Cowboy Daddy. Angel Smits
sure enough, everyone was there, lined up. Even Tyler. She had to laugh. The hospital gown was way too big for him, dragging over his shoes, but he was grinning from ear to ear. Wyatt rolled her over to see him.
“This is so cool.” He leaned against the arm of the wheelchair. “The baby and I have the same birthday! Thanks, Aunt Mandy. This gift’s almost as good as my new bike.”
Everyone laughed while Mandy gave him a hug, then winced as he leaned against her.
“Let’s get you back to bed—you did just have major surgery, you know.” Wyatt headed down the hall. “The nurses only let you up for a short while.”
She wanted to argue, because that was what she always did. But she knew he and the nurses were right.
Though she was in the maternity portion of the hospital, it felt more like the surgical unit. Her room definitely wasn’t the nice comfy suite she remembered being shown all those months ago.
Her disappointment in the accomodations was, of course, balanced by the fact the doctors had saved her life and her son’s. She tried to make her tired brain focus on being thankful.
As Wyatt passed the nurse’s station, he waved down a nurse, who followed them to the room. The sun had moved higher, leaving shadows in its wake. Wyatt flipped on a soft light and she wondered why the babies didn’t get that same consideration. Once the nurse had her settled in the bed, the blankets pulled up and tucked in, she struggled to stay awake.
Wyatt didn’t leave. He simply settled in the wooden chair next to the bed. Oh, God. He wasn’t leaving until he asked the question in his eyes. “It’s not fair to take advantage of me in my weakened state,” she whispered, leaning deep into the pillow, letting her eyelids droop.
“Weak is not a word I’d ever associate with you.” He smiled. Having discarded the hospital gown, he looked more like Wyatt now. He didn’t speak, simply sat there, looking at her with that intense stare she’d hated as a kid.
“Fine. Go ahead. Get it over with.” She closed her eyes again, dread a palpable being standing right there beside her.
“I won’t force you to tell me.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But—”
She’d never known Wyatt to be hesitant. She waited until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “But?”
“But if that were my son—I’d want to know.”
“How...how do you know I haven’t told him?”
Wyatt laughed. “Because I know you, Mandy.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The man who is that boy’s father is someone you care about, probably even love. No man would ever touch you unless you wanted him to. Unless he was worthy of you. And if you’d told him, he’d be here.”
The air grew thick. She knew Wyatt hadn’t guessed who the father was. Nor had he pressured her to tell him. Looking at Wyatt now, she realized that reprieve was coming to an end.
Their gazes clashed, and she knew the instant he decided to back off. Temporarily. He stood and stepped right up to the edge of the bed, looking down at her.
“If that were my child—” he repeated and stepped back “—I’m not sure I could forgive you for not telling me. Ask DJ about that.”
Turning on his heel, Wyatt left her without another word. Her heart sank. She knew DJ had struggled to deal with his anger toward Tammie for not telling him about Tyler. But this was different—she had tried to tell Lane. She had. Really.
Weariness wrapped around her. Who was she trying to convince? Damn. She really hated it when Wyatt was right.
* * *
LANE DROVE INTO the yard at his work, the Hawkins Ranch, pulling into his usual parking spot. He climbed out, looked around. He’d expected a half-dozen cowboys to be in the barn, but the place was surprisingly empty for the middle of the afternoon. Even the horses were out and about. He could see Dancer and Prism in the near pasture, bouncing in the grasses, playing and showing off for the fillies. Lady was pointedly ignoring the male posturing.
Wyatt Hawkins’s big ranch house looked just as quiet. Lane headed up the walk, noting again the lack of noise. What the hell was going on? Where was everyone? Had something happened? He’d left Wyatt a message earlier to tell him that he’d be late for work today. Dad had been worse than usual this morning, so there’d been no leaving him.
Finally, Lane saw movement on the horizon. A dust cloud rose as someone headed this way. He turned back, greeting the truck as it turned into the drive. The ranch foreman, Chet, with his wife Juanita in the passenger seat. Where had they gone to in the middle of the day?
“Where is everyone?” Lane asked as the older man climbed out, walking around the battered Chevy to help his diminutive wife hop down from the high seat.
Lane saw a look pass between them—not a good sign. “What happened?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing bad.” Juanita took several long seconds smoothing her faded jeans. Lifting her head, she looked at her husband, then back at Lane. “We go to Dallas for that boy’s birthday party, and end up at the hospital. Thank God, it was for a good reason this time.”
Ah, yes. Tyler Easton’s birthday party. Lane vaguely recalled declining the invitation. “How is a hospital a good reason?” Something about all this felt weird. Very weird.
Juanita laughed. “A baby, silly man.”
“Baby? Whose baby?”
Chet chuckled. “Not ours,” he teased his wife, shaking his head as he closed the truck door and reached in the bed of the truck for the bags of groceries. He handed two to Lane. The heaviest ones, Lane noticed.
“Oh, hush, old man,” Juanita said. “Let’s get these inside before everything defrosts.”
Carrying the groceries behind the older couple, Lane patiently waited. Neither one of them spoke, acting as if he’d never asked a question. What was the big mystery? He recalled Juanita’s earlier words.
“So, who had a baby?” Curious, Lane finally asked again. He could tell Juanita was bursting with the news.
She and her husband looked at each other again. Juanita grinned. “Amanda had her baby today. She’s a bit early, but not too much.” Juanita’s excitement overwhelmed her concerns. “We’re gonna have another little one to spoil around here.” She started unpacking bags. “You pay attention, young man. Start thinking about your own family. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
Juanita never ceased to give advice to the hands around the ranch, playing matchmaker and pseudo-mother on a regular basis. Normally, Lane could ignore her. Today, not so much.
“Amanda Hawkins? Mandy?” he asked.
“You know any other Amandas around here?” Juanita opened the refrigerator to put the milk away.
Amanda? His Amanda? Mandy and baby—they’d used those two words in the same sentence. His brain couldn’t wrap around that concept. Last time he’d seen her...she’d been far from pregnant...in the pickup cab...in the pouring rain.
Without much prompting, his brain did some quick, very disturbing math. She’d come back to town that night, for some mysterious reason, according to Trina. She’d never said what. A bit more simple division and multiplication had his heart racing. That night after her mother died. When they’d found themselves alone...here...
Two grocery bags hit the tile floor. He cursed and stalked to the door. He was halfway to his truck before he turned to yell back at the house, “Which hospital?” Dallas had a few.
Chet appeared in the doorway, frowning. “Dallas General. Why?”