Daddy Wore Spurs. Stella Bagwell
when he’d said goodbye to Aimee, he’d never imagined that anything so life-altering as a baby had occurred between them. And he certainly hadn’t expected Aimee to lose her life on a ski slope less than seventy miles from the Silver Horn.
“We spent the weekend together in Reno. It wasn’t like either one of us set out to make a baby.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Mr. Calhoun.”
The suggestive remark caused his jaw to drop. “You think I—”
“Not you,” she interrupted. “I’m talking about Aimee. I’ve always believed she deliberately set out to get pregnant. If not by you—then someone else.”
The idea of Aimee using him to get pregnant was incredible. She’d hardly seemed the conniving type. And why would she have done such a thing?
He said, “I’ll admit that two days wasn’t long enough for me to know everything about Aimee. But I find it hard to believe she was luring me into a pregnancy trap, or shotgun wedding, or anything close to it. She didn’t try to attach any strings to me. My mistake was trusting her when she said she was on the pill. But as you can see I’m here and more than ready to take responsibility for Harry.”
Bending her head, she said in a low voice, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that. When my sister met you in Reno—well, her plans might not have included a baby at all. It’s just that she had—”
“Look, if you were going to tell me about Bryce, I already know. She told me how he’d been a longtime boyfriend. But she’d broken things off with him.”
Her head popped up. “Aimee mentioned Bryce to you? That’s surprising. She wasn’t one to share personal things.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to talk about yourself to someone you just met. Especially if your plans are to never see them again,” he added wryly.
Her expression turned curious. “You think she’d never intended to see you again?”
“I didn’t then, obviously. But I do now.”
The baby began to squirm and Finn looked down to see that the infant was chewing on his tiny fist. Drool was dripping off his chin and Finn carefully wiped it away with his forefinger. Just touching the baby’s face and looking into his dark blue eyes filled Finn’s heart with a fierce protectiveness. If Harry was his son, he wouldn’t let anyone or anything keep him from taking the baby home to the Silver Horn. And that included the black-haired beauty who was eyeing him as though he were the devil himself.
* * *
Across the small nursery, Mariah was having all sorts of trouble dragging her gaze away from the rugged Nevada cowboy. A few minutes ago, when she’d opened the door and found herself standing face-to-face with Finn Calhoun, she’d felt as though the ground had shifted beneath her feet.
She’d expected Finn’s appearance to be a bit more than average, otherwise Aimee would’ve never taken a second glance at him. But this guy was leaps and bounds beyond average.
At least two or three inches over six feet, he towered over her. Broad shoulders sat over a long torso that narrowed down to a lean waist and tall, muscular legs. Yet his hard, wiry body was only a part of his striking appearance, she realized. His face was a composite of tough angles and slopes. A jutting chin, hollow cheekbones and rough-hewn lips were softened by a pair of dazzling blue eyes partially hidden by a thick fringe of copper-colored lashes. Slightly darker hair of the same color curled wildly around his ears and against the back of his neck, while a set of white teeth made a startling contrast against his tanned skin.
Oh, he was a looker all right, Mariah decided. But that didn’t necessarily make him daddy material. Especially if he used those looks to go around seducing women. Still, in all honesty, she didn’t know if this man had done the seducing or if Aimee had been the initiator of their romance. And it hardly mattered now. The only question that should be on her mind was whether he’d actually fathered little Harry.
Reining in her wandering thoughts, Mariah said, “Aimee dated Bryce for over three years and wanted to marry him, but he kept putting her off. He was divorced and wasn’t ready to try marriage again. That’s why—well, Aimee once told me she was tempted to get pregnant so that Bryce would feel obligated to marry her. But she said he was always too careful about such things and she wasn’t sure how she could manage it. I told her she was crazy to even consider such a scheme. Being pregnant wouldn’t necessarily force Bryce into marrying her, anyway.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion and Mariah could see that he was stung by the notion that Aimee might have used him, especially to coerce another man into marrying her.
“That’s one of the most conniving, deceitful things I’ve ever heard. If that’s the way Aimee’s mind worked, then she might’ve had other affairs. Harry’s father might be someone you never heard of!”
The anguished look on his face implied he wanted Harry to be his son. The notion surprised Mariah. Most single guys his age would be running backward at the idea of taking on the responsibility of a baby.
Her gaze continued to roam his rugged face and the big hands gently cradling the baby. “Look, I’m just saying she harbored those ideas. I have no proof she was trying to carry them out with you or any man. For my sister’s sake, I’d like to think Harry was innocently conceived.”
“With me?”
An awkward silence followed his question, and with each second that passed, the more Mariah had to fight to keep from jumping from the rocker and rushing out of the nursery. Something about this man and her sister sharing a passionate weekend together was an image she wanted to push from her mind.
“Well, I’d hate to think she falsely put your name on the birth certificate. And I’d sure hate to think that Harry’s father might always be a question mark.”
He looked down at the baby. “I’d never let that happen to this little guy.”
Feeling like a jumble of raw nerves, she restlessly crossed her legs and began to tap the air with her bare foot. The movement must have caught his attention because she suddenly noticed his gaze slowly slipping from her face and traveling downward, over her leg and onto her foot.
Heat instantly flooded her cheeks and she mentally scolded herself for not slipping on her shoes before she’d answered the door. But it was a warm May afternoon and certainly pleasant enough in the house to go without footwear.
You’re reacting like a foolish teenager, Mariah. Finn doesn’t find anything fascinating about your pink toenails. And he hasn’t come to Stallion Canyon to ogle you in any form or fashion. He’s here because of Harry and no other reason.
Clearing her throat, she blocked out the scolding voice in her head and tried to form a sensible question. “So you’re saying you want Harry to be your son?”
To her relief, his gaze returned to Harry and as he studied the child, she could see something that looked an awfully lot like love move over his features. The sight smacked Mariah right in the middle of her heart. A man was supposed to care that much for his child, she thought. Yet a part of her had been hoping Finn would be the irresponsible type. That he’d gladly hand the responsibility of raising Harry over to her. But it was becoming clear that he had no intention of stepping aside. So where was that going to leave her?
He said, “This wasn’t the way I’d planned on becoming a father. But now that I have Harry in my arms, it feels right and good.”
She folded her hands together atop her lap and tried to keep the confused emotions swirling inside her from showing on her face.
“So you believe he’s actually your son?” she asked guardedly.
“I do. I think you’d have to agree that he takes after me. The red in his hair and dimples in his cheeks.”
“Maybe. But that’s hardly proof.”
Frowning,