Stella Bagwell - Daddy Wore Spurs

“I have the original. It’s safely stored with my important documents. Harry’s name is registered as Harrison Ray Calhoun—the Ray being our father’s name.” She turned a pointed look on him. “So where do we go from here? A DNA test?”

He’d been waiting for her to say those three little letters. The birth certificate stated Finn as the father, but Mariah wasn’t yet ready to accept that as complete validation. And perhaps she was right. After all, a child’s parentage was a serious matter. Yet seeing Harry and holding the little guy in his arms had caused some kind of upheaval inside Finn.

He didn’t understand what had come over him. All he knew was that this child had suddenly become everything to him. The idea that a clinical test could say otherwise chilled Finn to the very bottom of his being.

“I suppose that would be the logical thing to do. That way his parentage would never be in doubt,” Finn said with slow thoughtfulness. “I just wish it wasn’t necessary. I don’t want Harry to grow up and learn that the identity of his father was ever in question.”

Forgetting her task, she walked over and placed a hand on Harry’s back. “I don’t necessarily want that for him, either. But I want him to have the ‘right’ father.”

He slanted her a wry look. “Don’t you mean you want him to have the right ‘parent’?”

Her long black lashes lowered and partially hid the thoughts flickering in her gray eyes.

“What do you mean?”

The threads of his patience were quickly snapping. “Don’t act clueless. You want to keep Harry for yourself. You’re hoping like hell that I won’t be the father.”

Her mouth fell open. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. I can see it all over your face. Hear it in your voice.”

Shaking her head, she turned her back to him. “If that were true, then why did I call you? I didn’t have to, you know,” she said, her voice heavy with resentment. “I could’ve kept Harry all to myself.”

He instinctively cradled the baby closer to his chest. “Yeah, you could’ve left me in the dark. But then you couldn’t have lived with your conscience. Or with Harry, once he grew old enough to start asking about his father. You’d have to make up a lie to tell him why you didn’t make an effort to contact me. Then one lie starts leading to another. You’re not that kind of woman. The kind that can live on a bed of lies.”

She whirled around to face him and Finn was struck by the moisture collecting in her eyes. He didn’t want to hurt this black-haired beauty. She’d already been hurt enough. But she needed to understand that he wasn’t a fool. Or at the mercy of her wants and wishes.

“You don’t know what kind of person I am! We’ve only just met.” A sneer twisted her lips as she raked a disapproving gaze over him. “But then I need to remember you jumped into bed with Aimee right after you met her. I suppose you thought you knew her, too!”

His jaw tight, he said, “Your crude observations don’t embarrass me, Mariah. But they do have me wondering. Maybe you’d like an invitation into my bed.”

Her eyes widened with disbelief, then turned to cold steel. “That’s the most insulting, despicable thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Is it?” he asked softly.

A scarlet blush crept over her face. “Look, Mr. Calhoun, the only thing you need to concern yourself with is the result of Harry’s DNA test. And the faster we can get those done, the happier I’ll be!”

Chapter Two Contents Cover Introduction A faint smile curved his lips. “I’m a curious man and you’re a beautiful woman. A plus B equals C.” “That’s not the way algebra works.” Finn chuckled lowly. “You’re right. That’s not algebra. That’s my own special equation.” He was making light of the whole thing and it would be best if she did, too. But his kiss had shaken her to the very depths of her being. And she was sick of men never taking her seriously, tired of being considered a pleasant pastime and nothing more. “Very cute,” she muttered, then quickly turned away from him and walked over to Harry’s playpen. “But I’ve had enough laughs for one night. I’m putting Harry and myself to bed.” Mariah was bending over to pick up Harry when Finn’s hands caught her around the waist and tugged her straight back into his arms. “If you thought that was for laughs, then maybe I’d better do it over.” Before she could react he’d already fastened his lips over hers. And this time there was no mistaking the raw hunger in his kiss. *** Men of the West: Whether ranchers or lawmen, these heartbreakers can ride, shoot—and drive a woman crazy… Title Page Daddy Wore Spurs Stella Bagwell www.millsandboon.co.uk About the Author After writing more than eighty books for Mills & Boon, STELLA BAGWELL still finds it exciting to create new stories and bring her characters to life. She loves all things Western and has been married to her own real cowboy for forty-four years. Living on the south Texas coast, she also enjoys being outdoors and helping her husband care for the horses, cats and dog that call their small ranch home. The couple has one son, who teaches high school mathematics and is also an athletic director. Stella loves hearing from readers. They can contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com . Dedication To my husband, Harrell. You still look sexy in spurs, my darlin’! Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Epilogue Extract Copyright

Finn watched Mariah stalk to the opposite end of the kitchen and thump a pair of empty mugs onto a plastic tray. He’d never spoken that way to any woman before and he wasn’t quite sure what had prompted such a thing to come out of his mouth. Except that ever since he’d arrived on this ranch, she’d been subtly goading him. As though she considered it okay for her to judge him as a cad for having a romantic interlude with Aimee. As if she were infallible and would never stoop to such human impulses.

With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet and walked over to where she was pulling a baby bottle filled with formula from the refrigerator. After giving him a cursory glance, she shut the door on the appliance and moved over to a microwave. Finn felt compelled to follow.

“I’m sorry, Mariah,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. I was way out of line.”

While the microwave whirred, she kept her back to him. It wasn’t until the bell dinged that she retrieved the bottle, then turned to face him.

“Then why did you say it?” she asked stiffly.

The icy stare she’d stabbed him with earlier was gone. Now her gray eyes were dark with shadows, and Finn realized his question had touched far more than just her female pride. The notion made him feel even worse.

“Because you seemed set on judging me for spending a weekend with Aimee. That’s not— Well, for your information, I don’t go around having affairs, short or long, on a regular basis! Yet you want to make me out as a cad. What’s the matter with you? Are you a prude or something?”

Outrage popped her mouth open and Finn expected her to flounce off in huff. But after a moment, her shoulders sagged and she glanced away. “Making a baby is a serious thing,” she murmured.

She was avoiding his question, but he was hardly going to point that out to her now, Finn decided. Besides, he had the feeling that before this ordeal with Harry was finished, he was going to find out plenty about Mariah Montgomery.

“That’s why I’m here,” he said curtly. “Because there is a baby. A baby who’s lost his mother.”

She reached for Harry then, but Finn continued to hold him firmly against his chest. “Give me the bottle. I’d like to feed my son.”