The Cowboy's Christmas Baby Page 12

  Chapter Eleven

  The client, Gretchen Shorey, was effusive about the samples Erin had sent, and complimented her on her versatility. Erin had sent a couple of mock-ups of some book covers. One was for a nonfiction self-help book, the other a dystopian novel for young adults. Plus some basic ad concepts for marketing connected to the books.

  “I’m so glad you like them,” Erin said, feeling a rush of pleasure at the praise. She hadn’t done much work the past half year and was afraid she had lost her edge and connections.

  She’d gotten this opportunity from a fellow graphic artist she was friends with on Facebook, who had turned down a chance to work for them. Her friend had encouraged Erin to send some samples and cold-call, and here she was.

  “Love them. Fantastic work. So, what we’re looking at is print as well as ebook. Got to cover all the angles these days,” Gretchen said with a quick laugh. “We’re just starting out and don’t have a huge lineup. I can’t promise you all the covers but I do have some connections to a tech company which might be looking for ad work as well.”

  At her words Erin felt a surge of hope for future work. She didn’t want to tell her sisters that she had been a bit concerned. It would make her look irresponsible but this affirmation made her relax her unease.

  They talked details and compensation and Erin grew even more positive. When she finally ended the call she held onto the phone a moment as if to cement what had just happened.

  Thank you, Lord, were the first words that slipped into her mind as she released a long, slow breath, looking around the room. Her eyes fell on the clock first then Caitlin’s crib. She realized with a start that in the excitement and the pleasure of talking shop for the past twenty minutes, she had forgotten about her daughter.

  She shoved her phone into the back pocket of her blue jeans and yanked open the door of her bedroom.

  But she couldn’t see either Dean or Caitlin. Heart pounding now she rushed to the front door, passing the couch on her way.

  What she saw there made her come to a halt.

  Dean lay on the couch, his head on the armrest, his legs stretched out along the length of the couch. Caitlin lay curled like a ball on his chest, his arms curved around her.

  Both were asleep.

  Erin stood over them, her breath quickening at the picture of her daughter in Dean’s arms. The planes of his face had softened, his mouth was relaxed, his head angled toward Caitlin’s. He looked like he was protecting her and the sight made Erin’s heart hitch.

  Dean, a man she had never thought of as fatherly, looked so comfortable and at ease. As if he had done this many times before.

  She thought back to Sam, Caitlin’s real father, and how faithless he had been to his own child. The child in his wife’s arms when she’d come to see Erin.

  Don’t think about that. You didn’t know.

  But here was Dean, holding her daughter while he slept.

  A quick glance at her watch showed her that it was getting on to 5:00. Supper time. She had pulled out a casserole Lauren had delivered yesterday and had figured on heating it up.

  Should she ask Dean to stay?

  She shrugged off the question, trying not to let herself read too much into the situation. He had brought her to town—the least she could do was feed him.

  As the casserole warmed up in the oven she set the table for two, feeling a hint of intimacy as she laid the plates out across from each other. Was she presuming too much? Would he want to stay? It wasn’t like she’d been the most cordial to him.

  She pushed the thoughts aside and grabbed cutlery. Just a simple dinner with old friends. Yet even as she told herself that, another part of her mocked that idea. Dean had never been a “friend.”

  She busied herself in the kitchen, feeling rather domestic. A man holding her sleeping baby on the couch while she made supper. Like a little family.

  The thought snuck up on her as she cut up vegetables for the salad and try as she might, she couldn’t dislodge it. Because with that thought came the memory of Dean’s kiss—something else she hadn’t been able to dismiss.

  She heard a groan, then a heavy sigh and she guessed Dean was waking up.

  “Hey, little girl,” she heard him mutter. “Is your mommy still yapping on the phone?”

  She smiled at that, unable to take offense at his comment because she could hear the underlying humor in his tone.

  Then she heard another groan and wondered if his leg bothered him. She hurried over to the couch just as he sat up, still holding Caitlin. He grimaced as he did so and her suspicions were confirmed.

  “Here, let me help you,” she said, reaching out to take Caitlin from him.

  She was surprised when he didn’t protest. But before he handed over her daughter, he brushed his cheek over her head. It was such a small thing and if she hadn’t been watching she would have missed it.

  But it landed in her heart and stuck there.

  She eased Caitlin out of his arms, and holding her close, brought her to her bedroom, gently laying her down in the crib.

  As she looked down she felt a pang of vulnerability blended with a fierce protectiveness. Caitlin had only Erin to take care of her. She depended on her fully.

  While her feelings for Dean were changing she knew she had to be careful.

  Yet, in spite of her self-talk, as she closed the door behind her and saw Dean standing in her living room she felt an eager anticipation.

  * * *

  “That was delicious,” Dean said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He folded it up and set it on his plate, shooting a cautious smile over at Erin. “Thanks for having me.”

  When she’d invited him to stay for supper his first reaction was to say no. But the welcoming smile on her face made him change his mind. That and the fact that she said she’d wanted to pay him back for helping her out.

  Balancing the scales he understood.

  “You’re welcome.” She fiddled with her knife, moving it to one side of her plate then another. Then she glanced over at him again. “It was nice to have company for dinner, though I can’t claim any credit. Lauren made the casserole.”

  “She’s a good sister.”

  “She and Jodie both are, in their own ways, though they do like to boss me around.” Erin fiddled a bit more with her knife.

  “She has that ability,” Dean said with a grin. “But in the end it worked out good.” Then he caught himself, realizing how that sounded. “I mean, for me. For riding,” he amended quickly. “I hadn’t been on a horse since and I was scared and—”

  Erin reached over and put her hand on his arm. “I know what you were saying.” But she kept her hand there. “And I appreciate what you told me. About being afraid. That can’t have been easy to admit.”

  “Always been told to cowboy up,” he said with a short laugh.

  “I never did understand what that meant or where it came from. I mean, why up? Why not down?”

  Dean laughed. “Not sure myself. It gets tossed around at rodeos so much no one every really stops to think about it. Anyhow, it took a depressing amount of cowboy upping to get on that old nag Jodie picked out for me.”

  “I think you showed more courage getting on that old nag, who just so happened to be a horse I used to ride, than getting on any saddle bronc you’ve ever ridden.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said, standing to clear the table. “But I’ll just say thanks.”

  She smiled and got up, as well.

  He brought his plate to the counter and then returned for the rest.

  “You don’t have to stay to help with the dishes. I’m sure you’ve got things you need to do,” she said, setting the half-full casserole dish on the counter.

  He did have to get back to the ranch to help Vic with the
tractor that had broken down yesterday when they were loading up bales for Monty Bannister. And his mom wanted him to help her clear out her greenhouse.

  But he wanted to prolong this time with Erin. Vic could clean up the clogged fuel line on his own. And the greenhouse could wait.

  “Not really. I don’t mind to help.”

  “I don’t have a dishwasher,” she warned him.

  All the better.

  “Just another chance for me to cowboy up,” he joked.

  She chuckled, which made him feel better than it should.

  “So did you make up your mind about your flooring?” he said as he scraped the dishes while she took care of the leftovers. “I said I was coming to help you measure...” He let the sentence trail off. He felt bad, but after Tuesday he needed to retreat and lick his wounds.

  “That’s okay. I figured it out myself. And I got it ordered already.”

  “Wow, you’re efficient.”

  “I’ve learned to do things for myself.”

  Her comment raised another blitz of questions and curiosity about her life before she came back to Saddlebank. “You said that you rehabbed a house?” he asked as he set the plates aside.

  “With my roommates, yes. And Sam.”

  “Is that what he did for a living?” He knew he was pushing his luck, but he felt a need to know more about this shadowy figure who was, hopefully, part of Erin’s past.

  “No. Nothing like that. He’s a doctor. Surgeon in fact.”

  Dean shoved the stopper in the sink, nodding. Surgeon. Rich, probably.

  “And if you’re wondering why I left him, well, I got pregnant and he didn’t want Caitlin and...there were other reasons.”

  He turned to her, hearing the understated pain in her voice. And though he wondered what those “other reasons” were, it didn’t matter. She sounded sad.

  “That must have been hard,” he said, turning on the taps to fill the sink.

  “I was the one who ended the relationship.” Erin set the casserole in the fridge, then closed the door, her back to him. “Things hadn’t been great before...before I got pregnant. But...” Her voice broke and she lowered her head. Dean, unsure of what to do, took a chance and walked over to her. He put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

  She straightened as if gathering strength from a place he supposed she had drawn from before.

  “Sorry,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact.

  “You don’t have to apologize,” he said, keeping his voice quiet as if to encourage her to entrust him with what she held back.

  She turned to him then, a wry smile on her face. “I have got to stop making a habit of getting all sappy in front of you. I guess it’s just with Caitlin and all...”

  Her voice trailed away as she looked up at him, her soft blue eyes locked on his. They stood close enough that he could smell the scent of her shampoo, catch the faint smudge of mascara under her lower lashes.

  “You’re feeling vulnerable,” he finished for her.

  “That and...other things.”

  It was the breathy way she spoke those words, the way she kept her eyes on his that raised his hopes and ignited old dreams.

  In spite of his promise not to kiss her again, he lowered his head, pausing within inches of her lips as if to give her the opportunity to pull away. Instead, she closed the distance between them.

  Their lips met, warm and soft, a connection that shook him to his core. He held her mouth against his for a few more seconds and then she gently drew back.

  He rested his forehead against her, her face a delightful blur.

  “So, this changes things,” he said, his voice quiet as if he didn’t want to disturb the moment.

  “Yes. It does,” she returned. He heard her swallow and then, regretfully, she lowered her hand and drew back, resting against the door of the refrigerator, her hands now at her sides.

  He pulled back as well, trying to get a read from her expression. Her lips held a smile and though she looked down he caught a sparkle in her eyes, a crinkle at the corners.

  “I know this is a complication for you,” he said, preferring to voice her potential objections.

  “I do have Caitlin to think of,” she said, acknowledging where he was going.

  “And her father?” he prompted, needing to get that much out of the way before they moved in the direction he thought they might be headed.

  “Like I told you, not in the picture.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “I’m not so sure I want to share.”

  She sucked in a quick breath, her eyes shooting to his.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “Well, it was a bad relationship that was a mistake. The only good thing that came of that mess was Caitlin.” Her quiet vehemence made him wonder if there was more to the situation. Right now, however, he didn’t want to know. Because talking about Caitlin’s father brought him into the present and Dean wanted him planted firmly in Erin’s past.

  But he did want to fix the regret and bitterness in her voice.

  “I know how easy it is to make mistakes,” he said. “I’ve learned a lot about God’s grace and how He helps us work through those missteps in life.”

  She looked up at him, frowning, and he wondered if she was going to, once again, push any talk of God aside.

  “You sound so wise.”

  “You sound so surprised.”

  Her laughter made him feel good.

  “Anything I know now was hard-won,” he said, fingering a strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I learned how valuable life is and not to mess around with it. That and to let go of my pride.”

  He thought of his chat with Mike and how long it had taken him to admit he needed the man’s help. But as he looked down at Erin he knew he had another reason to improve his life.

  “We have that in common, then,” she said, touching his hand with hers.

  “How so?”

  She twined her fingers through his in a gesture that spoke of a comfortable familiarity. “I struggled with pride, too. I was ashamed to come back here, a single mother. My sisters and I have always had our roles. Jodie was always the rebel. Lauren was always the responsible one. But me, I was always the good girl. The one that reminded them to go to church, to read their Bible. To stay close to God.” She released a short laugh. “So you need to understand how hard it was to come back to them not only a single mother but someone who had strayed from the faith she had encouraged them to follow.”

  “But you know you can always go back,” he said. “And if God accepts a selfish and cocky cowboy like me I know He will take back someone like you. Someone who is so—”

  She put her fingers on his lips as if to forestall anything else he might say. “Please, don’t say it again.”

  He didn’t, knowing that it would make her upset.

  “Come to church” was all he said instead.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He wanted to say more but he gave in to an impulse and kissed her again, cupping her face in his hands.

  And when he looked into her eyes he caught a shadow of pain that made him wonder yet again what she wasn’t telling him.

  Though he wanted to know now he also knew she had to learn to trust him.

  He just hoped that what she was holding back wasn’t something that could break the tender relationship growing between them.

  Chapter Twelve

  Erin stood with Caitlin in her arms in the back of the church, firmly in the grip of second thoughts, as she looked over the scattered congregation.

  Her sisters weren’t here yet. They had promised they would meet her and sit with her, but she didn’t see them.

&nb
sp; She regretted the impulse she had given in to this morning. It was because of Dean she was here. His gently spoken invitation to come to church was a surprise, but it was also encouraging.

  Her aunt Laura was playing the piano, the sounds of the familiar hymn making Erin smile.

  She looked down at Caitlin, wondering again if she should have brought her to church. According to the digital thermometer Dean had insisted on buying for her, her fever was down. He had checked her a number of times, apparently fascinated with how the thermometer worked. Erin had, however, drawn the line on Dean pasting a bug-shaped fever patch he had purchased on Caitlin’s forehead that would give a readout of her temperature. He’d tossed those in the shopping cart, as well.

  She stroked Caitlin’s soft cheek, smiling at the memory of her little shopping trip with Dean yesterday. He’d acted like a fussy old grandma as he read every label of every product making sure she bought exactly the right kind.

  “Erin. Welcome to the services.”

  She looked up as Brooke Dillon came up beside her, laying her hand on Erin’s shoulder. Behind her slouched George Bamford, the owner of the Grill and Chill. He gave Erin a quick uptick of his chin, which, she guessed, was his version of hello. “Nice hair,” Brooke said with a grin.

  “Thanks again. I really like it.”

  Brooke fluffed Erin’s hair, then fluttered her hands in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry. Habit. Is Lauren or Jodie here?”

  “Not yet, but I’m early.”

  “You can come and sit with us, if you want.”

  The offer eased away her misgivings about coming to church today. “Thanks so much, but I think I’ll wait.”

  “And here’s your enchanting little girl.” Brooke fingered the blanket away from Caitlin’s face, smiling that tender smile women reserved for little babies. “We do have a nursery downstairs.”

  “I know, but I felt too nervous bringing her there. Besides, she hasn’t been feeling well so I want to keep her close.”

  “And she’s such a good baby. If she can sleep through all the noise in the beauty shop, I’m sure she’ll sleep just fine with your aunt Laura playing.” Brooke’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide with alarm. “I mean, she’ll sleep well. Not that your aunt is a boring player or anything. Just quieter than the group we usually have. They’re pretty loud in comparison, that’s all I was trying—”