Page 17 of A Baby for the Texas Cowboy
His mouth formed the W of the wordwhat, but nothing came out. He swallowed and yanked at his hair as if that would pull out the words. “You told me you were pregnant with my child.”
“Yeah. I am, but if you want a paternity test I get that.”
He felt like the conversation was a broken gate swinging back and forth wildly in the wind.
“Is that safe for the baby now?”
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter because I’m not asking for anything.”
“What?” He looked around for a chair.
“I told you.” Tinsley still had her arms crossed as she leaned against the wine bar as if she needed it to hold herself up. “I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t need anything from you. You are off the hook.” She unfolded her arms and made a big swishing motion like he was supposed to disappear. Cowboy in a magic show.
Anders blinked, feeling as if all the air in the room had just been sucked out.
Too damn bad. He managed to bite the words back and keep them in his head. She might not expect or want anything from him—and who spoke like that to the father of their child, anyway?—but she was going to get it.
“Anders, I’m starting work. We don’t have to decide anything today.”
“If the baby’s mine, then we conceived it at the weddings. And that means you’re nearly through our first trimester,” he said.
Her mouth dropped open. “Our,” she repeated, and again she nibbled on her lower lip, and then, as if realizing she was doing it, she pressed her lips together, blew out air, and moistened her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.
Anders remembered vividly the heat of her tongue and how her lips felt wrapped around his cock, and he barely restrained a groan as his cock twitched to half-mast.
Bad timing.
“There’s no our here,” she said, and her voice wobbled a little before she sucked in a breath and squared her shoulders. “I don’t think your boobs are going to double or that your stomach will balloon. You won’t be staving off stretch marks with some organic whatever concoction from an online store.”
His gaze inadvertently dipped to her breasts. They’d been siren-call tempting before, and he still fantasized about how they felt in his palms and the sounds she’d make when he’d suck on her nipples even though her clothing.
Eyes up, idiot.
Guiltily he looked back into her face expecting anger. Or a sucker punch. Instead, the first hint of a wry ‘boys will be boys’ smile played around her soft, plump, pink mouth. Only he was most definitely a man.
“You look beautiful, Tinsley,” he said softly and without thinking about it, he walked toward her.
“Please, Anders.” She took a step back. She even held out her hand, palm out like a sexy crossing guard. “We don’t have to talk about anything now.”
The hell they didn’t.
“Anders, take the out,” she said in a rush, stepping forward and placing her hands on his chest like she could push him out of the tasting room. “I’m not asking for anything from you. Not money or time. You’re young. A bull rider on top. You’ve still got years to ride. To earn top money. To build your brand. You don’t want a baby to slow your roll. You don’t want me.”
Her words were a slap in his face. Still, he’d blown it about as badly as a man could, and he had to leash his frustration in order to pull out a save. So he covered her hands with his. They were ice cold. He rubbed them lightly. She acted so tough, but she was afraid. Why? Of him? That didn’t sit well.
“You forgot something on that list of yours,” he said, massaging her hands.
“What?” She looked up. Her dark gold gaze glittered and her voice was edged with defiance.
“I’m also a dad. I am the father of your child. And that trumps everything.”
His hands dropped to her hips. He pulled her close and let her feel his growing arousal. He didn’t want her—what BS. He hadn’t stopped wanting her. “I’m not walking away, Tinsley, no matter how hard you push. I intend to marry you so that our child has a mother and a father and we will raise our child together.”
*
“Marry? Together?” Shestared at Anders in horror. “No.” She tried to draw in a breath, but it was too fractured to deliver the oxygen she needed. “We aren’t together.” She tried to infuse her voice with conviction, but she sounded young, uncertain—like the child and young woman she’d once been. She couldn’t go back. She wouldn’t. She’d worked too hard to remake her life, and herself. She couldn’t be trapped again.
“I…you didn’t…want this,” she said. “We didn’t plan on a baby.”
