The Bull Rider's Baby. Brenda Minton

       Two reactions. She wanted to run and hide. She wanted to stop and stare at the man on her front porch. She had to act quickly.

       “Come in, I’m going to change.”

       He stepped in before she could run. “Why?”

       But he smirked a cute little grin and gave her the once-over. She should point out that he needed to shave and his worn-out jeans were in need of replacing. She walked away from him, knowing he’d follow.

       “What’s going on?”

       Coffee. She needed a cup of coffee. She walked down the hall to the kitchen. Keeton’s boots clunked on the wood floor. If she gave herself a few minutes she could face him and not be at loose ends. She didn’t do this, this chaotic dance around men—insecure, uncertain. Sophie Cooper knew how to be confident.

       She reached for the coffeepot, saw the note on the counter. Before he could reach her she grabbed it and slipped it in her pocket.

       “Do you want coffee?”

       Keeton held Lucy out to her. “Yeah, I want coffee. I’ll make it because I also don’t want to pick up glass from the broken coffeepot when you drop it. What’s up with you?”

       Keeton. A crazy note on her front door. She didn’t know where to start. She didn’t want to start.

       Rather than answering, she took Lucy and sat down at the butcher-block table in the center of the kitchen. Lucy, soft and smelling of lavender and chamomile, cooed. She still felt warm.

       “I’m worried about this baby.”

       Keeton looked back at them, and then poured water into the coffeepot. “I gave her the medicine. I don’t know what else to do.”

       “Maybe urgent care.”

       “Yeah, I think I might need to do that. Let’s stop beating around the bush. Why don’t you tell me about that piece of paper you slipped in your pocket when you thought I wasn’t looking?”

       “Paper?” Heat warmed her neck and then her cheeks.

       “You’re a horrible liar.”

       “I know.” She leaned her forehead against Lucy’s. “Sweet baby, you need to get over this virus.”

       “Note.”

       “Baby trumps note. We need to take her to the doctor.”

       “We?” He leaned against the counter, his elbows behind him resting on the counter top. He wasn’t particularly tall. Most bull riders weren’t. He appeared tall. Maybe that unbelievable self-confidence the West men oozed. She sighed. Kade had had it, too.

       She wondered what kind of man he’d have been if he’d lived. Would they have gotten married? Or would they have grown up in a few years and realized it was just a crush?

       “Soph? About the note? And then we’ll talk about Lucy and the doctor.”

       “The note warned me to stop building a subdivision on farmland.”

       “I didn’t write it.”

       “I know you didn’t.” She looked up, making strong eye contact with him. “I know you didn’t.”

       “Good. But we have to find out who did. I want to know that you’re safe here.”

       “I’m safe. I’m a Cooper. I can fight with the best of them. And shoot a gun.”

       He grinned and shook his head. Without asking, he pulled cups out of the cabinet and started pouring coffee. “Sugar?”

       “Nope.”

       “Black coffee.” He glanced back again. “And you have peanut butter on your chin.”

       She rubbed fast, and then wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I don’t.”

       “You have so many surprising little habits, Sophie.” He carried two cups of coffee and sat down across from her. “I figured if it’s a virus she’ll run a fever for a couple of days and be over it. Right? Antibiotics won’t cure a virus.”

       “I suppose. But she’s so little, I worry about her fever getting too high.”

       “I’ve been keeping an eye on that. So far it’s stayed under 102.”

       “I’d make her an appointment tomorrow, then. If she isn’t better.”

       “Thanks, Soph. So will you still watch her for me tonight while I go ride bulls in Dawson?”

       That’s why he was there. She’d somehow managed to forget. She snuggled the baby and thought about rocking her to sleep, the two of them dozing on the sofa together. Keeton’s baby, not hers. She felt a little alone for a moment, even with the two of them right there with her. Because they weren’t hers.

       “I’ll watch her.”

       “I have a can of formula and extra diapers in the diaper bag.”

       “Okay.” She stood when he stood. “Be careful tonight.”

       He plucked at a strand of her hair and nodded once. “I will. I always am. Soph, it hardly ever happens that way—the way it did…”

       “I know.” And she didn’t usually cry. But her eyes burned and if he didn’t leave, she would.

       He didn’t leave. Instead he leaned and sweetly kissed her. She closed her eyes and for a moment she needed this, needed him. She resurfaced when memories of another moment in his arms pushed their way into her mind.

       Before she could make sense of it all, he stepped back. One simple kiss and he undid all of her carefully groomed self-control. She couldn’t allow that.

       She gathered herself, her wits, and stood a little straighter.

       “Keeton, don’t.”

       He tipped his hat. “I know.”

       “We can’t.”

       “I know.” His smile didn’t beam this time, instead it looked a little sad, a little sorry. And so was she. “I know.”

       He walked down the hall back to the front door. She followed him. “Keeton, it isn’t you.”

       At the front door he turned, smiling again. “It’s never been me.”

       “That isn’t what I meant.” But it was. And wasn’t. She was making a royal mess of things. The baby whimpered against her shoulder and Keeton walked out the door, letting it thud behind him.

       “Goodbye,” she whispered, and then she whispered a prayer. “God, keep him safe.”

       What if he got hurt? Then what? What about the baby? She rushed out the door, wanting to stop him, to tell him he had a little girl and something could happen to him. Too late, his truck pulled out onto the road and turned in the direction of Dawson.

       “It’s you and me, baby girl. And we’re going to be doing lots of praying tonight.”