The Convenient Cowboy. Heidi Hormel

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      She cut him off again. Her face lightened two shades, and her mouth clamped into a firm line. “I’m giving the baby up for adoption.”

      “What? This is my child. You can’t do that.”

      “No. It’s mine.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “Who’s the one who’s pregnant? Huh? Plus, we’ll be divorced before I have the baby.” Her chin thrust out again.

      “Whether we’re divorced or not, the baby is mine, too, just like Calvin. A real man doesn’t walk out on his family. My God, the whole reason we’re married is because I want my son in my life. Why do you think this baby will be any different? You can’t give the baby up for adoption without my consent.”

      “What if I run away? I bet they wouldn’t care in Mexico.”

      His hands went clammy, and the collar on his shirt suddenly felt too tight. Would she really do that? Or was it just fear talking? He stared at her hard, assessing her as he would an opponent across the negotiating table. Her lips trembled just a little. She wasn’t an opponent. She was the mother of his baby and, for now, his wife. “You’re not runnin’ away, darlin’. We’ll work this out,” he said in his most reasonable voice.

      “You can’t stop me.”

      “That’s where you’re wrong. We have a contract, and I know the law.” He let that hang there because she was right. He couldn’t force her to have the baby or to stay in Arizona, but by the time she figured out all that, he’d have her sign an addendum to their contract. He waited for her to say something. He hated to lie to her, but this was about his baby. He’d do whatever it took to save his child.

Chapter Three

      Olympia sat down suddenly. Her head whirled; the room wavered. She couldn’t think about keeping a baby, even if he told her he’d stick around. A big lump settled midway up her throat. Throw up or pass out—those were her options. Her vision started to darken around the edges. She swallowed hard.

      “For God’s sake,” Spence said, firmly grasping her by the neck and pushing down her head.

      She tried to suck in a deep breath, but her insides were being crushed. Was that what happened? She remembered Mama waddling around, pregnant with her sister Rickie. She couldn’t train for the rodeo while she was pregnant, could she? What would she do? She’d waited so long to get on the circuit. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” she moaned. A garbage can appeared under her nose. She batted at it. She wasn’t going to be sick, and the dark spots were disappearing. She sat up and stopped moving abruptly when the room whirled again.

      “Here,” Spence said, thrusting a doughy white roll at her. “You said that you haven’t had any food, and even if you did, you left it out there along the 10.”

      She cautiously took the roll. Regardless of her state of knocked-up-ness, not eating would make anyone sick. She nibbled at the bread while he lifted the silver covers from the plates and put them back. After a deep breath, he smiled at her. She guessed it was the smile he used in court to win over the ladies on the jury.

      “Looks good,” he said, his dimple deepening.

      She continued to munch on the bread, which seemed to settle just fine. Spence didn’t sit down but watched her as though he’d taken up guard duty.

      “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked after finishing the roll and thinking that the steak and cowboy beans—even cooled—smelled good.

      He gave her another for-the-jury smile. “No, ma’am. Not right now. Maybe later.”

      Great. He was back to pretending he was a cowboy. Annoyance flooded her, and bile threatened to choke her. The food was no longer tempting. “So you have me trapped in this room. What are we going to do?” she asked, not caring that she sounded belligerent.

      “Well,” he drawled, “I’m going to finish my drink here, then mosey on down to the bar.”

      “I thought you were proving to anyone who cared that we’d actually gone on a honeymoon.”

      “The receipts will be enough. There isn’t a PI tracking us.”

      “Whatever.” She lifted the cover on the food again, just to give her something to do, because she was not going to eat it. Maybe a milk shake would be okay. She’d call room service once he left.

      “I’ll see you later. Make sure you lock the door. I have my key. By the way, I’m sure I can see the lobby from the bar,” Spence said.

      She heard the implied threat. Still, after he’d gone, she almost missed his hint of licorice and leather. For the first time since Spence had pulled off the road for her to be sick, Olympia took a deep breath. She pushed the cart away. After calling for a triple-thick vanilla shake, she went to look through the bag of things he’d bought for their overnight stay. Thank goodness there was a T-shirt and sweatpants. At least she wouldn’t have to sleep in her clothes.

      She got as comfy as she could while ignoring the reality of her situation. She turned on the TV, loud, and forced herself to enjoy her extralarge milk shake.

      * * *

      “WHY ARE YOU sleeping here?” Spence asked later, appearing over her nest of pillows on the couch.

      “This is more comfortable.” The king-size bed in the other room intimidated her.

      “This is where I’m sleeping. I’m not going to let a pregnant woman sleep on a couch when there’s a perfectly good bed.”

      Fully awake now, she felt her gorge rising again at the word pregnant. Why had he said that? She swallowed.

      “Are you going to be sick?”

      “No.” She shook her head but stopped quickly. Maybe the overly rich shake hadn’t been such a good idea after not eating all day. She didn’t move and closed her eyes again, turning her head away and slowly rolling so her back was to him. She didn’t care what Spence thought or wanted. She was staying right here.

      His hand, with its smooth—but not girlie—palm, rested against her forehead as she tried to move farther away.

      “No fever,” he grunted.

      “You woke me out of a sound sleep.”

      “I wouldn’t have woken you if you’d been in the bed.”

      “I was comfortable here.”

      “I’ll help you to bed.”

      “You will not. I’m staying here.”

      “Olympia, I’m not letting you sleep here. Come on.” She turned enough to see him towering over the couch, his arms crossed over his chest—his broad chest, where she’d laid her cheek after they’d made love.

      “Go away.” She squinched her eyes closed against him and the memories of that night. Dear Lord, the night she’d СКАЧАТЬ