Cowboy Daddy

“Cut it out,” Wyatt barked, still holding DJ’s arms tight behind his back.

“What is wrong with you?” Addie was in DJ’s face. “Fighting won’t solve anything.”

“Yeah, well, I’d feel a hell of a lot better.” DJ glared at his older sister.

“You might, but this isn’t about you. This is about Mandy.” She spun around and glared at Lane. “And you. You’ve got some serious questions to answer.”

“Not to you, I don’t.”

Addie came at him. “Are you the one responsible?” She poked his chest with her finger. “How dare you leave her alone. We almost lost her—and the baby—today.” Tears flooded her eyes. “If it hadn’t been for DJ being here for the transfusion, I don’t know—”

“They’d have found someone else to match.” Wyatt spoke over DJ’s still strained shoulders. “Tara?” He looked meaningfully over at his younger sister, jerking his head toward Addie.

“Wait? Transfusion? What are you talking about?” Lane asked. He should tell them he hadn’t left her alone. That he hadn’t even known. His pride begged him to clear things up, but worry trumped everything.

“Okay. Wait. Stop.” Tara stepped forward, putting an arm around Addie’s shoulder and guiding her away. She looked at him, her anger banked with confusion. “She didn’t tell you either, did she?”

Lane waited, not sure how to answer. The truth was safest and the silence heavy. “No.” He twisted the brim of his hat around for a long minute. “I figured it out this morning.” His voice came out soft, but the impact rippled through the room.

“You sure you’re the father?” Jason asked. It hadn’t surprised Lane, or anyone really, that Jason had become a lawyer. The stare he leveled on Lane now would have put any witness on edge.

“She hasn’t told me. But unless you’re hinting that your sister sleeps around—”

“Damn you, Lane,” DJ started anew. “I warned you years ago to stay away from my sisters.”

“Did you ever bother telling your sister to stay away from me?” Lane stepped away from the group. Instead of going back to return DJ’s punch, like he wanted, Lane walked to the door. His patience was gone. “Someone better tell me. What transfusion?”

It was no surprise Wyatt spoke up. “She hemorrhaged.” Lane knew his boss well, so while Wyatt appeared calm, he recognized the worry in his voice. “The doctor called it a postpartum hemorrhage. She lost a lot of blood. Too much.”

Lane cursed again. “Is she going to be okay?”

“We hope so. It’ll take time to recover. The doctor said a month. Or more.”

“The baby?”

This time Wyatt let himself smile. “He’s fine. They have him in the neonatal nursery as a precaution since he’s a couple weeks early.”

He. It hit Lane then. A son. He had a son. Voices rang around him, but none of the words registered. A son. His boot heels seemed loud as he walked away.

They let him go, and Lane heard Wyatt curse. “Damn it, DJ. Don’t go after him.”

“I’m not. He’s not headed toward Mandy.”

The silence was thick. “I thought he was your friend?” Tara sounded confused.

“He was. Until he touched my sister. I warned him—”

“Oh, give me a break. I think Mandy had plenty of say in the matter. You are not in charge of who we see—or sleep with.”

“Where’s he going?” Addie asked.

“Probably the nursery,” Tara said. “My guess is he’s headed to see his son.”

Her words were like rocks thrown on the surface of a peaceful pond. They rippled after Lane, pushing him closer to his destination, showing him how quickly reality could be altered.

DJ cursed, his voice like a shot in the quiet hall. “This isn’t really happening, is it?” he asked.

No one answered him. They didn’t have to. It would have been a waste of breath.

* * *

A GOOD NIGHT’S sleep gave Amanda rest, but her dreams brought back all her worry. Early. The baby was early. Too early? Amanda tried to keep her thoughts ordered, tried to focus as she awoke.

The medications and leftover exhaustion didn’t help. All she could do was run through her own mind again and again. What had she done wrong? What should she have done differently? Would the baby have long-term problems? Would he be okay? She glanced down at the IV still in her arm. Would she?

Panic tried to take over, but she fought it. Barely succeeding, barely able to think.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the tile floor. Boot heels. Her hopes irrationally rose before she could tamp them down. Even if it was him, what should she say?

Was that relief or disappointment she felt when Wyatt appeared in the doorway instead? “How you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Wyatt was one of the few people Amanda couldn’t lie to. It had been the hardest thing she’d ever done over the past months, not to confide in him. But if he’d known the truth, he’d probably kill Lane. And she needed her son’s father to be in one piece, at least for a while.

Instead of talking, she looked down, focusing on the blanket’s pattern as if it were the most important thing in the world.

“Hey.” He stopped beside the bed. “You up for another little trip?”

Her head shot up. “Is it okay?” She’d been confined to bed except for the one short visit to meet her son. And that seemed a lifetime ago, almost like a dream.

Wyatt nodded. “I checked with the nurses. You’ve rested enough. Time to take you to see the little guy again.”

But she didn’t want to move. It hurt to move. Hurt to think about seeing him again. Seeing her son, the little one with all the tubes and wires attached to him. “I’m scared.”

“I know.” Wyatt rolled the over-bed table away and walked to the corner where the wheelchair sat. He smiled. “Your chariot awaits.”

A nurse arrived just then and smiled her own encouragement as she gave Wyatt a hand.

Slowly, carefully, Amanda shoved the blankets and sheet back. Wyatt helped her lift her legs over the edge of the mattress and to the cool floor. How could such a big man be so gentle? He’d always been that way, though. She’d been four when their dad had died, and at fifteen, Wyatt had become the closest thing to a father she’d ever known.

It seemed to take forever for him and the nurse to help her stand and take just a couple of steps to the vinyl seat. Between the three of them, they got her up, with the IV bag hung on the pole attached to the back of the chair. She was exhausted before she was settled.

How was she ever going to take care of a baby, much less herself, when she couldn’t even get out of bed alone? Her panic returned.

“Just relax. You’ll be fine.” Wyatt slowly turned the wheelchair toward the door and they headed to the elevators.

The NICU nursery was down a floor and at the end of what felt like an eternal hallway. It seemed so far away. She couldn’t even get there on her own if she wanted. Her eyes burned as her limitations sunk in.

Wyatt took her through myriad different doors. He seemed to know his way, for which she was thankful, since none of it looked how she remembered it from her last trip to see her son. Had she dreamed it all?

Finally, he stopped next to a tiny glass cube that did look familiar. “Oh!” she cried. “There he is.” She couldn’t see him well from where she sat. “Can I stand up? Or get closer?”

A nurse stepped around the tiny bed and smiled at her. “I have a better idea. Do you want to hold him?”

The woman’s face blurred and all Amanda could manage was a vigorous nod. She felt Wyatt’s presence behind her, but he stepped away to give them room to move her around and get them settled.

She hadn’t been able to sit up more than a few minutes before, so holding him hadn’t been an option. Now, as the tiny bundle of blanket and baby nestled in the crook of her arm, she realized that while she was weak, she was stronger than she’d been that first day. And then she stopped thinking about anything except the sweet, warm bundle sleeping in her arms.

So tiny. He looked so small. So helpless. And yet so beautiful and perfect.

Fewer “things” were attached to him today, though a couple of wires and cords had to be arranged around her. Finally, no one was there. No one hovered, as if not trusting her. It was only her and... Lucas? Max? Dear God, she couldn’t have forgotten to name him. Panic set in again. No. Lucas. Lucas Maxwell. Relief eased the panic some.

Suddenly, the nurse was back and Wyatt crouched beside the chair, a proud smile on his face. She looked up at the clock. Where had the fifteen minutes gone?

That was it? She wanted to hold him forever.

“Time to get you back.” Wyatt put a comforting hand on Amanda’s knee, reassuring her.

Amanda was tired. And by the time Lucas and all his paraphernalia were settled back in the bed, Amanda struggled to stay awake. While returning to her room was a disappointing prospect, she knew it was for the best.

She expected Wyatt to push the wheelchair back to her room. She was surprised when he turned it into the small lounge just off the nursery. The Family Room, they called it. It was filled with homey furniture, a large rocking chair and soft piped-in background music.

She knew what this room was usually used for. For the families who had to say goodbye. Her heart hitched in panic.

“Don’t go thinking too hard, Mandy,” Wyatt whispered as he settled in the huge rocking chair and pulled the wheelchair close. Trapping her. He waited patiently for her to finally look up. She was nearly as stubborn as he was. Nearly. But Wyatt had more patience than any person she’d ever met...damn it.

“Tell me,” she finally spat out, expecting him to tell her something awful that the doctors had shared with him that they wouldn’t tell the mother who was exhausted and too sick to even take care of her own child.

Wyatt carefully took her hands in his. His big strong fingers were rough from the hard hours of work he put in at the ranch every day. That roughness had always been comforting when she was a kid, and that comfort came back now.

“Everything’s fine. Your little guy is doing great. Better than you, I think. I just wanted to talk.”

“About?” She let the silence stretch out as she let her relief soak in.

“So.” He paused. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“No. Not that I can think of.” She knew he was hoping she’d changed her mind about telling him who Lucas’s father was. She hadn’t, so she figured she’d wait him out.

Wyatt sighed. “Fine. I’m not going to beat you up about this, but I won’t avoid it, either. Anyway, we all met and discussed this. You need help, Amanda. You can’t do this alone.”

That was not what she’d expected him to say. She lifted her head and stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Come home. Emily and I’ve talked about it. DJ and Tammie agree. Addie suggested it, actually. Until you’re stronger, and until you can do it on your own, come to the ranch.”

She stared at him. Stared and let her brain click past all the reasons why she shouldn’t. Why she should fight to stay here in Dallas where—

Where she lived alone, where she’d have to face putting Lucas in day care in order to do it all on her own.

“Addie could come stay.” But for how long? She was grasping at straws. Addie would have to return to work in a few weeks. Would Amanda be ready to go it alone by then?

She was weak. The doctor had explained her situation. Why she’d hemorrhaged, why she had to take it easy until she healed.

But would going to the ranch be foolish? If she went back to the ranch, she’d be returning to more than just the ranch and her family who still treated her like a child. She’d be putting herself right smack in the middle of the mess that had put her here in the first place.

She’d be right there where Lane was. Right—

“No,” she whispered and broke the stare first. “I can’t.”

“Damn it, Mandy.” Wyatt’s frustration was palpable. He stood and moved away, pacing the tiny room. “That little boy needs more than a stubborn mother right now. Don’t argue with me.” He pulled out his best Dad imitation. “And you need help, too. We’re here for you.”

“It just—” She couldn’t tell him. She—

“She’ll be there.”

The deep voice shimmied over her nerves, and with the last of her energy, she spun around. There, in the doorway, black Stetson in hand, Lane stood, dark and menacing.

“I—”

“As will my son.”

Amanda tried to glare at him, her resentment giving her strength. Lane didn’t even look perturbed. She glanced back at Wyatt. He wasn’t surprised, either. He knew.

Crap.

CHAPTER FOUR

IF SHE’D HAD the energy, Amanda would have given the two egotistical, bossy males a piece of her mind. But she had nothing left. Leaning back in the uncomfortable wheelchair, she closed her eyes.

They might be obtuse, but neither Wyatt nor Lane was stupid. The testosterone level in the air dropped several degrees. “I can’t think right now,” she whispered. “Just let me rest, and we can discuss it later.”

It was too much to think about. Too many people, too many choices. And Amanda would be damned if she’d let either of these two see the frustrated, overwhelmed tears that clogged her throat.

Wyatt took her back to her room. But she could hear two sets of boot heels on the tile floor, letting her know Lane followed.

This time Wyatt stopped at the nurses’ station and the cheery nurse who’d helped earlier followed to assist her back into the bed.

The two men waited outside, and she hoped they’d stay out. Amanda heard deep voices and prayed they weren’t arguing or worse.

“You up for guests, or should I shoo those two away?” The nurse smiled and waited for her decision.

“I’d love to tell them to go away, but they’ll just hang around regardless.” Amanda snuggled down against the firm, crinkly pillows. “Might as well get it over with,” she whispered and closed her eyes.

“It’s your choice.” The nurse gave her one more escape option, and she almost took it.

“No. They’ll freak. It’s okay, I don’t back down often.”

“Okay.” As the nurse left, she propped the door open. “You have ten minutes, boys, then it’s lights out.” The nurse made the right decision for her, and Amanda smiled.

Amanda didn’t open her eyes, so she didn’t know who came in first. It didn’t matter. She could feel their equally angry stares. Her brother’s glare would condemn her for sleeping with one of his crew. She’d heard plenty from him over the years about staying away from them. And she’d most definitely hear plenty more of it from all her brothers, now.

Lane’s stare was less clear in her mind. Would it be angry, hurt, condemning? She hadn’t told him, or anyone else, that he was Lucas’s father. Now everyone probably knew.

Slowly, she opened her eyes to a feeling of disappointment. Lane was staring out the window at the city beyond. She couldn’t see his face, but his back was ramrod straight with his shoulders thrown back, broad and strong. Wyatt stood at the foot of her bed, looking exactly as she’d expected, and she only briefly met his gaze before glancing at Lane again.

She wanted him to turn and face her. She almost wished he’d lose that famous temper of his and let her have it. Maybe her guilt would ease if he did. “I never meant to lie to you.” She waited a second. “Either of you.”

“And yet you did.” Lane still didn’t turn around.

“Watch it, Lane.” Wyatt’s voice was a low, protective growl. “You are far from innocent in this.”

“Leave him alone, Wyatt,” she whispered. Once again, she looked at her brother. “I need to talk to Lane. Alone.”

Wyatt didn’t want to leave. She saw the stubbornness in the set of his jaw. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Down the hall,” she directed. “No eavesdropping.”

* * *

THE LIGHTS IN Mandy’s hospital room were low, letting the shadows take over. On the long, five-hour drive, Lane hadn’t pictured anything he’d seen when he got here. None of this was part of his normal world, or what he’d expected when he’d woke up in his truck this morning.

Staring out the window, he watched the reflection rather than the city beyond.

The bed, centered in the room, was metal with white sheets that looked stark against the evening light. Mandy, in a soft blue gown, looked tiny in the bed. Her dark hair tumbled across a snow-white pillowcase that echoed the pallor of her skin.

The clear tubing of the IV snaked, from where it was imbedded in her arm, across the blanket and up to the hanging bag. What had Addie said about the transfusion? He envisioned the tubing filled with life-giving blood.

He swallowed hard, easing the fear that still gripped him. He’d never before thought about losing her like that, forever. Never expected—

Wyatt stepped back reluctantly, and Lane knew he was weighing Mandy’s wishes against his own concerns. He knew why Lane was here, and he wanted to know the rest. But Lane wasn’t here to talk to Wyatt.

Wyatt’s receding footsteps were the only indication he’d left.

Finally, with a deep breath, Lane turned to face Mandy. She hadn’t moved, but her eyes were open, looking groggily at him. Even in the dimness, the bright blue of her eyes reflected her thoughts. If anyone wore their emotions on their sleeve, it was Mandy Hawkins. He could read her like a book.

Their gazes met. “How you feeling?” Lane took a couple of slow steps toward the bed. His boots sounded too loud in the quiet room.

“Worn out.” She tried to smile, but didn’t move. “Why are you here?” Her voice shook. Were those tears in her eyes? She knew his answer, but was waiting for him to say it, to ask her...

If Wyatt hadn’t been standing in the hallway, Lane would have walked to the bed and taken her hand, and—what? Cursed at her? Kissed her? He had no clue, and that bothered him. Lane never allowed himself to second-guess anything.

“I can do math, Mandy,” he whispered.

“I never doubted that.” She met his gaze, her chin pale but jutting out stubbornly.

“So, why didn’t you tell me?”

She hesitated, something he seldom saw her do. He waited, knowing she was organizing her thoughts. “I tried. That night. At the Lucky Chance.”

Memories slammed into him. As their gazes remained locked, the blue that never wavered brought back the sound of the pounding rain, and the scent of heat and faded perfume in the closed cab of his truck. It reminded him of the feel of her chilled skin under his hands as it grew warm from his touch. Lips that tasted of something sweet and hot. Her lipstick and deeper still...her.

He closed his eyes, the images nearly overwhelming him. Images of her. Images of what had followed...the reason he’d left her there, left her in the rain, huddled in the cab of his truck as he returned to the bar to pull his father from yet another fight, yet another pummeling.

He’d left her, choosing once again to save his father rather than follow what he wanted. What he longed for. Needed.

Opening his eyes, Lane met that familiar blue stare again, steeled himself against its pull. “Nothing has changed.” He stepped close, forcing her to tilt her head farther back to continue looking at him. “Nothing.”

“I... I hadn’t expected it to,” she whispered, surprising him with the weak tone in her voice. “You’ve made it clear. I don’t expect anything from you, Lane.”

As if it were that simple. Dear God, he never should have come here. Never should have let his emotions override his common sense. She might have convinced herself she didn’t expect anything, but the people in that waiting room? The tiny baby down the hall? Himself? All of them expected something—everyone expected something from him.

He wanted to curse. Wanted to hurl his anger at her. But he held back, just like he always did. Damn. “You don’t know me like you think you do.” The anger came out in his voice. If anyone would notice, she would. He took a deep breath to cool it. He didn’t want to upset her. He shouldn’t have come here.

“Really?” She looked directly at him, her stare strong, showing none of the weakness of her body. “What exactly do you think I don’t know?”

He laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound. Oh, no. He wasn’t baring his soul to her, not here, not now, maybe never. “Let’s just say your judgment’s a bit clouded.”

He stepped a tad closer, making sure she held his gaze. “I don’t shirk my responsibilities. But I am not cut out to be anyone’s dad.” Why did those words burn his gut? “He needs someone else.” Anyone else. “Someone better, someone who can give him—and you—a better life than I can.”

Lane took a step back from the bed. “You don’t have to worry, Mandy. I don’t make much, but I’ll send what I can.” He took a few more steps. His gut clenched. This wasn’t what she wanted and it tore him up to walk away from her. Their son’s tiny face floated in his memory, taunting his nobility. But he knew his reality. He couldn’t put either of them through the mess that was his life.

Better to keep his distance now, before the attachment grew, than to hurt them later like he knew he would.

Damn it.

The sound of footsteps broke the quiet again, not boot heels, but crepe soles that swished against the polished tiles. The nurse appeared a second later. “Good evening.” She held a small tray in her hands. “Time for your next dose.”

“It will make me sleep,” Mandy complained.

“Sleep is the best thing for you right now.” The woman stepped to the bedside. “Enjoy it now, dear. You two won’t get much when that little guy goes home with you.”

Lane turned then and headed to the door. In the frame, he stood and swallowed hard. He didn’t even know what to say. Instead of speaking, he settled the black Stetson on his head and stalked down the hall, pausing only for the elevators. Once outside, he climbed into his truck. His mind filled with the images of Mandy’s pain-filled features, and— My God, he had a son!

The kaleidoscope of images chased him across the city and out into the familiar open spaces of the highway and ranchland.

He’d never be a dad, but he was a father.

* * *

BY THE TIME Amanda and Lucas were released a few days later, the decision of where they were going had been made, though Amanda didn’t recall ever really agreeing.

At the ranch she stood in the doorway of the old cook’s room just off the big kitchen. Juanita didn’t use the small room since she was married to Chet, the ranch’s foreman, so it had been used for storage for years. Now it was Amanda’s temporary bedroom.

Per doctor’s orders, she wasn’t supposed to climb stairs for a few more weeks or lift anything, including Lucas. The center of the house being the kitchen, everyone could be nearby to help with the baby.

Her brothers had moved one of the beds from upstairs into this room. She was pleased to see that they’d gone to her house in Dallas and brought the crib she’d bought. Even some of the toys and decorations she’d picked out.

Her rocking chair was in the corner between the bed and crib. While she appreciated everything her siblings had done, this was not how it was supposed to be when she brought Lucas home. She looked for Lane and didn’t see him. Anywhere.

All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, cry until she couldn’t cry anymore and then fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

No one would question her. No one would begrudge her such indulgence. They’d been with her the past few days, seen what she’d faced. But no one would really understand. That was the part that bothered her the most. She felt so alone. Alone in a house full of people.

Voices came from the kitchen, breaking through the black cloud that threatened to engulf her. With a deep breath, she turned to face Tara, who had little Lucas in her arms. Amanda couldn’t even lift her own son. She couldn’t lift anything, and the weakness that had moved in and settled over her scared her to death as she imagined something horrid happening, like dropping her son.