Heidi Hormel - The Kentucky Cowboy's Baby

Faye danced onto the patio, bouncing EllaJayne on her hip. “We’re going to breathe in the colors.”

“Grana,” the toddler agreed as they danced off.

Pepper gritted her teeth and glanced at AJ to gauge his reaction. Until she was a teen, Pepper had stayed at the ranch, with Faye homeschooling her. Then she’d gone to public school, where a cowboy wearing anything but Wranglers was cause for comment, and her mother’s unusual view of the world after years of living in a commune had mortified Pepper. Now, some days she could appreciate how growing up with Faye had taught her compassion and patience. Angel Crossing needed both. The residents were stubborn about changing anything, even things that would make them healthier.

“All done,” Faye said, snuggling her nose against the toddler’s. “The blue sky smelled like Aqua Velva and the white clouds made us both think sheets dried outside.” The little girl giggled.

“I’ll take her now,” AJ said, holding his arms out for his daughter.

“Wait,” Pepper said. Suddenly, the whole day felt too huge, like something had shifted in the world. Dear Lord, she was starting to sound like Faye. She dug deep for the calm and unemotional Pepper who took over during emergencies. “I want to make sure that we’re clear on our responsibilities.” AJ nodded. She went through the list, while she kept a professional eye on him. She needed to use her PA Spidey Senses. She could ferret out a lie at twenty paces—at least that’s what she told patients. She just wanted to be certain that he would stick by the agreement.

She looked at him hard. It didn’t take a medical degree to interpret his bloodshot eyes or the dark circles underneath. He was exhausted. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? She wanted to tell AJ to go get some sleep and she’d take care of everything. But he wasn’t her responsibility. She didn’t have to care for him. She needed her attorney to straighten out the will. Where you goin’ to find the dinero for that? Daddy Gene’s voice rang in her head. She’d find it because everyone she cared about—which didn’t include AJ and his daughter—was counting on her.

* * *

PEPPER QUIETLY CLOSED the door to the bedroom she now shared with her mother. AJ and his little girl had been given Faye’s room. Faye hadn’t minded—she hadn’t been spending much time there since Daddy Gene had died. Pepper could only imagine how long tomorrow would feel because last night she hadn’t gotten much more than an hour of sleep. Good thing Tuesday was a Dr. Cortez day. It meant her patient load was reasonable.

Pepper headed to the kitchen, not needing to turn on any lights because Faye, as always, had left the house well-lit. Her mother, despite her love of the moon and staying up late, did not like the dark.

Having grown up in a commune, more or less, before Daddy Gene had showed up, Pepper had a high tolerance for sharing space. But sharing the house with AJ made it feel really, really small. Like right now, she could’ve sworn she smelled his scent of dusty leather, baby powder and...bubble gum? That last was new. It smelled like the flavoring in children’s medicine. She moved a little faster. Was EllaJayne sick?

AJ stood in the kitchen shirtless, the top button of his jeans undone so she could see the band of his tighty-whities. Stop looking, she told herself firmly as she stood in the shadows. She made her gaze move to his hand and the small white bottle he held.

“Is EllaJayne okay?”

“What?” He jerked around, the bottle dropping from his hand, pink syrup spraying everywhere. “Damn it.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” she mumbled as the syrup dripped down his chest. His well-muscled chest. She had to stop noticing things like that right now. She rushed to the sink for a dishcloth and the cleaning supplies underneath.

“This stuff is sticky. What are you doing awake?” he whispered. She glanced over her shoulder to see him rubbing at the pink drops.

“Here,” she said, taking the cloth and wiping at his chest, using her best professional voice and touch. She concentrated on the pink syrup that had caught in the light furring of hair on his chest and the arrow...she looked back up. His pupils had enlarged so that his storm-gray eyes looked black. “Umm...maybe you can do that while I clean up the floor.” His hand covered hers. She didn’t feel threatened. Instead she felt his warmth and strength, and that was dangerous. Much more than dangerous. That kind of heat could make her...had made her...do stupid things. His mouth softened and the ends curled just a little as his gaze moved over her. She scrutinized his well-defined jaw, hollowed cheeks and the strong column of his neck before focusing on the small white scar that looked doubly pale against his dark skin in the shadows made by the night lights in the kitchen. She wanted to use the tip of her tongue to trace that little ridge of skin and then listen to his breathing catch and his skin pebble and shiver with excitement.

He cleared his throat and the spell of near darkness, his heat and her own addled brain startled her back to reality. She stepped back quickly, not even cringing when she felt the sticky syrup on her sole.

“If you need a refill for EllaJayne, stop by the clinic tomorrow.” She turned slowly, refusing to run from the kitchen, even though that’s what she should do. “I think you can clean up the rest of the spill.”

“It’s been years since anyone bathed me, but I think I might like it.”

She swung around. He was a macho, jerk bull rider. They were the worst of the worst, Daddy Gene had told her, and he should know since he’d been one of them for a while. Crazy enough to climb on the back of three-quarters of a ton of testosterone-pumped muscle again and again. She needed to remember that about AJ. He was not the man who awkwardly tried to care for his daughter, making her heart go “aww” and her hands itch to smooth the daughter and father’s similarly frowning faces.

“Good night,” she finally said when he wouldn’t stop looking at her.

“You know, your mother told me that she’d seen my arrival—something to do with your sign and a chart.”

Pepper pulled in a breath and let it out slowly through her nose. Why couldn’t her mother say normal motherly things, like stay away from my daughter, you no-good rodeo bum? Because that sort of comment had been Daddy Gene’s job and he wasn’t here. “Faye also believes that a bit of bacon and the water drawn from a well on the new moon cures ingrown toenails.” She walked away from him, like a woman who knew where she was going, not one running away from herself.

* * *

AJ STARED AT the unfamiliar ceiling, wishing he were in an anonymous hotel room in an anonymous town. His daughter’s cranky whimpers would soon be a full-throated I’m-up-and-I-want-attention yell. From his short time as a dad, he’d learned he had another forty-five seconds of peace. He’d take those measly seconds to remind himself he’d climbed on bulls bent on killing him. Dealing with the constant worry and anxiety Baby Girl’d brought into his world was a cake walk, with a huge wobbly cake.

His daughter’s cry stopped his thoughts. He had the morning routine down: diaper, T-shirt, socks and then into the car seat so he could use the bathroom without her wandering off. Not that it had worked so well when he’d been fixing the truck. Maybe bungee cords would hold her in the seat? Even he knew that was a bad idea.

He got both of them cleaned up without running into any of the women. Not surprising since EllaJayne liked to wake before the sun. On the bright side, she’d allow him twenty minutes of uninterrupted peace for his first cup of coffee while she sat in his lap sipping her morning milk. It was a part of the day that he could feel almost competent at this fathering thing.