Page 28 of Mad About Her Cowboys

She liked them all—especially Franklin and Connor. A small smile tilted her lips as she recalled how tenderly Franklin had caressed her belly. It was as if having a baby and them helping to raise it would be a dream come true for him. Maybe, they were thinking of more than a night.

What had they said? She’d been in such a sensual fog…

You’ll be our everything.

I’m not going to let you walk away easily…

If you decide to be with us…

We belong together.

So…not just one night in their heads. She just had to get her own head straight.

Coffee. Coffee first.

The welcome scent of it hit her as she entered the kitchen, and as she approached the pot, she saw a small folded card on the counter before it, her name scrawled across the cream-colored front in bold, black letters.

Good morning, love. We hope you slept well. This is decaf coffee. Figured that’s what you’d want with the baby and all. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. We’ll be back soon.

Yours,

Connor

Madison smiled, holding the card to her chest. Great sex. Tender. And they made her coffee. It all seemed too good to be true.

“It’s just coffee,” she reminded herself. “Get a grip.”

Opening the fridge, she found some half-and-half then headed back to prep her morning magic in a cup. They’d left an upside-down mug next to the note—probably so she wouldn’t have to search for one and she’d know this one was clean. Add thoughtful to that list.

Humming happily as she recalled the events of last night, all of it bringing a smile to her lips and sending warmth flowing through her, she poured herself a cup, stirred in her creamer then grabbed a muffin from the snap-lid container they’d left beside her mug. Turning toward the stools at the island, she let out a scream, hot coffee sloshing over her hand.

“Fuck,” she breathed quickly setting down her breakfast, never taking her eyes off the man who’d startled her. It wasn’t any of the Quists, but he wasn’t a stranger. What the fuck was he doing here?

“Martin,” she said, without an ounce of welcome in her flat voice. “What are you doing here?”

Without breaking her stare, she reached for a towel to wipe the coffee off her scalded hand, thankful the hot liquid hadn’t spilled on her shirt. Still, that was the least of her concerns right now.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” he asked, his arms spread wide, and he took a step toward her.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” she snapped. She edged toward the knife block, ready to defend herself however she needed to. She might have been confused about what had gone down before, but she had no such lack of clarity now. This man was a predator, and she wanted him gone. And…

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she repeated.

“I’m a guest; don’t you know? You’re being mighty rude to a paying customer,” his sharp-eyed gaze raked over her, making her skin crawl and feel decidedly unclean. He smirked, obviously aware of her discomfort.

“Not my guest,” she replied.

“No, I suppose not. Your boyfriend’s guest then. Don’t you want to be accommodating for him. Make his customer happy. Wouldn’t be the first time you spread your legs for me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Exactly what I’m going for.”

“Get out. I don’t care if you’re a guest or not. This isn’t the guest house. It’s their private quarters.”

“Their? Are you fucking all of them? I always knew you were a slut, just asking for it. Can’t get enough cock, can you? You going to try to foist your kid onto them, too.”

“I…” Her chest was so tight with rage she could barely speak. How was this man a doctor? He spoke and acted as if he lived in the gutter. Just a sleazy—

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