, and I wish he could just keep holding mine. Collectively lifting our clasped hands, he presses another kiss to my knuckles.

  “Then I’d like to see you again. Tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Things are so messy right now.” Middle of a divorce. No career path. Uncertainty of the father of my child. Need a place to live. I don’t think I need to spell it all out for him again.

  “Then let’s get messy together,” he states, and I blink at him. “Tomorrow.”

  That’s all he says before kissing my fingers one more time and standing. Releasing me, he walks away, and I watch his retreat, longing filling my chest. Complicated does not begin to describe our status.

  A River Does Not Run Between Us

  Scarlett

  True to his word, Bull appears at the café the next afternoon near the end of my shift. I don’t know how he knew when my shift ended, but I’m blaming Audrey and the sly smile she gives me when she sees him enter the coffee shop.

  “Bull,” she elongates his name. “What can I get you this afternoon?”

  “Scarlett,” he says like I’m an option on the menu, and my insides do a little flip flop. The crooked smile he’s giving me is like a beacon in the night and lights me up just as much. I want this man when I have no business being with him until I know who this baby’s father is. I haven’t called Shelton, and it feels like that says something about us. I don’t want this child to be his, even if he is the biological parent. He’s made decisions without my input—aka, sleeping with someone else and impregnating her—so I don’t see how being pregnant myself, even if it is his child, is his business.

  Rita tells me he has a legal right to know, though, and I know I have a moral obligation to tell him. But not yet. I’d like to know something certain before I share anything with Shelton. Plus, I’d like to give Bull a chance, which is just crazy as we’ve only had one night together and fifteen minutes of paradise in a public restroom. Still, something draws me to Bull. Maybe it’s the baby. Maybe it’s my sense that he’s a good man.

  A
fter collecting my things, I clock out and circle the counter. Bull holds the door open for me, and I step outside the café. It’s another glorious spring day. The sun stays up a little longer each afternoon as a sign of good things coming soon.

  “I was wondering if I could take you somewhere.” His eyes shift as we stand between a truck and my sporty BMW, a gift from Shelton when I turned forty.

  “Sure.”

  Bull reaches for the door handle of the truck and opens it. He holds out a hand to help me up the running board and closes the door once I’m settled. He’s a perfect gentleman, and I’m a little stunned for some reason. Not that he wasn’t a gentleman the night we hooked up, but this is just different. Shelton didn’t do doors—cars, stores, or restaurants. He was a get your own door kind of guy, and I admit I might have been that kind of woman. I can open my own door, thank you very much. But it’s still sweet and considerate.

  We ride along quiet streets and curvy roads until coming to a gravel drive marked by a sign.

  Eaton Dairy Farm.

  Once again, the last name sounds familiar, but it’s basic enough it doesn’t trigger anything in my memory. The truck bumbles and bounces down a stretch of rocky road, passing a two-story farmhouse, a long, large white barn with silos behind it, and a traditional red barn next to them. Following a split-rail fence, we continue down the gravel drive to a smaller, more traditional looking farmhouse, and Bull pulls up before it.

  “Home sweet home,” he announces. I stare at the building that looks storybook yet slightly more modern than the larger house down the lane. With a white tin roof and fresh siding, it’s pristine looking with character, but it needs a splash of color on the low front porch.

  I follow Bull as he leads me inside and find the space within an open concept. The kitchen is to the left, while the living area is to the right. In the middle, a chimney with a wood-burning stove faces a dining room table that seats eight, dividing the overall space in half. The woodstove chimney acts as a natural barrier to the kitchen. Double doors behind the dining table lead outside. A fieldstone fireplace is the focal point of the living area.

  “It’s beautiful,” I whisper of the quaint space with New England charm while modernized just a touch. It’s also the complete opposite of the sleek apartment where I once lived in Boston with its steel and glass décor. Bull’s color scheme is muted browns and earth tones, softly masculine, farm-ish, and homey.

  “My grandparents lived here. My dad built the front house when he married my mother. After my grandmother died a few years back, I inherited this house and fixed it up.”

  Bull proudly gazes around the rooms.

  “That’s impressive.”

  “I’m good with my hands.” His innuendo is accentuated as he smirks. Don’t I know it, partner.

  “I have something for you.” Bull steps up to the table and lifts a package poorly wrapped in brown paper. “The wrapping paper gave me trouble.” As he holds out the gift, he scratches under his chin at the scruff creeping down his neck.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything,” I say. “But I love presents.” Shelton and I stopped exchanging gifts, minus my BMW, opting for vacations instead of items for birthdays and holidays. However, I can’t remember the last vacation we took.

  I rip at the not so artfully wrapped paper and dive into the box. Staring at the item inside, I feel my eyes prickle and blink away the threatening tears. This crying business needs to stop.

  “For the baby,” he says, his voice lowered but still rough while hesitant.

  “For the baby,” I repeat, staring at the little brown overalls from the tractor supply store. “Thank you, Bull. This means a lot to me.” Stepping up to him, I kiss his cheek and then step back, taking a second glance at the thoughtful gift.

  “Scarlett, I’d like to make a proposal.”

  Oh no, I’ve heard about these things from him.

  “I’d like to suggest you live with me.” My mouth falls open, and Bull steps forward, jumping into the rest of his speech. “I figure I have a fifty-fifty chance of being the father, right? And you already said you aren’t going back to your husband. Hell, you even said you’re hoping it’s not his, so let’s say for now, it isn’t. Move in with me and let me take care of you.”

  “Bull, don’t you think it’s a bit much?”

  “I’m not suggesting marriage. Absolutely not asking you to marry me.” He makes a face, cringing at the thought. “Just me watching out for you and the little one. I want to share this experience with you, in case it is my kid. You can still work. We’ll just be partners, roommates, and take it day by day.” His face brightens a little before he adds, “Maybe, consider benefits occasionally.”

  “Benefits?” I choke.

  “Then again, you did get sick the last time we had sex.” His hopeful expression falls.

  “Bull.” I laugh. “I wasn’t sick because of you. It was because of the baby. I hadn’t eaten that morning and all that jostling around we did just shook me up.”

  “No jostling then. Got it.” He grins, the hitch to one side of his mouth grows bigger. “Look, I figure you can’t keep staying at the Green Rocks resort. You need a place to live if you’re staying in Vermont.” He pauses, looking at me to confirm my calendar.

  “I’m staying. At least for the next several months, and you’re right. My rental time is up tomorrow, actually, and I still haven’t found a place to live.”

  Bull exhales. “Okay, for the next few months, then.” Bull looks toward the ceiling as if he’s calculating something. “You’ll be pregnant three-hundred days, give or take a day, which is only a few days longer than the gestation of a cow, so—”

  My mouth falls open. “Did you just compare me to a cow again?”

  “Just wanted a second chance to do that.” He winks at me, and I slap his chest with the box in my hands.

  “I don’t want to miss any more days, though, Scarlett.” Hugging the box in my hands to my chest, I look around the comfortable room and sigh. It really is beautiful, but Bull is too much. I hold the present away from myself, staring down at the overalls. He says he wants to share this experience with me, and as I have no idea what I’m doing, it would be nice to have a companion on this journey. A partner, he said.

  “About that sex. What were you thinking? Every Tuesday and Thursday?” I’m teasing. For as much as sex is on my mind, I don’t think we should have it again until I get a few other things straight in my head. And my heart.

  “Is that a yes?” Bull’s brow lifts, furrowing his forehead.

  Is this crazy? This is definitely crazy, but I nod, biting the edge of my lip as Bull’s surprised expression turns to a genuine smile. And that smile makes me feel like I’m making the right decision for the first time in weeks. Being here feels right.

  “Any day ending in day is good enough for me,” he says, circling back to our benefits discussion. As we stand close to one another, he lifts me off my feet. My arms are crushed to my chest as Bull spins us in a circle. Suddenly, he stops and sets me down, holding me at arm’s length with his hands on my shoulders.

  “Sorry, no jostling. I’ll figure that one out.” His eyes focus on mine. His face loses some enthusiasm as his expression turns more serious. “There’s no pressure for anything, though. I only promise this will be good for us both.”

  I want to believe him. I really do.

  Night Two

  Bull

  Holy hell, she agreed to move in with me.

  Not wanting to waste another moment apart, I suggest we drive her back to the Busy Bean, and I follow her to Green Rocks to collect her things. I’d have liked to take her to my room and bury myself inside her to celebrate our new beginning, but I fought the urge. I need to keep my wits about me. This is nothing more than living together.

  Parenting partners or something like that.

  Because holy shit, I might be a father.

  If I’m half as excited about actually being one as I am about the possi
bility of being one, someone’s going to need to rope me down from the moon.

  In my relationship history, I never got past the idea of marriage. I hadn’t considered fatherhood, and with each waning, complicated situation, spreading the family name onto the next generation did not seem like a probability, at least not from me.

  This is everything I could have ever hoped for, but I will not allow myself to get carried away. I will not look further than today, and maybe tomorrow, when I need to face my family and tell them what I’ve done.

  I’ve asked a woman to live with me.

  A woman who might be the mother of my child.

  Like I told Scarlett, there won’t be a marriage proposal. No siree, she does not need to worry about that from me. I’ll be perfectly happy to stand by Scarlett as a friend—with some benefits if she’ll let me. Or not. We can just be partners, like I said.

  Slowly, my thoughts catch up to me as we wind the mountain roads, once we’ve collected Scarlett’s things. There’s still the possibility of her ex being the baby’s dad. A week between Scarlett and me, and him and her isn’t much to work with. I should be more upset about this, but I’m not. The excitement of having a baby overshadows everything else in my head. Like she said, he was her husband. He’s a fucking idiot for wanting someone other than the beautiful redhead following me back to the house in her car. He’s double the fool for getting someone else pregnant when he could have kids with his wife. What a fucking schmuck.

  But his schmucky-ness might be my luck.

  Still, I warn myself not to get wrapped up in Scarlett. Do not get ahead of yourself. Helping her out with living arrangements is not a promise of forever. If I happen to be the father, we can tackle what that means next. I don’t need to marry her.

  When we finally return to my house, we each park next to one another, and I quickly jump out of my truck, heading for the bed to gather Scarlett’s things. Her car is a flashy, sporty thing, and I don’t know how she got her three suitcases inside it in the first place. The three cases weren’t light, and I surmise she owns more than these belongings. She strikes me as the type to have a closet the size of a small bedroom full of clothes and shoes. The fancy car hints at such a thing as do the designer bags in the back of my truck.