The Cowboy's Forever Family

Slade turned back and shoved out a breath. “For Brody. We’ll give the baby the best of everything. Enroll him in football. Baseball.”

“Ballet lessons,” Laney added with a chuckle, feeling a crazy mixture of joy and sorrow. Grief was impossible to understand.

Slade looked surprised, but then he nodded. “Right. If it’s a girl. No way are we enrolling any boy of Brody’s in dance class.”

She didn’t know why they were discussing what they would do for Baby Beckett as if these were decisions the two of them would make together. Slade sounded awfully determined to be a part of her child’s life.

“Maybe he’ll want to take dance.”

Slade scoffed. “Let’s hope not. Of course, you do realize Brody would have taught his little girls how to throw a football, not to mention rope and ride every bit as well as his sons.”

Laney chuckled. “I’d expect no less from him. I’ll be spending the rest of my life in Serendipity. I would hope if Baby Beckett is a girl she’ll know her way around the ranch.”

“I could do it.” Slade’s statement was made so low she could barely understand the words.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Roping and riding. I could teach the kid how to do that stuff. Boy or girl. Either way. If you wanted me to, I mean.”

That was probably the nicest thing Laney had ever heard Slade say. He’d actually asked. Kind of. Or maybe her emotions were overwhelming her. Either way, her answer was the same. It had to be. “I’d like that, and I’m sure Baby Beckett will, as well.”

“Good, then. It’s settled.” His nod was no more than a quick jerk of his chin, his jaw tight and his lips pressed together.

Great. So she’d just sealed the deal. Slade was going to be a part of her child’s life for an extended period of time. Maybe always. Which by default meant she’d have to interact with him, as well. How had this conversation gotten so turned around?

“Brody had planned to reconcile with you, you know. Right after the rodeo was finished.”

Laney was so startled by the statement she gripped a nearby table for support. She was afraid she’d heard Slade wrong, but when she met his gaze, she knew he’d said just what she’d heard, and for whatever reason was sharing it with her now.

Brody had planned to come home to her.

And then that chance had been taken away from them both.

Chapter Four

Slade’s thoughts were a million miles away as he pulled his pickup onto the Becketts’ long gravel driveway. Probably a good thing he’d made this very same drive so often over the years, seeing as he couldn’t seem to be able to keep his mind on the road.

Even after nearly a week of not seeing her, he was thinking of Laney and Brody and wondering what Baby Beckett would look like. Would the little nipper have Brody’s white-blond hair or a rich caramel brown like Laney? Laney’s chocolate-brown eyes or Brody’s light blue ones?

He had no doubt that any kid with Brody’s and Laney’s genes was going to be a cutie. However Slade personally felt about Laney, any man with eyes in his head would have to admit she was a real looker, the kind of woman that would cause a man to do a double-take if he passed her on the street. And while Slade had no clue what women found attractive in a man, he knew Brody had never had any trouble catching the ladies’ attention. Women had flocked to him, especially buckle bunnies like Laney.

Not that it mattered one way or another what the baby looked like. Slade was going to love the kid—purple, green, blue or otherwise. He would love Baby Beckett, and protect and defend the child against whatever life through at him or her. Teach the kid everything he knew about ranching. About life.

It was the least he could do, since it was his fault the child would be growing up without a father. He owed Brody that much, and more.

Slade scowled when he realized there wasn’t a single place to park in front of the Becketts’ house. What was the deal? If the Becketts were throwing a party, they’d forgotten to invite him—not that anyone had parties on a Monday morning. He couldn’t even take a guess what was really going on.

He pulled farther down the driveway and parked his truck in the only empty spot he could find. His original intention in coming to the Becketts’ this morning was to saddle Nocturne, ride her to his parents’ spread next door where he would stable her permanently, and afterward walk back for his truck.

He’d been bedding his horse at the Becketts’ for long enough, though he still had every intention of helping them out wherever and whenever he could, just as he’d promised. He’d give Laney pointers on ranching and of course he’d be around when Baby Beckett arrived, but at the moment he felt it was time to back off and get a little distance from the situation. For his own good. Every day it seemed he was getting more and more wrapped up in Laney, both in the circumstances they each faced and in the woman herself. Half the time he didn’t know whether he was coming or going.

“What’s all this?” he muttered to himself, taking stock of the trucks parked up and down the driveway in front of the house—old, new and everything in between. Some familiar. Most not.

He started toward the house to investigate, then turned when he heard a ruckus coming from the ranchers’ bunkhouse, where the wranglers slept and Brody’s father kept his office. Grant primarily oversaw the ranch, but Brody had always helped when he was around and as time allowed. Slade knew Brody would have eventually found his way home again, taken over the ranch for good. Started a family.

But now everything had changed. Brody was gone. The ranch belonged to Laney. And there was a long line of scruffy, weathered cowboys, some young and some older than their beat-up trucks appeared to be, winding out of the office and around the bunkhouse.

Slade didn’t recognize more than a few of them, and he knew everyone in Serendipity. Something was definitely up, and with the way his stomach was twisting and turning, he was fairly certain he wasn’t going to like what he found. He’d learned to trust those inner nudges that he couldn’t always explain. Those gut feelings were part of what made him so good at everything he did, from bull riding to serving as a police officer.

He strode across the uneven ground, his boots first crunching against the gravel and then silently sweeping through the long grass. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

Now.

It very well might not be any of his business. Grant probably had it all under control—whatever it was. Call it curiosity, or another opportunity to find a way to help the Becketts. He’d know soon enough.

“Hey,” one of the younger wranglers protested when he ignored the long line of cowboys and cut through to the door of the office. Slade didn’t care if he was breaking the rules, and he especially wasn’t concerned over what the other men in the long line thought of him. He wasn’t some random cowpoke applying for a job at the ranch. Was that why these men were here? Was Grant doing some hiring? Maybe one of the wranglers had given notice.

He entered the office with a friendly greeting for Grant on his lips, but stopped short in the doorway as if he’d slammed into an invisible force field. Laney was sitting behind Grant’s desk with those silly reading glasses of hers perched on the end of her nose. She looked completely out of her element, her hair combed back into a neat ponytail, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink and her full lips curved up at the corners. She looked as neat and fresh as a bouquet of tulips in a room that was anything but. Her appearance was a stark contrast to the rest of her surroundings. Random piles of papers and file folders littered the top of the desk. The smell of sweat and leather permeated the room and lingered in the stale air.

And that was to say nothing of the sloppily-dressed wrangler standing before the desk, dusty hat in hand and one side of his shirt untucked and dangling like a tail at the back of his well-worn blue jeans. The man flashed Slade an irritated frown, which Slade completely ignored. The wrangler didn’t worry him. He was far more concerned about Laney’s thunderous scowl and the lightning flashing in her brown eyes.

Fire and ice. Everything about the woman was contrary.

“What’s going on here?” He could guess, but he wanted to hear it from her. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and folded his arms across his chest.

Her eyes narrowed and her spine straightened. “Excuse me?”

The lanky wrangler across from Laney turned and faced Slade. “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you think you are, but there’s an interview goin’ on here, and in case you didn’t notice, there’s a line outside the door. You wanna talk to the missus here, go wait your turn with the rest of the boys.”

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