The Cowboy and the New Year's Baby (4 page)

“I don’t think so.”

She regarded him knowingly. “You’re not scared of a little tiny baby, are you?”

He scowled. “Of course not.”

“Come on, then,” she said, grabbing his hand and propelling him into the nursery. “You can rock her. Look at that face. You can tell she’s getting ready to wail again. She’s been keeping the other babies up.”

Before he could stop her, Lizzy had him gowned and seated in a rocker with the baby in his arms. He stared down into those wide blue eyes and felt something deep inside him twist. Oh, this was dangerous, all right. If he’d been able to thrust her back into Lizzy’s arms without looking like an idiot, he would have.

“She’s beautiful, don’t you think?” Lizzy asked, gently smoothing the baby’s wisps of hair.

A lump formed in Hardy’s throat. He was pretty
sure he couldn’t possibly squeeze a word past it without making a total fool of himself. He nodded instead, rubbing the back of his finger along the baby’s soft cheek. She was…amazing. It was the only fitting word he could think of. Since he’d never considered marriage, he’d figured fatherhood was a moot point. Holding this precious little girl in his arms, he was beginning to realize that he was actually sacrificing something incredible.

“Here comes her mama now,” Lizzy said brightly. “Don’t you two be fighting over her.”

She beckoned to the woman who was gazing through the window. Hardy took one look at the baby’s mama and wanted to flee. She was every bit as beautiful as he’d remembered, every bit as much of a shock to his system. If he hadn’t been holding her baby, if Lizzy hadn’t kept a hand clasped on his shoulder in a less-than-subtle attempt to keep him in place, if it wouldn’t have been the most cowardly thing he’d ever done, he would have leaped up and run like crazy.

Lizzy made the formal introductions that had been skipped the night before, gave them both beaming smiles, then took off and left them alone, clearly satisfied by a sneaky job well done. Hardy awkwardly got to his feet, then gestured toward the rocker.

“After what you went through a few hours ago, you should be sitting down,” he scolded.

Trish gave him an amused look, but she dutifully sat. He all but shoved the baby into her arms. For a
moment, with her attention riveted on her daughter, neither of them spoke. Eventually she sighed.

“I still can’t quite believe it.” She looked up at him. “Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary.”

“You handled it like a real pro. Are you in the habit of delivering babies by the side of the road?”

“No way. This was a first for me. Can’t tell you how glad I am that I didn’t foul it up. What were you doing out on a lonely stretch of highway in a snowstorm, anyway?”

“Running away from home,” she said wryly. “It’s a long story.”

And one she clearly didn’t want to share. Hardy pondered why a woman in her twenties would need to run away from home. Was it that husband she’d said didn’t exist that she was leaving? If so, getting to know her any better would just be begging for trouble. He twisted his hat in his hands, then asked, “Does that mean you’re not from around here?”

“Yes. I’m just passing through.”

To his surprise, her reply actually disappointed him. Because he wasn’t wild about the reaction, he backed up a step. Entranced by the daughter, intrigued by the mother, he was likely to do something he’d regret. In fact, if he wasn’t very careful, he might be crazy enough to suggest that she stay on just so he could sneak an occasional peek at that little girl growing up. The words might pop out despite his best intentions to steer as far away from them as possible from this moment on.

“Ought to be going now,” he said in a rush.

She reached out a hand, but he was too far away for her to make contact. The gesture was enough to bring him to a halt, though.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said firmly. “You and I need to talk.”

“About the bill,” he guessed, based on Lizzy’s warning. “Don’t get all worked up over it. I was just trying to keep the nurse from having apoplexy. You know how hospitals are about their forms these days.”

“Oh, I’ll admit that threw me, but I figured out what had probably happened. It’s settled now. I’ve already explained to the billing office that the bill is my responsibility,” she said. “No, what I wanted to talk to you about is more important.”

Hardy regarded her warily. He didn’t like the sound of that. “What’s that?”

“The baby needs a name. I was hoping you could help me choose one. Something that would be special to you.” Her gaze met his. “Your mother’s name maybe.”

Hardy froze at the mention of his mother, a woman who’d run out on him so long ago he could barely recall what she looked like. It wasn’t a betrayal he was ever likely to forget, much less honor.

“Never,” he said fiercely.

The fervent response clearly startled Trish, but unlike a lot of women who’d have taken that as a sign to start poking and prodding, she didn’t pursue it.

“Another name, then. Maybe a sister or a girl you’ve never forgotten.”

Hardy thought of the older sister who’d left home with his mother. Neither of them had ever looked back. He’d go to his grave resenting the fact that his mother had loved his sister enough to take her but had left him behind.

Then he considered the long string of woman whose memories lingered. None were important enough that he wanted to offer their names.

Finally he shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Surely there’s a girl’s name you like,” she persisted. “Or even a boy’s name that we could change a little to make it sound more feminine.”

He squirmed under the intensity of her gaze and her determination to pull him into a process that was by no means his to share. Naming a baby should be between a mother and a father. A stranger should have no part in it. But he recalled that she’d told him the night before that there was no father. Well, obviously, there was one, but he wasn’t in the picture. That still didn’t mean that Hardy had any business involved in this.

“Can’t think of a single name,” he insisted, hoping that would be the end of it.

“Well, then, I guess it will just have to be Hardy, after all.”

He thought at first she was teasing, but he could see from her expression that she was flat-out serious.

“Oh, no,” he said adamantly. “That’s no name for a pretty little girl. Not much of one for a man, if you think about it. Comes from Hardwick, an old family name on my daddy’s side. At least one boy in every generation had to be a Hardwick. Just my
luck that I came along first in my generation. You would think after all those years of saddling poor little kids with that name, some mother would put her foot down and insist on something ordinary like Jake or Josh or John.”

“What were the girls in your family named?”

He chuckled as he thought of his cousins, every one of whom had been named after flowers. They’d viewed that as being every bit as humiliating as Hardwick. “Rose, Lily, Iris,” he recited, ticking them off on his fingers. He watched her increasingly horrified expression and kept going for the sheer fun of watching the sparks in her eyes, “I believe there might even have been a Periwinkle a few generations back.”

Testing her, he said, “How about that for your baby? I really loved hearing about old Peri. To hear my father tell it, she was ahead of her time, quite the feminist.”

Trish laughed. “You’re kidding.”

“About Peri?”

“About all of it.”

He held up a hand. “God’s truth. I swear it. Somebody, way back when, had a garden thing. Nobody who came after had the imagination to stray from the theme.” He finally dared to look straight into Trish’s eyes, which were sparkling with little glints of silver that made the blue shine like sapphires. “Okay, forget Peri. What’s wrong with naming her after yourself? Trish is a pretty name.”

“Short for Patricia,” she explained derisively.
“It’s a fine name, I suppose, but too ordinary. I want something that will make her stand out.”

“Take it from someone whose name was a constant source of teasing, ordinary has its merits.”

He paused for a minute, suddenly struck by a memory of the one woman in his life who’d been steadfast and gentle, his grandmother Laura. She’d died when he was only ten, but he’d never forgotten the warmth she had brought into his lonely life on her infrequent visits. She’d smelled like lily of the valley and she’d always had little bags of candy tucked inside her purse. She was the one person on his mother’s side of the family who’d ever bothered to stay in touch.

“There is one name that comes to mind,” he said, still hesitant to become involved in this at all. His gut told him even such a tenuous tie to this woman and her baby was dangerous.

“Tell me,” she commanded eagerly.

“Laura. It’s a little old-fashioned, I suppose. It was my grandmother’s name.”

“And she meant a lot to you?” she asked, searching his face.

“A long time ago, yes, she did.”

Trish’s expression brightened then. “Laura,” she said softly. “I like it.”

Hardy liked the way it sounded when she said it. He liked the way her voice rose and fell in gentle waves. Even when she’d been snapping his head off during the baby’s birth, there had been a hint of sunshine lurking in that voice.

He liked everything about this woman a little too
much. She and her baby were the type who could sneak into a man’s heart—even his—before he knew what hit him. Just thinking that was enough to have him heading for the exit from the nursery.

“You’re leaving?” Trish called after him, clearly surprised by the abrupt departure.

“Work to do,” he said tersely, not turning around. “I meant to go a while back.”

“Maybe I’ll see you again.”

“Since you’re not from around these parts, I doubt it.”

He hesitated, then turned and took one last look at the two of them, sitting in that rocker with the sunlight streaming in and spilling over them. He had a feeling that image would linger with him long after he wanted to banish it.

“I’m glad everything turned out okay,” he said. “You all have a good life wherever you go.”

Not until he was out in the hallway with the door firmly closed behind him did he begin to feel safe again.

T
rish had no idea what to make of Hardy Jones. He wasn’t like any other man she’d ever known. He was brusque and tough one second, a little shy the next. As gorgeous and enigmatic as he was, she could imagine women falling at his feet, wanting to unravel the mystery of him. She had no intention of being one of them.

He’d done her a huge favor. She’d thanked him. There was no reason for their paths to cross again. In fact, he’d made it plain that he’d prefer that they didn’t. Given some of the gossip she’d heard in the hallways about his active social life, she’d concluded he was a little too much like Jack. She certainly didn’t need another man like that in her life.

After Hardy had gone, her doctor magically ap
peared in the nursery as if she’d been waiting just outside the door.

“So, what did you think of Hardy?” she asked.

It seemed to Trish that she posed the question a little too casually. Her watchful gaze suggested she was very interested in the answer. Alarm bells went off. Between her father and her big brothers, Trish had spent her entire life with overactive meddlers. She knew one when she saw one. She phrased her reply very carefully.

“He’s very sweet, but he seemed nervous. He must be awfully shy around women, or is it just me?” she said, testing what she’d overheard about Hardy’s womanizing.

The doctor’s mouth gaped predictably. “Hardy, shy? That has to be a first. If you asked a hundred women around this part of Texas to describe him, I doubt there’s one who would come up with that.”

The doctor’s description confirmed her worst fears. “You said you’ve known him for a while, Doctor. How would you describe him?” Trish asked curiously.

“Forget the ‘Doctor,’ okay? Call me Lizzy. I think we’re going to be friends. As for Hardy, well, I’d have to say he’s a hunk. The general consensus rates him as sexy, handsome and charming,” she replied without missing a beat. “A real ladies’ man. The word around here is that he can accelerate a pulse rate faster than a treadmill.”

All the traits Trish had vowed to avoid in a man, she thought. It was strange, though. Obviously she had noticed that the man was gorgeous, that he ex
uded masculinity, but she’d been more struck by his gentleness, by his uneasiness around her. Not once had he tried to charm her. Of course, she doubted any man on earth would be inclined to flirt while delivering a baby, but what about today? Was she that much of a wreck that he hadn’t even been inclined to try? And why did she find that so annoying? It was probably just some weird hormonal shift.

“I hadn’t noticed,” she said, aware that she sounded ever so slightly testy about it.

The doctor pulled up another rocker and sat down, clearly ready for a friendly chat. “I’m amazed,” she said. “Flirting’s as ingrained in Hardy as breathing. Are you telling me he never so much as winked at you?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm. Isn’t that fascinating?” Lizzy said. “No little innuendoes, no flattery, no sweet talk?”

“Afraid not.” She grinned. “Of course, I have just had a baby. Not many men would flirt with a brand-new mother. What’s he going to say? You look pretty good for someone who’s just had a baby in my truck?”

“You don’t know Hardy. The guys say…” She hesitated. “Well, never mind what the guys say. Let’s just leave it that Hardy likes women. Correct that. Hardy loves women. Big, small, old, young.”

Trish studied her intently. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Just sharing information,” Lizzy insisted. “In case you’re interested.”

“I just had a baby,” Trish reminded her. “I’m passing through town. Why would I be interested?”

Lizzy shrugged, unperturbed by her response. “I just thought you might be.”

Trish recalled what Lizzy had said about her father’s matchmaking on Hardy’s behalf. Obviously she shared the trait. It just seemed a trifle misplaced under the circumstances. “It hasn’t occurred to you that I could have a husband somewhere?”

“No mention of one on your hospital forms,” Lizzy said. “I checked.”

Trish stared. “You didn’t.”

“Of course I did,” Lizzy replied unrepentantly. “You have to admit that having a baby together—”

“He delivered the baby,” Trish corrected impatiently. “We didn’t have one together.”

“Still, it had to be an incredibly intense moment. That’s the kind of moment that creates an enduring bond, don’t you think?”

Friendly chitchat was rapidly turning into advice for the lovelorn. Trish figured it was time to put a very firm stop to it. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she warned. “Stop it right there. Obviously you have your father’s matchmaking tendencies. I am not in the market for a man. Hardy clearly wasn’t the slightest bit interested in me. Even you have to realize that, since he didn’t even bother to try to charm my socks off.”

“But that’s what makes it so interesting,” Lizzy insisted. “For a man like Hardy not to flirt, for him to actually act all shy and tongue-tied around you, I think that’s very telling.”

“And I think you’ve been at the hospital too long without sleep,” Trish said. “You’re hallucinating.”

“We’ll see,” Lizzy said, undeterred.

“Afraid not. As soon as I’m back on my feet, the baby and I will be moving on. I’ll probably never see Hardy Jones again.”

Famous last words.

Not an hour after she’d made her very firm declaration to Lizzy, Jordan and Kelly Adams appeared. Trish wasn’t dumb enough not to realize that there was a connection, especially when they suggested she come and stay with them.

“We have lots of room, and you need to get some rest. Having a brand-new baby is exhausting. You’ll need help, at least for a while,” Kelly said. “Don’t even bother making excuses. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“It’s the least we can do for Bryce’s daughter,” Jordan added. “Your father…”

Before he could get the rest of the words out, Trish cut him off. “My father is not to know I’m here,” she said firmly. “I can’t come with you, unless you agree to that. If you feel you have to tell him, then I’ll just take the baby and move on.”

Kelly squeezed her hand and shot a warning look at her husband. “I’m sure you have your reasons, though I hope you’ll reconsider. I’m sure he must be worried sick about you. In the meantime, we want you here with us. Isn’t that right, Jordan?”

He looked uncomfortable with the promise, but he finally nodded. “It’s your decision.”

“By the way, how did you even know I was here?”

“Word travels fast in a small town,” Kelly Adams said. “It’s hard to get used to, if you’ve lived in the city most of your life.”

“And in this family, word spreads like wildfire,” Jordan added. “Never known a worse bunch of gossips. My father’s the worst.”

“Then you and Lizzy
are
related?” she asked, trying to reconcile the age difference.

“She’s my half sister,” he said. “We share the same impossibly nosy father. No doubt you’ll meet him. He’s chomping at the bit to get over here and get a look at you and the baby. With luck we’ll be able to keep him away until you move into the house, but don’t count on it. He’s not a patient man.”

“He’s also looking for a new project,” Kelly warned her.

Trish managed a wan smile. “I’ve heard about the matchmaking. Lizzy seems to have inherited the trait.”

“Yes, well, I don’t know about Lizzy, but he certainly does seem to have a flair for it,” she said. “He did well enough by us.”

Jordan frowned at her. “I’m the one who courted you, remember? My father had nothing to do with it.”

Kelly patted his hand. “You go right on thinking that, sweetheart.”

Trish was fascinated by the byplay between them. There was so much obvious affection, so much love.
Her own parents were not especially demonstrative. She’d assumed it was that way between all couples after many years of marriage. Obviously, that was not the case with Jordan and Kelly Adams.

He was a handsome man, a polished businessman with his well-trimmed hair and his fancy suit. He carried off the look of success with flair. Kelly, however, looked as if she’d just hopped off a horse and grabbed a ride into town with him. They both had to be in their forties, but while Jordan had a touch of gray in his hair and a few lines on his tanned face, Kelly was as vibrant and lovely as a girl. No one would have taken a quick look at them and guessed them to be a match. But judging from the way Jordan gazed at her, he adored her. And Kelly couldn’t seem to keep her own gaze from straying to her husband every few seconds.

If only she could have fallen in love like that, Trish thought with a sigh. Instead, she’d fallen for a playboy with about as much substance as whipped cream.

Well, never again. Even if she stayed in the area for a few days or even a couple of weeks, she would do her best to avoid Hardy Jones. Rather than intriguing her, Lizzy’s recitation of Hardy’s attributes had solidified her determination to stay the heck away from him. And all of the hints that Harlan Adams might try to throw the two of them together were enough to make her skin crawl.

Realistically she couldn’t take off in the next day or two, but she wouldn’t hang around much longer than that. These people could plot and scheme and
matchmake to their heart’s content, but she was immune.

More important, in no time at all she and Laura would be far away. Hardy Jones wouldn’t even be an issue once she’d found a new place to settle down. She’d been thinking New Mexico or Arizona, but Alaska was beginning to seem attractive. Or Maine. Any place that would put a few thousand miles between her and the growing number of people who seemed to think they knew just what she needed to make her life complete.

Hardy was constantly amazed at just how hot and sweaty a man could get when the temperature was barely above freezing. He and Harlan Patrick had been riding hard for most of the day, checking on the cattle to see how they’d done during the storm, making sure there was feed available, since most of the grazing land was still covered with a blanket of snow. All he wanted was a hot shower, a decent meal and sleep.

Instead, as he walked through the bunkhouse door, he was greeted by Harlan Adams.

“Hey, there, son, you’re just the man I’ve been looking for.”

In all the years he’d worked at White Pines, the owner had never sought him out before. Hardy regarded him warily. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Just wanted to add my congratulations to everybody else’s. You did a fine thing the other night, helping out a stranger. Couldn’t have been easy cir
cumstances, but you kept your head and pulled through for her.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it, but the truth is, I just did what anyone would have done. I’m hardly anybody’s idea of a hero.”

“I doubt you’d get the new mama to agree to that.”

“Oh, she’s just grateful, that’s all.” He noticed that the old man showed no inclination to be on his way. “Is there something else?”

“Well, you could do me a favor, if you have the time.”

“Now?” Hardy asked, trying not to let his dismay show.

“Not right this second, but tonight. Like I said, only if you have the time. I know what a busy social life you have.”

Hardy searched for a hint of censure in his tone, but couldn’t find any. “The truth is I thought I’d skip going into town tonight. It’s been a long day.”

Harlan Adams beamed, clearly ignoring Hardy’s hint that he was exhausted. “Terrific. Then you have some time on your hands.”

“I suppose. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like you to take a ride over to my son’s and have a look at one of the horses.” His expression turned regretful. “I declare, Jordan might have grown up on this ranch, but what he knows about animals wouldn’t fill a thimble.”

“Wouldn’t Slade be better for the job? He’s the expert with horses.”

The old man was undeterred by his logic. “He’s
tied up tonight or I’d have asked him. Since you’re free, would you mind? Kelly’s been real worried about a little filly she’s got over there.”

Hardy sensed a trap, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it might be. “Let me clean up, have supper, and I’ll ride on over.”

“Take a shower, if you want, but forget supper. Kelly will have something for you over there. She’s quite a cook. Better than Sweeney any day of the week. She said it’s the least she can do to thank you for taking the trouble to stop by.”

Nothing about this added up. There were a dozen or more men around White Pines who were every bit as qualified to look at that horse as Hardy was, some more so. To top it off, Kelly and Jordan’s daughter, Dani, was a vet. Granted, she dealt primarily with small animals, but she surely could have examined the horse if her mother was so worked up about it. Add in the offer of dinner and Hardy was all but convinced there was something odd going on. He just couldn’t figure out what.

Well, it hardly mattered now. He was committed. He’d find out soon enough.

“If you speak to Kelly, tell her I’ll be by in forty-five minutes or so,” he advised Harlan Adams.

“Will do, son. Thanks. It will put her mind at ease, I’m sure.”

He turned and walked off, whistling something that sounded suspiciously upbeat. Harlan Patrick arrived just in time to see him go.

“What was Grandpa Harlan doing here?”

“Beats me,” Hardy said. “Something about a
sick horse at your uncle’s. He wants me to take a look at it.”

“And you agreed?”

“Why not? I couldn’t see how I could say no.”

To his astonishment, Harlan Patrick burst out laughing.

Hardy’s gaze narrowed. “Okay, what’s going on? What do you know that I don’t?”

His friend held up his hands and backed off. “Oh, no, I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

“In the middle of what?”

“Nothing. Not a thing.” He winked. “You have yourself a fine evening, Hardy. Something tells me it’s going to be downright fascinating. I might just drop on over to my uncle’s myself. Haven’t seen Jordan and Kelly in ages.”

Harlan Patrick’s gleeful response nagged at Hardy the whole time he was showering and changing into something halfway presentable. When he was ready, he hopped into his pickup and made the short drive to the ranch that had belonged to Kelly’s family for years. She had saved it singlehandedly after her folks died, and even though she and Jordan could have built something far more lavish on the property, they had kept the small, original house and simply added a few luxurious amenities to it. Hardy had been inside on a few occasions and admired the lack of pretension. This was a home, not a showplace.