Page 78 of A Baby for the Texas Cowboy
“So?” She looked from his extended hand and around the tasting room. “Do you work here when you’re not—” she waved her hand “—playing cowboy? Dear Lord, is there a lunch show where you ride around looking like that?” Her eyes goggled at his custom and very snazzy chaps.
“Mom, he’s one of the top bull riders in the world,” Tinsley said in a low, tense voice.
“That’s a job?” Tinsley’s mom sounded astonished.
Tinsley was pale, with two slashes of color across her cheeks. She also had reddish-pink splotches on her neck and collarbone that she got when she was angry or embarrassed. Tension was not good for Tinsley or the baby, and all his protective instincts flared.
“Ma’am, welcome to Last Stand and my brother’s tasting room. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said in his most charming Texas drawl that he knew wouldn’t work on her. He doubted anything could; however, this woman was Tinsley’s mom, his child’s only hope for a grandmother. He wanted to try his best to mend any bridges if that were possible.
“I am a bull rider with the AEBR, but I also own a third share of Ghost Hill Ranch, one of the largest spreads in Texas.” Money and ownership would be the one thing she might understand. “I also own a half of Cowboy Wolf Whiskey and a quarter share in Four Wolfs Distillery with my brother.”
“You do?” Tinsley stared at him. “You never told me that.”
No. He hadn’t. He hadn’t wanted her to feel pressured when he’d made his move on her after debating for months about asking her out.
“He’s your boss? You let your boss drink whiskey off your…” The woman waved her skinny, bejeweled hand with the diamond encrusted watch that screeched money clasped on her fragile-looking wrist. “That sounds like sexual harassment, but in the video you were smiling. How dare you accuse John of…” She snapped her mouth shut.
This was going to escalate, and while the tasting room was in a lull, Anders didn’t want Tinsley to have to face any town gossip if a local happened to stop in to chat. “Let’s have a seat over there.” He indicated a quiet area where this morning Tinsley had hung art from a local artist. “We can get to know each other. Would you like a class of…?” What would someone so clearly snobby like to drink? “Bubbles or a glass of sparkling water?”
He couldn’t imagine her drinking water from a tap.
“No thank you,” she said, not following him.
“Did Tinsley tell you our good news?”
Tinsley’s eyes widened.
Damn.
But what else would a daughter talk about with a mother she hadn’t seen in a while? And why hadn’t she told him her mom was still alive and criticizing her from what he could see. Or maybe she was ill. Or another family member was ailing.
“I can’t imagine any good news you two would have,” Tinsley’s mother said, then her attention pivoted back to Tinsley. “You’re pregnant,” she hissed. “By a cowboy.”
She swayed, and Anders fearing the woman might faint, helped her to a chair.
“I think I’ll have that mineral water now. And chardonnay. Please.”
Tinsley pulled a bottle of sparkly from the fridge, added two round designer ice cubes to a glass along with a slice of lemon and lime. She brought it to her mother, who took a drink. The ice rattled in the glass.
“I’m sorry if the news is a shock, Mrs. Underhill.”
“Mrs. Underhill-Whittaker.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Anders said.
She sipped at the water, without looking at him. Tinsley brought her a glass of pinot blanc. “You’ll like the crispness and subtle fruit of this wine,” Tinsley said, sounding a little robotic and Anders winced.
He felt torn in two. He wanted to support Tinsley, but he was angry and hurt that she’d lied to him. Sure not all families got along. But to deny their existence after he’d felt like they were finally making progress as a couple was a blow. It was hard to sit there and say nothing.
What else would he learn today about the mother of his child? About the woman he’d held in his arms every night he’d been back home in Last Stand for the past month?
“I can’t believe it,” Tinsley’s mom said. “Rejecting the son of a governor for this…this…” she waved wildly at Anders and the tasting room “…this half-life.” She’d finished the water and she grabbed almost desperately for the wine. She drank it down like she had the water and put her glass down with a sharpthunk.
“You’re not getting any money, not a penny.” Her mother stood.
“I don’t want your money or Daddy’s,” Tinsley said. “I don’t need it, and I’m pleased John is married to a woman who suits, and that they have two healthy children. I’m happy he’s following the path he wants. I’d never interfere with that. I’m happy here,” Tinsley said. “I’m happy.” Her voice changed, almost sounded surprised.
“How that could be true I’ll never understand.”
