Montana Cowboy Daddy by Jane Porter

Chapter Seven

The next morning, Erika had only just finished making coffee and dressing when Billy appeared in the kitchen in nothing but baggy black sweatpants that hung off his lean hips, revealing a torso of chiseled abs and sinewy muscle. He had bruises across his chest, as well as scars, fresh scars from the recent surgery, and then older ones.

She tried to drag her gaze up to his face, but his body was fascinating. It was an athlete’s body, a mature man’s body, the embodiment of strength with so much muscle. She found herself wanting to study each hollow and shape, shadow and scar, tracing the lines and planes.

It took every ounce of her discipline to raise her gaze and look him in the eye. “Morning,” she said.

“Morning. Hoping you can give me a hand,” he said, holding a big Ziploc bag filled with gauze and tape, while stretchy bandages and the blue sling dangled from his fingers.

“Of course. How do you want to do this? What first?”

He set everything on the kitchen island and pulled out a stool and sat down. “Gauze and tape on the surgery wound, and then we’ll wrap my chest with the first bandage, and finally the sling.”

“Aren’t you supposed to have another stretchy bandage on top of the sling, to hold it all in place?”

“I’m not going to worry about it. Keeping the surgical wound clean is key, and then the rib compression thing helps a lot, and so does the sling.”

He walked her through covering up the dark red and purple wound on his shoulder. She could still see all the stitches and was glad when it was covered by the gauze, and securely taped.

“Now the ribs,” he said, rising. “Just wrap the compression belt around my chest and smooth the Velcro closed.”

She’d seen Tommy do this yesterday and had a general idea of what she’d need to do, but somehow it was different when she was the one standing in front of him. “You can’t lift your arms, can you?”

“Not the left one. You’ll need to get close, slide it up under my elbow and pull tight.”

She was facing him, almost hip to hip, torso to torso and she could feel his warmth, heat radiating off of him. Admittedly, the cabin was warm. Billy liked setting the thermostat at a comfortable temperature, to keep him from aching from cold when he wasn’t moving. But confronting Billy’s bare chest, and broad shoulders, and narrow waist made her throat dry, and her heart do weird little skips.

“I probably have coffee breath,” she warned.

“I like coffee.”

Her face grew hot, and butterflies filled her middle as she took the wide stretchy compression belt from the counter. She slid it around his waist and then lifted it up his torso until she could pull it tightly closed. Her nose was almost pressed to his chest and he smelled amazing, skin and a hint of soap, or body wash, but whatever it was, it was delicious. He smelled delicious. It’d be so easy to put a little tiny kiss there, right between his pecs, but she stopped herself from going down that path.

“Sling next?” she asked huskily.

He sat back down on the stool, and she had to step between his legs to slip the strap around his neck. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.

“You won’t,” he answered, “at least not more than I already hurt.”

She looked up into his blue eyes. They were exactly the same shade as Beck’s. “You’re in pain now?”

“I tried to do too much in the shower—” He broke off as she arched an eyebrow. “Do you have a dirty mind?”

“No.” Erika blushed and vigorously shook her head, and yet they were so close, and he was so warm and there was something powerful in the close proximity, something intoxicating. “I—” She broke off, and bit into her lower lip. “Nothing. Let’s just get you dressed.”

She helped ease his left elbow into the blue sling, drawing the strap through and pulling it taut, stopping when Billy told her that it was good. She had to lean in to press the Velcro pieces together, ensuring a snug fit, and with her nose practically in the side of his neck, her heart raced, her pulse pounding, even as desire coiled in the pit of her stomach, making her feel breathless. Dizzy.

She peeked up at his mouth. He had firm lips, just full enough to make her think he’d know how to kiss. But of course he’d know how to kiss. He knew how to do everything. It was why women flocked to see him in every town.

Usually that would be enough to pull her back, bring her to her senses, but this morning she didn’t want to move away. This morning she wanted to move in.

She wanted to touch him, feel him, feel his mouth on hers.

She couldn’t ever remember wanting to be kissed this badly.

But just wanting something didn’t make it right, or realistic, and she needed to remain in reality. Firmly rooted in reality. She couldn’t afford to be one of those women who lost their head over a hot guy with great pheromones.

“You could probably use some clothes at this point,” she said, heart still racing, voice unsteady. “Is there a shirt or sweatshirt I could grab for you?”

“There’s a light gray sweatshirt hanging on a hook by the front door. I’ll take that one.”

It was a short walk to the door, and there was only one sweatshirt on the coat hooks. She lifted it off, glad to see it had a zipper, and carried it back to him. Billy took the sweatshirt from her, slid his right arm into the right sleeve, and then sat still while she helped draw the left side over his immobile shoulder and arm.

But just lifting his right arm had exposed more of his magnificent torso, the thick compression band doing more to define the thick muscles in his back than hide them. His hard, carved abs appeared below the edge of the compression garment, disappearing into the waistband of his sweats. He had an eight-pack at the very least. She wouldn’t let herself count them all, only that his body was ridiculously hot and she understood why women wanted it. Him.

She did, too.

Just a kiss, and maybe—

“If you could just tug the fabric over the left shoulder a bit more, we should be able to zip the sweatshirt closed,” he said.

Erika was having a hard time processing what he was saying. She looked into his eyes, needing him to repeat the instructions. His intensely blue eyes seemed to be looking all the way through her, straight into her heart and soul. He wasn’t smiling either, and a tiny shiver raced through her, making her skin sensitive all over.

“Just adjust the left shoulder,” he said, his voice pitched deep. “Zip it up, as far as you can, and I’ll be good for the day.”

Her hand shook ever so slightly as she connected the sweatshirt at the hem, hooking the zipper threads. She drew the zipper up, closing the soft cotton fabric over his chest. “How’s that?” she asked, stopping zipping halfway between the hard planes of his chest. “Or do you want it higher? Not sure how much movement you need.”

“You could take it up another inch,” he said.

Again, her gaze met his and her breath caught in her throat, emotions flitting through her—desire, curiosity, need. She reached up to zip another inch, her face so close to his chest that she felt surrounded by his powerful body, cocooned by his warmth and scent. Zipper sorted, she adjusted the sling strap a fraction of an inch, her fingertips brushing his chest. He was all muscle and firm, and her insides felt wobbly with want. “What soap did you use?”

“Whatever was in there. I think it’s just a bar of soap. You don’t like it?”

“No. It’s nice. You smell good.”

“Thank you.”

He smelled better than good but she wasn’t going to tell him that, just as she wasn’t going to tell him how much she wanted to kiss him, just to brush her lips over his, and see what it felt like, see if she liked it.

Maybe he wasn’t a good kisser.

Maybe he didn’t kiss the way she wanted.

She almost hoped so, because right now she found him virtually irresistible.

“All good?” he asked.

She forced herself to give him a brisk pat on his chest before stepping backward. Erika ignored the fact that her legs were embarrassingly weak. Just like her insides felt weak and shivery, and her lower back felt tingly. “There you are. Good to go.”

“Thank you.”

She managed a smile, hoping it looked serene. “How about some coffee?”

“I’d love some. Does Beck need a bottle?”

“He had one earlier. He should be good for a bit.”

“What about breakfast then?”

Erika frowned. “For Beck?”

“For us. Aren’t you hungry?”

“I’ll probably have something later. I don’t eat right away—” She broke off, realizing what he was saying. Billy was hungry. “You eat breakfast.”

“I like breakfast,” he agreed, prolonging the conversation.

*

Billy wasn’t readyto let her escape and move to a different room. He liked having her close. She made the morning feel special, as if it was a big weekend, or a family holiday.

Erika had always been pretty in a don’t-touch-me sort of way, making him feel as though she was too educated, too polished, too sophisticated for a cowboy like him. But when she’d helped him with the bandages and then his sweatshirt, he’d seen something different in her eyes. She’d been softer, warmer. Approachable.

He’d been tempted to reach for her and pull her closer to him, drawing her more snugly between his thighs so that he could feel her against him. He wanted to trace the line of her jaw and tilt her head up to kiss the hollow beneath her ear, and then lower, along the side of her neck. He wanted to feel her breasts against his chest, and let her bottom fill his hands. She was very much a woman, and her curves and softness called to him. She was so pretty, so smart, so appealing, and yet he respected her too much to make a move. He couldn’t risk hurting her, or alienating her, not when Beck needed her so much. Far better to deny the attraction than let it get out of hand.

“Normally, I’d make my own breakfast,” he said, leaning back against the island, “but it’s tough to crack the eggs and do it all one-handed, especially when my ribs are still so sore. Would you be willing to make eggs for me today?”

“Eggs,” she repeated.

“We have some, don’t we?”

“Half a dozen, I think.”

“Perfect.”

She hesitated, her brows pulling together. “I…” Her frown deepened. “Um, I don’t know how.”

“You don’t know how to make eggs?”

Her chin lifted a fraction, and she gave him an unsmiling look. “Have I shocked you that much?”

“No.”

“Are you testing my domestic skills? Measuring how much I mastered before becoming a woman?”

Billy knew he shouldn’t, but he laughed. She was so outraged. “No need to take it so personally. I was just surprised. I thought eggs were pretty basic and something everyone knew how to make.”

Her arms folded over her chest. “I don’t eat a lot of eggs. I am more of a yogurt for breakfast kind of girl, thank you.”

He fought the urge to smile, aware it wouldn’t help anything. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you in need of eggs to start your day?”

“I enjoy a hot breakfast and prefer eggs. Eggs are a good protein, and apparently there’s an enzyme in eggs that helps you stay full longer, which is helpful when you’re always hungry.”

“You’re always hungry?”

“I have a fast metabolism,” he confessed, amused, and enjoying himself far too much.

He shouldn’t like riling her up, but when she was feisty like this, she reminded him of one of his favorite hens, Mrs. Broody, who’d get so mad when any of them entered the chicken coop each morning. Mrs. Broody was the one who’d let out a squawk and then do her best to chase them away. Billy also suspected Erika wouldn’t appreciate being compared to a chicken.

“I had no idea,” she drawled.

He smiled innocently. “There was no reason to discuss it.”

“You’ll have to fill me in on all your requirements. Until now, I’ve been pretty occupied with Beck. Perhaps I should get a notebook and write down your schedule and your nutritional needs.”

Billy laughed, the sound filling the kitchen. Erika glared at him. He couldn’t remember when he’d last enjoyed himself so much. “I’d hate to overwhelm you,” he said. “Why don’t we just focus on breakfast, and I’ll stay here and give you a little tutorial—”

“Not necessary.”

“No trouble at all,” he replied, deliberately misunderstanding her meaning. “I’ll walk you through scrambled eggs today, and then we could try fried eggs tomorrow.”

Her lips compressed and her blue-green eyes blazed at him. He could practically feel her temper rise degree by degree. “How about you walk me through scrambled eggs today,” she said through gritted teeth, “and then that’s what you get from here on out.”

He smiled at her. Most charmingly. “Will I be pushing my luck to ask for some bacon and sausage?

“I could probably do one or the other. You don’t need both.”

“You’re worried about my cholesterol.”

“I’m worried about the work required to feed you.”

“Perfectly valid. But could I request toast? If it’s not too much trouble? Two slices whole wheat, white, sourdough. Whatever we have with plenty of butter. I like it light brown—”

“Listen Billy, I am not a diner. This is not Erika’s Kitchen. You’re going to get toast, I can’t guarantee it will be the right color, I can’t guarantee it will have the right amount of butter. I can’t even promise you that it will be warm when I serve it, but you will have toast, two eggs—”

“Three?” he interrupted hopefully.

“You eat three eggs every morning?”

He nodded. “And bacon and sausage. Or a nice ham steak.”

“So you personally go through a dozen eggs every four days?”

“Sometimes in three days, depending on what else I’m eating.”

“How many slices of toast each morning?”

“Two, please.” He gave her his sweetest smile.

Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t smile back. “So let’s get this straight. Three eggs, two bacon, and two slices of toast.”

“Or three sausage links and, or, a nice thick ham steak.”

“No pork chops?” she snapped sarcastically.

He heard the sarcasm and liked it. Her fire made him hungry and hard. He wanted her even more. She was smart, beautiful, sassy, sexy. So sexy. Which just made him want to tease her more. “I do like grilled pork chops with eggs, very much. We don’t have any pork chops, do we?”

“No. No, we don’t. Now, how about I scramble the eggs and then you show me how you like them cooked. And no more changing up the order. No more special requests. You get what you get, and don’t throw a fit.”

“You sound just like my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Gosnell.”

“I imagine you were quite demanding as a five-year-old.”

“Tommy was more so.” And then he smiled at her, a slow easy smile. “But I wasn’t an angel.”

“Huh. Shocked.”

He laughed and watched as her beautiful face turned pink.

“You know,” she said tartly, “on second thought, I don’t need you in the kitchen while I cook up your eggs. I can just go to YouTube.”

*

Erika managed tocook eggs and everything else Billy wanted. The bacon was burnt, the eggs were a hard dark yellow on the bottom, and the toast was cold, but it was food and after getting one of the bottles of hot sauce from his refrigerator and liberally dousing his plate, he ate every bite.

After breakfast, Billy told her to get to work, that he had Beck and she wasn’t to worry about a thing. Erika glanced from Billy’s sling to his stiff posture, aware that he could barely move without wincing, and she wanted to question if he could really be left alone with Beck, but she appreciated that he wanted to try.

“I’ll just be in the next room,” she said. “Come get me if you need—”

“I won’t,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ve got this.”

She gave one last look at Beck propped up in his car seat on the coffee table facing his dad and smiled grimly. Beck would probably last ten minutes before he started crying. He didn’t like being left in one position too long, but she didn’t want to be a downer, not when Billy was trying to take on dad duties so that she could work.

In her room, she sat on her bed, laptop out, earbuds in to block out noise, and got down to work, aware that she didn’t have all day. It took a few minutes before she remembered where she was, and what she needed to be doing, and then she was working, brain engaged, fingers flying on the laptop keyboard. It had been so long since she’d made headway, and it felt good to be productive, detached from the domestic worries, and free to just sink back into her writing.

She didn’t know how long she’d been at work when she saw black sweatpants in her peripheral vision. Billy was standing next to the bed and she lifted her head, removed her ear pods.

“I can’t get his diaper back on,” Billy said. “My fault for trying to change him on the couch.”

“Where is he now?”

“On the couch.”

“Oh, Billy, he could roll off,” she said, jumping to her feet.

“I blocked him in,” he answered, following her out of the bedroom.

In the living room she discovered that Billy really had blocked him in. Practically every pillow from the couch was positioned around him, forming a pillow corral. It worked for now while Beck was still so little, but in another month, Beck would be able to knock those around. She held her tongue though, and quickly lifted Beck, carrying him into her room to finish changing him.

Again, Billy followed her, watching as she rifled through a suitcase for diapers and a clean onesie since the other one was no longer wearable.

“You make that look so easy,” Billy said from the doorway.

“I’ve had a month of practice,” she answered, shooting him a quick smile. He looked ridiculously handsome this morning. Maybe it was the zipper halfway down on his sweatshirt, and the fact that his upper chest was all tantalizing bronzed skin and muscle, or maybe it was the shadow on his jaw that made him look rakish. “You’ll be just as good, if not better, within a few weeks.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “He should have his own room, shouldn’t he? With real furniture, not just a portable crib.”

She snapped the onesie closed over Beck’s diaper and gave his tummy a light pat. He gurgled up at her, his wide gummy smile delighting her as always. He was such a good baby, so sweet, so happy. “A changing table would be smart, too. It’d be easier for you to manage diaper changes.”

“What else?”

“Maybe a high chair, since he’ll be eating food soon. He could also sit in that and play with toys on the tray while you make yourself breakfast,” she said, giving Billy an arched look as she lifted Beck from the bed and kissed his forehead.

Billy gave her a lazy smile. “I love your sense of humor.”

Something in his eyes made her breath catch. The man had a ridiculous amount of charisma. She didn’t want to be this attracted to him, and yet just looking at him made her feel a little weak in her knees, and a little light-headed. “So where do you want me to put him? On the floor for some tummy time, or in his car seat with the bar of toys in front of him?”

“The car seat would probably be easier. I don’t think I can pick him up from the floor, not yet, at least.”

“Maybe I should just hang out with you guys. You’ve only been out of the hospital for a day or so.”

“You have work to do.”

“I know, but I think it might be too soon to have you taking over.” She saw his mouth open to protest and she hastily added, “You want to heal quickly, not prolong your recovery.”

Billy’s smile faded, and his gaze met hers and held. There was heat in his eyes, as well as that something that made her heart beat faster and her insides flutter. Was this the effect he had on all those other women? Blasted beast.

“You think of everyone but yourself,” he said, his deep voice low, almost a growl.

A shiver raced through her, curiosity. Pleasure. “I’m less worried about me in the big picture, than I am of Beck—”

“You don’t need to worry about Beck.”

“But I do. Beck needs you. You have to stick around.”

“Of course I’m sticking around.”

“Not if you rush back into competing before you’re ready. Not if you keep risking life and limb.”

*

He said nothing,but he did step back as she exited the room.

Erika faced him in the hallway. “What do you intend to do after you’re done competing on the rodeo circuit?”

“Not even thinking that far ahead, as I have a good fifteen years or more of competition in me.”

“Fifteen years?”

He tried to shrug but ended up wincing. “I love what I do.”

Erika’s temper stirred. He could be such a blockhead sometimes. “Is it realistic to think you can compete that long? I heard Sam talking about all of his injuries. Sounds like he’s pretty banged up.”

“Sam’s had a lot more injuries than me—”

“You just had a big one.”

“And I love competing more than he does,” he retorted, ignoring her interruption. “There are other things Sam wants to do, like ranching, for example. But I’m not excited about ranching. I bought property without a lot of acreage because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life doing what I did as a kid. I love what I’m doing now. If I could, I’d do it forever.”

“That’s a lot of travel. Almost a year of travel.”

His jaw hardened. “That’s what I like.” His voice had grown flinty as well. “I enjoy being out on the road. I enjoy the camaraderie of other cowboys.”

“And girls,” she muttered.

“Oh yeah,” he agreed, with a provocative smile. “Can’t forget the girls.”

Erika glowered, so over him. “I’m going to take Beck for a walk,” she said curtly. “You’re not invited.”

They got through the rest of the day with minimal conversation. Billy slept much of the afternoon, and when Beck napped, Erika worked on her dissertation. Beck took a long nap today and she was able to get some solid work done, and still have time for a long hot bath in the tub in the guest bathroom.

Dinner was provided for them that night by a kind neighbor who had left the spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, and salad on the doorstep. It was all still warm and so nothing needed to be heated.

Billy had been the one to let her know that dinner was on the front doormat, and she just nodded and brought everything in.

She was still annoyed with him, and he seemed just as annoyed with her.

Good. The mutual frustration should help her cope with the lust feelings, effectively dousing some of his potent charm.

After dinner, Billy did his best to clean up using just his right hand, without bending too much. She let him clean up, too. If he was as tough as he said, and that enamored with his sport, then he could suffer through the minimal dishes.

She was sitting on the couch with Beck, giving Beck a last bottle for the night, when Billy asked if she’d like a cup of tea or anything.

It was the first time they’d spoken since she’d served dinner. “I’d love a cup,” she said, as the evenings in Utah always grew cool. “As long as it’s herbal, or decaf.”

He brought her a mug of tea, the mug featuring a cowboy with the words, WORLD’S HOTTEST COWBOY, and she looked up at him, eyebrow arched. “Really?”

He smiled that slow, wicked, sexier-than-sin smile of his. “Just wanted to remind you.”

Erika laughed. She couldn’t help it. “You’re impossible.”

“Thank you.”

“Ahem. That’s not a compliment.”

He eased into his armchair. “You know, my mom always used to say the same thing.”

“About being impossible?”

“But I think she secretly liked it. I was the one who made her smile. Mom has a tendency to be serious. It gave me pleasure knowing I could get her to laugh when no one else could. Laughter’s important.”

“It is important.” Erika drew the bottle from Beck’s lips and set it down. “You are important. You want to live a long life, just like your granddad. You want to be here for Beck’s kids one day. That won’t happen if you get gored or rolled on too many times.”

“I appreciate your concern,” he answered. “I’m being sincere, too. It’s nice to know you care.”

“I’m thinking of Beck.”

“You can like me a little bit, Erika. It’s okay.”

*

Billy watched assoft pink color stained her cheeks, and she bit down into her lower lip, working it over as she did whenever she was nervous.

He wanted to be the one sucking on that lip. He wanted to feel her pressed against him. He’d wondered how she’d react if he brushed his lips across the curve of her cheek and the soft bow of her upper lip.

He’d liked the way her brow creased ever so slightly as if she didn’t quite know what to do with him. He liked the uncertainty in her eyes that always reminded him of green turquoise. She had little flecks of gold and black against the green, the gold darker than her honey hair and arched eyebrows.

There was no doubt Erika was beautiful and smart and way too good for him, but every woman needed affection and it crossed his mind that it might have been a long time since she’d been shown affection. Since she’d been thoroughly, and properly, kissed. Loved.

Maybe it was a good thing he was still so broken and sore, because it limited his ability to move, severely curtailing his seduction skills. If he was going to take her to his bed, he’d do it properly, not half-assed. She needed hours of foreplay, and that required skill, and mobility. At least he had a goal, besides getting back to work.

“I do like you,” she said crisply. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“I thought you were here for Beck.”

“That goes without saying. But I can care about you, too. Just because I want the best for you doesn’t mean I want to be your next buckle bunny.”

He grinned at her reference to the groupies and girls that hung around the rodeos, craving attention from the professional cowboys. “So glad we cleared that up. I might have gotten confused.”

*

Erika slept restlessly,dreaming of Billy, not sweet dreams, either, but provocative dreams of him and her, dreams where he was kissing her and driving her crazy.

She woke up feeling a little besotted.

She hated it. She hated spending so much time thinking about Billy… his body, his face, his hands, his mouth. It didn’t matter how he kissed, because she wasn’t going to kiss him. It didn’t matter if he looked hot. She wasn’t going to touch him. It didn’t matter if he’d woken her libido that had been dormant for years. She wasn’t going to get laid.

She had to focus on why she was here, and then how she was going to shift gears, when it was time to shift gears.

And maybe that was the hardest part of all, thinking about leaving.

She didn’t want to picture that day, or how it would feel to go, leaving Beck and Billy behind. Nothing inside of her found joy, or peace, in the prospect, and so she pushed it from her mind and left her bed to get her day started.

Just like yesterday, she helped Billy with his bandages and sling. Just like yesterday, she made him eggs—slightly less brown on the bottom, but this time the top layer looked weirdly wet—but he just covered it all in his Tapatio sauce and ate every bite.

Midmorning, she gave Beck another bottle and then after he fell asleep in her arms, she laid him in his travel crib and darkened the blinds and quietly shut the bedroom door. Not even five minutes later the doorbell rang, and she went to the front door and found two enormous boxes on the doorstep. She shouted a thank you to the back of the departing driver, but the driver shouted back that he had more, quite a bit more. It actually took the driver four trips in all to deliver everything to the porch, and once he was gone, Erika stared at the mountain of cardboard boxes in dismay. How on earth was all of that to get into the house… and once there, where would it go?

Billy appeared then, cell phone in hand. “Did you call me?”

“No, I was thanking the driver.” She nodded to the boxes. “Looks like it’s Christmas.”

“Oh good. Beck’s things,” he said, before lifting the phone back to his ear and saying to whomever was on the other line that he needed to go.

Once the phone was back in the front pocket of Billy’s sweatpants, Erika asked him what he’d been buying. A complete nursery?

“Pretty much,” Billy said. “This is his home. He should have his own room here, with toys and all the usual baby things.”

“When did you order this?”

“Yesterday.”

“And it’s here today?”

“Anything can be rushed.”

“That would cost a fortune.”

He didn’t seem concerned. “I have money. Why not spend it on my son?”

“True,” she agreed.

“Besides, the furniture, there should be a swing for him. A standing saucer. And hopefully a bar with dangle toys so he can lie beneath them and reach for things.”

How did he know about all these things? When had he done the research? “What didn’t you buy?”

“There were a few things I left in the shopping cart. No need to overwhelm the little guy yet.”

Her lips twitched. “You’re becoming quite the expert.”

“I can’t just watch TV all day.”

“No, you can’t. Pretty soon you’ll be schooling me.”

“I do some have thoughts, actually, but this might not be the time.” He closed the front door, blocking the view of the huge boxes. “We can talk about it later tonight—”

“Talk about what?”

“I just wondered if it was time to start him on some solid foods. He’s only five months, but he can hold his head up just fine, and he wants to eat. When I take a bite, he leans forward and opens his mouth.”

“I’d read somewhere that six months is better.”

“Either way, we’ll start with cereal, and then in a month or two introduce fruits, vegetables, yogurt. Cereal will fill him up better than just milk. He’ll probably take better naps, too, with a full belly.”

Erika’s head was spinning. These were all things she’d wanted to bring up to Billy, expecting she’d have to do a fair amount of educating him, but instead, he’d brought her up to speed, and he’d executed the plan. “I can look for infant cereal when I go shopping this weekend.”

“I can drive you to Bryce. We’ll all go.”

“You think it’s a good idea to drive?”

“I’m right-handed. My truck is an automatic.”

“I don’t want you to hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“So, what do we do with all those boxes out there? From the looks of it, almost everything will need to be put together.”

“I’ll handle that. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“Are you going to do all of that with just one hand, too?”

“No. But I know someone who can get it done for us without too much effort.”

Not even fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the front door. Erika answered, opening the door to discover a young cowboy on the front porch.

“Mr. Wyatt sent me a text; said he needed some help.” The young cowboy couldn’t have been much older than twenty or twenty-one. He swept off his hat revealing dark hair and a dusting of freckles across his cheekbones. “I’m Brad Mott, but everyone calls me Boom.”

“Boom?” she repeated.

He nodded, grinned. “When I was little, I liked to crash things, and when I did, I’d go boom.” His grin widened. “I guess the name stuck.”

“Well, Boom, I’m Erika Baylor,” she said extending her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ll take you to Billy.”

It took Boom most of the afternoon to get the crib and dresser put together, with Billy reading instructions, and holding pieces that he could, and then they tackled the high chair and by the time that was done Boom had to get home to feed the livestock.

Erika asked Billy about Boom after he was gone. “I take it, he’s a neighbor?”

“Lives just a couple miles down the road. His folks’ property butts up against mine. He’s helped me for a couple of years now, keeping an eye on things when I’m not here, and helping me with the odd job when I am home.”

“So, he’s not a rodeo cowboy?”

“He’s just your hardworking, salt of the earth cowboy. He’s the real deal.”

She smiled. “I like him. He’s a nice guy.”

“He’s saving up to get married—”

“What? He’s so young!”

“Almost twenty—”

“Even younger than I thought.”

“Boom and his girlfriend have been serious for a couple years. I’ve been thinking of hiring him on full-time. It’d give him steady income and Ellen would be happy knowing he’s got a good job close to home.”

“Is Ellen his girlfriend?”

“His mom. She used to be an ER nurse, but the local hospital closed and she didn’t want to be driving an hour to get to work.”

“You know your neighbors pretty well.”

“I’ve lived here a few years now. We’re all pretty isolated. It’s important to know who’s near you in case something happens.”

The next day, Billy oversaw the setup of Beck’s room, by directing Boom to place the crib just so, and then the small dresser which also served as a changing table against the opposite wall. He carefully crouched down, keeping his torso upright as he plugged the small bucking horse night-light in, and then rose, his gaze sweeping the room, clearly pleased with what he saw. “It looks good,” he said, glancing at Erika who’d been watching from the doorway. “What do you think?”

“I think it looks great. We’ll fill the top dresser drawer with diapers when we buy them, and the next drawer with Beck’s clothes when we’ve washed them.” She frowned. “Speaking of which, I should do that today. I haven’t done laundry in ages, not since our second day in Boise when I used the motel’s laundry room.”

Boom stayed for lunch—he’d brought the lunch, actually, thick roast beef and cheddar sandwiches on freshly baked bread—and during lunch, he and Billy discussed farm things and the horses and Erika’s mind drifted, as she considered her work. She really didn’t feel inspired. There was nothing in her that wanted to go to her room and be alone for hours. She’d always thought of herself as an introvert, preferring her own company over others, but being alone wasn’t appealing, not when fascinating, larger-than-life Billy Wyatt was in the next room.

She did get a little work done later, not enough to brag about, but in her room, she could at least pretend to be focused. Productive.

But a half hour into revising a section of her paper, she got a calendar reminder that rent was past due.

It was already early April.

Erika had never missed her rent before and couldn’t believe she’d forgotten it. How many other things was she forgetting? But life in Riverside was a world away from Billy’s cozy Utah cabin, and the longer she was here, the more comfortable she became. Her new daily routine included lots of teasing and banter, never mind breakfast, lunch, and dinner with Billy. She liked helping him get bandaged up, liked helping him dress, liked the shivery sensation she got when standing close to him, her lips just inches from the taut planes of his broad chest.

She closed the laptop and lay back on her bed, staring up at the beams in the ceiling, and the slow whirl of the rustic fan that kept the air moving.

How much longer would she stay here? Billy ought to have use of both arms soon, she thought, as well as the ability to lift and carry Beck without pain in his ribs. That would be what… a month? Two? Either way, the time would pass quickly, and that was both good and bad, because the passage of time brought her closer and closer to her dissertation’s due date. She’d done almost nothing in the past six weeks. She’d regret her lack of focus later. But now, now she was needed, and wanted, and it was the best feeling.

Erika left her room and went to the living room where Beck was swinging away in his swing, while Billy watched TV. She walked past the basket of toys in the corner—a soft chunky truck, a fabric book, a teething ring that looked like a black and white cow—and thought yet again how lucky Beck was. Billy was going to be a great dad.

Her heart suddenly ached. Billy and his boy. They’d make a great team.