A Christmas Baby For The Cowboy

“She’s cast me in a very bad light, making it appear that I abandoned her when she told me I was going to be a father. The truth is, she didn’t even bother to inform me she was pregnant. I had to hear that from the evening news.”

He picked off his hat and tunneled his fingers through his thick black hair.

“Yeah, I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Alyssa. But I didn’t walk out on her, because we never had a relationship. She was a buckle bunny and I was a rodeo cowboy too big for his britches. Which I guess makes me a jerk, so maybe she has that right. She pursued me, not the other way around. Not that I’m making excuses.

“We connected one time, and I was so drunk I barely remember.”

She was trying not to judge Cash. But what kind of man got a girl pregnant like that?

Alyssa felt for the woman, buckle bunny or not. That Cash had a one-night stand with her only made the situation worse.

“And?” she pressed. “What now?”

“Are you asking me about my intentions?”

“I am.”

He could tell her it was none of her business and he would probably be right. But if he did, she would send him on his way, auction or no auction.

“Believe me, I’ve tried to do right by her,” he said, his voice cracking. “And my baby. As soon as I heard she was pregnant, I contacted her. There is no question in my mind that I’m going to pay child support, but it’s more than that. I don’t want my child to grow up without a father. I know I’m a mess right now and not the kind of man who would be a positive influence on a child. But I’d like to share custody after I get my life back together. Being a father is a huge motivation. Except Sharee has made it crystal clear she wants nothing to do with me, nor does she want me to have any part of our child’s life.”

His gaze dropped. “And who can blame her? Look at me. I’m hardly in any position to be a father, to take care of a baby. I’m a wreck.

“I have every intention of doing all I can for my baby—giving my financial support, at least, even if Sharee won’t let me into my child’s life in any other way.” He groaned. “If I can’t really be a father to him or her in the ways that really matter.”

“But if it is your baby—”

“It is. I can’t prove it right now, but I feel it in my gut, and the timing is right.”

“Yes, but then don’t you think...”

“Believe me, that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” he cut in. “I need to be a better man. Not just for the rodeo’s sake, although there is that, since that’s the only way I know how to provide for my baby. But the adjustments I intend to make in the way I live? In a few months my baby will be born. Talk about life changing. Suddenly it isn’t all about me. My baby will be born soon.”

His mouth curved up and a spark fired in his eyes at the mention of his baby’s upcoming birth, but then he frowned and shook his head. “I only saw the ultrasound of the little bean because Sharee shared it on the news. She announced that she had just finished her first—trimester. Is that the right word? Trimester? I don’t know much about pregnancy, and Sharee won’t tell me anything.”

Alyssa didn’t much like the way this woman was treating Cash. Maybe he deserved it for how he’d treated her, but now there was a baby involved. They needed to put aside both their agendas for the child’s sake.

It sounded like Cash wanted to do what was right, but if what Cash said about Sharee was true, she was using her baby for her own gain. It made Alyssa sick just to think about it.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be. It’s all my own doing. I dug this hole, and now it’s up to me to crawl out of it. I’m not anywhere close to being ready to be a father, but it’s up to me now to become a good daddy. I know what I have to do now—and that starts with cutting out the whiskey.”

“And that’s why you’ve stopped drinking.”

“I’m three days sober. That doesn’t sound like much, but to me it feels like I’m climbing up the side of a steep mountain. I don’t know if I’ll ever reach the summit, but I have to try.”

At least he was man enough to own up to his mistakes. But was that enough to keep him on the straight and narrow? Alyssa knew enough about alcoholism to know the path wasn’t simple, and she sent up a short, silent prayer that God would be with Cash throughout the struggles he would face.

“So now you know the truth, it’s up to you as to what you want to do with it. With me,” he amended. “Are you willing to help me, not only with my rodeo publicity, but in regaining my life and integrity? Or do I need to look elsewhere?”

Alyssa thought of his agent, Martin, who stood just out of earshot, his gaze zoned in on them and a frown lining his face. At least the photographer who’d taken pictures of Cash at the auction and when they’d first shared the picnic was nowhere to be seen.

But Pete would be back, hanging around Cash, and no doubt getting in the way. Her customers would be bumping into him every time they turned around, and that was to say nothing of how chaotic the renovation might be.

She pressed her palms against her eyes where a headache was forming. It was a lot to consider, and she wished she had more time to think about it, but Cash needed an answer now.

And Cash wasn’t the only one waiting for an answer. Even now, Martin was inching forward. Alyssa was certain he wouldn’t walk away until he got what he wanted.

Her stomach churned, and she prayed she wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of her life.

“Okay, I’ll help you,” she said. “But I’ll be watching you like a hawk. One mistake and you’re gone. Is that clear?”

He gave a curt nod.

“Understood. And thank you.” He tipped his hat at her.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warned him. “This arrangement can end as quickly as it begins.”

“I get it. It’s all on me.”

“I’ll expect you to be at the store at 8:00 a.m. sharp Monday morning.”

He stood, gesturing toward Martin. “I’d better tell him I’m sticking around so he can make arrangements for Pete to stay in town.”

“Okay. And, Cash?”

“Yeah?” He turned, one dark eyebrow raised.

“Don’t be late.”

Chapter Three (#u2e883781-8dec-50f6-8dc7-4606072b5074)

Cash’s head was slamming harder than the nails he was pounding with his hammer. Every movement was excruciating, like an ice pick repeatedly striking his temple. Cold sweat clung to his brow.

He’d been working for Alyssa for nearly a week, which meant he was close to ten days sober. He’d presumed he would be past any physical withdrawal symptoms. Mostly that was the case, but there were moments, like this one, where he felt like he had on his first alcohol-free day.

It was as if his body had a peculiar, regressive muscle memory. A cold sweat covered his skin, his entire body ached, his hands shook with tremors and his head throbbed incessantly.

He wished he had someone to ask about what he was experiencing, someone who had been through withdrawal and who would know if what he was feeling was normal. But he was too ashamed to participate in a twelve-step program or have a sponsor and, anyway, there wasn’t a meeting within an hour’s drive. He didn’t have the time nor the inclination to make that much of a sacrifice.

No, he was going to conquer this all on his own. He’d used the internet to find out as much information on alcoholism as he could, facts he hoped would keep him from backsliding, but there were moments like this one that took every ounce of his willpower to battle.

He blew out an unsteady breath.

One sip and the shakes would go away. Two fingers in a tumbler and the black cloud that always covered his head would no longer threaten to rain on him.

But that was all an illusion, he reminded himself. Just because he numbed himself to the world didn’t mean it wasn’t there.