The Cowboy and the New Year's Baby (15 page)

“Patricia Ann, where the devil have you been hiding out? I’ve had my men combing every major city in the country looking for you,” Bryce Delacourt blustered when he recognized her voice.

“I thought you called them off,” she chided.

“Well, of course I did, for a time. Then I started to get worried when I didn’t hear from you again. Thought maybe you’d gotten yourself in trouble in some strange city.”

Trish grinned when she thought of how close she really was and how her unsuspecting father had never even considered looking in such a small town.

She drew in a deep breath and admitted, “Actually I’ve been staying with some friends of yours.”

“Who?” her father demanded indignantly. “They can’t be friends of mine if they’ve kept your whereabouts a secret. Besides, I’ve called everyone I could think of to see if they’ve heard from you.”

“I insisted that they keep quiet,” she said. “I told them I would disappear if they told you. They’ve been doing you a favor by keeping my secret.”

“What the hell kind of twisted logic is that?”

“Accept it, Daddy, or I will hang up this phone right now and you’ll still be in the dark.”

He sighed heavily. “Okay, okay, just tell me where you are and I’ll come to get you.”

“I’m in Los Piños, staying with Jordan and Kelly Adams,” she confessed finally.

“Blast it all, I spoke to Jordan not three weeks ago. He never said a word.”

“Because he’s an honorable man and I had asked him not to. Don’t blame him.”

“Well, that’s water under the bridge now. Get your things packed. I’ll be over there to pick you up first thing tomorrow.”

Trish sighed. He still wasn’t listening to her. She tried again. “I am not leaving here, Daddy. Get that through your head right now. I would love it, though, if you and mother would like to come and meet your granddaughter. Her baptism will be in a few weeks. That would be the perfect time.”

“I’ll be damned if I’m waiting a few weeks. I’ll be there tomorrow,” he repeated, then hung up before she could argue with him.

She carefully replaced the receiver in the cradle, then turned to find Kelly observing from the doorway.

“Everything okay?”

“I just spoke to my father. He says he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Kelly nodded. “It’s good that you finally talked to him,” she said. “And I’ll make myself scarce in the morning, so you’ll have some privacy. Just remember that you’re an adult. He can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. You have a life here now and plenty of people who love you.”

Trish squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

“Maybe you should tell Hardy that your father’s coming. I’m sure he’d be glad to stick around and prevent bloodshed. I doubt many men would want to tangle with him. He might be a more than even match for your father.”

Trish wistfully considered the idea, then dismissed it. “It wouldn’t be fair to drag him into the middle of this. It’s not his battle.”

“Oh, believe me, I suspect he’d be more than willing to make it his. He has a stake in what you decide, you know.”

Trish wasn’t entirely sure anymore that Hardy would care one way or another what she decided. He’d made himself scarce lately, which had left her wondering. The truth was, though, that the decision to stay had been made months ago, when her feelings for a certain cowboy had taken her down a path she’d sworn not to travel. She’d worry about his feelings another time.

“No, I have to handle this on my own, once and for all,” she said firmly.

Then she went up to her room and spent a restless night waiting for the fireworks to begin.

Her father arrived on her doorstep at midmorning on Sunday. Jordan and Kelly had left for church with a promise not to return until late in the day.

“Call us over at White Pines, if you need us to come back sooner,” Kelly had said, giving her a kiss on the cheek before they left. “Be strong.”

Trish remembered that advice as she stared first at her father, then at the man beside him. Trish wished she’d asked the Adamses to stay, after all. She hadn’t expected her father to drag Jack Grainger along, rather than her mother. Obviously he hadn’t given up on his scheme to see them married. She was only surprised he hadn’t brought a minister along.

“I want this settled right here and right now,” her father declared as if he had a perfect right to take charge. He pushed past her into the living room without pausing to give her so much as a hug.

“We’ll set a wedding date today,” he announced. “It will have to be a small, quiet wedding, of course. As much as your mother and I had hoped for something lavish for our only daughter, we realize we can’t have a huge blowout under the circumstances.”

Trish clenched her fists and stiffened her resolve. Not once did she meet Jack’s gaze. “No wedding, large or small. Not to Jack,” she said quietly, but firmly. “I’ve made a life for myself here, and this is where I intend to stay.”

“You’re being emotional,” her father said. “Let’s look at this reasonably. You and Jack have a child. You should be married and raising that child together.”

“If that child is so important to you, why haven’t you even asked to see her?” she shot back.

“There will be time enough after we get this settled,” her father responded. He drew a pocket planner out of the briefcase he’d brought along as if this were a business meeting, rather than a reunion with his long-lost daughter. “I have a free Saturday coming up the second weekend in June. That ought to give you and your mother time enough to make the arrangements. She’s already spoken to the florist and the caterer, so they’re on standby.”

“You’re not hearing me,” she said sharply. “I will not marry a man who was cheating on me when
we were engaged.” Her gaze clashed with her father’s. “That is final.”

Her father didn’t seem any more surprised by the revelation than her mother had been months ago. To her fury he waved it off as if it were a minor inconvenience, no more important than a difference of opinion over how to squeeze toothpaste from the tube.

“Sowing his wild oats,” he said, dismissing Jack’s indiscretion as if the man weren’t even in the room to speak in his own defense. “I’m sure he’s sorry, aren’t you, Jack?”

Without giving Jack time to reply, her father went right on trying to bulldoze over Trish’s objections. Jack was beginning to look a little green around the gills, in Trish’s opinion, which made her wonder what her father had done to get him here. Still, he never even tried to voice an objection. The truth was, Jack never took a stand for or against anything that mattered. Obviously he wanted that promised vice presidency too badly.

“No,” Trish said again. “You’re not listening to me, Daddy. This wedding is not going to happen.”

Her father frowned, more at the interruption, no doubt, than her declaration.

“Forget it,” she said, just to make her point one more time.

“Why are you stubbornly clinging to the past?” he demanded. “What’s done is done.”

“This isn’t about the past,” she retorted.

“Then what is it about?”

“Me,” a familiar voice declared, startling all
three of them. Hardy stood in the doorway, his eyes flashing sparks. He was dressed all in black, just the way she liked him best, but there was no question about him being the hero of the hour. “It’s about me. Trish is going to marry me.”

Trish’s mouth gaped. Jack looked relieved. Bryce Delacourt stared.

“Who the hell are you?” her father demanded.

Trish rallied, grateful that once more Hardy was there when she needed him. She knew in her heart he was the kind of man who always would be.

“Daddy, this is Hardy Jones.” She took Hardy’s callused hand in her own and squeezed. “My fiancé.”

H
ardy could tell that Trish thought he was just putting on an act for her father’s benefit, but he’d never been more serious in his life. Standing in the doorway, listening to Bryce Delacourt’s commands and watching that sleazy Jack Grainger turn greener with every word his prospective father-in-law uttered had solidified his resolve.

He’d taken one look at Laura’s wimpy father and seen red. That gussied-up stranger was not going to take his family away from him. He’d lost a lot of people he’d loved, but with a sudden flash of insight, he’d realized that he didn’t need to lose Trish, that he
couldn’t
lose her. He’d planned on waiting until the house was finished, until he had something to offer her, but Kelly’s warning about the arrival of Trish’s father had spurred him into action.

Heart pounding, he had raced all the way in from the pasture where she had found him working with Harlan Patrick. He hadn’t even stopped to worry about the impression of pure desperation he was leaving with his friend and Kelly, a reaction that would no doubt be spread around White Pines by nightfall. The gossip was the least of his concern at this point.

Instead, he’d stood there trying to calm the frantic racing of his pulse, listening to Delacourt making plans for his daughter, riding roughshod over Trish’s objections. All it had taken was a sign from Trish that she didn’t want Jack Grainger, and Hardy had been more than eager to jump into the fray. He’d already heard her vehement protests from a hundred yards away, which made it all the more difficult to understand why her father couldn’t grasp what she was saying when they were in the very same room.

Hardy stepped forward and held out his hand to Delacourt. “Sir, I’m Hardy Jones. I’m pleased to meet you. I know how much Trish respects your opinion, so I’m hoping you’ll give us your blessing.”

The older man still appeared stunned by the sudden turn of events, but he was too much of a businessman to ignore an outstretched hand. He finally shook Hardy’s hand. “Good to meet you.”

Then he turned his gaze on Trish, regarding his daughter with a mix of disbelief and resignation. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Absolutely.”

She said it with such fervor that Hardy almost
believed she really meant it. He took her hand again and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Delacourt glanced at the once-prospective bridegroom, whose color had finally returned. “Sorry, Jack,” he said gruffly. “I never meant to put you in an uncomfortable position. If I’d known what was going on in Trish’s head, I wouldn’t have insisted you come along.”

Trish beamed at Jack, too. “I’m sure you agree that this is for the best,” she told her former fiancé. “Now if you’ll both excuse me. I need to go upstairs and check on Laura.” She glanced at her father. “Would you like to meet your granddaughter?”

“Of course,” he said, starting from the room after her.

Grainger cleared his throat. “Would you mind…could I see her, too?”

To Hardy he sounded as if it were a duty he dreaded, rather than a joy to be embraced. He dropped another notch in Hardy’s estimation.

“Certainly,” Trish said. “She is your daughter, Jack. Whether you play a role in her life is up to you.”

“Before you go upstairs, there’s one thing I’d like to say,” Hardy said, needing to make his own intentions perfectly clear. He directed his gaze straight at Grainger. “Neither of you men know me, but I want you to know that I couldn’t love Laura more if she were my own. I’ll be the best father she could possibly have, so you can rest easy on that score.”

Delacourt nodded approvingly. Grainger flushed as if he guessed that Hardy was warning him away.
And Trish stared at him, looking surprised. Apparently she still believed that his sudden appearance, his sudden claim to being her fiancé was all a generous, impetuous charade just to get her father off her back. His sudden assertion that he intended to be a good father to Laura had taken things to another level. He clearly had shaken her.

“You all go ahead. I’ll be here when you get back,” he said. The thought of seeing Jack Grainger with the baby made his stomach turn over. Besides, he needed some time to figure out exactly how he was going to convince Trish to actually marry him.

The three of them were gone for less than a half hour. Obviously Grainger hadn’t been struck dumb by fatherly instincts at the sight of his daughter.

When they came back downstairs, Trish was carrying the baby. In a gesture that was probably meant to make a statement she promptly handed Laura to Hardy.

Grainger looked as if he couldn’t wait to get away. He barely glanced at Laura before heading out the front door. Trish’s father paused long enough to give Hardy a speculative look.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said to Hardy, then turned to give his daughter a hug. “Your mother will want to talk to you about those wedding plans.”

Trish nodded, then stood in the doorway and watched him go.

As soon as Hardy and Trish were finally alone, she looked at him with that grateful expression he was coming to hate.

“Don’t even say it,” he muttered, beginning to pace.

“Say what?”

“Thank you.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she swore. “I was just going to say that you don’t have to go through with this. I’ll figure out some way to get out of it. After things settle down, I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with something. After all, it won’t be the first engagement I’ve broken off.”

Hardy swallowed back fury. Obviously she thought she had it all figured out. Well, she wasn’t counting on him. He would hold her to their engagement if he had to conspire with her father and her mother to pull it off.

In the meantime, he thought he knew just how to show her that his intentions were honorable.

“We can talk about it later,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“How did you know about my father being here, anyway?” she asked as she took Laura from him and followed him to the door. Before he could answer, she waved off the question. “Never mind. I’m sure Kelly told you. She couldn’t wait to get out of here this morning. She said she had things to do before church.”

“Don’t blame Kelly.”

“Of course not. She was trying to protect me, just like you were. I’m really—”

Hardy touched a finger to her lips. “I thought I told you not to say you were grateful. I don’t want
your thanks. I was here because I wanted to be, darlin’, because I
needed
to be.”

Let her think about that for a while, he thought as he bent down and brushed a kiss across her forehead.

“I’ll pick you up tonight at six,” he said. “Where will you be, here or in town?”

She stared at him blankly. “Tonight?”

“We need to talk about the engagement, remember?”

For a second a shadow moved across her eyes. Could it have been disappointment? Hardy wondered. Had she wanted to keep up the pretense just a little longer?

“Yes, of course,” she said, looking vaguely unsettled. “Breaking it off. I suppose the sooner the better, so my mother doesn’t have time to get too carried away with the plans.”

“Definitely the sooner the better,” Hardy agreed. Of course, he had an entirely different ending in mind than she obviously did.

“Six o’clock, then. I’ll be here.”

She sounded dismayed rather than pleased he was about to grant her a reprieve. He found that downright promising.

Apparently Hardy couldn’t even bear the thought of a fake engagement, Trish thought bitterly as she watched him drive off, then chided herself for caring. After all, he had been there when she needed him. That was what mattered. The rest was simply
a matter of coming up with a plan that would extricate them both from an awkward situation.

So why did she feel worse about a broken phony engagement with Hardy than she ever had about losing the real thing with Jack? Because she foolishly wanted it to be real, she admitted.

“What kind of fool does that make me?” she asked her daughter.

Laura stared back at her with solemn eyes, as if she knew just how much was at stake, as if she could guess that they were about to lose the most important man in both their lives.

Feeling as if she were about to face a firing squad, Trish still forced herself to dress with care that evening. Surely she could get some satisfaction from making Hardy regret walking out on her.

When she walked downstairs in a dress that dipped and clung in all the right places, Kelly shot her a knowing look.

“I gather you intend to render the man speechless,” she said lightly.

Now there was a thought, Trish admitted wistfully. If Hardy couldn’t gather his wits after getting a good look at her, he couldn’t break the engagement.

“Something like that,” she told Kelly.

When Hardy arrived a few minutes later, he was wearing a suit. Obviously he considered the end of their engagement to be a special occasion, too, she concluded sourly.

He also seemed nervous, which wasn’t like him at all. He hadn’t been this ill at ease since the night
he’d been forced to deliver Laura in the front seat of his pickup, or the morning after when he’d faced her again.

Rather than head toward Garden City as she’d expected, he turned in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” she asked curiously.

“Someplace new,” he said.

Obviously he’d chosen a place where the memories of this awkward night wouldn’t come back to haunt him later, she concluded.

When they neared the familiar sight of the pine woods, Trish’s heart began to beat a little faster. When he turned onto that same rutted road, she shot a speculative look at him.

“This is an odd place for a restaurant,” she said quietly, watching his face.

“No restaurant,” he said. “I thought we ought to be someplace more private for this talk.”

She supposed that was considerate, but why here? This was his special place, and now they were about to ruin it with a discussion about how to end something that had never really begun.

Just then they emerged from the woods. Trish’s mouth gaped as she saw the beginnings of a house, the same beautiful log cabin that Hardy had described to her the last time they were here.

“You’re building it,” she whispered, delight spreading across her face. “Oh, Hardy, it’s going to be wonderful. Is this what you’ve been up to these past few weeks?”

He nodded. “Do you really like it? It’s still a long way from being finished, because I’m doing it all
myself.” He gave her a surprisingly shy look. “Want to take a look around?”

“Of course,” she said, already exiting the truck.

He grinned at her enthusiasm. “Wait for me. I’ll show you around so you don’t trip over something.”

When he reached her side, he took her hand and led her up the front steps onto the wide porch. The front door was in place, complete with the stained-glass window. The design was obviously a custom one, because right in the middle was a bouquet of flowers and—she leaned closer to be sure—an open book.

“Hardy?” she whispered.

“Don’t say anything yet. Just stick with me.”

He drew her into what would be the kitchen, then a formal dining room, then finally into a living room that faced the field of wildflowers, the creek and the setting sun.

“It’s breathtaking,” she said over the lump in her throat.

“Then you won’t mind having dinner right here?” he asked.

“Here?”

He showed her out onto a back patio where a table had been set with the finest silver and china. Champagne was on ice in a bucket. Trish’s heart skipped a beat. This was a far cry from the dismal way she’d expected the evening to go. Was it possible, could he have a different ending in mind? She wanted desperately to believe that it could be.

“You’ve really gone to a lot of trouble,” she said, meeting his gaze, trying to read his expression.

“You like it?”

“Of course I do. The house, the dinner, everything. You even got the sun to set right on cue.”

He grinned. “That took some planning.”

“I’m touched,” she said. “And grateful.”

“Why?”

“I was dreading tonight.”

He drew her close. “Darlin’, there’s nothing to dread.”

“But I expected everything to end and now…” She studied him intently. “You’re not going to end it, are you?”

He laughed suddenly. “You can read me like a book, can’t you?”

“Not always,” she admitted. “For instance, right now I can’t figure out why you’re keeping me in suspense.”

“About?” he teased, eyes twinkling.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Suit yourself. I think I’ll pour myself a little champagne.”

She walked over and picked up the bottle, then handed it to him to open. He popped the cork, picked up a glass and handed it to her. She heard something ping against the crystal wineglass and glanced inside. Her mouth dropped open, a lump formed in her throat.

When she could finally speak, she said, “It’s a ring.”

“Really? Let me see,” he said, peering into the glass. “Why, so it is. A diamond, in fact. Now how do you suppose that got in there?”

She touched his cheek. “Hardy, don’t,” she
pleaded. “Don’t play games. Not about something this important.”

He met her gaze, then silently plucked the ring from the glass and held it up so that the waning sunlight made sparks shoot from it. His gaze still clinging to hers, he said solemnly, “I know we got engaged this morning, and I know you assumed it was just an impulsive thing I did to get your father off your case, but it wasn’t, darlin’. I love you. I want this engagement to be real. Brief,” he added fervently, “but real.”

Tears swam in her eyes. “How brief?”

“Oh, I’d say a few days ought to be long enough, but you can decide. That is, if you’ll agree to marry me, if you’ll let me be your husband and Laura’s father.”

A million things crowded into her mind at once. Joy spread through her heart. She couldn’t seem to think of a thing to say.

“Trish?” Hardy prodded, his expression worried.

“I’m overwhelmed,” she said finally. “I’m grateful.”

“Dammit, I don’t want your gratitude,” he said impatiently.

She kissed him to silence him. “I am grateful,” she repeated. “But I was also going to say that I love you, Hardy Jones. You are the most amazing, sensitive, incredible man I’ve ever known.”