The Cowboy's Pride

Trish closed her eyes, willing the grief away as those painful memories surfaced. “She made me promise I’d take the baby if things went bad. I agreed, of course.”

She’d promised her friend, but Trish never thought that she’d have to follow through on that promise. She never believed her friend would die. The baby had been thrust into her life and now she was solely responsible for her. “Karin didn’t make it and I’m Meggie’s legal guardian now,” she explained. “I plan to adopt her as soon as I can.”

Clay’s eyes softened as he peered at Meggie. “The baby has no other family?”

“I’m it, for all practical purposes.” Karin’s mother was in a nursing home. Her husband’s parents were gone.

She fumbled with Meggie’s diaper. She never got the thing on straight the first time and she’d learned the hard way what happened when there was a leak. She refastened the diaper, making it fit a little better. “I’m muddling through,” she confessed. “This is all so new to me.” She looked up to find Clay’s eyes on her. “Meggie had a little fever last week and I couldn’t travel with her until she was completely healthy.”

He waited a beat. “That’s why you arrived late?”

Trish nodded. “That’s the only reason.”

She’d agreed to live in the guesthouse for one month and work on publicity for Penny’s Song. And while she was here, they would end things legally, their marriage only a few terms and a divorce signature away from being history.

“Under the circumstances, I’m surprised you showed up at all.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t miss being a part of Penny’s Song. I … it’s still important to me, Clay. Because of what my brother went through, and even more so now that I have a child.” She cringed once the words were out, wondering if his eyes would grow hard and resentment would tighten the sharp angles of his face even more. When neither of those things happened, Trish was hit with reality and unrelenting sadness.

He’s divorcing you, Trish. He doesn’t care anymore.

She’d been served those divorce papers a few short months after she’d walked out on him, but she hadn’t had the heart to end things. Even though she’d tried to forget him, coming face-to-face with Clay now brought it all full circle and her heart ached for the loss. Once upon a time, they’d been so much in love. But everything had changed. She was a single mother and she had to get her life in order. She’d see the end of one dream and the beginning of another.

After she replaced Meggie’s bloomers, she picked up the freshly diapered baby and cuddled her close. “All clean now.”

Meggie clung to her, laying her head on Trish’s shoulder. Blond locks tickled her throat and Trish smiled as she lifted her gaze to Clay. She saw the slightest flicker in his eyes.

He rose from his seat and took a few steps toward her. She caught a whiff of his aftershave, the scent of spice and musk filling her mind with images of moonlit trysts on silken sheets and beds of straw. They’d made love every place imaginable on the ranch.

“You should have told me about her, Trish.”

“You should have answered my phone calls.”

His mouth twisted and they stared at each other. Both stubborn when they thought they were right, they butted heads often. “Besides, it wasn’t as if we’re sharing much of our lives anymore.”

Clay scrubbed his jaw and sighed deeply. “Let’s get you settled in the guesthouse.”

With the baby in her arms, Trish got up from her seat and grabbed for the diaper bag. Before she could sling it over her shoulder, Clay intervened, reaching for the bag. “I’ve got it.”

His fingers brushed hers. Inwardly she gasped from the intense heat. Electricity coursed through her system potent enough to curl the very tips of her toes. And when she looked at Clay, his eyes gleamed with something he couldn’t conceal. He’d felt the connection, too.

They stood there for half a beat, no one moving, staring into each other’s eyes.

A woman’s singsong voice coming from the entry broke the moment. “Hello, Clay. Are you in here?” They turned their heads at the same time toward the doorway. The voice grew louder as the woman neared the room. “I made sugar cookies for Penny’s Song and thought you’d like some.”

Suzy Johnson walked through the doorway, a bright smile on her face, wearing a summery sundress with big yellow and blue flowers. The minute she glided inside and spotted Trish with Clay, she froze. “Oh! S-sorry if I’m interrupting. Helen didn’t answer the door and … well, it was open. I didn’t know you had—”

“It’s okay, Suzy,” Clay said. “Thanks for the cookies.”

She nodded, but the moment she took notice of the blond-haired, blue-eyed baby in Trish’s arms, her cheeks paled in color and she nearly dropped her cookie platter.

Clay’s family friend had been forever stopping by, bringing over cherry pies, asking Clay for favors or reminiscing about their childhood in Red Ridge. Whenever the hometown girl was around, Trish felt like an outsider, so seeing her discomfort now gave her no small measure of satisfaction.

The baby let out a little cry, interrupting the deafening silence. Trish rocked Meggie gently and met the dark-haired woman’s silver-dollar-sized stare.

Another moment ticked by. Trish wouldn’t engage in conversation with her, and Clay wasn’t uttering a word.

“I’ll … I guess I’ll leave these with Helen in the kitchen,” she stammered, wielding her cookie dish and backing out of the room.

Finally.

Once she was gone, Trish turned to Clay, cutting off anything he might say and managing to keep the pain from her voice. “I see nothing has changed around here.”

Two

A tick worked in Clay’s jaw as he strode silently beside her. Every so often his gaze would shift to the baby Trish held in her arms, otherwise he kept his focus toward the guesthouse that lay fifty yards away from the main house. Trish was too tired to deal with his sour mood right now.

Granted, she hadn’t been his wife in the real sense in over a year, but you’d think he’d inform Suzy Johnson to stay the hell away until the ink on the final divorce decree was dry. But that was Suzy, always cheery, always showing up uninvited and always bearing treats.

Trish bristled. The sooner she signed those divorce papers the better.

She turned her thoughts to more pressing matters. Getting Meggie settled and comfortable was her first priority. Trish was an avid planner. She banked her livelihood on her organizational skills. She made lists. She set goals. She could plot out her future months in advance. It was the main reason she’d been successful as a publicist. She had a knack for scoping out musicians’ careers long-range and took great pleasure in seeing them come to fruition.

But she had no plan for motherhood. None. She was learning the hard way that babies didn’t do schedules. They couldn’t be predicted. Their needs were ever-changing and she would be the one adapting, not the other way around.

Every day brought a new challenge. Every day was different, unplanned and unorganized. It was a whole new learning curve for her.

When they reached the entrance, Clay unlocked the door and allowed her entry first. He stepped inside behind her. “Your luggage is in the master bedroom.”

She turned to him. “Thank you.”

He nodded and moved into the living area, tossing the diaper bag down on the light tan leather sofa.

Trish followed him into the room. Once upon a time, Trish had fallen in love with the small cottage and had asked Clay if she could make a few changes, put her stamp on it, so to speak. She gazed into the room with a sense of pride. A combination of soft leather and suede in cream tones marked the Southwest contemporary feel of the house. Delicate copper and brass sculptures sat on glass tables and masterful metal artwork hung on the walls. She’d created a cozy atmosphere in keeping with the flavor of Red Ridge for their one-time guests.

But it looked as if no one had ever stepped foot in it. Everything was in its place, not a stick of furniture or a fruit bowl had been moved. The place was perfect and pristine. That would change in the blink of an eye.

Babies caused chaos, even four-month-olds who weren’t at the crawling stage yet. Meggie did her fair share of rolling, though, and Trish knew she had to give the baby a wide berth when she set her down on the floor.

“If the baby needs anything, Helen will be around. She’s got three grandchildren.”

“Three now? She had only two when I was living, uh, here,” she finished awkwardly.

Clay waited a beat, probably deciding whether to enter into a conversation with her. The tick in his jaw did an intermittent dance. “Jillie had another, a boy this time.”

“So Helen has two grandsons and a granddaughter. I bet they keep her busy.”

“When she’s not here, she’s usually with them.”

Trish often wondered if her own mother would take to Meggie like that, love her unconditionally and accept her in their family. It seemed Trish’s mother had given everything she had to give to Blake in those earlier years. Once he’d recovered, her mother had never really been the same. Maybe it was the pressure, the constant tension or the drain his illness had taken on her, but her mother hadn’t really been thrilled at the prospect of a grandchild. Not the way Trish had hoped.

The baby squirmed in her arms, wiggling and making her presence known. Clay watched her interact with the baby with curious eyes. “I’d better set her down for a few seconds.”

She bent to put Meggie down on her butt, propping her against the sofa on the floor. The baby waved her arms and cackled, happy for the time being. “There you go, sweet baby. Much better, huh?” Straightening, she turned to Clay. “She likes a change of scenery sometimes. I’ve got to learn not to hold her all the time.”

His gaze stayed on Meggie sitting quite contentedly on the floor. “You need help unpacking?”

He was being polite. Clay had always been a gentleman, even when he was hopping mad. She shook her head. “No. We’ll be fine, Clay.”

His mouth pinched tight and he lifted his eyes to her. “Doesn’t the baby need a crib?”

At least Trish had that much under control. “I’ll call the rental company and have a few things delivered tomorrow.”

“What about tonight? Where will she sleep?”

Trish let out a pent-up breath. “She’ll be with me. The truth is, I don’t get much sleep. I check on her most of the night. She sleeps so soundly, sometimes I wonder if she’s breathing at all. I guess most new moms go through the same kind of panic.”

Clay nodded as if he understood it all, but she noted the question in his eyes. No one knew what parenthood was like until they experienced it themselves. Trish’s emotions this past month were all over the map, from highs when Meggie would take a full bottle and fall asleep, to lows when she was fussy and Trish couldn’t figure out what the heck was wrong. Half the time, she second-guessed herself and questioned if she was doing anything right. But Meggie was thriving and safe, so she clung to those positive thoughts.

“Helen stocked the refrigerator. You should have everything you need in there,” Clay said.

“Okay. And I’d like to see Penny’s Song as soon as possible.”

The divorce wasn’t the only reason she’d come back to Red Ridge. She’d promised to play a key role in fundraising for Penny’s Song, even though that hadn’t been the original plan. That plan, to be there for its development and construction, had gone by the wayside when her marriage fell apart.

“Tomorrow morning soon enough?”

“Yes, I can hardly wait. I’ve been thinking about it. Wondering. Is it … all that we imagined?”

Clay’s unyielding expression softened. “It’s all that and more. Seeing the kids there, well, it makes all the difference.”

Young Penny Martin, the charity’s namesake, a Red Ridge local and a big fan of Clayton Worth, hadn’t been as lucky as Trish’s brother, Blake. Even though she’d put up a valiant fight and had been so brave, she’d lost her life to leukemia at the age of ten. Her death sparked the idea in Clay to use Worth land and resources for the charity and Trish had been behind it one-hundred percent. Penny’s Song would go a long way in helping kids robbed of their childhood assimilate back into society after their recovery by making them feel normal again. Trish couldn’t wait to see how the facility had come to life.

“We’ll be ready.”

“I can drive you over at nine, if that’s not too early?”

“Early? I wish. Meggie’s up at the crack of dawn. By 9:00 a.m. I’ve already put in half a day.”

Clay wasn’t really paying attention to her, though. She caught him watching Meggie, who had plunked down onto her tummy and begun to roll toward the fireplace. “Looks like you’ve got a runaway.”

“Meggie!” By the time the words were out of her mouth, Clay was there, picking her up before she pulled the fireplace tools on top of her.

“You’re fast,” he said. The smile on his face was only for Meggie. He held her at a distance for a second, not quite sure what to do with her. Then he tucked her into his body and cradled her to his chest.

Trish inhaled a sharp breath.

Meggie wasn’t too sure what to make of Clay, but she wasn’t crying either. Trish wished she could say the same of herself. Inside, her heart cried out seeing what could have been if only their marriage had survived. Clayton Worth, the big, rugged cowboy holding a baby, her baby, in his strong arms was a tender sight to behold.

She could have gone on watching the two of them, but Clay didn’t give her time to lament the loss. Before she knew it, he was handing Meggie over. “Here you go.” He made the transfer with utmost care. “She’s going to keep you on your toes.”

“She’s fast,” Trish whispered, still awed seeing Clay holding the baby. “But she’s a good sleeper, so it’s a trade-off.”

Clay nodded, giving Meggie one long look before turning on his heels and heading to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he glanced back Trish’s way. “If you change your mind, I can send Helen over to help you unpack.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Clay sent her a dubious look before walking out.

Trish closed her eyes. Heaven help her. The last half hour had been one of the hardest in her life. Seeing Clay again hurt. The pain had resurfaced the minute he’d walked up to greet her. And seeing him holding Meggie just now was like pouring salt in her freshly opened wound.

He couldn’t wait to send you divorce papers.

He never really understood you.

He’s probably having a hot and heavy affair with Suzy.

They were all good reasons to keep Clay at a distance and not get suckered in by his deadly good looks, heart-melting smile or sentimental memories of the good times they’d shared.

He was then. This was now.

She may not have a handle on motherhood yet, but she knew everything about surviving and remembering why she’d come back to the ranch was a priority.

Divorce.

Clay’s boots ate concrete as he strode toward his house. Trish had a kid. A baby. He wondered how long it would take for him to wrap his mind around that. She’d blown their marriage apart denying him a child. He never understood why she’d been so resistant to the idea. He had money and resources to provide for a child better than ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the population of the world. She hadn’t trusted in that. She hadn’t trusted in him enough to know they’d work it out. And then she’d started in with her accusations about him and Suzy.

Trish’s appearance today tilted him off balance. His head spun seeing her again, and he swore up and down about the decision to bring her here. His attorney could have dealt with the divorce and to hell with Trish’s fundraising abilities. He would’ve found someone else for the job. But he was thickheaded and wanted things done his way. He wanted to face her again, after she’d walked out. He wanted closure and to end things civilly. That had been the plan.

It was still the plan, he reminded himself.

He entered the house, his stomach clenched tight, and shut the door with too much force. Behind him the beveled glass rattled from the slam.

“That you, Clayton?” He heard Helen’s muffled voice from a distance.

There was a bang. Then another. Lifting his head to listen closely, he strode toward the stairs. “Helen?”

Boom. Thump.

“Up here.”

He strode toward the staircase and the clatter that interrupted the peace in the house. “Where are you?”

“In the attic. I need help.”

“I’m coming. Hold on.” Clay jogged up the stairs quickly, taking them two at a time. He reached the landing and turned the corner quickly, finding a pull-down ladder that led to another small landing and the attic door.

He yanked it open just as Helen popped her head out and they nearly bumped. He examined her face, dotted with grime, but the rest of her appeared uninjured. “What the hell—”

“We’ve got baby equipment up here, Clayton. Took some shoving and pushing, but I found your old crib. There are sheets that need some gentle washing, but everything is in excellent condition.”

Clay sighed with relief. He glanced at the boxes, crates and furniture Helen had obviously moved. “You shouldn’t have come up here by yourself. You could have gotten hurt.”

She waved him off as she was prone to do. “Nonsense. We need to get this stuff down for that little baby to use.”

“Trish is taking care of that. She’s renting equipment. It should arrive tomorrow.”

“That woman needs all the help she can get with that baby.”

Clay didn’t take offense. Helen never meddled in his love life, so there was no ulterior motive in her comment. He knew exactly what she meant. Trish looked frazzled when she arrived and she was probably exhausted by now, chasing the human rolling pin around.

There’d be no arguing with Helen anyway. She was like a mother to him, even if they’d never spoken of such things. She’d been around Clay and his brothers Tagg and Jackson since they were youngsters.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll bring it over.”

Two hours later, Clay had the crib set up in the master bedroom in the guesthouse.

Meggie was sleeping on a thick quilt with a zoo animal motif on the living room floor. When he’d knocked, Trish had been surprised to see him again, but there was a grateful look in her eyes and Clay knew he’d done the right thing bringing the crib over. The baby was innocent in all this and she shouldn’t have to do without creature comforts.

Clay gave the sides of the crib a few tugs, checking that he had the screws tight and secure before he backed away to admire his work. The crib was made of solid walnut and was in fantastic shape for as old as it was. When he turned, he found Trish in the room holding a glass of iced tea with three slices of lemon submerged under the ice.

“Here you go,” she said, offering him the glass.

He took a gulp and swallowed the cool liquid. “Just the way I like it.”

“Some things never change,” she said with a shrug.

Was that another crack or just a casual comment?

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said, lifting the crib sheets from the dresser and moving to the crib. Judging by her sincere tone, he gave her the benefit of the doubt. She’d remembered the way he took his tea, nothing more. “You didn’t have to do this tonight, but I’m sure Meggie will love her new digs.”

Clay didn’t want to smile, yet the corner of his mouth quirked up. He wanted out of there, away from Trish. She’d showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a red plaid blouse, but even the simple clothes looked fashionable and elegant on her. Her blond hair was still damp and curling around her face and shoulders. She smelled of citrus and sugar like a sweet piece of fruit.

“I’d better go.”

Trish nodded, holding the freshly cleaned sheets to her chest. “I’ll walk you out.”

She followed behind as he walked into the living room. The baby took that moment to wake up and look at him from the quilt. She made a little sound, watching him cut across the room with eyes wide and bluer than a spring lake. She was a cute little thing, all pink cheeks and tiny blond curls.

“Well, look who’s awake now,” Trish offered in a sugary voice. When he glanced at her, her attention was focused on the baby.

He reached for the doorknob. He didn’t belong here. He wasn’t part of this happy scenario.

“Good night,” he said as Trish bent to pick Meggie up. The two of them clung to each other.

Mother and child.

“Good night, Clay.”

He opened the door and closed it behind him without looking back.

He’d done his good deed for the day.

Getting the baby up in the morning, fed, bathed and dressed was a whirlwind of activity and a ritual that hadn’t gotten any easier for Trish. By the time nine o’clock rolled around, Trish was putting the finishing touches on her own grooming. She brushed her teeth quickly, secured her hair in a ponytail, then mascara tipped her eyelashes and slashed light pink lipstick on her lips.

She was excited and eager to see Penny’s Song for the first time. She’d only seen the place laid out on drafting paper, the design one she’d worked on with Clay. She wondered if the real thing would meet her expectations.

When the doorbell rang, Trish was as ready as she’d ever be. She had a diaper bag filled with essentials, a well-fed, well-rested baby and nerves of steel. At least that’s what she told herself.

She went to the door braced to see Clay again. Today she’d make an appointment with him to discuss the divorce. No sense putting off the inevitable. Suzy Johnson would then have a legal right to get her claws into him.

When she opened the door, surprise registered when it wasn’t Clay but a pretty brunette standing on the doorstep.

“Hi, I’m Callie Worth. Tagg’s wife. I hope it’s okay that I stopped by?”

“Hi, Callie. Of course it is.” Trish still had friends in Red Ridge. She’d heard that Tagg had gotten married. Callie and she were, for all intents and purposes, sisters-in-law at the moment. “I’m Trish. It’s nice to meet you. Would you like to come in?”

“I’m dying to come in, but I know you’re going over to Penny’s Song in a little while.”

When Trish raised her brows, she explained. “I spoke to Clay this morning and he told me your plans and that … that you had a baby.”

“He told you about Meggie?”

“He said she was a pretty little picture.”

Trish smiled. “Well, I sure think so.”

“We’re expecting a baby soon, too.”

Trish glanced at the little pooch of a belly jutting out from under Callie’s blouse. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you and Tagg. There’s, uh, nothing like it.” That much was true. Even though she was still sorting it all out, she wouldn’t trade having Meggie for the world.

The baby’s cry from the other room startled her. “Oh, I’d better get her. Come in, please.”

Callie followed her into the master bedroom and they found Meggie in her crib, rolling from her back to her belly. She stopped and looked up when she noted a new face.

“This is Meggie,” Trish said.

The baby was dressed in springtime yellow bib overalls with a giant purple daisy on the front and matching bootie socks.

“Hello, Meggie,” Callie said. “You look ready for a stroll in the Easter parade.” She turned from the baby to Trish with sympathy in her eyes. “I heard about what happened to your friend. I’m sorry.”

“Karin was a good friend. I … miss her.”

“You’re being the best friend a girl could have. Making sure her daughter is loved and nurtured. I, well, I think it’s pretty wonderful of you.”

“Thank you.” Uncomfortable with the praise, she changed the subject. “Do you know what you’re having?”