Baby's First Homecoming

He exhaled slowly. “Promise me you’ll consider what I say before going ballistic.”

“I don’t go ballistic.”

“You did a little yesterday and just now when I suggested we talk on the back patio.”

“I told you, I get nervous when Jamie’s out of my sight.”

“Which is why I’ve been rethinking my paternity suit.”

Thank goodness!

Her shoulders sagged with relief. “I swear to you, I’ll be very generous with visitation.”

“Oh, I still want custody of Jamie.”

“What!” She sat up. “Not on your life.”

“Not full custody.”

Her patience snapped, and she pushed to her feet. “Quit playing games with me.”

“Sit back down and listen.”

She’d never heard him talk so sharply. Reluctantly, she lowered herself into the chair.

“Joint custody is more than shuffling a child between two residences. It’s co-parenting. Both of us working as a team to raise our son. To do that successfully, we need to spend as much time together as possible. The three of us.”

“Define as much time as possible.”

“I’d rather define together.”

“Go on.”

“Twenty-four/seven.”

“Forget it,” Sierra bit out.

“Would you rather I take Jamie half the time? I will.”

The thought of Clay taking Jamie for even an hour had her—how had he put it?—going ballistic.

“You can’t stay here. There isn’t enough room.” If he thought he was sharing her bed, he was crazy.

“I agree.” He leaned forward, pinning her in place with his unyielding gaze. “Which is why you and Jamie are going to live with me.”

Chapter Four

Sierra would have liked to think she’d heard Clay incorrectly, except she hadn’t.

“You say going to live with you like I don’t have a choice.”

“You do have a choice. Many of them, in fact. I just happen to think living with me is the best one under the circumstances.”

He straightened in his chair, calm and cool and collected. Not one neatly trimmed hair sticking sideways or one droplet of perspiration dotting his brow. Her hair, on the other hand, was a mess, the result of constantly shoving her fingers through the thick strands. And the sweat-soaked collar of her shirt stuck to the back of her neck, intensifying her discomfort.

“Best for you,” she snapped.

“For all of us. Jamie will have the benefit of both parents raising him, and you’ll get to be with him most of the time.”

As opposed to separated from him half the time, if Clay won his paternity suit.

Sierra already ached with loneliness. “I don’t want to uproot him again. He’s just getting used to me. To this place.”

“You’ve been here…what? All of two days? I can’t imagine he’s become that attached.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I won’t do it.”

Clay continued talking as if he hadn’t heard her. “The rodeo arena isn’t far from here, only a couple of miles. You can visit your family whenever you want or they can come over. Ethan’s at the arena almost every day as it is, and Gavin once a week.”

“You live at the rodeo arena?”

“Sometimes it feels like that, I’m there so much.”

Not a place she saw herself either residing or bringing up her son. Too far from town. Too dangerous, what with horses and bulls and vehicles everywhere. It was probably also dusty and dirty. San Francisco was hardly perfect, but she’d resided there for the last seven years and grown accustomed to city life.

“The house is actually on the next parcel over,” Clay continued. “I built it shortly after the arena was finished.”

There were so many reasons to refuse his offer besides uprooting Jamie. She picked the first one.

“I’ve never shared a house or apartment with a man, and I won’t unless he and I are in a committed relationship.”

“I respect your principles, and I wouldn’t ask you to compromise them.”

Oh, okay. She hadn’t expected him to give in so quickly. “Well, I guess there’s no need—”

“I built a casita behind the house. It’s not large, basically a bedroom, a sitting area and a bathroom. But you and Jamie could be comfortable there. You’d have to take some of your meals in the main house. With me,” he added, his tone such that Sierra clearly understood shared meals were part of the deal.

“I can’t live off you. It wouldn’t be right.”

“I’ll be paying monthly child support for Jamie. Any rent, if you want, can be considered part of that support.”

“It still feels like a handout.”

“Fine. You can work for me.”

“This is no joke.”

“I’m not joking. I need the help.”