The Texas Cowboy's Baby Rescue

To his frustration, Mitzy looked as skeptical of that as Bridgett and his younger brother had. “Can you tell us who might want to assign paternity to you, then?” Mitzy asked.

Suddenly, all eyes were upon him once again. Cullen thought a long moment, then, unable to come up with anything, shook his head.

Mitzy pulled a pen from her bag, perfectly calm. Matter-of-fact. “So you’re formally surrendering all claim to this infant, then?” She brought out another piece of paper.

Was he?

Cullen hadn’t expected to do anything except come to the hospital, straighten out the situation and leave. However, seeing the newborn infant, reading the note, changed things. Made him feel that he just might be involved here.

How, exactly, he didn’t know yet.

But he was a McCabe, as well as a Reid.

And unlike the Reids, McCabes did not shirk their obligations, familial or otherwise. So he was going to have to see this calamity through to its resolution.

Aware what Bridgett Monroe probably wanted him to say, so the way would be clear for her, he paused, then finally said, “No.”

His younger brother Dan looked on approvingly, while sharp disappointment showed on Bridgett’s pretty face.

Mitzy simply waited.

Cullen inhaled deeply, then directed his remarks to everyone in the room. “Someone left the puppy and the baby for me. Like it or not, that makes them my responsibility. At least until their real family is found or permanent arrangements can be made to give them a good home. So I’d like to keep tabs on the child while he’s being fostered. Meet the dog.” Who might have more of a connection to him than anyone except his brother yet knew.

Mitzy turned. “Bridgett? Is this going to be okay with you? Because if you’d rather your first ward be a child who has already been released for adoption, I would completely understand. And so would everyone else at the department.”

For the first time since he’d laid eyes on her, Cullen saw Bridgett falter. She turned to glance at the papers that would make her the baby’s temporary foster mother and, for a second, looked so vulnerable he couldn’t help but feel for her. Pushing aside the temptation to take her in his arms and comfort her, he swallowed hard, reminding himself this situation was complicated enough as it was.

Bridgett drew herself up, raised her chin and looked Mitzy straight in the eye. “I can handle this,” she vowed.

Could she? Cullen wondered.

Chapter Two

“You really don’t have to walk us to my SUV,” Bridgett said half an hour later, as she got ready to go.

Cullen was clearly skeptical. “You’re saying you could easily manage all this on your own?”

Bridgett looked at the messenger bag she took to work, the diaper bag filled with emergency essentials, and the swaddled infant she was about to pick up. He had a point. It was a lot.

“Okay.” She handed him both bags and her vehicle keys, then gently picked up little Robby.

She’d handled hundreds of newborns in her career. Cuddled and given medical aid and taken care of their emotional needs for as long as they were in the N-ICU.

But this was different. It had been from the first moment she’d gathered the little infant in her arms.

She felt connected to this child, heart and soul.

As if she were already his mother.

“But that’s all the help we need,” Bridgett continued firmly. “Once I get to my apartment and you meet the puppy, to see if that sparks anything, I’ll be able to handle it from there.”

The only problem, she noted ten minutes later as she pulled up in front of her nondescript brick apartment building and saw a furious man pacing outside, was that she still had a few more wrinkles to iron out.

Cullen emerged from his pickup truck. He nodded at the short and stocky man storming their way. “Who’s that?”

Her heart sank as she stepped from the driver’s seat and faced off with the man who had just been peering in her apartment windows. “My landlord, Amos Stone.”

The gray-haired man marched closer. “Miss Monroe! Do you have a dog in your apartment?”

Too late, Bridgett realized she should have found another emergency solution that morning. One that hadn’t involved spiriting a dog who’d had no place in the hospital to yet another place he was absolutely forbidden to be. She fixed the building’s owner with her most winning smile. “I can explain.”

Her landlord did not think so. “Your lease explicitly says no pets of any kind allowed. Ever.”

“I know.” Bridgett reached into the car to gather Robby in her arms. “But—”

“No buts,” the older man huffed. “You’re out of here! Effective immediately.”

Cullen stepped forward. “Surely there’s some middle ground here,” he beseeched cordially, on her behalf.

Amos Stone glared. “Nope. Twenty-four hours to get everything out, or I start formal eviction proceedings. And that mangy mutt goes right this instant. Or I call animal control to take him for you!” He stomped off.

Able to hear the barking from inside her unit, Bridgett handed Robby over to Cullen, then hurried to unlock her front door. What she saw, as the pup barreled toward her and leaped into her arms, was even more dismaying.

Riot had pushed aside the temporary barrier she’d set up between her small galley kitchen and the rest of the unit. He’d wreaked havoc throughout the apartment, knocking pillows off the sofa and upending plants, lamps and a basket of clean laundry. He’d also had several accidents on the wood floor.

Apparently being left alone had stressed the poor little guy out.

But now that the puppy was in her arms again, he was quiet, cuddly and clearly exhausted.

Cullen stood beside her, a drowsy Robby held against his broad chest. He looked around, surveying the damage. “What next?” he said.

Outside the window, she saw her landlord standing next to his car, phone to his ear. She headed outside again, to her vehicle, and Cullen followed. “Mr. Stone is probably on the phone with animal control right now. So we need to get Riot out of here.”

Cullen inclined his head toward the slumbering infant. “Want to switch?”

“Um...let’s not rock the boat just yet.”

Especially since Robby looked as if he were in baby nirvana. She nodded at the safety seat that had been installed in the backseat of her SUV. “If you can settle Robby back in that, I’ll hand off Riot to you and then get the baby strapped in.”

Cullen did as she asked and then took the dog from her. “Where do you want the pup?” he asked.

Good question. To have Riot on the loose while she was driving and Robby was strapped in a car seat did not seem like a good idea.

Cullen understood her indecision. “Why don’t I put him in my truck and drive him wherever you’re going next?”

If only she knew where that was, Bridgett thought, opening the door on the driver’s side to let the pleasant spring breeze circulate through the interior of the car. For the next few minutes, they remained next to her SUV while she scrolled through the hotel listings on her phone and made a few quick calls.

“Any luck?” Cullen asked, after the third.

Disappointed, Bridgett shook her head. “None of the inns in the county allow pets.”

Still holding the puppy against his chest, he used the index finger to tilt his hat a little higher on his forehead. “Doesn’t your family own a ranch?”

“The Triple Canyon. My younger brother, Nick, and his wife, Sage, live there now, but they’re currently putting a commercial kitchen in the ranch house so Sage can do the majority of the baking for her café-bistro on the premises. So they are at Sage’s old one-bedroom in town with their two kids for the next three months.”

He squinted down at her thoughtfully. “What about your twin sister?”

“Bess lives in the same building I do.”

“So that’s out.”

“Right.”

He studied her. “There’s no one else in the area you could call upon in an emergency? Other family?”

Yes and no, Bridgett thought. “I’ve got two more siblings. My older brother, Gavin, and Violet and their two kids live in a shotgun house here in town that is already bursting at the seams. And my sister Erin and Mac are living in the Panhandle now, with their brood, so although they would take me in, I can’t leave the county with Robby until everything is straightened out.”

He edged close enough that she could smell the soap and sun-warmed-leather scent of him. “Friends, then?”

“The ones who live in houses all have kids and pets of their own, and the ones who don’t live in apartments.”

Cullen shrugged. “You could board the puppy at the vet clinic in town temporarily or turn him over to the animal shelter.”

“No!” The force of her response stunned them both.

Bridgett drew in a bolstering breath. “If it hadn’t been for Riot’s determination to get my attention, I never would have known Robby had been abandoned at the fire station. Who knows how long it would have been before he’d been rescued? Plus, the note specifically said the mother wanted the two of them to stay together. I intend to honor that.”

“Do you even know anything about caring for a dog?”

Irked by his doubt, she tilted her chin at him. “No. But I’m sure I can learn. I just made an offer on a house, so all I need is a short-term solution that will hold us until I move.”

He regarded her with new respect. “You’re buying a home?”

Apparently, real estate was a language they both spoke. She nodded, forcing herself to relax. “An adorable little bungalow here in town. I’m just waiting for my mortgage application to be approved. Which unfortunately rules out renting another place. No one’s going to want me in and out for just a couple of weeks.”

“Well, since you are clearly out of options...” Cullen gave an affable shrug. “You could bring Robby and Riot to the Western Cross.”

Bridgett blinked. “Stay with you? At your ranch?”

He nodded.

She crossed her arms and glared up at him. “Why would you want to do that?” she blurted out.

He regarded her calmly. “To fulfill my moral obligation, and to preserve my reputation and that of the McCabe family, of course.”

* * *

CULLEN COULD SEE it wasn’t the explanation Bridgett wanted. Which was too bad, because the blunt truth was the only reason he was prepared to give. “I’ve got a virtual cattle auction coming up in ten days. My first at the Western Cross ranch. If people think I am unreliable on any level, they’re not going to buy livestock from me. So it’s to my advantage, and yours, to get this resolved as soon as possible. And maybe if we’re all together I’ll be able to more quickly figure out who would have wanted me to be responsible for all this.”

“Makes sense. I guess.”

He continued looking her in the eye. “I also don’t want to embarrass Frank and Rachel or any of the rest of my family.” Thanks to his mom, and the way she had selfishly kept his paternity a secret, for years, so she wouldn’t have to share him, they had already been through enough.

Bridgett went still, for a moment giving him a glimpse of the woman she was, at heart. “You call your parents by their first names?”

His attention drifted to her mouth. “Rachel is my stepmom. And Frank didn’t come into my life until I was sixteen.”

She bit her lip, her gaze glued to him. “That explains the Rachel. But Frank...?”

He shrugged, wishing he could table the urge to take down her hair and run his fingers through the thick, silky waves. “I never got the hang of calling him Dad.”

She moved closer. “Did he want you to call him Dad?”

“We never discussed it,” he said curtly. And he sure wasn’t going to dissect his tumultuous early years with the nosy nurse in front of him. “So,” he said, bringing the conversation back around to the current trouble at hand. “Are you going to take me up on my offer or not?”

She looked down at the baby, who was beginning to stir, and sighed. “I’m not sure if I’ll stay the night or not, but I’ll follow you out there, assess the situation and then figure out what I’m going to do.”

Not exactly a yes. But likely the closest he would get.

He gave her the address to put into her navigation system in case they got separated, and then they took off. Twenty minutes later, they were turning beneath the archway to the Western Cross ranch. Both sets of vehicle headlamps swept over the live oaks lining the drive, the fenced pastures filled with cattle and the cluster of brand-new state-of-the-art barns and stables. Finally, he drew up in front of the ranch house and parked behind the Laramie Animal Clinic van.

His good friend, and recent widow, Sara Anderson stepped out. It was hard to tell whether the pale, drawn hue of her face was due to grief over the sudden loss of her soldier husband or the nausea associated with the first trimester of pregnancy. But he appreciated her willingness to help them out today.

He picked up Riot and met her in the middle of the circular drive. “Thanks for coming,” he said.

The willowy blonde smiled, kind-hearted as always. “No problem.” Sara studied Riot with a clinician’s unerring eye, stroked him beneath the chin. “This the little runaway?”

“It is.” And though it had been years since he had held one, Cullen experienced the lure of a puppy all over again.

Bridgett parked and got out, too, a fussy baby Robby in her arms. Cullen made introductions. “Sara Anderson, Bridgett Monroe. Sara’s a neighboring rancher and the veterinarian who sees to all of my cattle and horses.”

Bridgett nodded. “Sara and I talked at the county’s High School Career Fair last fall. And we also both volunteer at the West Texas Warriors Assistance nonprofit.”

“Ah, then no introduction necessary.” Indeed, the two women looked surprisingly chummy. He hadn’t thought about them being friends. But then, he didn’t spend a lot of time socializing with anyone outside the cattle business.

Sara moved an electronic wand over the pup, between his shoulders and neck and from side to side. Then over the rest of his body.

“Anything?” Cullen asked.

“No.” Sara frowned. “I thought he might be a little too young for a microchip, but I wanted to be certain. There were no tags on his collar?”

“No.”

“That’s too bad. I’d like to know more about him.” She opened up the back of her van and pulled out a medium-sized plastic crate with a metal-grill door. “The food, dishes and leash you requested are all in there. You’re also going to need to make sure he gets started on all his vaccinations, ASAP.”

“I’ll make an appointment.”

“Good.” Sara grinned, tossing Cullen a bottle of puppy shampoo. “And you might want to give him a bath while you’re at it.”

Grinning, Cullen caught the bottle with one hand. “Thanks, Sara.”

Sara paused to greet little Robby, who was wide-eyed and squirmy. “Bridgett? Good luck with the baby. I heard about the situation.” She frowned, shaking her head. “I hope you get to keep him.”

Abruptly looking like she might burst into tears at any moment, Bridgett nodded. “I want what’s best for them both,” she said thickly, the strain of the day showing on her pretty face. “And I appreciate your help with Riot.”

“It was my pleasure,” Sara said with a warm smile. “And if you need anything else, just ask.” Then she climbed back into her van, gave a parting wave and took off.

Silence hung heavy between them as they stood there together, cradling puppy and baby.

Bridgett looked up, wordlessly scanning the compact century old farmhouse, whatever she was thinking at that moment as much a mystery to him as the emotion resonating in her dulcet tones.

“So, this is where you live,” she said.

Chapter Three

“For the last ten and a half months, it has been,” Cullen admitted as they moved inside.

He hit a button on the keypad by the door, and the place lit up. “And before that?” Bridgett prodded, trying to recall what she’d heard.

He led her through the foyer and shut the door behind them. “Oklahoma, for two years.”

They were standing close. Almost too close. Bridgett swung around to face him, stepping back a pace in the process. She was acutely aware she really didn’t know much about Frank McCabe’s eldest son at all—and she wanted to know more, because of the situation they were in. Noting he looked as inherently masculine as he smelled—like sun and soap and leather—she searched the rugged planes of his face. “And prior to that, where were you?”

The grooves on either side of his sensual lips deepened. “Colorado for eighteen months, Nebraska for four years.”

“Nebraska. Wow, you must have really liked it there.”

He studied her, as if trying to decide how much farther he wanted this discussion to go. “It’s the second-largest cattle-producing state in the country, and I had two different ranches. A small one in the north for about twenty-six months, a larger one in the south, for about the same amount of time.”

“Which you purchased after starting out here, correct?” Her feminine instincts on full alert, she pushed on, curious to hear about the time he’d spent outside of Laramie County. “Somewhere in the Panhandle?”

His gaze roved her upturned face. He looked at her for a long beat. “How do you know that?”

She flushed under his intense scrutiny. “My sister Erin and her husband, Mac, mentioned it when they moved up there for his work.”

He continued holding her gaze for a brief but electrifying moment that swiftly had her tingling all over. “Hmm.”

“Mac said you were a rancher to watch.”

Cullen shifted the exhausted puppy in his arms, cradling it to his broad chest. “I don’t think Wheeler was too fond of me back then,” he pointed out. “I outbid him on a property he wanted for his wind energy turbines.”

Bridgett grinned. “I’m sure Mac forgave you.” If there was one thing her brother-in-law respected, it was business acumen and skill.

A wave of unexpected contentment flowing through her, she snuggled the sleepy Robby, breathing in his sweet baby scent. “Speaking of family, though, yours must be happy to have you back in Texas again.”

His expression darkened and the corners of his lips slanted downward. “They are.”

“Are you?” Curiosity won out over caution yet again.

“For the moment.”

Which meant what? He had one foot out the door? Was getting ready to bolt again?

Not that it was any of her business what his future plans were. Once the current mystery was solved, anyway. She knew what her future was—it was right here in Laramie County with Robby and Riot.

“So.” Bridgett forced herself to concentrate on their surroundings. She inclined her head toward the front two rooms of the thousand-square-foot first floor. The one on the right sported a wall of what appeared to be security monitors showing various areas of the ranch, while the other room was outfitted with a large, masculine mahogany desk, a comfortable chair, built in bookshelves and sleek computer equipment. Framed diplomas and awards adorned the whitewashed wood-paneled walls. “I gather this is where you do all the Western Cross ranch office work.”

“Yep. And there’s never any shortage of it.” He moved forward, leading the way past an iron-railed staircase to the living room in the rear, which also had an open layout. She paused to admire the rustic fireplace, a big comfy sofa and the state-of-the-art entertainment center.

After getting a cursory glimpse at the pristine eat-in kitchen, she followed him to a screened-in porch, complete with cushioned furniture and a chain-hung swing. It overlooked a stone patio and built-in barbecue grill as well as an impressive view of the ranch.

“This, I am guessing, is where you hang out when you’re not working.” She tried not to think about how intimate it would be, sharing such a cozy space, and failed. “And maybe entertain.” She pushed the words through the abrupt tightness of her throat.

He swung back to face her, looking as intrigued by her as she was by him. “Yes to the first. No to the latter.”

Good heavens, her pulse was pounding. She moved slightly away. Pretended to stare out the windows at the fields beyond.

She spun back to face him, pretending a tranquility she couldn’t begin to feel. “You don’t entertain?”

Gesturing for her to follow, he moved back inside toward the centrally located staircase. “I give tours of the ranch to business associates by request. That’s it.” He paused on the first stair. “Why? Is that a high priority for you?”

“Not really. I’ve been spending all my time these days working extra shifts so I could save up enough for the down payment on a house. Which I have finally done.”

Upstairs were three modestly decorated bedrooms, decked out in the same masculine gray-and-white color scheme as the rest of the home, and a full bath off the hall featuring a single pedestal sink, a private water closet and a tiled bathtub/shower combo big enough for a man of his size. “So, what do you think?” He shifted a restless Riot a little higher in his arms. “Will you-all be comfortable here tonight?”

In terms of creature comforts? Yes. In terms of having him sleeping just down the hall from her? Not so much. Yet what choice did she have? She had to make do until she had a better solution worked out.

“Absolutely. If you’re sure it’s going to be okay with you, too?”

He looked at her a long moment. A myriad of emotions came and went on his ruggedly handsome face. “We’ll make it work,” he said cryptically. And in that moment, as they headed back downstairs, she knew they would.

* * *

WHILE BRIDGETT CARRIED the baby and the diaper bag into the family room, Cullen headed outside with the puppy.

Thirty minutes later, she and Robby found them on the screened-in porch. The freshly bathed Riot was getting a rubdown with a towel and she smiled. “He has a lot more white fur than I realized.”

“Yeah, I thought he was mostly brown, too.” Laugh lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Guess a lot of it was mud. Robby okay?”

Trying not to think how easily she and Cullen meshed in the mom and dad roles, she nodded. “He took his bottle like a champ. Now all he has to do is burp a time or two, and I’ll be able to put him down again.”

Cullen brought two stainless steel bowls of food and water over and set them in front of where Riot was leashed to the railing.

The puppy stared at both.

“I know you have to be hungry,” Cullen said, kneeling down to pet the mutt’s head.

Riot still didn’t touch the food.

Cullen took some kibble into his hand and offered it that way.

Riot hesitated, then inched closer, nudging Cullen’s palm and finally eating a few small pieces. Cullen offered the bowl again, but when the pup once again refused, he was forced to go back to the hand-feeding method.

“Are all puppies that fussy?” she asked, walking back and forth, gently patting Robby on the back.

“I wouldn’t know. I only had the one when I was a kid.”

Bridgett caught the low note of emotion in his voice. “What happened to him?”

“He died at age nine. Cancer.”

Clearly, Cullen still missed him. “You never got another?”

Another shake of his head. “Initially, I wasn’t in a position where I could get another dog. After that—” he shrugged “—I was too busy ranching.”

Robby gazed over at Cullen, mesmerized by the low timbre of his voice. As was she. “Too busy?” she asked lightly, inclining her head at Riot. “Or too leery of giving your heart away to another little cutie like this?”

Cullen’s head came up. As he exhaled, his broad shoulders tensed, then relaxed. “Too busy fixing up ranches, adding to my herd and moving from place to place.”

“How big a spread do you want?” she asked, edging closer.

Cullen set the empty bowl aside, then led the still-leashed Riot over to the grass. “Minimum, ten thousand acres and a couple thousand head of cattle.”