The Cowboy's Christmas Baby

As he manhandled it out of the truck, he felt a strong twinge in his leg followed by one of regret. Jan had offered to come by and help him get everything ready, but after Erin expressed her doubts about his ability he wanted to prove he could do it himself.

The end of the ladder came off the truck and crashed to the ground. Next step was getting it to the house.

“Do you a need a hand?”

Dean’s heart jumped and he spun around, almost unbalancing himself in the process.

Erin walked toward him, her baby tucked in some kind of carrier strapped to her front.

She wore a long sweater that flowed as she walked. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun-looking thing emphasizing her narrow features. And once again he wondered what had happened to her the past few years to put that edge in her voice, that hardness in her eyes, the hollows in her cheeks. Wondered if it had anything to do with the baby she carried.

“I’m okay,” he said, lifting his chin as if challenging her to help him. “I do this for a living.”

“I’ll let you get to your work. But let me know if you need a hand.”

He just nodded, glancing from her face to the baby bundled against her chest. “I doubt you’ll be able to help much.”

“Excuse me,” she huffed, sounding insulted. “I know how to handle a hammer and nails. I’ve done home renovations before.”

Her snippy tone was a shock. “So tell me, Miss Home Renovations, why is it okay for you to question my abilities but not okay for me to question yours?”

She looked taken aback. “What do you mean?”

So now she was going to play dumb. Tiffany had excelled at that. Throwing back his suspicions about her faithfulness by going on the defensive and lobbing out questions.

He wanted to make it easy for both of them and drop it. But if he was working here for the next week or so, he needed to face her doubts head-on. “Tuesday, when Jan and I were here, you asked if there was someone else who could do the work. Like you didn’t think I was capable.”

She blushed, which did two things. Confirmed his suspicions and made him even angrier.

“I may not be able to ride a bucking bronc, but I can fix your siding and replace your windows,” he said, wishing he could keep the anger out of his voice. Seeing his ex-girlfriend’s pitying look just before she dumped him had been a tough pill to swallow. Going through the slow and painful steps of rehab even more so. But to have this girl whom he once admired and dreamed of dating treat him like less of a man was like a slap. “It might take me longer than usual and if that’s a worry, I’ll tell Jan to adjust your bill,” he snapped. “Call it a disability discount.”

Erin took a step back, looking as if he had hit her and he regretted being so defensive.

“I’m sorry” was all she said. Then she turned and strode back to the house, her sweater flaring behind her in her hurry to get away from him.

He blew out a sigh as she closed the door, shaking his head at his stupid outburst. Way to go, Moore, he chided himself. Way to treat the customer.

She was probably in the house, calling Jan up and telling him she didn’t want this crazy man on her yard anymore.

He sucked in a breath and picked up one end of the ladder, pulling it away from the truck. Then he started toward the house, his steps deliberate as he dragged the thing behind him.

He hoped she didn’t look out the window at this point to see just how disabled he really was. He knew it shouldn’t matter to him what she thought.

But it did. Far too much.

As he lifted the ladder against the house, moving slowly and carefully, he struggled with his own doubts.

He would finish up here today and then he would phone Jan and tell him he had to find someone else.

No way was he going to work for someone who didn’t think he could do the job.

Especially not Erin McCauley.

Chapter Four (#ua585a162-de2c-5783-9d5a-de5a7c102c64)

Erin drizzled the glaze on the bundt cake she had made, then stood back to admire her handiwork.

Too much? Not enough?

What kind of cake did you bake for the man in front of whom you’d made a complete fool of yourself? What kind of cake said “I’m sorry” the best?

This morning, after her run-in with Dean, she had packed up Caitlin and made a quick trip to town to talk to the people at Dis-Connected about getting her internet up and running. From there she’d headed to the grocery store to pick up a few things she was missing, as well as supplies to bake this cake.

But now that it was done she was having second thoughts. Should have just gone with cookies. Or muffins.

She tossed the bowl with the remainder of the icing into the sink. Seriously, how indecisive could she be? Had Sam done this to her? Stolen her identity and her confidence?

The answer to that would be a resounding yes if she were honest with herself. But she didn’t want to admit he’d had that much influence in her life. Lauren had always accused her of being a people pleaser. Her life with Sam was the epitome of that personality trait.

She could hear Dean clattering around outside, going up and down the ladder. She didn’t know what he was doing out there, only that she wasn’t going out to watch. After his outburst she doubted he would appreciate spectators.

Well, the cake was done and it was a quarter to twelve. He would be quitting for lunch soon. Perfect time to bring it out to him.

She glanced at the clock again just as her phone rang.

It was Jodie.

“Hey, sweetie,” Jodie trilled, “I’m about five minutes away. Can I stop in?”

“Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

“I kind of figured, but I don’t want to intrude.”

Jodie’s words gave her a tick of sorrow. In her shame and retreat from her sisters had she come across as so unapproachable?

“Will Caitlin be awake?” Jodie asked.

“She’s sleeping now, but I’m sure she’ll be up soon.” Thankfully Caitlin had settled in last night. It was as if she too sensed they had arrived at their final destination.

This morning Erin had gone for a walk around the property and down the road, just to get a sense of the place. To let herself enjoy the space, the quiet and the simple fact that this belonged to her and only her.

Then she’d made a fool of herself in front of Dean.

“Then if it’s okay, I’m coming over,” Jodie said.

“That would be great.”

This way she could put off the agony of indecision over the cake she had just made and, instead, catch up with Jodie. She wanted to talk about the wedding and settle back into her sister’s life. The easier sister’s life.