The Cowboy's Pride

“You’re fast,” he said. The smile on his face was only for Meggie. He held her at a distance for a second, not quite sure what to do with her. Then he tucked her into his body and cradled her to his chest.

Trish inhaled a sharp breath.

Meggie wasn’t too sure what to make of Clay, but she wasn’t crying either. Trish wished she could say the same of herself. Inside, her heart cried out seeing what could have been if only their marriage had survived. Clayton Worth, the big, rugged cowboy holding a baby, her baby, in his strong arms was a tender sight to behold.

She could have gone on watching the two of them, but Clay didn’t give her time to lament the loss. Before she knew it, he was handing Meggie over. “Here you go.” He made the transfer with utmost care. “She’s going to keep you on your toes.”

“She’s fast,” Trish whispered, still awed seeing Clay holding the baby. “But she’s a good sleeper, so it’s a trade-off.”

Clay nodded, giving Meggie one long look before turning on his heels and heading to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he glanced back Trish’s way. “If you change your mind, I can send Helen over to help you unpack.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Clay sent her a dubious look before walking out.

Trish closed her eyes. Heaven help her. The last half hour had been one of the hardest in her life. Seeing Clay again hurt. The pain had resurfaced the minute he’d walked up to greet her. And seeing him holding Meggie just now was like pouring salt in her freshly opened wound.

He couldn’t wait to send you divorce papers.

He never really understood you.

He’s probably having a hot and heavy affair with Suzy.

They were all good reasons to keep Clay at a distance and not get suckered in by his deadly good looks, heart-melting smile or sentimental memories of the good times they’d shared.

He was then. This was now.

She may not have a handle on motherhood yet, but she knew everything about surviving and remembering why she’d come back to the ranch was a priority.

Divorce.

Clay’s boots ate concrete as he strode toward his house. Trish had a kid. A baby. He wondered how long it would take for him to wrap his mind around that. She’d blown their marriage apart denying him a child. He never understood why she’d been so resistant to the idea. He had money and resources to provide for a child better than ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the population of the world. She hadn’t trusted in that. She hadn’t trusted in him enough to know they’d work it out. And then she’d started in with her accusations about him and Suzy.

Trish’s appearance today tilted him off balance. His head spun seeing her again, and he swore up and down about the decision to bring her here. His attorney could have dealt with the divorce and to hell with Trish’s fundraising abilities. He would’ve found someone else for the job. But he was thickheaded and wanted things done his way. He wanted to face her again, after she’d walked out. He wanted closure and to end things civilly. That had been the plan.

It was still the plan, he reminded himself.

He entered the house, his stomach clenched tight, and shut the door with too much force. Behind him the beveled glass rattled from the slam.

“That you, Clayton?” He heard Helen’s muffled voice from a distance.

There was a bang. Then another. Lifting his head to listen closely, he strode toward the stairs. “Helen?”

Boom. Thump.

“Up here.”

He strode toward the staircase and the clatter that interrupted the peace in the house. “Where are you?”

“In the attic. I need help.”

“I’m coming. Hold on.” Clay jogged up the stairs quickly, taking them two at a time. He reached the landing and turned the corner quickly, finding a pull-down ladder that led to another small landing and the attic door.

He yanked it open just as Helen popped her head out and they nearly bumped. He examined her face, dotted with grime, but the rest of her appeared uninjured. “What the hell—”

“We’ve got baby equipment up here, Clayton. Took some shoving and pushing, but I found your old crib. There are sheets that need some gentle washing, but everything is in excellent condition.”

Clay sighed with relief. He glanced at the boxes, crates and furniture Helen had obviously moved. “You shouldn’t have come up here by yourself. You could have gotten hurt.”

She waved him off as she was prone to do. “Nonsense. We need to get this stuff down for that little baby to use.”

“Trish is taking care of that. She’s renting equipment. It should arrive tomorrow.”

“That woman needs all the help she can get with that baby.”

Clay didn’t take offense. Helen never meddled in his love life, so there was no ulterior motive in her comment. He knew exactly what she meant. Trish looked frazzled when she arrived and she was probably exhausted by now, chasing the human rolling pin around.

There’d be no arguing with Helen anyway. She was like a mother to him, even if they’d never spoken of such things. She’d been around Clay and his brothers Tagg and Jackson since they were youngsters.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll bring it over.”

Two hours later, Clay had the crib set up in the master bedroom in the guesthouse.

Meggie was sleeping on a thick quilt with a zoo animal motif on the living room floor. When he’d knocked, Trish had been surprised to see him again, but there was a grateful look in her eyes and Clay knew he’d done the right thing bringing the crib over. The baby was innocent in all this and she shouldn’t have to do without creature comforts.

Clay gave the sides of the crib a few tugs, checking that he had the screws tight and secure before he backed away to admire his work. The crib was made of solid walnut and was in fantastic shape for as old as it was. When he turned, he found Trish in the room holding a glass of iced tea with three slices of lemon submerged under the ice.

“Here you go,” she said, offering him the glass.

He took a gulp and swallowed the cool liquid. “Just the way I like it.”

“Some things never change,” she said with a shrug.

Was that another crack or just a casual comment?

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said, lifting the crib sheets from the dresser and moving to the crib. Judging by her sincere tone, he gave her the benefit of the doubt. She’d remembered the way he took his tea, nothing more. “You didn’t have to do this tonight, but I’m sure Meggie will love her new digs.”

Clay didn’t want to smile, yet the corner of his mouth quirked up. He wanted out of there, away from Trish. She’d showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a red plaid blouse, but even the simple clothes looked fashionable and elegant on her. Her blond hair was still damp and curling around her face and shoulders. She smelled of citrus and sugar like a sweet piece of fruit.

“I’d better go.”

Trish nodded, holding the freshly cleaned sheets to her chest. “I’ll walk you out.”

She followed behind as he walked into the living room. The baby took that moment to wake up and look at him from the quilt. She made a little sound, watching him cut across the room with eyes wide and bluer than a spring lake. She was a cute little thing, all pink cheeks and tiny blond curls.

“Well, look who’s awake now,” Trish offered in a sugary voice. When he glanced at her, her attention was focused on the baby.

He reached for the doorknob. He didn’t belong here. He wasn’t part of this happy scenario.