A Christmas Baby For The Cowboy

She hated to admit it, but what he’d said about her publicity strategy—or lack of one—made sense, even for as small a town as Serendipity. She intended to target several surrounding towns. As Cash had mentioned, people would come in from out of town once they heard she was selling Kickfire products. She’d recently created a website for the store so folks in the tri-county region and beyond could peruse weekly specials and feel compelled to visit her store. She was even looking into the prospect of shipping products directly to consumers.

That would majorly change the focus of her little shop and held the possibility of creating a substantial second stream of income. Her biggest concern was that once Cash fulfilled his obligation, she would once again be working the store alone. No matter how desperately Emerson’s needed a boost in income, she didn’t want to bite off more than she’d be able to chew.

At this point she wasn’t planning to ship beyond the local area, but who knew what the future held?

One thing was certain—having a handsome cowboy hawking the goods—one who’d successfully sponsored other products in the past—would be a definite plus, especially for the Western wear.

But only if she could trust him.

And that was a big if right now.

If Cash was willing to lay it all out on the line and tell her the truth, and if he truly intended to strive to make up for his wrongdoings, she might be able to overlook the predicaments that got him into trouble in the first place.

Even if she had to put up with Martin’s annoying interference and his own ideas for what a publicity campaign should entail, not to mention Pete’s camera flashing.

Everyone deserved a second chance, didn’t they? Even a man like Cash, who’d fallen from grace in the rodeo world and was now struggling just to survive.

Maybe especially a man like Cash.

But only if he came clean now—literally and figuratively.

She waited, her breath catching in her lungs as Cash gathered his thoughts. He dropped his gaze and stared at the picnic blanket.

Was he going to explain what had really happened to him, or was he preparing to put on that false cowboy charm of his and try to find a way to gloss it over?

She suspected he was wearing a mask, and it was up to him to remove it and let Alyssa see what he looked like underneath the facade.

“Yeah. Okay.” He paused and pursed his lips. “You deserve the truth if we’re going to work together.”

She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard. Why don’t you tell me, and then I’ll tell you how it really went down?”

“The drinking,” she prompted, saying the first thing that came to mind. She might as well give it to him straight and hope he did the same with her.

“Yes.” He didn’t say another word, just caught her gaze and held it firm.

That was it?

Yes?

There had to be more to it than that.

“You did drink? You still do? I suppose what you do on your own time is your business, but I can’t have you under the influence of alcohol while you’re working at my store, especially with the renovations going on. It could be dangerous.”

“I understand. And to answer your question, at one point I drank a lot, but now I don’t.”

“At all?”

“At all. Look. When I first entered the rodeo scene, I partied as much as the next cowboy, but once I lost Aaron, I lost my moral compass completely. I floundered, not only in my private life, but out in the arena. Alcohol was a way to dull my senses.”

“I’m going to be forthright with you. After everything I heard about you, I half expected you to show up drunk today at the auction.”

He frowned. “I won’t ever do that to you. I promise I’m dry and will do everything in my power to remain that way. But I think it’s only fair to tell you it’s only been three days since my last drink. At this point I’m still going through physical withdrawal, not to mention emotional issues. It’s not easy, but I’m detemined.”

She pinched her lips. “I see.”

She didn’t understand the struggles he was facing. Not really. She’d never even tasted alcohol, much less been tipsy, nor had she ever spent any time around an alcoholic before, so she had nothing to gauge what Cash was pledging to her.

Could he really stop drinking cold turkey, and all on his own, as Martin had insisted?

“Is that a deal breaker?” He tilted his head and met her gaze. Like her, he didn’t couch his question in sweet terms.

She considered his words for a moment, chewing the corner of her lip. After a long pause, she shook her head.

“No. Not necessarily. But know this. If you show up drunk on the job one time, I will kick you out the door faster than any bareback bronc ever did. You have exactly one opportunity to prove yourself. Do we understand each other?”

She knew she was being tough on him, and her demands wouldn’t be easy for him to follow, but she wasn’t about to start pulling punches now. She had her store to think of, before anything else, even her own emotions.

She understood herself well enough to know that if she worked with him, she would become entangled in his battle. She didn’t have the strength, nor the good sense, to hold him at arm’s length, especially if she saw him struggling. So the rules were as much for her as they were for him.

“Understood.” His voice sounded like gravel, as if his throat was lined with sandpaper. “What else?”

She paused, opening and closing her mouth twice, about to speak and then stopping herself.

He tensed, and his gaze narrowed.

“Spit it out. Let’s get everything out in the open now. Like you said. No surprises.”

There was one other thing, but it was a touchy issue, perhaps even more so than his drinking. And Alyssa suspected Cash already knew what she was about to say.

“I heard there was a woman.”

He exhaled and dropped his gaze to his hands, no longer willing or able to meet her eyes.

“Yes. I figured you would have heard about Sharee. She was all over the news with her smear campaign.”

“Is that what it was?”

Alyssa thought she wanted the truth from him. But did she really want to hear it?

What if what Sharee had said was true? What if he had “knocked her up”—Sharee’s words, not hers, and a phrase Alyssa found especially repugnant—and then refused to acknowledge his baby?

“A smear campaign?” He shrugged. “Yes and no.”

“Cash?” she said, when he didn’t continue.

“Yes, she is pregnant with my child. I willingly admit that I’m the father, and I take full responsibility for my actions, both then and now. But not one word of anything else she has blurted to the press is true.