The Cowboy and the New Year's Baby Read online

  Whatever her father said to that was too softly spoken for Hardy to hear, but her expression softened finally. She sighed.

  “Yes, Daddy, I love you, too,” she whispered. “I’ll be in touch. I promise.”

  When she turned around, there were tears streaming down her cheeks. Hardy stood up, put the baby into the nearby carrier, then went to her. He touched a finger to her cheek, brushed away the dampness.

  “You okay?”

  She managed a watery smile. “Better now,” she said.

  “Remind me not to tick you off.”

  She gave him a full-fledged grin. “Oh, that. Sometimes yelling is the only way to get through to him. Delacourts tend to be stubborn.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I got that part.”

  “Thank you for warning me about what was going on, so I could stop him from turning Los Piños into a circus.”

  “Do you honestly think he’ll give up the search?”

  “If he wants to see his granddaughter he will. And he knows I meant that, too. He may be difficult, but he’s not stupid. Now that he’s certain I’m okay, he’ll give me some space.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until he thinks it’s time to come charging after me,” she admitted. “I figure I’ve got a month tops to find a place to settle down and get my new life on track. I have to have every little piece in place or he’ll run roughshod over me until he gets his way.”

  “What exactly does he want?”

  “He wants me to come home and marry Laura’s father.”

  Hardy was surprised by just how deeply he detested that idea himself. “And you disagree?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said fervently. “It won’t happen. Not now. Not ever.”

  Because relief flooded through him at her response, Hardy knew it was time to go.

  “You going to be okay?” he asked, grabbing his jacket off a chair.

  “Sure.”

  He nodded. “Keep your chin up, darlin’. Something tells me everything is going to work out just the way you want it to.”

  “Do you carry a crystal ball around in your pocket?”

  “Nope, but anybody hearing you stand up for yourself just now would put their money on you.”

  She seemed startled by the comment, but a smile began tugging at her lips. “Thanks, I think.”

  “Oh, it was a compliment, sweetheart. Make no mistake about that.” He winked at her. “Tell Kelly if she checks, I suspect that horse of hers is just fine now.”

  Trish stared at him blankly. “What horse?”

  “Just tell her. She’ll understand.”

  He took off then, before the yearning to stay became so powerful that he forgot all the million and one reasons he had for getting out before he landed squarely in the middle of emotional quicksand.

  Chapter Five

  Hardy had actually paid her a compliment, Trish thought, staring after him with what was probably a ridiculously silly grin. She’d finally been exposed to a sampling of that famed charm of his, albeit little more than a couple of softly spoken endearments. She could see how it might be totally devastating if fully unleashed.

  There were the dimples, for one thing. For another, his eyes shot off sparks like a live wire, turning the amber color to something closer to an unusual glittering bronze. And there were the occasional glimpses of his wit. She could see how the combination could be wickedly seductive.

  Of course, she was immune to all of it. She’d been down that path all too recently. She’d sworn off men with good looks and glib tongues. Since that was the case, why did she feel as if she’d finally passed some sort of a test?

  She was still standing where he’d left her when Kelly walked in, a cup of coffee in hand.

  “Where’s Hardy?” she asked.

  She glanced around as if expecting to find him still lurking in the shadows. Her behavior might have been more believable if her timing hadn’t been so obvious. She’d shooed him into the room nearly an hour before, promising coffee as she’d breezed off into the kitchen. Even if she’d had to grind the beans and brew enough for an army, it would have been ready before now. She’d deliberately waited to give Trish plenty of time alone with him.

  “He had to go,” Trish explained, playing along with whatever game her hostess was up to. “He said to tell you he thought the horse was fine.”

  Kelly looked vaguely guilty. “Great. Did he go out to check her?”

  “Actually, no. I thought that was a little odd myself.” She peered intently at Kelly. “Any idea what he meant?”

  “Just a mix-up,” Kelly said blithely. “Crossed signals. You know, one of those things.”

  Trish’s gaze narrowed. She might not know Kelly all that well, but she recognized a schemer when she saw one. She’d lived with the type most of her life. She’d been warned about Harlan Adams. She’d even guessed that Lizzy came from the same matchmaking gene pool. Now it appeared she was going to have to stay on her toes around Kelly Adams, too.

  “One of what things?” she inquired in a silky tone that belied her agitation. “Something tells me you’d better explain.”

  Kelly patted her hand. “Never mind. It’s not important. Did you two have a good visit?”

  “After he managed to do what I couldn’t, calm Laura down,” she conceded. “Apparently his skills with the ladies even extends to those only a couple of days old.”

  “That’s Hardy, all right. The kids around here tend to gravitate toward him. He’s extraordinarily patient with them,” she enthused. “Underneath that devil-may-care attitude, he’s a good, solid man.”

  Trish smiled at her. “You don’t have to sell him to me. He saved my life, more than likely, and brought Laura safely into the world. I’ll always be in his debt.” Her expression sobered. “But that’s all.”

  “Oh, of course,” Kelly said hurriedly, but without real conviction. “You just met. What more could there be?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So,” she began with obviously undeterred fascination, “what else did you two talk about?”

  Trish sighed as she recalled the primary topic of conversation. “He told me my father’s reported me missing.”

  Kelly’s eyes widened. “Oh, dear. I hadn’t heard that.”

  “Hardy said he heard it on the news. Don’t worry. I called my father and warned him to call off the bloodhounds. I’m pretty sure he will.”

  “Did you tell him where you were?”

  “And have him come charging over here tonight? Not a chance.”

  “Trish…”

  “Don’t even try. It has to be this way, at least for now. If that’s going to be a problem for you or Jordan, I can move on,” she said, reiterating her earlier offer to go, rather than involve them in a sticky situation. “I don’t want to put you in the middle of my battle.”

  “Believe me, we’re used to being caught up in squabbles around here. We can take it,” Kelly reassured her. “But we also believe, in the end, that family counts more than anything.”

  “I know. I doubt there’s anyone in Texas who doesn’t know just how tight-knit the Adamses are. My brothers and I are extremely close, too. I’d contact them if it wouldn’t just put them in the position of having to lie to our parents. I’m not going to get into everything, but I will say that the senior Delacourts are cut from very different cloth.”

  Kelly regarded her somberly. “If that’s true, then it’s a pity.”

  “Oh, it’s true enough.”

  “Then for the time being, just think of us as family. We’ll be right here for you until you’re completely back on your feet again.”

  “Thank you,” Trish said. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

  “It’s our privilege to have you here,” Kelly assured her with absolute sincerity, then grinned. “It doesn’t mean I’ll stop nagging you about opening the lines of communication with your own family, though.”

  Trish laughed at the openly declared warning. “Fair
enough.”

  When Kelly had gone off to finish getting dinner ready, Trish settled back against the chair’s soft cushions and let her eyes drift shut. She had to think about the future, had to plan her next move, but just for now she felt more at home and at ease than she had in months.

  “So, how was dinner last night?” Harlan Patrick asked when Hardy joined him to ride out in the morning.

  “I picked up a couple of burgers in town,” Hardy replied, keeping his gaze averted. He could just imagine the shocked expression on his friend’s face.

  “I thought you were going to eat over at Kelly’s,” he said, clearly puzzled.

  “Plans changed,” Hardy said succinctly.

  “Why is that?”

  “It seems the whole thing was a bit of a mix-up. The horse was fine. I took off. End of subject.” He climbed into the saddle and spurred his horse to a canter.

  Harlan Patrick scrambled to catch up. “What about…?” His voice trailed off.

  Hardy turned and regarded him with exaggerated curiosity. “What about what?”

  Harlan Patrick scowled. “You know perfectly well what I’m asking about.”

  “Do I?”

  “Trish and the baby, blast it. Did you see them?”

  “Hard to miss them. Little Laura was howling like a banshee when I got there. Funny how nobody thought to mention before I went over there that she and her mama were staying at your uncle’s.”

  “I figured you knew,” Harlan Patrick said defensively, then grinned. “Seeing how tight you two are.”

  “We are not tight,” Hardy said. “I barely even know the woman.”

  He just knew that her skin was soft, that her eyes flooded with tears at the drop of a hat, that she smelled like something exotic and spicy. He also knew that she rattled him more than any woman he’d ever met. Under the circumstances, those were more than enough reasons to give her a wide berth.

  “Any plans to see her again?” Harlan Patrick inquired innocently.

  “Not on your life.”

  Harlan Patrick chuckled at the fierce response. “Oh, really?” he said doubtfully. “I’ve never known you to protest so loudly about spending time with a beautiful woman.”

  “A beautiful woman with a brand-new baby,” Hardy reminded him. “I’m not in the market for a ready-made family. I’m the love ’em and leave ’em type, remember?”

  “Funny thing about types,” Harlan Patrick mused. “Love comes along, and things change faster than lightning.”

  Hardy scowled at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You were a lousy bachelor. You never had eyes for anyone except Laurie. Even when she dumped you, it was like pulling teeth to get you to go out with another woman.”

  “True enough, but I’ve seen enough confirmed bachelors bite the dust to know that all it takes is the right woman, the right timing and a little nudge.”

  “Well, you can keep any ideas you have about nudging to yourself,” Hardy declared, then added, “You might pass that along to anyone else who might be getting ideas, including your grandfather. Last night had to be his sneaky idea, though your aunt Kelly was clearly in on it, too. I’d hate to have to flee to Montana just to get away from all the scheming that goes on around here.”

  Harlan Patrick shook his head. “Oh, brother, are you in trouble. Any time a man has to skip town just to steer clear of a woman he claims to have absolutely no interest in, he’s in so deep, it’d take a tow truck to extricate him.”

  Hardy faced him squarely. “I am not interested in Trish Delacourt. I am not interested in a serious, long-term relationship with any woman. I don’t know how I can say it any plainer than that.”

  He rode off, leaving Harlan Patrick howling with laughter. The sound followed him, setting his nerves on edge and stiffening his resolve. No one was going to trap him into marriage. No one was going to turn him into a daddy for a kid who wasn’t his own. No one was going to…

  An image of Trish flashed in his head, as if to stubbornly remind him that he might be able to control his actions, but not his thoughts. Obviously, she was going to plague him whether he liked it or not.

  “Terrific,” he muttered, digging his spurs into his horse until they were flying and all he could think about was staying in the saddle.

  That night when his temper had cooled and his nerves had calmed, he concluded that what he desperately needed was a hot date, someone who could get his mind off of a smart-mouthed, blond beauty with vulnerable eyes.

  He dug out his little black book, settled beside the phone in the bunkhouse and began leafing through pages. Normally the process didn’t take more than a minute. He could decide on which female suited his mood faster than most men selected a steak from the menu.

  Not tonight, though. He seemed stuck on finding faults. Fran’s laugh was a little too loud. Paula hadn’t had a real thought in all of her twenty-five years. Renata painted her fingernails blue, for Pete’s sake. Ursula—now there was a beauty, he thought appreciatively—unfortunately chattered incessantly. Mindy annoyingly hung on his every word. Jan argued over everything.

  He sighed heavily and snapped the book shut. Funny how none of those traits had ever bothered him before. Maybe what he needed was a new woman. Of course, single females he didn’t already know were in short supply in Los Piños. The selection wasn’t much better if he expanded the search to Garden City. Flying to Dallas just to find a date that would banish thoughts of Trish Delacourt from his head seemed a little extreme. Some might view it as a sign that he was in over his head with the pretty new mama in town.

  Finally he settled for taking a drive back to the End of the Road Saloon in Garden City, the last place he’d spent a peaceful, albeit lonely, evening. Maybe Rita would be around and would have another indecent suggestion that would get his juices flowing.

  Of course, on the way he would have to drive past Jordan and Kelly’s without giving in to the sudden temptation to stop by and check on Trish and Laura. He might have made it, too, if he hadn’t spotted Trish, all bundled up for the cold weather, at the end of the lane looking as if she were about to collapse. She was clinging to the gate just to stay upright. He swerved into the driveway and leaped from the truck.

  “What are you doing out here?” he demanded irritably. “Trying to get yourself killed the other night wasn’t enough? You had to try it again.”

  “I just went for a walk,” she said. “I’ll catch my breath and be fine in a minute. Then I’ll walk back. No need to trouble yourself on my behalf.”

  “You will not walk back,” he argued. “Get in the truck.”

  “I will not get in the truck,” she said, that stubborn little chin of hers shooting into the air.

  Hardy scowled at her. “Would you rather collapse out here than accept a ride back with me?”

  “Yes,” she insisted.

  He regarded her with bemusement. “Why?”

  “Because it is too humiliating. Because you will throw it in my face. Shall I go on?”

  “Try a reason that makes sense,” he suggested, swallowing the urge to smile. She was clearly in no mood to discover that she was providing him with the best entertainment he’d had all day.

  “Okay,” he said at last. “We’ll compromise. Are you familiar with the concept?”

  She frowned at his teasing.

  He nodded as if she’d actually responded. “Good. Then here’s the plan. I will walk back to the house with you. That way if you collapse en route, I will be there to catch you. Deal?”

  “It will still be humiliating,” she grumbled. “You will still throw it in my face.”

  “Probably,” he agreed. “But it’s the best deal you’re going to get. I walk with you or I toss you over my shoulder and put you in the truck. What’s it going to be?”

  She set off on foot without bothering to respond. Hardy couldn’t control the laughter that bubbled up this time. Her scowl deepened and she kept her gaze averted as she plodded along. He had a tough t
ime slowing his pace to her hobbling gait. He had to control the urge to save her from her stubborn pride and toss her over his shoulder. He figured she might protest that so loudly that half the Adamses would come flying. The resulting explanations would only complicate his life. He could just imagine the twist Kelly and the others would put on his concern.

  They walked in silence for a hundred yards or so before he asked, “Have you always had such an independent streak?”

  “Always.”

  “Get you in much trouble?”

  She finally slid a glance his way and grinned. “More than you can imagine. The other night pretty much tops the list, though. I guess you’ve been unlucky enough to catch me at my worst.”

  If this was her worst, he had a feeling he was extremely fortunate not to have been around to sample her best. He would probably have found her irresistible. As it was, he found her pluck annoying and ill-advised, but admirable just the same. And that was without adding in the hormonal punch she packed.

  “What exactly do you do when you’re not running away from home, having babies by the side of the road and taking a hike when you should be in bed?” he asked. He had a feeling she could command a small army, if she was of a mind to.

  “Nothing right now,” she admitted. “I sold my business before I left Houston.”

  “What sort of business?”

  “A dinosaur, really. A small, independent bookstore. I specialized in mysteries mostly, which gave me a niche and a loyal customer base. I even had a mail-order catalogue and Internet Web page that were doing really well.”

  “I thought all the independent bookstores were being forced into bankruptcy by the big chains,” he said. “That Meg Ryan movie that made a fortune a while back was about that.”

  “Which is why everyone told me I was nuts,” she agreed. “But with good customer service, the right niche, the right location and some innovative marketing, it’s possible to survive.”