The Texas Cowboy's Baby Rescue. Cathy Thacker Gillen

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СКАЧАТЬ Riot a little higher in his arms. “Will you-all be comfortable here tonight?”

      In terms of creature comforts? Yes. In terms of having him sleeping just down the hall from her? Not so much. Yet what choice did she have? She had to make do until she had a better solution worked out.

      “Absolutely. If you’re sure it’s going to be okay with you, too?”

      He looked at her a long moment. A myriad of emotions came and went on his ruggedly handsome face. “We’ll make it work,” he said cryptically. And in that moment, as they headed back downstairs, she knew they would.

      * * *

      WHILE BRIDGETT CARRIED the baby and the diaper bag into the family room, Cullen headed outside with the puppy.

      Thirty minutes later, she and Robby found them on the screened-in porch. The freshly bathed Riot was getting a rubdown with a towel and she smiled. “He has a lot more white fur than I realized.”

      “Yeah, I thought he was mostly brown, too.” Laugh lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Guess a lot of it was mud. Robby okay?”

      Trying not to think how easily she and Cullen meshed in the mom and dad roles, she nodded. “He took his bottle like a champ. Now all he has to do is burp a time or two, and I’ll be able to put him down again.”

      Cullen brought two stainless steel bowls of food and water over and set them in front of where Riot was leashed to the railing.

      The puppy stared at both.

      “I know you have to be hungry,” Cullen said, kneeling down to pet the mutt’s head.

      Riot still didn’t touch the food.

      Cullen took some kibble into his hand and offered it that way.

      Riot hesitated, then inched closer, nudging Cullen’s palm and finally eating a few small pieces. Cullen offered the bowl again, but when the pup once again refused, he was forced to go back to the hand-feeding method.

      “Are all puppies that fussy?” she asked, walking back and forth, gently patting Robby on the back.

      “I wouldn’t know. I only had the one when I was a kid.”

      Bridgett caught the low note of emotion in his voice. “What happened to him?”

      “He died at age nine. Cancer.”

      Clearly, Cullen still missed him. “You never got another?”

      Another shake of his head. “Initially, I wasn’t in a position where I could get another dog. After that—” he shrugged “—I was too busy ranching.”

      Robby gazed over at Cullen, mesmerized by the low timbre of his voice. As was she. “Too busy?” she asked lightly, inclining her head at Riot. “Or too leery of giving your heart away to another little cutie like this?”

      Cullen’s head came up. As he exhaled, his broad shoulders tensed, then relaxed. “Too busy fixing up ranches, adding to my herd and moving from place to place.”

      “How big a spread do you want?” she asked, edging closer.

      Cullen set the empty bowl aside, then led the still-leashed Riot over to the grass. “Minimum, ten thousand acres and a couple thousand head of cattle.”

      “Maximum?”

      He shrugged. “Frank has fifty thousand acres on the Bar M.”

      “You’d like to equal your family’s ranch?”

      He nodded, solemn now. “Yeah, I would.”

      There was something oddly sentimental about following in his father’s footsteps that way. Especially coming from such an unsentimental man. She looked out at the fenced acres, all of them spring-green and lush after plentiful March rains. “How many acres do you have here?”

      Noting Riot had finished his business, Cullen praised him and patted him on the head. “Four thousand.”

      “So you have a way to go.” She watched the puppy and man amble back onto the patio.

      “I’ll get there,” he said confidently.

      She’d bet he would.

      In fact, she’d bet he would get just about anything he wanted. Good thing it wasn’t her.

      * * *

      BRIDGETT AND CULLEN had dinner together and got the baby and puppy settled, then Cullen excused himself to go check on one of his prize bulls. Bridgett used the momentary quiet to hit the shower and change into a pair of light gray yoga pants and a long-sleeved light blue T-shirt.

      That done, she settled on her bed and began making a to-do list for the following day, including all the notifications she had to take care of that very evening. Two and a half hours later, she was still working on the last and most important one. Aware Robby would be waking again soon, and would need to be fed when he did, she headed back down to the kitchen.

      Cullen was seated at the kitchen table, laptop in front of him and what appeared to be business materials all around him. To her surprise, he appeared to have had a shower, too. But he had put on jeans and a black body-hugging T-shirt that let her know just how taut and muscular his body was. Clearly, he didn’t sleep in jeans. Those were for her benefit, just like her yoga pants, instead of pj bottoms, were for his. She wondered if he slept in that shirt or went bare chested. Not that she should be conjuring up a mental image of him in boxers or briefs in the first place.

      Her pulse kicking up a notch, Bridgett remained in the portal. Her face bare of all makeup, her freshly shampooed hair spilling about her shoulders in damp waves, she felt oddly defenseless. The situation suddenly way too intimate.

      “Okay if I come in long enough to warm up a bottle?” she asked lightly.

      He glanced up from the laptop in front of him, his gaze raking lightly over her from head to toe. Sensual lips curved into a ghost of a smile, he encouraged her to come in with a tilt of his handsome head. “Mi casa is you-all’s casa...”

      Temporarily, Bridgett reminded herself. Very temporarily.

      She could not share close quarters with a man she found this attractive. Not for long, anyway. Not without something ridiculously sexy and impulsive happening.

      “Not for much longer if the solution I have been working on all evening comes to fruition.”

      Was that disappointment she saw etched on his handsome face?

      He got up, suddenly. Went to the fridge, got a bottle of water, then held the door open for her so she could help herself, too. “How are things going up there?” His voice was low, polite.

      She moved past to retrieve a premade bottle of formula, being careful not to touch him. She inhaled the clean, soapy scent of him. The minty smell of toothpaste. He hadn’t shaved and the evening beard shadowing his face gave him an even more ruggedly masculine air.

      Aware she hadn’t answered his question yet, she СКАЧАТЬ