Coulda Been a Cowboy. Brenda Novak

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СКАЧАТЬ enough caviar over there?” he’d taunted her yesterday.

      “I think I’m getting spoiled,” she told Gabe with a laugh. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that you don’t have to hire the housekeeper that came on Wednesday. I’d be happy to keep the place clean while I’m there.”

      “I appreciate it, but I can’t do that to Rosalee. I think she really counts on the income.”

      “See that? I don’t have to clean. And now I don’t even have to feel guilty about it. It’s like staying at Club Med.”

      “You deserve the break, Dakota.” Gabe was a little too serious, serious enough to make her uncomfortable. She didn’t want him to pity her. She hated that.

      “Tyson will probably be back soon,” she said, trying to keep the conversation on the light side.

      “He never should’ve left.”

      There were several gawkers gathering a few feet away. Like Tyson, Gabe attracted stares. It was inspiring just to see him get around so capably. But he was also a local hero. Everyone was eager to get some face time with him, so they could talk about next year’s high school football season, if nothing else. High school football was The Town Event.

      “Why did he?” she asked, lowering her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard. It was none of her business and she knew it, but she was hoping to hear something that would bolster her faith in Braden’s father.

      She glanced at the photo of Tyson scaling Rachelle Rochester’s fence. With that glint in his eye, most men would scramble to get out of his way.

      “He keeps his personal business to himself. But if I had to venture a guess, I’d say Braden’s mother is causing some trouble.”

      Was it him—or her? “That’s too bad.”

      Gabe looked her over. “You losing weight?”

      She smiled, suddenly shy. “A little. I’ve got a lot more to go.”

      “Not a lot. You look fantastic.”

      She felt herself flush. “Thanks.”

      “Are you enjoying the baby?”

      Dakota took Braden, who was starting to cry, from the cart. “Very much!”

      The babe quieted immediately. “Ba…ba…ba…ba,” he cooed and nearly broke her nose with his eagerness to give her another wet kiss.

      Gabe laughed at the collision. “That kid keeps growing, he’ll be a lineman someday.”

      Dakota hugged Braden close. She loved his chubby body, especially the soft rolls at his thighs and the place where he would one day grow a wrist. “He’s in the ninety-ninth percentile for height and the eighty-seventh percentile for weight. I looked it up on the Internet.”

      “Sounds like Paul Bunyan’s kid to me.”

      She brushed her lips across Braden’s temple, enjoying the scent of his shampoo. “It’s not as if his father is small. Tyson’s at least six-four, isn’t he?”

      “Around there.”

      “And Braden’s going to be every bit as handsome.”

      An odd expression flitted across Gabe’s face. Or maybe it was her imagination.

      “Is something wrong?” she asked.

      He seemed slightly hesitant, as though he was unsure whether or not to speak his mind.

      She shifted the baby, so her hip could help support his weight. “What is it?”

      “I hope I did the right thing.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Nothing.” He smiled again, but it wasn’t quite as genuine as before. Now it was tempered with a hint of worry.

      “Gabe?”

      A furrow formed between his eyebrows. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Dakota. I envisioned this as a great opportunity for you, but—”

      She waved her free hand in an unconcerned motion. “I’m not going to get hurt.”

      “I hope not. Lord knows you deserve a lot better than what you’ve had. I’d like to see you get it. But…”

      “Tyson would never go for a plain girl like me?” Dakota’s chest constricted. It was one thing to know the truth in her heart and another to have someone she admired as much as Gabe point it out to her. But she added a scoffing laugh so he wouldn’t know he’d hurt her. “Come on, Gabe. I know he’s way out of my league.”

      Gabe’s eyes fell to Braden. “I wasn’t talking about Tyson.”

      CHAPTER SIX

      Grandpa Garnier: Don’t let so much reality into your life

       that there’s no room for dreamin’.

      IT WAS LATE, yet most of the lights were on in the cabin. Was Braden back on the rampage and keeping Dakota up?

      Tyson sort of hoped so. She’d stepped in and taken over as if caring for a baby was the easiest thing in the world. Which made him feel like an absolute idiot.

      He thought of their phone conversations over the past week: He’s such a good baby…Slept all night, even though I’m pretty sure he’s cutting another tooth…He’s napping right now…

      From the sounds of it, Braden had been nothing but sheer joy.

      “Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Garnier?”

      Tyson realized he was still sitting in the back of the cab, staring at the house. “No, thanks.”

      He paid the man, then waited as the cabby pulled his suitcase out of the trunk. The plane ride from Los Angeles to Boise hadn’t been that long, but Tyson still felt cramped, rumpled and exhausted. Probably because the days he’d spent in California had been a nightmare. When he appeared in court after being served, Rachelle had presented the picture of him scaling her fence and claimed he’d been calling her night and day and had nearly broken down her door in an attempt to “get to her.” With her bodyguard there to give witness, the judge had granted the restraining order. Tyson had requested a meeting so they could come to some sort of agreement, but Rachelle refused to talk to him unless he was willing to hand over the baby.

      What really upset him was that she wasn’t acting out of regret for having given up her child. Regret he could understand, maybe even forgive. Regret was what a normal mother would be feeling. But Rachelle still cared more about the money than Braden. She hadn’t offered Tyson a dime of his money back. Instead, she’d been spotted all over Beverly Hills, laughing and shopping with her best friend.

      “It’ll be a cold day in hell when I give in to her,” he muttered.

      “Excuse me?” the cabby said. The squat, fifty-something-year-old had a СКАЧАТЬ