B.J. Daniels - Atonement

“Ethan.” She said the name like a curse. He’d thought he must have heard her wrong the first time she’d said his brother’s name. This time he heard anger in that one painful word. Anger and disappointment.

A chill ran the length of his spine.

She thought he was his brother.

That realization came like a kick to his gut. He slowed the filly to a stop and pushed back his Western straw hat. A warm sun slipped toward the west, making the breeze that blew down from the Crazy Mountains suddenly feel cold. The snow-fed breeze was a reminder that this was Montana in the spring and, like life, it could change at a moment’s notice.

Dropping the halter rope, he took off his hat and, stepping toward her, tried to clear his throat. A lump had lodged there. If this woman had mistaken him for Ethan, then she must not know about his death.

As he drew closer, the woman’s eyes narrowed. Her anger confused him. But then again, who knew what his brother had been up to before he died? Ethan had always attracted trouble like a magnet to metal, and Dillon had known little about his brother’s life the past few years. That was the way Ethan had wanted it.

He was within a few feet of her when he saw her eyes fill with tears, then all the color suddenly bled from her face. She teetered on the corral railing for a moment before starting to slump backward in a faint.

Dillon took two long strides, bounded over the corral fence and managed to catch her before she hit the ground. Holding her in his arms, he looked down at her and felt his eyes widen.

The woman was pregnant. Very pregnant.

Her thick lashes fluttered. Those big blue eyes opened and zeroed in on him.

The roundhouse slap she gave him was hard and did more than surprise him.

“You bastard.”

“You’ve made a mistake,” Dillon said.

“The mistake was ever falling for you.”

He shook his head sadly. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“You’re telling me? Put me down.”

Dillon did as she’d ordered and watched her struggle to get her feet under herself. Seeing him had been a shock for her, that much was clear. And yet she’d come here looking for him, as if...

He frowned as he tried to make sense of this. Ethan had been dead a year tomorrow. Why would she think he was Ethan? Not to mention... He stared at her swollen belly. The woman looked as if she might deliver that baby at any moment.

“You knew my brother?” he asked suspiciously.

She had dropped her large shoulder bag. She now bent to pick it up from the dirt before turning to glare at him. “I just want my money,” she said as she slung the bag over her right shoulder.

“Your money? Are you talking about the insurance money?” The check had come only a few days ago. Apparently his brother had taken out a half-million-dollar policy on himself and made Dillon the beneficiary. Ethan had always been full of surprises. This woman was apparently another one.

“Insurance? Is that what you call it? Just give me what’s mine and I’m out of your hair for good,” she said, and glanced toward the mountains as if she couldn’t bear looking at him any longer.

Sweetgrass County was rimmed with snowcapped mountain peaks, making some people think it was paradise. Dillon was one of those people. The moment he’d seen the Crazy Mountains, he’d known this was where he wanted to settle—rather than the logging town in western Montana where they’d grown up. His brother, Ethan, had hightailed it the moment he turned eighteen and apparently had never looked back.

When her gaze returned to his, Dillon saw that she hadn’t been admiring the breathtaking Montana scenery. She’d apparently been trying to tamp down her anger—and failing.

“Why don’t we go into the house?” he suggested. “I think we can settle this easy enough. Just let me get the halter rope off my horse—”

“If you think you can sweet-talk me, you’re dead wrong. And you sure as the devil aren’t seducing me. Not again.” Her hand went to her stomach and he felt his heart drop.

She wasn’t really going to try to convince him that she was carrying Ethan’s baby, was she? He’d never been the brightest kid in school, but this one was a math no-brainer. Even if the woman did look as if she could give birth any moment, his brother had been gone twelve months tomorrow.

“Look, I’m not sure what your story is, but that baby you’re carrying? It isn’t—”

“If you dare say it isn’t yours...” Her right hand dipped into her shoulder bag. An instant later he was staring down the barrel of a .45.

CHAPTER TWO

DILLON RAISED HIS hands and took a step back. “Take it easy. Like I said, if you’ll come in the house, I can take care of this. But first, put down the gun. There’s no call for any gunplay.”

This was not her first rodeo, Tessa Winters thought as she took in the cowboy. She’d come all this way on a hunch that Ethan might have gone to Montana, but she’d still been shocked when she’d actually tracked down the lying bastard.

“You won’t be charming your way out of this.”

He shook his head. “Not my intention. If you put away the gun, I’m sure we can resolve this.”

She eyed him warily, torn between her anger and his apparent calm. There was a time when she would have weakened. That time had long since passed.

Her gaze narrowed as she realized that he must have come straight here after he’d run out on her. His big hands were callused and his skin was tanned, as if the man had actually been doing some honest physical labor.

Looking at him now, she couldn’t help but think about the first time she’d seen him. With his tousled sandy-blond hair and big blue eyes, he’d been the most handsome cowboy she’d ever run across. Like now, he’d been wearing a Western shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and slim hips, and jeans that— Tessa shook off those dangerous thoughts and reminded herself what was at stake here. He might look good—the physical Montana lifestyle had made him even more attractive—but under the facade was a liar, a coward and a thief.

“Please.” He motioned to the gun. “You’re making me nervous.”

“You should be nervous.” But she lowered the gun.

“Okay,” he said, slowly putting down his hands. “Let me see to my horse and then we’ll go up to the house and take care of this.” He climbed the corral fence and approached the wary filly slowly.

Tessa could hear him talking softly to the horse as he removed the halter rope, then stroked the filly’s neck. Her ire rose as she saw how gentle and loving he was to the horse. It hurt even more to think of how easily he had abandoned her and their child.

When he finished with the horse, he climbed back over the fence and motioned toward the house. She followed. Distrustful as to what he was up to, she kept her fingers around the grip of the .45 in her bag. He thought he knew her, but he had no idea who he was dealing with. Pregnancy had changed her in more ways than one.

Tessa felt like a loose cannon, and knew a large part of it was the hormones her doctor had warned her about. Given the way she was feeling, it surprised her that more pregnant women didn’t kill the men in their lives.

Truthfully, she was so angry with Ethan that she didn’t know what she would do. She’d spent six months telling herself to let it go. Forget about him and the way he’d conned her. Finally, she’d given up kidding herself. She had to look him in the eye one more time before she could let it go. Probably bringing the gun hadn’t been her best choice, though. But she wanted him to know that she was dead serious.

The cowboy mounted the steps of the house and pushed open the door, holding it for her. Now he was going to act like a gentleman? She gave him a withering look as she entered. Behind her, she heard him step in and close the door.