The Texas Cowboy's Baby Rescue

A wave of unexpected contentment flowing through her, she snuggled the sleepy Robby, breathing in his sweet baby scent. “Speaking of family, though, yours must be happy to have you back in Texas again.”

His expression darkened and the corners of his lips slanted downward. “They are.”

“Are you?” Curiosity won out over caution yet again.

“For the moment.”

Which meant what? He had one foot out the door? Was getting ready to bolt again?

Not that it was any of her business what his future plans were. Once the current mystery was solved, anyway. She knew what her future was—it was right here in Laramie County with Robby and Riot.

“So.” Bridgett forced herself to concentrate on their surroundings. She inclined her head toward the front two rooms of the thousand-square-foot first floor. The one on the right sported a wall of what appeared to be security monitors showing various areas of the ranch, while the other room was outfitted with a large, masculine mahogany desk, a comfortable chair, built in bookshelves and sleek computer equipment. Framed diplomas and awards adorned the whitewashed wood-paneled walls. “I gather this is where you do all the Western Cross ranch office work.”

“Yep. And there’s never any shortage of it.” He moved forward, leading the way past an iron-railed staircase to the living room in the rear, which also had an open layout. She paused to admire the rustic fireplace, a big comfy sofa and the state-of-the-art entertainment center.

After getting a cursory glimpse at the pristine eat-in kitchen, she followed him to a screened-in porch, complete with cushioned furniture and a chain-hung swing. It overlooked a stone patio and built-in barbecue grill as well as an impressive view of the ranch.

“This, I am guessing, is where you hang out when you’re not working.” She tried not to think about how intimate it would be, sharing such a cozy space, and failed. “And maybe entertain.” She pushed the words through the abrupt tightness of her throat.

He swung back to face her, looking as intrigued by her as she was by him. “Yes to the first. No to the latter.”

Good heavens, her pulse was pounding. She moved slightly away. Pretended to stare out the windows at the fields beyond.

She spun back to face him, pretending a tranquility she couldn’t begin to feel. “You don’t entertain?”

Gesturing for her to follow, he moved back inside toward the centrally located staircase. “I give tours of the ranch to business associates by request. That’s it.” He paused on the first stair. “Why? Is that a high priority for you?”

“Not really. I’ve been spending all my time these days working extra shifts so I could save up enough for the down payment on a house. Which I have finally done.”

Upstairs were three modestly decorated bedrooms, decked out in the same masculine gray-and-white color scheme as the rest of the home, and a full bath off the hall featuring a single pedestal sink, a private water closet and a tiled bathtub/shower combo big enough for a man of his size. “So, what do you think?” He shifted a restless Riot a little higher in his arms. “Will you-all be comfortable here tonight?”

In terms of creature comforts? Yes. In terms of having him sleeping just down the hall from her? Not so much. Yet what choice did she have? She had to make do until she had a better solution worked out.

“Absolutely. If you’re sure it’s going to be okay with you, too?”

He looked at her a long moment. A myriad of emotions came and went on his ruggedly handsome face. “We’ll make it work,” he said cryptically. And in that moment, as they headed back downstairs, she knew they would.

* * *

WHILE BRIDGETT CARRIED the baby and the diaper bag into the family room, Cullen headed outside with the puppy.

Thirty minutes later, she and Robby found them on the screened-in porch. The freshly bathed Riot was getting a rubdown with a towel and she smiled. “He has a lot more white fur than I realized.”

“Yeah, I thought he was mostly brown, too.” Laugh lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Guess a lot of it was mud. Robby okay?”

Trying not to think how easily she and Cullen meshed in the mom and dad roles, she nodded. “He took his bottle like a champ. Now all he has to do is burp a time or two, and I’ll be able to put him down again.”

Cullen brought two stainless steel bowls of food and water over and set them in front of where Riot was leashed to the railing.

The puppy stared at both.

“I know you have to be hungry,” Cullen said, kneeling down to pet the mutt’s head.

Riot still didn’t touch the food.

Cullen took some kibble into his hand and offered it that way.

Riot hesitated, then inched closer, nudging Cullen’s palm and finally eating a few small pieces. Cullen offered the bowl again, but when the pup once again refused, he was forced to go back to the hand-feeding method.

“Are all puppies that fussy?” she asked, walking back and forth, gently patting Robby on the back.

“I wouldn’t know. I only had the one when I was a kid.”

Bridgett caught the low note of emotion in his voice. “What happened to him?”

“He died at age nine. Cancer.”

Clearly, Cullen still missed him. “You never got another?”

Another shake of his head. “Initially, I wasn’t in a position where I could get another dog. After that—” he shrugged “—I was too busy ranching.”

Robby gazed over at Cullen, mesmerized by the low timbre of his voice. As was she. “Too busy?” she asked lightly, inclining her head at Riot. “Or too leery of giving your heart away to another little cutie like this?”

Cullen’s head came up. As he exhaled, his broad shoulders tensed, then relaxed. “Too busy fixing up ranches, adding to my herd and moving from place to place.”

“How big a spread do you want?” she asked, edging closer.

Cullen set the empty bowl aside, then led the still-leashed Riot over to the grass. “Minimum, ten thousand acres and a couple thousand head of cattle.”

“Maximum?”

He shrugged. “Frank has fifty thousand acres on the Bar M.”

“You’d like to equal your family’s ranch?”

He nodded, solemn now. “Yeah, I would.”

There was something oddly sentimental about following in his father’s footsteps that way. Especially coming from such an unsentimental man. She looked out at the fenced acres, all of them spring-green and lush after plentiful March rains. “How many acres do you have here?”

Noting Riot had finished his business, Cullen praised him and patted him on the head. “Four thousand.”

“So you have a way to go.” She watched the puppy and man amble back onto the patio.

“I’ll get there,” he said confidently.

She’d bet he would.

In fact, she’d bet he would get just about anything he wanted. Good thing it wasn’t her.