The Cowboy and the New Year's Baby Page 15

  “Just because.”

  “Because you’re scared? Because you don’t trust yourself with me, after all those assurances that nothing was going to get out of hand?”

  He regarded her solemnly. “Okay, darlin’, we have a choice here. We can stay here and tempt fate or we can go to a movie the way we planned, share some popcorn and drive home.”

  “Those are the only choices?”

  “That’s the way I see it.”

  “I vote we tempt fate.”

  He blinked and stared. “Excuse me.”

  “You heard me.”

  “Trish, do you have any idea what you’re suggesting?”

  “I’m not naive,” she assured him. “But I also trust you not to do anything I don’t want you to do.”

  Hardy all but groaned. He hated having a woman announce that she trusted him. It tossed all the responsibility for keeping a tight rein on their hormones back into his lap. He scowled at her.

  “If you trust me, then believe this, we need to go to a movie. Right now,” he added for emphasis. He beckoned for the waiter and started tossing bills on the table.

  “No dessert?” the waiter asked.

  “I guess not,” Trish said with apparent regret.

  “We have someplace we need to be,” Hardy said, as if he owed the man an explanation.

  He hustled Trish out of the restaurant, through the hotel lobby and into the car, before he forgot his good intentions.

  Trish glanced over at him, eyes sparkling with mirth. “I guess this means you don’t trust yourself.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  She reached over and covered his hand on the steering wheel. “Hardy,” she said softly.

  He went absolutely still at her touch. “What?”

  “I knew all along I could trust you.”

  He faced her and sighed. “Why? How?” he asked, perplexed by her conviction.

  “Because I know the kind of man you are.”

  “I’m a womanizer,” he reminded her emphatically. He was pretty sure there was a hint of desperation in his tone, as if he were trying to remind himself of that, as well as her.

  “You’re kind—”

  “A playboy,” he interrupted, since she obviously hadn’t gotten the message.

  “And decent,” she continued.

  “A rogue,” he added for good measure.

  “And thoughtful.”

  He tried again. “I’m like Jack the jerk.”

  She scowled at him. “You are nothing like Jack the jerk,” she insisted. “Nothing!”

  Puzzled by her vehemence, he stared. “You’re the one who made the comparison, after hearing my romantic rap sheet from practically everybody in town.”

  “That was before I knew you,” she said dismissively.

  “What exactly are you saying here?”

  “Just what I said earlier, I trust you. I trust you not to play games with me. I trust you not to toy with my feelings. I trust you to be honest with me.”

  She was regarding him with such utter sincerity that Hardy had no choice but to believe her. On some level he was absolutely humbled by her declaration. On another level, it scared him spitless. It was the kind of fervent statement that a man had to live up to. He wasn’t one bit sure he could.

  How could he be honest, when he didn’t understand his own feelings? How could he not play games, when playing games was all he’d ever done?

  He met Trish’s gaze, saw the warmth in her eyes—the trust—and wondered what he’d ever done to deserve it. He also knew he would turn himself inside out before he would ever knowingly do anything to let her down.

  Trish spent the rest of the week thinking about her date with Hardy. He had lived up to every one of her expectations. He had been thoughtful, sensitive and sexier than any man had a right to be. He had also been a perfect gentleman, giving her no more than a perfunctory, chaste kiss when he’d dropped her back at Kelly’s after the movie. Every wildly rampant hormone in her body had protested the slight. She had anticipated another one of those mind-numbing, sizzling kisses. Apparently all that talk of trust had cooled his ardor.

  Which was just as well, she assured herself, throwing herself into unpacking the boxes of books that had arrived at the store that morning. It was exactly what she had wanted, a pleasant evening with no pressure.

  So why did she still feel thoroughly frustrated and cranky days later? Maybe it was because she hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of Hardy since that night. Maybe it was because despite all her claims to the contrary, she had enjoyed his attention, had basked in the flirting and the sexual tension that sizzled between them whenever they were in the same room.

  She heard the bell over the front door ring and glanced up from the stack of books she’d been sorting. Harlan Adams filled the doorway.

  “You and that boy turned this place into something real special,” he declared approvingly. “Mind if I come in and take a peek around?”

  She grinned because he was already inside and actively poking around when he asked.

  “It is your building. I suppose you’re entitled to a sneak peek,” she told him.

  She watched warily as he moved slowly around the store, taking in everything. He paused by a table of bestsellers, studied the jackets of several books, then nodded approvingly.

  “Good selection.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You have anything in here by Louis L’Amour?”

  “I’ve ordered everything I could. They’re in one of these boxes I haven’t unpacked yet.”

  “Good. There’s nothing like a Western to relax a man at the end of a long day. Pick out a handful for me and send ’em on out to the ranch.”

  “What if I pick ones you’ve already read?”

  “Probably will,” he told her. “I think I’ve read most of them at one time or another. Still enjoy reading them. It’s like visiting with old friends. You get together over the years, tell the same old tales, laugh at the same jokes, but there’s something satisfying in the repetition and in the sharing.”

  Trish wished she had old friends to share things with. She’d lost touch with most of the women she’d known in Houston. Her brothers had been her best friends, and she was cut off from all of them except Dylan.

  “You’re a very wise man, Mr. Adams.”

  “Harlan, girl. I keep telling you nobody around here thinks of me as anything else.”

  “I feel I should be more respectful,” she told him.

  “That’s because your folks raised you right. Okay, then, call me Grandpa Harlan, like the rest of your generation. Will that give me the respect you figure I should have?”

  Trish was deeply touched by the offer. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am. As far as I’m concerned, you’re one of the family.”

  “Thank you.”

  He moved to one of the chairs in front of the fire and sank into it with an appreciative sigh. “You sure you knew what you were doing when you brought these chairs in here?” he asked. “Seems to me like folks might take such a liking to them, they’d just stay the day.”

  “That’s fine with me. I like the company.”

  He regarded her intently. “I hear you and Hardy went out the other night,” he said, broaching the subject so casually Trish almost missed the speculative glint in his eyes.

  “Yes. Dinner and a movie.”

  “How did that go?”

  “We had a lovely time. He’s a very nice man.”

  “Poppycock!” Harlan declared. “The man’s a rogue. Needs to settle down. You need a daddy for that little girl of yours and a man to look after you. Seems like a perfect match to me.”

  Trish’s hackles rose. “I do not need a man to look after me,” she said fiercely, then added, “sir.”

  He chuckled. “Guess that respect for your elders just about flew out the window for a second there, didn’t it?”

  “Well, with all due respect, I think you have it all wrong.
Hardy and I are just friends.”

  “If that’s the truth, then it’s a pity,” he said, studying her. “Can you swear to me it’s the truth?”

  “I don’t see why I should have to.”

  He slapped his knee at that. “Whooee! That’s just what I was hoping to hear. Means you can’t say it with a straight face.”

  The last vestiges of Trish’s determination to treat Harlan Adams with total respect flew out the window. Her gaze narrowed. “It’s true what they say about you, Grandpa Harlan. You’re a meddler.”

  “I am indeed. And proud of it. You look around Los Piños and you won’t have a bit of trouble spotting some of my success stories. Haven’t had a failure yet.” He peered at her intently. “You smart enough to understand the implications of that?”

  She chuckled, despite herself. “In other words, I should listen closely to what you say and take your advice, because you are very seldom wrong.”

  “Good girl. But you’ve got it just a little wrong. I am never wrong.” He stood up. “Best be going now. I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”

  Impulsively Trish crossed the room and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for caring, even if I have no intention of listening to a word you say.”

  He gave her a look of pure regret. “You’ll learn. You’re not the first to tell me to bug off, and undoubtedly, you won’t be the last.” He winked at her. “But in the end, I’m always right.”

  Trish was suddenly struck by the terrifying sensation that he very well might be right about her and Hardy, too. A part of her even wanted him to be.

  But another part had lived through the disaster with Jack Grainger and couldn’t help making the very comparisons that she’d denied so vehemently to Hardy just the other night. What if she was wrong? What if Hardy turned out to be exactly like the man who had betrayed her? Could she take that kind of a risk with her heart again?

  Hardy tossed the fancy invitation down on his bunk without even opening it. He knew what it was for. Trish had invited him to the grand opening of her store, and he was pretty much duty bound to accept. Too many people would jump to all sorts of ridiculous conclusions if he failed to show up.

  He supposed he could take a date and put all the matchmaking nonsense to rest once and for all. But he knew he couldn’t do it. Not only wasn’t there a single woman he even wanted to spend the afternoon with, but he knew it would hurt Trish if he showed up with a woman on his arm. It would be tantamount to admitting that her first impression of him had been the right one.

  That was why when Sunday afternoon rolled around, he took a shower, dressed with extra care and drove into town for this shindig Trish and Sharon Lynn had planned. After all, how much trouble could he possibly get into at a bookstore opening? He doubted he’d have a single minute alone with the hostess, not so much as a second for stealing a kiss that might push him over the edge and shatter his New Year’s resolution.

  Hardy thought back to that night just a couple of months back when he’d been so confident that he could make it through another year as a bachelor. After all, he’d gone through most of the last thirty years on his own. He’d never once been tempted to change that.

  Of course, he hadn’t counted on delivering a baby, either. Who could have guessed that that simple act of rescuing a lady in distress would tumble his whole view of the world into disarray?

  Before he could analyze the meaning of all that, he arrived at the store, only to realize that he’d instinctively arrived early. Maybe subconsciously he’d wanted that stolen moment alone with Trish, after all.

  As long as he was the first one parked on the block, he couldn’t very well hide out in the truck until the other guests started showing up. He might as well go inside and see what he could do to help.

  He opened the door to chaos. Sharon Lynn and Trish were running around like crazy trying to get all the food arranged on folding tables they’d set up across the back of the store. Laura was in her carrier screaming at the top of her lungs, furious at being ignored. Trish took one look at him and latched on to his arm as if it were a lifeline.

  She cast a look from him to her daughter and pleaded, “Do something. I thought she’d sleep through this, but she hasn’t stopped crying. I don’t have a second to pace the floor with her, not if everything’s going to be ready when people get here.”

  “Leave her to me,” he soothed. “Looks to me like you and Sharon Lynn have everything just about ready. Laura and I will take a little walk around the place, so she can get acquainted with the business.”

  “Bless you,” she said fervently.

  “No problem.” He scooped his favorite miniature person out of her carrier and settled her against his chest. “Hey, sweet thing, let’s you and me go check out the children’s books. Maybe we can find you a bedtime story. How does that sound?”

  To his amusement, Laura gurgled appreciatively. Trish shot him a look of pure venom.

  He winked. “Your mama can’t stand it that you and I have a thing going,” he advised the baby. “Personally, I think she’s jealous.”

  “No, what she is, is frazzled,” Trish declared, slapping a plate of fresh vegetables and dip onto the table so hard that the dip splattered. “Now look what you made me do.”

  “It’s okay,” Sharon Lynn soothed. “We just plop the plate on top of the stain and no one will notice a thing.”

  Hardy headed for the children’s books to get out of the line of fire. He figured if he weren’t careful, the next plate was likely to end up in his face.

  Unlike the huge chairs in front of the fire, the only chair in the children’s section was meant for someone about a quarter of his size. He managed to scrunch down on it, while he selected a board book that looked as if it was about Laura’s speed.

  “Goodnight Moon,” he said, reading the cover. “Sounds like a winner to me.” He held it up for Laura’s approval. He took her gurgles for a yes. He turned the thick pages slowly, reading to the baby and showing her the pictures. He was pretty much engrossed in the simple story when he heard the front door open and close, followed by a hoot of masculine laughter.

  “Will you look at that?” Harlan Patrick said. “The world’s most dedicated bachelor has taken to reading stories to the baby.”

  “Can this bachelorhood be saved?” Slade Sutton chimed in.

  “Oh, stop it,” Val ordered before Hardy could get up and silence both men with a punch. “I think it’s wonderful.”

  “I agree,” Laurie said.

  Hardy felt his cheeks flame. “I was just helping Trish out. The baby was upset and she had things to do and—”

  “It’s okay,” Val soothed. “Don’t pay any attention to the two of them. They’re cretins.”

  Slade bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

  “Last night I was deluded into thinking that you had a sensitive side,” she countered.

  More people flowed into the room, filling it to capacity with laughter and conversation. Slade’s daughter joined them before her father’s teasing could veer into dangerous territory. “Oh, she’s darling,” Annie cooed. “Can I hold her?”

  Hardy hesitated.

  “I’ll be real careful,” she promised.

  “Over in the chair,” Val instructed. “And you don’t budge.”

  Hardy followed Annie to the chair and delivered Laura to her with some regret. “Just holler if you want me to come and get her.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Annie said, gazing at the baby with a rapt expression. She glanced up at Val. “When are you and Daddy—”

  “Don’t even go there,” Slade said. “I’m just now getting the hang of being a father to you.”

  “That means you’ve had plenty of practice,” Annie countered. “I need a baby brother or sister.”

  “It isn’t about what you need,” Val declared. “Your father and I will decide when the time is right to expand our family.”

  The look
she gave her husband suggested to Hardy that the time was a whole lot closer than Slade suspected.

  Suddenly feeling as if he were intruding, Hardy searched for Trish in the growing mob scene, then moved off in her direction. She was standing apart from the crowd, looking a little shell-shocked by the sheer number of people who’d turned out for the grand opening.

  “Looks like you have a success,” he observed, moving to her side.

  “I never had this many people turn out for my year-end sale in Houston,” she said, her expression dazed. “And I gave really good discounts. I owe this to the Adamses, I’m sure. Their approval counts for a lot around here.”

  “No,” he corrected. “You owe it to all your hard work and planning. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  “I wasn’t. It’s just that this is amazing. I had no idea so many people would come. What if we run out of food?”

  “Sharon Lynn made more than enough. Besides, most of these people just like getting together. The food’s a bonus.”

  “I wonder if I should have hired a cashier for today,” she asked worriedly. “Several people have wanted to make purchases.”

  “They’ll be back. I think it’s better that the party is just to show the place off.” He glanced around. “It makes a good impression, doesn’t it? Did it turn out the way you envisioned?”

  “You know it did,” she said. “Thanks to you.”

  “They were your ideas. I was just the muscle.”

  “Still, I can’t thank you enough.”

  Her gaze met his, and he felt his head spin. “Trish…”

  Whatever he’d been about to say was lost, because she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. It was the same kind of chaste peck on the cheek he’d given her when he’d taken her home on their date. Suddenly, though, he hated the polite little charade, the mockery of the passion that a kiss between them could be.

  Before she could move away, he turned his head and captured her mouth beneath his. He took full advantage of her startled gasp, tasting her, savoring the shock of sensations swirling through him, the slight trembling he could feel in her.

  When he finally released her, she stared at him mutely, her lips swollen, her eyes bright.