Page 16 of Cowboy Bear's Hope

It was a sight that should have melted me, should have made me trust him more.

Instead, it made me wary. Because, as much as it pained me to admit, Dante wasn’t ours.

He might seem like a gentle giant, but he was a man who could break hearts. And I wasn’t sure I could afford to let mine be one of them.

See, Dante might be my dream guy, but I wasn’t his dream girl. Rosie wasn’t his daughter. And he wasn’t here to sign up for me and my ready-made family.

The cold hard truth was we were nothing to Dante. Admitting that, even if only to myself, hurt more than I cared to admit.

I had to force the lump in my throat down before I nodded my hello at him.

My heart squeezed as I listened to Rosie rattle on about her day. Dante listened, as he always did, giving her his full attention.

Shit.

I wished he wouldn’t do that. I mean, I just didn’t want him to let her down once he got tired of her, as single men who weren’t fathers tended to do.

I’d have to have a chat with him.

But right then, I allowed myself to enjoy the fantasy of seeing him hoist my daughter in the air and smile at her like he really did care.

She squealed with delight as he held her up high and gave her a spin that had her giggling uncontrollably.

Dangerous daydream, Avery.

Shut it down.

“Let’s get her buckled before she pukes on you,” I said.

“Pukes?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Mama, I only puked on that man who smelled bad like old coffee. You said you wasn’t mad,” Rosie murmured, and her lower lip quivered.

“Oh, Rosie, I wasn’t mad. And it wasn’t your fault, precious girl. But you wouldn’t want to throw up on Mr. Bianco, would you?” I asked and reached for my daughter.

“It’s Dante, and no worries, a little throw up is nothing. Ain’t that right, Rosie Posie?” he asked, putting her in the back seat of his truck where he had a child safety seat ready and waiting.

Hmm.

That was weird. It looked new. But why would Dante buy a safety seat for his truck?

“Avery, you comin’?” he murmured, and I looked up to see him waiting with the passenger door open.

“Oh, um, thank you,” I said, and went to climb inside.

It was a tall truck, and I was a short woman. I’d been inside it before, but I guess I was more tired than I thought because I missed the runner and almost toppled backwards with my big bag weighing down my shoulder.

Lucky for me, Dante was quick, and strong.

“Easy. I gotcha,” he rumbled, his big hands catching me by my waist.

“Oof! Uh, thanks,” I murmured, feeling my cheeks burn as I righted myself and got into the damn truck.

Kill me now.

Bad enough I’d already thrown myself at the big guy and been refused, but now he’d managed to cop a feel right where I was squishiest.

My stomach was soft, and I had stretch marks there that matched the ones on my boobs, thanks to my pregnancy and my love of everything delicious and chocolatey.

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