Page 26 of A Baby for the Texas Cowboy
She opened her eyes, embarrassed and disappointed that he hadn’t touched her, although he was close enough so she felt the heat his body gave off. She craved his warmth and touch, and she hated that need.
He leaned closer. Was he going to kiss her? He shifted his head slightly so that his mouth brushed against her ear. “But I do want to control you in bed.”
“Want or need?” She forced teasing into her tone, even though her body started to go liquid at his closeness, and she froze, afraid to move and give away her desire. Heat bloomed and she could feel herself going damp—and he hadn’t even touched her. And he was pissing her off.
“I want it. A lot.” His voice was deep and smoky and Tinsley was hyper aware of all the furniture, the inviting surfaces—it wasn’t like Anders had always waited for a bed. No, not him and definitely not her.
She took two steps back.
“That’s what got us into trouble in the first place.”
His smile shut down as fast as the teasing light in his eyes, and for an insane moment, she wanted it back.
“Tinsley, we are having a baby.”
“Stop saying that word. Stop making me think about it every second.” God, she sounded so stupid. Like an ostrich and every other dumb denialist analogy an overeducated poet could dream up.
“We are having a baby who will be our child, and our child is not going to ever feel like he or she was a problem.”
He sounded angry, and she felt like he’d slapped her. He was right. So right. How did he do that? Jump from easygoing love ’em and leave ’em smiling cowboy to accepting fatherhood as naturally as he would a new shirt?
She felt on the edge of a cliff with sharp edges and churning cold water below. Panic sliced through her.
“I never even wanted a kid,” she practically yelled. “Ever.”
Anders took a step back into a brightly painted bookcase and it wobbled. He stared at her, breath puffing in and out. The case started to tip, and it was clear she’d shocked him into immobility. Tinsley caught the case, righted it.
“You don’t want our baby?”
Fear, regret and something she couldn’t name compressed her chest. The headache that had niggled all morning bloomed into blinding pain.
“No.”
He’d wanted to get things straight between them. This was a long ribbon of highway line divider. Her might not like it or her, but at least she was being honest.
“W-w-what are you saying?” Anders whispered. “You’re not… You weren’t thinking of…” His tone made her turn to face him. He sagged against the side of the barn. “You never…”
She would have thought a man like him would have looked hopeful, not shattered. What man wanted to be saddled having a kid with a woman he’d planned to have a fling with and then roll on to the next one? But no, Anders looked pale, even a little sick.
“I don’t understand you at all,” she admitted.
“What’s to understand?” Instead of sounding angry and issuing out orders, he sounded bewildered, and somehow his confusion calmed her enough that she admitted more—just got it out on the messy table of their lives.
“I was so…so anxious and angry and in denial when I started to suspect I was…you know. It just didn’t seem possible or fair.” She nipped her lower lip then stopped. She pressed her palms down on her leathers like that would do anything to make them less clammy. “I was such a coward, waiting a few days to buy the test. I kept waiting, hoping. And then when I finally took the test I screamed and hurled the positive stick across the motel room into the wall.”
“You did?” Anders’ voice was a whispered thread.
“Yeah.” She scowled. “I didn’t want a kid. I never wanted a kid. I loved my job with Four Wolfs and representing Cowboy Wolf Whiskey. I loved my bike. I loved being able to go where I wanted to go and when I wanted to. I loved traveling, seeing new places, meeting new people. Dancing in honky-tonks, shooting pool, listening to concerts, drinking whiskey with friends, hiking. I loved having so many different jobs. The challenge. The creativity. Reinventing myself each time. My whole life I…”
Her voice had gathered steam as she remembered how free she’d felt, how happy, but then she went too far into the past and she stopped before she jumped off that cliff.
“And now it’s all gone,” she said. “The life I built is all gone.”
Chapter Eight
Anders didn’t knowhow he got through the next hour. His head hurt. His gut hurt. He ached all over like he’d been in a fight. He was used to pain, but this wasn’t physical. He didn’t know how to muscle through. He wanted to get in his truck, crank up his play list and just ride. But he had furniture to move.
Tinsley picked a few items. He gave her a stack of Post-its to stick on the pieces she wanted. He stood outside the barn and stared blindly at the view of his ranch—the rolling hills, stands of oak, grazing herd of longhorns that had always soothed him—and battled the urge to throw up. Or hit something. Anything to take away from this feeling of helplessness and anger.
