Cowboy's Secret Son. Robin Perini
who might your friend be?” Velma asked with a satisfied grin, walking boldly over and sticking out a hand to introduce herself.
“I’m Courtney Jamison,” the woman responded. A nervous smile tilted their visitor’s lips.
Courtney Jamison. He let her name settle across his mind. It suited her. It screamed New York and the Waldorf Astoria where they’d met. It definitely didn’t suit the Last Chance Ranch. Not by half.
A cry sounded from the car.
“You have a little one?” Velma asked, her smile lighting as bright as the West Texas sun on a clear day.
“His name is Dylan.” Courtney reached into the backseat, fiddled with something in the car and pulled a baby from the vehicle.
“Almost a year?” Velma asked.
“Nine months,” Courtney said softly, looking straight at Jared.
“A big boy then.”
Nine months. That meant she got pregnant about eighteen months ago. New York.
It couldn’t be. It was just one night. One...
As if in a trance, he closed the distance between him and Courtney. He stared into the little boy’s eyes. One brown. One green. The baby had heterochromia. Just like him.
Jared held out his hand. It shook. Dylan leaned against his mother’s chest and dipped his face into her neck.
“Dylan,” Courtney whispered. “This is your daddy.”
The words struck Jared harder than Angel Maker’s most vicious charge. His mind whirled in denial even as the truth peeked at him from beneath long, baby-fine lashes. He couldn’t deny that he stood face-to-face with the one thing he’d never believed he’d have.
Dylan tilted his head and a smile lit his face. He leaned forward with outstretched hands. Jared bent closer. The baby grabbed his hat and threw it to the ground, chuckling.
“Takes after you, boyo,” Velma said. “That’s plain to see.”
A strange white noise buzzed in Jared’s ears. He shook the static away. “How did you find me?” he asked, barely able to croak out the words.
He didn’t want to say more. Velma and Roscoe both had big ears, and they were obviously curious. He’d be fielding a whole lot of questions before sunset hit anyway.
Jared picked up his hat and held it toward Dylan. He couldn’t take his eyes off the baby. The little guy grabbed the brim and tugged.
Strong grip, his son had.
His son.
What was he supposed to do about that?
“I saw a news story about the bull you saved. That’s how I found you.” Courtney nodded toward Angel Maker, who appeared to be eyeing Tim for a second soul-fearing battle. “That’s him?”
“In the flesh.”
He wouldn’t be diverted by that animal. He had a million questions, but he’d start with one. “Why are you here, Courtney?”
Her name caressed his tongue, and he lingered on the taste for a moment.
She glanced away, not meeting his gaze. Something didn’t feel right. The hair on the back of his neck stiffened to attention. She chewed on her lip and seemed to be searching for the words.
“You could’ve called,” he said. “Or had a lawyer contact me. Instead, you traveled halfway across the country with our son with no way of predicting my reaction. Why?”
She straightened her back and lifted her chin. At this angle, he could take in every detail of her reddened eyes and tightly drawn lips. Something was definitely wrong.
“I came for your help. Someone has threatened to kill our son.”
* * *
COURTNEY HAD NEVER seen anyone react so fast. The words had barely left her lips when Jared’s gaze scanned the perimeter. The muscle in his jawline pulsed, and a flat, dangerous stillness settled through his body.
“Come with me,” he said, gripping her arm with a firm hand.
He didn’t take a second look at Dylan, didn’t hesitate. He pulled her toward the sprawling ranch style house and glanced over his shoulder. “Roscoe, check in with the hands. I want to know if anyone’s seen anything...off.”
“But we’ve already doubled security because of—”
“Triple-check everything,” Jared snapped.
The grizzled cowboy didn’t hesitate. He gave a curt nod and hurried into a huge barn past the pen holding the angry-looking bull.
Courtney had never experienced a more surreal moment. Jared didn’t question her; he didn’t look at her like she was crazy. He simply acted.
He shuffled her up the steps and across the wide wooden porch. He opened the screen door and held it while she disappeared inside. She couldn’t quite accept the foreign place where she found herself. On an actual Texas ranch in the middle of nowhere after a too long drive from an airport that had taken all of ten minutes to walk from one end to the other.
Not to mention she currently stood only a short city block away from a vicious-looking bull, several stereotypical cowboys, a bevy of horses and a large barn. If it hadn’t been for the beat-up pickup truck she’d parked besides, she’d have wondered what century she’d landed in.
“Velma, lock the front door, shut the curtains and stay inside,” Jared ordered the woman hurrying behind them. “I don’t want either of you out in the open until I know exactly what’s going on.”
The housekeeper didn’t pause or argue, but moved in a whirlwind to follow his instructions. Jared tugged on Courtney’s arm. Normally she would have resisted the manhandling, but he’d stunned her. She hadn’t even showed him the note yet.
“My luggage—”
“I’ll bring it in later.”
The curt words brooked no argument. At Jared’s tone Dylan squirmed in her arms, whimpering a bit. She bounced him, holding him closer. “It’s okay, Jelly Bean. We’re going to be fine.”
She could only pray she wasn’t lying.
Courtney kissed his forehead and breathed in his baby powder scent. She touched her cheek to Dylan’s soft hair and closed her eyes. The blackmailer had forced her to keep his cell phone. She wasn’t stupid. He had to be tracking her. He had to know she’d flown to Texas. She’d believed him when he’d promised she couldn’t hide.
She’d needed help and law enforcement was off the table. She’d risked everything coming here. The blackmailer had been perfectly clear. He wanted money. Since she didn’t have any and neither did her father, she had no choice. Jared was her only option to protect her son.
After a glance through the shutters in the front window, he faced his housekeeper. “Velma, show Courtney into my study. I’ll check the back door.”
Brow furrowed, Velma crossed the stone foyer to a set of large mahogany double doors. “Come along, dearie.”
Courtney followed, trying to keep her increasingly unhappy son calm. She rubbed his back in slow, circular motions. Velma snapped closed the curtains on three large windows before flipping on a series of track lights to brighten the wood paneled room.
Dylan clutched at the neck of Courtney’s Louis Vuitton dress, his mouth drooling, his face reddening.
“I know what you want,” she whispered, gently pushing his light brown hair off his forehead. She settled into a large leather sofa and zipped open the diaper bag, pulling out a teething biscuit.
Dylan grabbed the treat in both hands and stuffed it into his mouth, gnawing with gusto. He sagged against her,