The Convenient Cowboy

He sat up slowly, making sure he didn’t jar his head. He knew that once he really woke up, the hangover he deserved would pierce his brain. “Hello,” he whispered hoarsely into the phone.

“Daddy,” Calvin said. “You forgot to call.”

Spence stood quickly and hustled from the bed to the window. Crap. The sun was bright and way up in the sky. Then the spike-through-the-head hangover hit. Why had he sucked down four whiskeys? Whiskey always gave him a bad hangover. “Calvin...” Spence started, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, buddy. I got busy.”

“You’re always busy. When are you going to come and get me? I don’t want to live here anymore.”

Spence choked on his response. Calvin actually sounded cranky, like a normal little boy. Not the quiet and older-than-his-years boy who’d learned tough lessons from his years of illness. His son’s idea of defiance was not putting his LEGOs away. “We’ve got to talk to the judge—”

“He’s a poopy head.”

Spence stifled a laugh to stop the tears. He wanted Calvin with him now. Not months from now when the legal system figured out that Spence was the boy’s father and the person who had the “greatest concern for his physical and emotional well-being.” He dug deep for his calm, firm dad voice. “That’s not nice. He’s the judge, and we’ve got to listen to what he says. It won’t be long.”

“Uh-oh.” Calvin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Grandma...Mimi is in the hall. Bye, Daddy.”

Spence’s knuckles turned white as he fought the urge to hurl the phone across the room. Just the sound of Calvin’s grandma in the hall was enough to send the boy running. He didn’t know how Calvin had found a phone to use, but his son clearly needed to talk with him. When he calmed down, he’d call and ask to speak with the little boy. Hopefully, Eugenia and Stuart Smythe-Ferris—the pretentious last name Missy was back to using—would be open to a brief conversation, despite being sticklers for following every comma of the custody agreement.

He glanced over at Olympia, who’d scooted into the divot made by his body. She didn’t look close to waking up. Wasn’t she a cowgirl? Weren’t they up at the crack of dawn? The only other cowgirl he knew was his sister-in-law, Jessie, and she was out in the barn before the sun rose most days.

He moved to the in-room coffeepot to brew something to combat the headache. They needed to get on the road because he had to be at the office by noon. He’d given some crap-ass excuse to get the time off. No one at the office knew about his marriage, except HR.

“Olympia,” he said more sharply than he’d meant to. She jerked.

“Wha—?” she mumbled, her head coming up, then falling back down with a thump.

“It’s nearly checkout time, and I’ve got to get to the office.”

Olympia squeezed her eyes shut and moaned.

Crap. She was going to be sick. Sympathy jabbed at his conscience. After all, it was his baby making her so ill. He said calmly, “There’s soda there for your stomach.”

She climbed out of the bed and slammed into the bathroom. He heard retching. He refocused on the coffeepot, watching with extreme concentration the drip of the magical brew. His head pounded, but the first slug of coffee would help.

“Olympia,” he called through the closed door. “Are you okay? I need to use the bathroom, and we’ve got to get going.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to die.” She groaned.

“Try the soda.” He cared about how she felt, really he did, but work was waiting and so was convincing his ex in-laws that he had to talk with Calvin today. The anxious tone of his son’s voice played again in his mind.

“Maybe ginger ale?”

“I’m going downstairs to get one.”

How had his simple plan spiraled so out of control? he asked himself as he searched through the overpriced convenience store in the lobby for ginger ale. He could feel the time ticking away. Finally, he paid the three dollars for a bottle and made his way back upstairs in the world’s slowest elevator.

“Got the ginger ale,” he said as he opened the door. The room was quiet. He walked through and saw the bathroom door was open. “Olympia?”

She was back in bed, with the covers over her head.

“Olympia, we’ve got to go. You can sleep in the truck.” She shook her head like a toddler. He didn’t have time for this. He yanked all the covers off. “Let’s go.”

“If I get in your truck, I’ll be sick.”

“Drink this,” he said, holding out the soda. She cracked open one eye, then held out her hand for the bottle. She sat up slowly. He wanted to tell her to hurry, but he also didn’t want her back in the bathroom. “While you drink that, I’ll get ready. Five minutes.”

She was sitting propped against the pillows when he came out of the bathroom, about half the soda gone. Her just-below-the-chin, deep brunette hair was messy, and dark circles still ringed her eyes, but she no longer looked whiter than the sheets.

“Good. You’re ready.”

He refilled his coffee and shoved their stuff into the duffel. They had to get going now.

“Just leave me here.”

“Can’t afford the room for another night.” He opened the dresser drawers, looking for any stray items.

“I’ll be sick again.”

“You have the ginger ale, and I’ll stop at a drive-thru for breakfast. You need food.”

“I’ll get a taxi and meet you at the ranch.”

“No taxi will take you that far out of town.”

Olympia curled into a ball. “No.”

He’d had less trouble with Calvin when he was little. “Olympia, I will carry you downstairs if I have to. We’re going.”

She sighed dramatically and slowly sat up. “If I get sick, it’s your fault.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

Olympia walked over to him, pushing at her hair. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“You’re going in that?”

“What does it matter? We’re just headed home.”

“Don’t you, um, want to...well, maybe...a bra?”

She glanced down. “What? Nothing’s showing, is it?”

Was she making a joke? He could see her nipples and the generous curve of her breasts! He could imagine them filling his hands, soft but firm. He dug in the duffel and pushed her bra at her. His face had to be red. The last time he’d blushed about a girl’s bra had been in the eighth grade.

“I need to wash my face, too.” She strolled to the bathroom with her bra hooked on her finger. Was she putting an extra swing in her walk?

Spence adjusted his stance, wishing that his hangover was worse, bad enough that all he could think about was the pounding pain in his head. Instead, he remembered holding on to those hips as... He refocused his inner dialogue, telling himself to check the room for more of their stuff. Think about Calvin. Recite legal code. Remember what it felt like when he turned eighteen and his parents, who were on a cruise, didn’t even call to wish him a happy birthday. That did it. Calvin would never know that kind of disappointment and hurt.

Chapter Four

Olympia’s touchy stomach growled when she got a deep whiff of the smell of cumin, chili and sizzling meat that hung over the restaurant. Good thing because if she’d run to the bathroom, Spence’s very smart doctor brother would figure out everything. Her stomach did a tiny flip as she thought about the pages that Spence had proposed adding to their prenup to “address the ongoing custody and care of any issue of said marriage” after they’d discovered she was pregnant last week.

“So how’re things going? That rescue horse working out?” her new brother-in-law asked. “Jessie wanted me to find out.” Payson was as tall as Spence but a little thinner and much darker. She wondered how two brothers from the same parents could look so different.

“He’s doing fine. I’m getting him sorted out. Why couldn’t Jessie come with you?” She hoped she didn’t sound desperate. Being surrounded by MacCormack men made her nervous.

“She has a new crop of therapists to introduce today. But I’m supposed to warn you that we’ll be down to see you before I fly back to Philadelphia.”

“I thought you were done with the East Coast?” Olympia swallowed hard and told her brain to calm down. Getting him to talk about his program at Children’s Hospital would stop him from focusing on her. Could he see the pregnancy glow or something?

“Not yet,” Payson said. “My contract with Children’s runs through the end of next year. Even with a lawyer in the family, I couldn’t get out of it. Jessie and I keep reminding ourselves that it’ll be over soon. Plus, she’s so busy, she doesn’t notice whether I’m there or not.” Payson’s smile moved only the very corners of his mouth.

“That’s not true and you know it,” Spence said. “Plus, how are you two supposed to give Calvin a little cousin if you aren’t even in the same state?”

Olympia wanted to kick Spence. How dare he talk about pregnancy and babies? He’d promised her that he wouldn’t say a word tonight about the baby, but had added that they couldn’t keep the pregnancy secret forever.

“I don’t need a birds-and-bees talk from my little brother,” Payson said with a slight edge as his smile disappeared.

Olympia felt Spence stiffen beside her. She dug her hand into his thigh as the increased tension went right to her now-unsettled stomach. How could she endure months of sickness?

Spence relaxed just a fraction and answered in his cowboy drawl, “Well, there, pardner, just wanted to make sure y’all know how it’s done.”

She scrambled to say something that would get the two of them off this path. “I heard Molly is getting her own YouTube channel? Pony Diva? Or is it Pony Princess?” Payson finally relaxed and actually smiled.

“That pony already had a swelled head. The video of her at our wedding got ten thousand hits.” He shook his head. “The kids bring their phones and tablets, take videos of her, upload them and then show them to her. I swear she watches.”

“If she needs an agent, tell Jessie to give me a call,” Spence said just as the waitress came to the table with their order.

Olympia surveyed her meal. Soup and salad. Nothing spicy. Nothing with any flavor. She still wasn’t sure if she could eat it and keep it down. Her soda had stayed put, so she lifted a spoonful of the broth. At the same time, Spence raised an overflowing burrito to his mouth. She caught a whiff of chili and beef. Nausea rose, then his arm brushed the side of her breast, causing her nipple to tighten. Her body didn’t know whether to be sick or get ready to do the nasty. She jerked away and spilled a little soup.

Payson’s gaze zeroed in on her.

She put her head down. She had to stay calm in order to keep from racing to the bathroom. She wasn’t ready—and might never be ready—for Payson and Jessie to know about the baby. Which was totally stupid because unless she went somewhere far away, everyone would know she was pregnant eventually. She pushed her meal away. Spence gave her the stink eye, but she didn’t care.

“Something wrong with the food?” Payson asked, a forkful of tamales on the way to his mouth, dripping with guacamole and salsa verde. She averted her eyes from the green goo.

“I had a big lunch.”

He ate his bite and gave her another long stare. “So you’re boarding horses and rescues at the ranch...where my brother is currently living?”

“Ha-ha,” Spence said. “I know you and Jessie think it’s hilarious that I’m living on a ranch, but if it gets me Calvin, I’d even clean the stalls.”

“You think this’ll work?”

Spence nodded and talked about the custody. All she could think was, My baby will have a big brother. Olympia gulped down nausea. Spence turned to her, his hand going—without her permission—to her abdomen. Her head swiveled sharply. She caught Payson looking at them with speculation. Damn it. Now was not the time for this.

“I’ve got animals to take care of. We almost ready?” She knew how rude she sounded. She didn’t care. When she was outside, the hot dry air settled her down by short-circuiting the rush of fear that hit her when she imagined Payson asking what she and Spence were hiding. What would they tell him? Jessie? They knew the marriage was a sham.

* * *

TWO DAYS AFTER the near disaster of a dinner, Olympia visited Muffin, the rescue that Jessie had recently asked her to take on. The horse, true to form, backed away from her, teeth bared. The paint gelding had bad habits and a quick temper—probably abused in his past. He was wary of humans, and the feeling was mutual. He’d bitten Olympia three times and stomped her foot. Her ranch was home to him and three other horses, not enough to cover the bills since only two were paying customers.

“Seven months, Muffin. I can do this for seven months. Otherwise no feed for you.” In a little over half a year, she’d have the baby, and...she’d be free of Spence and ready to hit the rodeo circuit. No way would she feel sad about leaving her fake cowboy. Plus, Rickie would have the cash she needed for school. She smiled thinking about her sister, with her red hair and long legs—nothing like Olympia. Made sense for her and Rickie, since they only shared James DNA. Olympia vaguely remembered Rickie’s slow-talking dad, an Oklahoma cowboy who hadn’t stuck around for his daughter’s birth.

While she and Spence lived together, money should be a little less tight. Olympia might be able to figure out a way to trade for or get the funds to buy a barrel racer. Then she’d be ready to hit the circuit running—so to speak. Right, cowgirl, and exactly how are you going to practice with a big old belly?

Muffin shook his head, his mane going in six directions. Olympia smiled at the gelding’s goofiness and not just the fact that the less-than-pleasant animal had been given such a girlie handle. Jessie said that he’d been named for his unnatural love of muffins—butter-rum ones, in particular. She wasn’t ready to break down and bribe him with those treats...yet. She reached over the stall to put the bucket of feed in place. Muffin showed his teeth. “Silly horse,” Olympia said. “Biting the hand that feeds you is a bad idea.” She checked his water, then moved on to the boarders.

Now what? All the chores were done, and she might actually be hungry. She’d have to face the house sometime.

“Dinner, Olympia,” Spence said from the barn door.

She whipped around but could see only his silhouette against the setting sun, his hat cocked at an angle that gave her a shiver of recognition. He looked just like a cowboy who’d be the sort of stand-up guy she could rely on and fall in love with. But that had been the dream of a teenager. She didn’t want to feel that for Spence or the instant flash of heat. So she’d lie and tell him she wasn’t hungry. Then what? She couldn’t sleep in the barn. She’d agreed to marry him and live with him. Time to act like a civilized human being. “What are we having?”

“Chicken fingers and fries.”

She stared at him, trying to decide if he was making a joke.

He stared back. “It’s Calvin’s favorite. I’m missing him.”

She waited for him to say more, but when he didn’t, she replied, “As long as I don’t have to cook it, I’m good.”

“My cooking skills are limited, but I can make a meal. Are you ready?”

“I’m done, and I might even be hungry.”

“Are these your horses for racing?”

“No. I’m boarding those two.” She waved to the closest animals. “Pasquale there is a rescue that...well, he just never left. The one at the far end is another rescue Jessie talked me into taking. If I was a little more centrally located, it’d be simpler to board more animals. It’s just too far for most people.”

“It is way out. Family ranch?”

“You could say that.” She didn’t want to talk about the father who’d given her the property in apology for a lifetime of neglect.

“So your family is from Arizona?”

He was making polite conversation. She could return the favor. She might have grown up like trailer trash, but she’d learned a lot since then. “My sisters and I grew up over near Bisbee.”

“Sisters. You have more than Rickie, right?”

“Two others. They’re between me and Rickie.”

“What’d you tell them about the wedding?”

“Nothing. They’ll just assume I hitched my wagon to yours for the cash. That’s what we James women do. Find a sugar daddy.” Olympia tried to smile and make a joke of it. That wasn’t easy since her entire life she’d been telling herself that she’d never get stuck pregnant and relying on a man like her mama and grammy. She and Spence stood in the doorway, and even over the horses and hay, she could smell him—which would have been fine, except it made her warm and gooey inside. “I’m hungry,” she said, hoping that would encourage him to move on.

“That’s good. If you can’t keep down food, there could be trouble for the baby.”

“Thought your brother was the doctor?” She followed Spence to the house, taking sneak peeks at the way his jeans followed the curve of his rear. They wouldn’t be sleeping together again—because that would just be a bad idea, right?—but she could still admire the view. She’d had that strong, round butt in her hands when Spence had... When they’d made the baby that... Damn. The nausea roiled up from her middle. “I’m going to skip dinner,” she said, rushing by him and into her room.

She sat on her bed, closing her eyes and willing away the ball of sickness. Could she break the contract? Hide out somewhere until she had the baby and handed it over to a nice couple? If she’d had a normal family, she would’ve been on the phone to her mama for advice and support. She’d never had the time to make close friends, either, because she’d been taking care of her siblings. Who had time for going to dances or sleepovers when her sisters were at home sick with the flu? She’d barely squeaked through high school. For a second, she thought about calling Jessie, but her one friend was also Spence’s sister-in-law—hers, too, she guessed. That meant Olympia couldn’t confide in her, could she? No. That would put Jessie in a bad place.

* * *

“YOU’VE GOT TO EAT,” Spence said through the door, hoping his voice sounded less annoyed than he felt.

“Not now.”

“Come on. What can I make you? Toast?”

The door swung open, and he stepped back from Olympia’s white and angry face. “I’m not hungry. If I eat anything, I’ll throw up. I do not like throwing up, so I’m not eating. I might not be a smart attorney, but I can figure that out on my own.”

“You might be nauseated because you haven’t eaten. Everything I’ve read indicates that having frequent small amounts of food will stop the queasy feeling.” She clenched her fists, and his internal voice said, You had to prove that you’re smarter, didn’t you?

“Do you want me to kill you?”

He backed away. “If you don’t want supper, we still need to talk.” She didn’t move. “Um, I’ve addressed your concerns with the...” He motioned to her midsection.

“Adoption, like I asked?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t walk away from my children.” She glared at him as color flooded her unnaturally pale cheeks. He went on, “The document makes it clear that you won’t be responsible for the child.”

“Fine. But I don’t want a bunch of legalese crap. I don’t have the money for a lawyer to check on you.” She gulped in a breath.

“Are you going to be sick?”

“Probably.” She closed her eyes, and any color she’d gained disappeared.

He reached out to touch her but let his hand hover. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. He really didn’t have the right to comfort her. But he couldn’t stop feeling that he should hold her until she felt like her usual sassy, drive-him-to-drink self. “We can do this later if you need to lie down.” His fingers landed lightly on her forearm. He could feel the warmth of her skin under his fingertips and the slight tremor. He aimed her toward the twin bed shoved against the wall. What the hell? She hadn’t let him into the spare room she’d taken when he moved in. It was so tiny. Why had she insisted he take the master bedroom and its big bed? “Come on. Get in. I’ll finish the draft and leave it for you to read on your own. It’s about protecting you, too.” He worried when she dropped onto the bed, letting her head hang forward.

“If you say so,” she whispered.

“I say so.” He knelt in front of her and pulled off her sneakers. He liked the boots better. He’d like to see her in nothing but those boots. Whoa. That was not what he wanted and definitely not what they needed. What was wrong with him? She was sick. She wasn’t really his wife. More important, she didn’t even like him.

When her shoes were off, she curled into a ball on the bed. “Go away. I want to die on my own.”

“You won’t die,” he said softly. “It’s morning sickness. It’ll go away.”

“Is it morning?”

“Just a turn of phrase. The nausea can happen at any time of day. Researchers believe that it’s a warning system. That usually the illness is triggered by foods that could cause the baby harm.”

“Toast? Toast is harmful?”

“It’s not a perfect system.” He smiled at her tousled hair. He wanted to smooth the strands to comfort her, except the other feelings that had him shifting on his feet had nothing to do with tenderness. Stop it, you perv. “It’ll get better. It always does.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

He stood for another moment, imagining their baby...his baby. Good Lord, he was going to be a father again. He hurried out of the room, so he didn’t do something stupid like cry or give her a hug.

* * *

THE SOUND OF Olympia being sick on the other side of the door ratcheted up Spence’s worry. They’d been at the ranch for three weeks, and Olympia had been sick nearly 24/7...although that hadn’t stopped her from going out to the barn or looking for more horses to board and train.

Fear sweat gathered in his armpits. Could a woman die from morning sickness? He’d looked it up on Google. He pulled out his phone. Hey, he had a doctor in the family. He dialed Payson. Where was his brother, Arizona or Philadelphia?

“What?” Payson asked, sounding harried and annoyed.

“Olympia is pregnant and has been throwing up constantly,” Spence spewed out, the fear choking his voice a little as Olympia moaned in distress. “Do I need to take her to the emergency room?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do I need to take Olympia to the ER?”

“I can’t get past pregnant. Your phony wife is pregnant?”

“Yes,” Spence said, realizing this had been a huge mistake. He’d called on instinct, not with the thinking part of his brain. “I’ll just take her to one of those clinics. Never mind.”

“Don’t hang up,” Payson said. “Olympia is having a baby. I thought you said this wasn’t a real marriage?”

“Pregnancy and marriage are not correlated.”

“I know that, but—”

“It’s your fault. Well, yours and Jessie’s.”

“I don’t see how. You might be a lawyer, but even you’ve got to understand basic anatomy—”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. She’s sick constantly. I swear she’s lost twenty pounds.”

“I doubt she’s lost that much weight. I want to understand how she got pregnant when you’ve been married for less than a month.”

“We met at your wedding.”

“You hooked up at our wedding? Were you so drunk that you didn’t—”

“The condom broke.”

“You’re sure it’s your baby? It seems awfully convenient that you offer her a marriage proposal with money... I assume you offered her money, since you told me you might have to sell that damned truck, which you love better than any man should.”

“The baby is mine.” Spence made himself loosen his grip on the phone. Olympia wasn’t that kind of woman, which he’d known even before she’d punched him. She lived by a cowgirl code like his sister-in-law’s. No matter what she might say about walking away from the baby and her family, she was the one who’d stepped in when her youngest sister lost her scholarship. “I didn’t call you for a lecture. I called you for medical advice. Second, Olympia didn’t know she was pregnant when Elvis married us.”