Page 19 of Fallen Cowboy
Oddly enough, MaryBeth was quite alright if her uncle didn’t go and it was just Troy and I with her.
That’s how we’re all crammed into my little SUV, heading to the orchard, with one very excited four-year-old in the back seat.
“You really didn’t have to go,” I told Troy as I pulled into an empty parking space.
“Uh, did you see her face? Did you want me to tell her no?”
No, I didn’t. But I also didn’t want MaryBeth to get too attached to this one in case he got it in his head that this life wasn’t for him. She was adorable and taking her in small doses was great. But being a full-time dad was not something I saw in Troy.
I didn’t need him to break her heart if he decided to leave again one day. It would break mine and that was more than enough.
“I don’t want her hurt, is all.”
There, he could take that in any context he wanted. Sure, it had a far deeper meaning than I’m assuming he gathered.
“Mommy, lets go. I ‘cited!”
“I know, baby.” I gave Troy a smile and climbed out of the car, helping her out as well.
“It smells mazing!”
“It sure does, munchkin,” Troy said, taking her hand as well. “Shall we go see what that awesome smell is? Maybe mommy will get it for us.”
Over her head I sent him a glare, causing him to smirk.
“Yes,” she cried, trying to take off on a run. But she only ended up pulling Troy along behind her at a slower pace than what she wanted.
For some reason, that sight stole my heart and my breath. She was my everything, even if she was an accident. MaryBeth was my world, and a lot of guys didn’t understand just how much of a packaged deal we were.
They wanted me, sure, but not her. And I wouldn’t dare turn my back on her. She already lost a no-good dad; I wouldn’t let someone else trample on her heart.
Which is why it was so important that Troy really understood that. I get it, we can have fun, but outings like this just couldn’t happen if he wasn’t serious, not with her tiny, fragile heart on the line.
I was older, I could ignore the pain, she didn’t know how to do that.
“Come on, slow poke,” he called out over his shoulder, and I just rolled my eyes, but still couldn’t stop the slight grin.
I went after them, taking her other hand, much to her delight and took her around the stalls, looking at all the sweet treats.
“Okay, Cook said if you brought her home some delicious apples, MaryBeth, she’ll make that apple pie you love.”
“Oh, Cook’s apple pie is the best, munchkin. I remember having that when I was in high school. With some ice cream, it was just lip smacking good.”
“And my mom hated every time you did that,” I told him, smacking his arm. “Ready to go get some apples?” I asked her, laughing as she jumped around. She ran to get the cart, which was almost taller than her and pushed it towards the apple grove.
“After you,” Troy said, smacking my ass as I passed him. I gave him another glare, not that it seemed to phase him at all. I think he liked the thought of getting me riled up.
Maybe, in some sick and twisted way, it was great foreplay.
And if last night was any indication, he could rock my world in ways I’m sure I never even thought of.
“Mommy, ‘dis good?”
I stopped right next to her, eyeing the apples, then nodded.
“They sure look good to me. Let’s have Troy grab a couple since he’s taller than us.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. I knew that was such a southern thing to do, had plenty of cowboys do that to me, but something about him just twisted me up when he did that.
