Montana Cowboy Daddy by Jane Porter

Chapter Two

No one even mentioned the snow, not during dinner, or over cake and coffee while Melvin opened the gifts his grandsons had for him. It wasn’t until Erika had risen at the very end of the meal and helped carry dishes into the kitchen that she noticed the strange lavender white light outside. It was night, and dark, but the kitchen window over the sink revealed a pale glow. She leaned closer to the window and stared out, taking a moment to realize it was snow. Thick, white snow covering everything.

Tommy joined her at the sink, scraping the remnants of cake off the dessert plates before tackling the plates she’d carried in. “It’s been coming down steadily all evening,” he said.

“I had no idea,” she answered.

He submerged all the plates in the hot soapy water filling the sink. “If you don’t have four-wheel drive, you might be stuck here tonight.”

She frowned. “Surely it’s not that bad.”

“Go have a look.”

Erika exited the mudroom door and stepped out onto the porch, taking in the landscape that now was white. The thick snowflakes were still falling, a steady silent flurry from the sky. She glanced at Sophie and Joe who’d joined her outside on the porch. “It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice low, a hint of wonder in her voice.

“Another California girl,” Joe said, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“I still love it,” Sophie said with a smile. “But after a year, I’ve learned all the downsides. Fortunately, we don’t have to drive anywhere tonight, not like Sam and Ivy.”

“Or, Erika,” Joe added, looking to Erika. “It’s going to be tough for you to get down the mountain tonight.”

“That’s what Tommy said,” she answered, chewing her bottom lip. “I don’t suppose there are four-wheel drive Ubers—”

“Come in, and close the door,” Summer called from the house. “It’s cold. No need to heat the outdoors.”

Sophie and Joe exchanged quick smiles even as they headed back in. Erika followed them, feeling somewhat scolded. But returning to the kitchen she found Summer seated at the kitchen table, rocking the baby carrier that had been placed on the table. Beck was awake and gazing up at all the people in the room.

“Had you checked into a motel yet?” Summer asked Erika.

Erika shook her head. “Not yet. I have a reservation in Marietta, but we came straight here. I hadn’t expected to be here so long.”

“Have you paid for the room yet?”

“No, but they’re holding it—”

“That’s fine. We’ll call and get it canceled. You’ll stay here tonight.” Summer gestured to Tommy. “Go bring in their luggage. Get the keys, find out what they need.” She looked at Billy. “Billy, show them to Sam’s room and point out where everything is. Make sure she gets fresh towels and you might need to turn on the little heater that’s in the closet, to make sure Sam’s room warms up.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Erika protested weakly. “I appreciate the offer of hospitality, but the last thing I want to do is—”

“No trouble at all,” Summer interrupted. “It’s dangerous driving and that little baby doesn’t need another accident.”

Erika opened her mouth to protest, but closed it without saying anything, because Mrs. Wyatt had made an excellent point. Beck had survived one deadly crash. The last thing he needed was another tragedy. “Perhaps I could go with Sam and Ivy… aren’t they heading down to town soon?”

“They’re heading to their ranch, but it’s the opposite direction of Marietta. No sense putting them in harm’s way, either.”

Erika nodded, because of course Summer Wyatt was right. “I wouldn’t want to do that, no.”

“I can drive her down in my truck, Mom,” Billy said, his deep voice pitched even lower. “Tommy and I could get her car down to her sometime in the morning.”

“That’s a good idea,” Erika said quickly, latching onto the possibility.

“Unless it doesn’t stop snowing and then she’s trapped without a car, and she can’t go hiking around town with a baby without any snow gear.” Summer’s brow creased as she looked at Erika, even as she continued rocking the car seat. “Did you bring snow gear?”

Erika shook her head. “It’s, uh, almost April.”

“It can snow here until May,” Tommy said, from his position leaning against the stove. “The day can start out hot and sunny and still end in wind and snow.”

“Let’s not discuss weather. Let’s get our guest settled,” Summer said. “Tommy, Billy, please?”

Billy nodded, not about to argue with his mom, but he didn’t know why his mom was so insistent on Erika and the baby staying when she’d always been firmly against any pretty single woman staying over.

Nevertheless, he waited while she retrieved her car keys for Tommy before lifting the car seat from the kitchen table and carrying it with him as he led the way upstairs to a room halfway down the hall. Billy pushed open Sam’s door and flipped on the light. The room was distinctly chilly. He placed the baby and car seat on the floor and walked to the closed ceiling vent, opening it, but there was no encouraging gust of heat. It’d take considerable time for the room to warm up. As if reading his mind, Erika stopped him before he’d gone to the closet.

“I can plug the heater in,” she said. “You don’t need to trouble yourself further. Just tell me where I’d find a couple of towels and a bathroom and I’ll be fine.”

“The bathroom is next door. Sam and Joe used to share it but since neither are here anymore, it’s all yours. There should be clean towels under the sink.” He hesitated. “What about the baby? Does he need anything?”

“The travel crib in the car trunk. It’s stored in a large black backpack.”

“I’ll go get it. Anything else while I’m going that way?”

“I have a large water bottle by the driver’s seat. It’s red with bright orange and pink flowers.”

He returned a few minutes later with the backpack and water bottle. He could see that Tommy had already brought up the rest of her things. She’d also plugged the heater in and turned it on. It hadn’t warmed the room yet but the night was cold and it’d take a while. “I’m going to grab you an extra quilt,” he said. “And then I’ll set up the crib if you’d like.”

“I can do it.”

“I don’t mind lending a hand.”

She gave him a strained smile. “I’m fine, thank you.” She crossed to her purse and diaper bag and pulled a little photo album from one of the bags. “But I shouldn’t have this. For all I know, it was meant for you.”

He didn’t want the photo book, and he tried to hand it back but she wouldn’t take it and it’d be rude to just leave it on the bed.

He left her room and went to his, a room he’d shared with Tommy since they were both in cribs, and setting the photo book down on his dresser he headed into his bathroom, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the shower. The water came out cold, little ice needles raining down, but Billy forced himself to stand there, finding a strange solace in the brutally cold shower. Anything was better than looking at that small square book Erika had thrust into his hand as she said good night to him.

He didn’t need a book to remember April, and he didn’t need photos to picture her. She’d been fun and she’d had a wild streak, enjoying cutting loose with him—drinking, dancing, not vanilla lovemaking. But there had never been feelings between them, much less serious feelings, nor were they ever in a relationship.

From the beginning, she was seeing different guys—there had even been a sugar daddy from New Jersey that visited her in Vegas—and he’d been clear he was seeing other women, too. They’d agreed that they weren’t into commitments, and even if they were, long-distance relationships didn’t work. Far better to just meet up when convenient, than have hard and fast rules. He’d put April on the rodeo pass list more than once, happy to see her when she showed up at one of his events, and then they’d always hang out after, but she wasn’t the only one he did that for. While he didn’t have a woman in every town, there was a handful he enjoyed seeing when he was in their town.

The shower finally turned warm and Billy lifted his face to the spray. He wasn’t going to apologize for liking women. He’d never apologize for that. He was single, thirty, and in the prime of his career. What was wrong with enjoying himself? Why shouldn’t he have a pretty girl to kill time with?

He wasn’t going to apologize for not loving any of them, either. It wasn’t that he went out of his way to not fall in love. He just didn’t. And he didn’t know why. To be honest, he was rather on the fence about the whole falling-in-love thing anyway. If it wasn’t for Joe and Sam, he’d doubt that romantic love existed at all. Joe had a serious girlfriend back in high school, a girl from Marietta named Charity, and he’d been head over heels for her, and now he had Sophie and he loved her, too.

Sam and Ivy had a completely different love—the kind that just wouldn’t go away—even when they were apart for years. Now that they were back together, they were inseparable, traveling on the circuit together, training horses together, working with young riders together. It was as if they couldn’t function without the other and Billy had never once felt that way about anyone. He and Tommy had even talked about it, and Tommy said that although he wasn’t ready to settle down, he looked forward one day to having a family.

Not Billy.

Family meant commitments and responsibilities he didn’t want. Not now, not ever.

He turned the water off, stepped from the shower, water sluicing down his body and reached for a towel, taking his time drying off, enjoying the brisk rubdown.

So what if Beck was his?

What if the baby in the next room was his son?

Billy lifted the towel, dried his hair and then covered his face with the towel, and drew a deep breath, trying to process it all.

My God, if he was Beck’s dad, everything had just changed. Forever.

It was a strange thing to think about, being a father, possibly having a son, aware he was nowhere near ready to be a decent father. He was strong, fit, able to do things physically most men could never do, but take care of another human being? Never mind a helpless little thing that could barely hold his head up on his own? Billy shuddered. Now that was danger.

Being the third son meant you were the third in line for everything—clothes, food, opportunities. But it also meant that you had fewer responsibilities. Joe had always shouldered the most work and most of their mother’s grief when Dad died. Sam had taken on what Joe needed help with. That left Billy and Tommy free to screw around and do what they wanted to do, which generally meant have a good time. And they did have a good time. They loved life. They loved their freedom and their career and their success. Good Lord, they’d been successful, earning more money than either of them knew what to do with—well, not true. Tommy knew. Tommy was the one with the head for numbers. He was the Wyatt everyone talked to when needing investment advice. Tommy understood the stock market, he understood economics. If he’d gone to college, he’d probably be working on Wall Street now. He was that smart, that good at math, that good at equations, predictions, statistics.

Billy didn’t have a talent like Tommy’s, or a passion for ranching like Sam and Joe. The only thing he was really good at was riding, roping, competing. He was a damn good cowboy, a risk taker, a winner. But take him off the road, take away his horse, and he had nothing to offer. Nothing but charm and sex. That was his talent. He knew how to make a woman feel good in bed. He’d known that since he was sixteen.

But being good in bed was exactly what had gotten him into this situation now.

*

Erika slowly circledthe bedroom, Beck tucked under her chin, held closely against her chest.

She’d wrapped the extra quilt from her bed around both of them, trying to keep warm. Beck was having a hard time tonight, far more fretful than he’d been in weeks. He’d woken up just after midnight crying, and he’d spent the last two hours alternating between whimpers and cries, and so she kept picking him up and trying to calm him, not wanting Beck’s cries to wake up everyone else. It was an old house and she imagined sound traveled far too well.

She peered at her wristwatch, the green time glowing in the dark. Three thirty-eight. She’d been walking him for hours now, and she didn’t know what to do next. He’d been fed over an hour ago, and changed, and he didn’t feel feverish, but something was making him fretful and she was just feeling helpless and useless.

Erika did another little loop around her room, pausing at the window to lift the curtain and look out. The snow had stopped falling, and the moon glowed bright, reflecting off the thick layers of white. Everywhere she looked was frosted in snow—pine branches, porch overhang, fences, the trucks and her car in the driveway. She had never seen so much snow in her life. No wonder the room was so cold, and maybe that was the reason that Beck couldn’t sleep. Maybe he was too cold. Personally, she was freezing, even in socks with a quilt around her shoulders. The little heater in the closet didn’t put out much heat and she hadn’t wanted to complain but now she regretted not speaking up.

Maybe the kitchen would be warmer. Maybe she could even make something warm to drink. Drawing the quilt more close, she opened the door and made her way to the top of the stairs, where she flipped on the light and carefully made her way down with Beck crying as if there was no tomorrow.

In the kitchen, she turned on the light over the stove and then lit the burner beneath the kettle and then walked, and hummed to Beck, bouncing him ever so gently even though all she wanted to do was put him down and walk away.

How did parents do this? How did single moms do this? Her patience was shot. Her eyes burned hot and gritty. Even her shoulders and back ached.

Maybe Beck was hungry now. Rather than go back upstairs to retrieve the bottle, she made him another one from the formula and bottle on the counter, placing the bottle in the same little pan she’d used earlier to heat his bottle.

He wailed while they waited for the bottle to warm.

He wailed while she tested the temperature of the milk on the inside of her wrist.

He wailed when she put the bottle to his mouth, turning his head away, small fists waving furiously.

Why was he so miserable? Was it possible he was teething, or was he too young? She didn’t think he had a fever, but couldn’t be sure. She patted his diapered backside and it still felt dry. She tried the bottle again, and once more, he turned his face away, his little mouth and eyes screwing up for another sharp wail.

“Come on, little guy, come on, Beck. Work with me. I don’t know what I’m doing, either. I don’t know how to make you feel better.”

The kettle started to hiss, and she turned the gas off before it came to a full boil. She couldn’t fill her cup, not when Beck was arching and crying, and there was nowhere to put him down. Tea was a bad idea.

Coming here had been a bad idea.

She should have simply sent Billy a letter, giving him the facts, and asking him to meet her somewhere.

She should have avoided all of this.

And actually, she could have. She didn’t have to take Beck. She could have left him with social services. They would have put him in foster care and then eventually found a family for him. It was what they would have done if they hadn’t reached Erika, or if she’d refused to come to Las Vegas.

But she’d chosen to go to Las Vegas. She’d rushed there, and she’d wanted to take him. She’d wanted to honor April’s wishes, but right now, she felt useless. Useless, not hopeless, but still, incredibly discouraged.

She blinked, trying to make her eyes stop burning. But blinking just made her throat grow tighter and her chest feel heavier. She couldn’t remember when she last felt so overwhelmed. She hated feeling helpless, and her nerves were stretched tight from all the crying. There was such a sharp pitch to a baby’s cry, high, painful, demanding attention. “Beck,” she whispered, “please. Tell me what’s wrong. Come on, baby. Help me out here.”

*

Billy woke upin the night, a high piercing sound penetrating his dream. Eyes open, he listened intently. A wail. Then another. And another.

It was April’s baby.

But April was gone.

He hadn’t known what to feel earlier, shock overriding everything else, but now, in the dark of night, he felt sorrow and sympathy for a child that had lost his mother. It was a terrible thing to lose a parent. Billy had been just three when his dad and his uncle Samuel were killed in the accident on the way to the rodeo in Deadwood. Billy didn’t remember his dad, but there had been plenty of photos to show him who his dad had been, as well as how much his dad had loved his boys.

Was Beck his boy?

Billy struggled to wrap his mind around the possibility. Parenthood had been the last thing on his mind. He wasn’t interested in marriage, had no desire to settle down, and children weren’t part of the plan—maybe ever. If he did have kids, he’d known it would be years from now, when he’d gotten the hunger for competition out of his blood. But that wasn’t now. He loved everything about being a professional cowboy, loved all of it—the travel, the events, the time with his brothers, as well as the evenings with the pretty women who lined up for a dance, or a kiss, or more.

April had been one of those. She was fun, flirty, playful in bed. But she’d never be the one, and he’d never made bones about the fact that he wasn’t looking for more than a good time. It sounded crass, put that way, but it was the truth, and he was nothing but honest with the women he got naked with.

Could their crazy nights have created Beck?

And if so, why hadn’t April reached out to him?

Why not let Billy know he had a kid?

Regardless, a baby was wailing away down in the kitchen and Billy wasn’t going to be able to sleep now. He eased from bed, dressed warmly, and headed downstairs.

The kitchen was dark, with just the light on over the stove to illuminate the space. Billy spotted Erika near the door in the mudroom, facing the coatrack and swaying side to side, her hand slowly rubbing the baby’s small back. He watched her a long moment, thinking she looked impossibly tired. He could feel her exhaustion from across the room.

“How long have you been up?” he asked quietly, not wanting to startle her.

She turned quickly, startled anyway. “Did his crying wake you?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“I came down here so we wouldn’t wake your mom or grandfather.”

“That was thoughtful of you.”

“But you’re awake.”

“It’s okay. I’m a fairly light sleeper,” he answered, crossing the kitchen floor. “But don’t worry about Tommy. He sleeps like the dead.”

“Do you know what time it is? I left my watch upstairs.”

“Three thirty, maybe.”

“I can’t get him to stop crying.”

“Does he have a fever?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe he’s just overstimulated. It was a big day.”

“All those Wyatts are enough to terrify even the most manly of men.” Billy smiled crookedly. “Let me take him, and you go back to bed.” He’d reached her side and lifted the baby from her arms without waiting for her to answer.

Erika didn’t protest. If anything, she looked grateful. “Normally, I’d ask if you were sure, but I’m so tired. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

“Then don’t. Go to bed. Get sleep. I’ve got him.”

Uncertainty flickered over her features. “Do you know anything about babies?”

“No, but I’ve delivered foals and calves, and given nearly every animal a bottle, from kittens to lambs and even a fawn Granddad found after his mom had been shot by hunters trespassing on our property.”

Her fist pressed to her mouth. “What happened to the fawn?”

“We raised him until he could manage on his own.”

“Did he?” she asked. “Manage on his own?”

“We think he’s the big buck that comes around sometimes, and stands at the edge of the property looking at us. We’ve gotten close to him a couple of times, but then he leaves. I’m pretty sure that’s Rudy.”

“Rudy?”

“As in Rudolph. Tommy named him.”

The corner of her mouth curved as she gave him a sweet sleepy smile. “I have a feeling you guys are full of stories.”

“So many,” he agreed. “Too many. But now, go sleep. And you don’t have to worry about Beck and me. I can manage giving a baby a bottle, and if I need you, I will get you.”

“I’ve made a bottle up for him already. It’s on the counter by the stove, but Beck didn’t want it. He’s just cranky tonight. Sometimes I wonder if he’s missing his mom.” Her voice cracked. “And then I want to cry.”

“That’s because you’re thinking too much. It’s never good to overthink, not in the middle of the night. Go to bed, sleep. Things will be better in the morning.”

She pushed a heavy wave of golden hair back from her cheek, even as her troubled gaze met his. “Will they? He still won’t have a mom, and I’m not sure he has a dad—”

“Stop. If I’m his dad, he has a dad. I’m going to take the test, and will know the truth soon, and then with facts in hand, we will come up with a plan.”

“What if you’re not the father?”

“I thought you were pretty confident I was.”

“I wouldn’t have driven this far if I didn’t think so.”

“Then don’t torture yourself anymore tonight. Get sleep and we can discuss this, and whatever else you want tomorrow.”

Her gaze clung to his, deep purple shadows etched beneath her eyes, revealing her fatigue. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

*

Despite being utterlyexhausted, Erika couldn’t fall asleep right away. Her room was still chilly and she shivered under the covers, head pounding, eyes dry. She drew her knees up to her chest, trying to get warm, but instead of drifting off, she kept picturing Billy in the kitchen with the baby, the infant tiny against his big shoulder, and it made her insides do an uncomfortable wobble. She had such mixed feelings about Billy Wyatt, discovering quickly he was hard, self-absorbed, and uncaring. She’d decided she didn’t like him, or respect him, but then he’d appeared in the kitchen in the dead of night to take care of a baby he wasn’t convinced was his. He didn’t have to come downstairs. He could have remained in bed and pretended he didn’t hear the crying. But he didn’t, and that changed her assumptions about him.

Not completely, but just enough for her to realize she didn’t want to like him. It was easier to resent him for getting April pregnant and then disappearing on her. It felt good to be angry with him. She wanted to be angry with someone. April deserved more kindness in life, more support. But neither April, nor she, had been born into a family that offered unconditional love. Their family had rigid views based on a very strict faith. Step out of the faith and you were punished. April and Erika’s mothers, sisters, had been banished. It wasn’t until April’s mom returned to the family, and the church, that she was forgiven. April hadn’t wanted that life for her and she’d paid the price.

Covers pulled tightly to her chin, Erika remembered dinner tonight and the boisterous Wyatt men around the table. They’d teased each other mercilessly during the meal, and their laughter had made their mother smile, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Summer was rather reserved, and yet she’d been kind to Erika, and her sons clearly loved her. This was the kind of family Erika had seen on TV shows, the kind of family that had made her want more from life, that made her want to help others to want, and have, more for herself.

If Beck was a Wyatt, he’d be loved. Deeply loved.

A lump filled Erika’s throat and she squeezed her eyes closed, overwhelmed by emotions she didn’t really understand, because this was what she wanted for April’s baby. She pictured Beck downstairs, nestled against Billy’s broad chest, and felt yet another pang. Erika could see why her cousin had fallen for the Montana cowboy. He was ridiculously handsome, as well as tall, muscular, rugged, strong. He was a man’s man, which women would love.

But why hadn’t April told Billy about the baby?

Why had she kept it secret from Billy?

Was it possible she wasn’t sure Beck was Billy’s?

Had Erika possibly gotten it wrong… that Billy wasn’t the father? Her heart fell and she rolled onto her back, and stared up at the beamed ceiling.

If he wasn’t, what then? Where did Erika even begin to track down Beck’s real father?

Worn out, she told herself to stop thinking, at least for tonight. The best thing to do was take it all one step at a time. Have Billy take the DNA test. Discover the truth.

And maybe pray that Billy was the father, because the Wyatts were good people. They were a close family, and yes, filled with testosterone, but they’d protect Beck, and they’d do right by him, not just now, but always.

And with that thought in mind, she finally fell asleep.

*

It had begunsnowing again sometime in the night, creating a glorious winter wonderland—at least for those who could stay in the cabin. Melvin and his grandsons all had chores to do, and Erika came down to the kitchen in search of Beck, and found him asleep in Summer’s arms. Summer was seated at the kitchen table while the Wyatt men were lounging in various positions around the kitchen, discussing their strategy for the morning. Joe and Granddad would tend to the livestock. Billy and Tommy would snowplow the roads. The snow had fallen most of the night and it’d take all day to get the road down to the public highway snowplowed, and that was even with Joe later taking a turn at the wheel.

Conversation momentarily broke off when Erika entered the kitchen but after pointing her to the coffeepot, the third pot of the day, freshly brewed, discussion resumed. Erika sat down with her coffee at the table, whispering to Summer that she could take Beck.

Summer shook her head. “It’s nice to hold a baby again,” she said softly.

Erika’s chest felt warm and rather tender. Again, she thought how lucky Beck would be if this was his family, even as she worried that maybe she’d gotten it wrong. Maybe she’d gotten Summer’s hopes up, and created conflict that wasn’t necessary.

The men headed out shortly, and Erika spent the morning with Beck, feeding him when he woke up, then giving him a bath in the kitchen sink, before putting him in clean warm clothes.

Mrs. Wyatt invited Erika to join her in the den while she gave Beck an early lunch bottle. “The chairs are more comfortable,” Summer said, easing herself into her own recliner. “This is where we spend our evenings, but every now and then I like to come in here and just sit a bit. It’s warm in here, and quieter.”

Taking a seat on the leather covered couch, Erika nuzzled Beck’s warm sweet head. He smelled impossibly delicious—at least at this moment, after his bath, his small body in a fresh soft onesie, wrapped in an equally soft blanket. “It is nice in here,” she said, appreciating the old cast-iron wood stove in the corner, making the room toasty. “But if I’m not careful, I might fall asleep.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I heard Beck kept you up most of the night.”

“Until Billy came and saved me.” Erika paused, trying to ignore the weird wobbly sensation in her middle that she felt every time she pictured Billy and Beck together. “That was nice of him.”

Summer Wyatt leveled her gaze at Erika. “You think Billy’s the baby’s father?”

Erika suddenly found herself struggling to answer. She’d been so sure when she’d made the trip here. But now… now… she was worried she’d possibly muddled things up.

Erika needed a moment, and then chose her words carefully. “I’d thought so when I drove here, and I still think he could be. The timing makes sense. April and Billy were together last February, and Beck was born in late November. So it works on paper, but without the DNA test…” Her voice faded and she held her breath a moment, hating the flood of anxiety washing through her.

“You’re not confident anymore?”

“Beck would be lucky to be a part of this family. You have a wonderful family.”

“Billy told me the baby’s momma died in a car accident.”

Erika nodded. “Beck was in the car, but he survived. He didn’t even have a scratch.”

“A miracle.”

Erika nodded again. “I think so, too.”

“You’ve had him how long?”

“Three and a half weeks. Almost a month.”

“What’s your plan for him?”

“Find Beck’s daddy and let his daddy take over.”

“You don’t want him?”

Erika exhaled hard. “I’m in no position to become a single mom. That is not the life I’d want for Beck. He deserves more than what I can give him.”

“If Billy’s not the father, what do you plan to do?”

“I’ll keep looking.”

“And if you can’t find him?”

Emotion closed Erika’s throat, knotting the words in her heart. Her heart wanted Beck to be with family, but her head questioned if she was the right family. Could she provide for a child when she sometimes struggled to provide for herself? Could she give Beck what he deserved in life? Growing up in her chaotic, alcohol-infused family she used to wish she had been adopted, wishing she had a more stable family to love her, and care for her.

Adoption wasn’t a punishment. Adoption didn’t mean Beck wasn’t loved. It meant the opposite, that he was so valuable that Erika wanted him to have a family where he’d be raised with patience, and kindness, respect, and most of all love. Lots and lots of love, unlike April’s childhood. And unlike her own. “I’d consider all options for him, including adoption.”

Erika could feel Mrs. Wyatt’s hard stare. She sensed she hadn’t given Mrs. Wyatt the right answer but she wasn’t going to lie to Billy’s mother.

She glanced down at Beck and saw that he’d stopped sucking vigorously. His eyes were closing and the nipple just pressed against his mouth. She carefully eased the bottle from his lips, set the bottle on the table, and put Beck on her shoulder to gently burp him. He cuddled into the hollow of her shoulder and neck, his small fist pressed to her skin. She dipped her head, kissed the top of his head with its fine golden hair. There were only a few strands, so few that if you didn’t look carefully he appeared bald, but Erika saw them, and she was delighted by them, as they were new in the past month. He was growing up, getting bigger every day.

Could she give him up for adoption?

Could she really hand him over to strangers?

The tightness returned to her chest, tightness and a panic she couldn’t explain. She did love him, she’d come to love him, but did that give her the right to keep him? To raise him?

She looked up at Mrs. Wyatt who was still watching her.

“You’re attached to him, aren’t you?” the older woman asked.

“He’s a wonderful baby,” Erika said softly. “He deserves the sun and the moon and the stars.”

“I think you and Billy need to do some talking. Some real talking. When he comes back in, I’ll keep Beck, and you two find somewhere private to speak.”

Erika didn’t need time alone with Billy. In her mind, there was nothing to discuss. They just needed him to do the test, and then they’d have the information they needed, but she didn’t want to contradict Mrs. Wyatt, not when she’d been so welcoming to her. “I’d hate to leave Beck with you again as he might wake—”

“I’ve had four boys of my own, Erika. I can handle a baby for an hour or more.”

Billy stepped into the den then, and glanced from his mother to Erika. “Did I just hear my name?”

“You did,” his mother answered. “I was just telling Erika that when you have a minute, you and she should go somewhere private to talk.”

“Joe’s giving me a break. I was just going to make a sandwich and then I’m free for a bit.”

“Good. Make your sandwich, and I’ll keep an eye on Beck.” Summer hesitated. “You’d probably have the most privacy in the barn. I don’t think anyone’s in there right now.”

While Billy made his sandwich, Erika retrieved the car seat from upstairs and tucked Beck into it before placing it on the floor next to Mrs. Wyatt’s feet.

She then bundled up and marched out to the barn with Billy, snow slipping inside her shoes, making her nose wrinkle.

Reaching the barn, Billy handed her half of his sandwich. “Here, you’re probably hungry,” he said, after closing the barn door behind them.

It was a huge ham and cheddar sandwich, with lots of honey mustard on thick homemade white bread. “I’m not that hungry,” she answered.

“I’m not going to eat in front of you, so please, keep me company.”

She took a small bite. It was good—the bread soft, the mustard tangy, the ham flavorful. “This is good,” she said, taking another bite, but it was rather challenging separating the sandwich from the odiferous barn. The smell of animals, hay, and manure were potent. “But it’s rather fragrant in here, isn’t it?”

Billy lifted an eyebrow. “It’s a barn.”

“I’ve never been in one before.”

“You’ve been to county fairs, haven’t you?”

“To go on the rides and eat fair food.”

“You didn’t visit any of the animal exhibits?”

“I didn’t even know there were animal exhibits.”

“Are you that much of a city girl?”

“I grew up in Riverside, it’s not a city, as in urban, but I wasn’t surrounded by farms, either.”

He’d finished his sandwich and he wiped his hand on the seat of his jeans. He had lean hips, a tight small butt which his tight Wranglers showed off to perfection. She watched him walk between the horse stalls. Horses nickered at him, and he stopped to give attention to several.

“Do you have your horses in here?” she asked.

“Yes. Notorious,” he said, gesturing to a dark brown horse, “and Val,” he added, pointing to a brown and white horse.

“Val?”

“Valentine,” he answered. “That mark around his eye looks like a heart.”

“That’s cute.”

Billy gave her a look that made her insides squirm.

“Sweet?” she said instead.

He gave her another long look.

Erika grimaced. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about horses.” She hesitated then said, “And I owe you an apology.”

“You do?”

“I shouldn’t have come here. I should have waited to track you down at a different venue. I’m sorry for dropping in like this, and involving your whole family. I did exactly what you didn’t want to happen—”

“You don’t want April’s son?”

Her mouth opened, closed.

“Mom said you’re considering adoption if you can’t find his father.”

“It’s one of the options under consideration.”

“Why wouldn’t you keep him?”

“I can barely take care of myself sometimes. I don’t know how I’d take care of him, too.”

He studied her for a long time, blue gaze assessing. “I’ll take a test tomorrow. I imagine it will take a few days to get results.”

“Thank you.”

“But if he’s not mine…”

That ache was back in her chest, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. “As you said, that’s a bridge to cross later.”