The Bronc Rider's Baby

The defense of his daughter touched Anna in an unexpected, heart-stirring way. How could it not? She stole a glance at the chatty waitress, whose expression and misty eyes suggested she, too, sympathized with the baby’s plight.

“Don’t worry, Nate.” Margie reached into the front pocket of her yellow apron, pulled out a wadded-up tissue and used it to blot her tears. “That poor, precious little girl.”

Nate struck a casual pose, resting his forearms on the table. “I know it won’t be easy for you to keep a secret like that, Margie. With so many people coming in and out of the diner, there’s bound to be talk. But I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t...you know, help things along.”

“I won’t say a word.” Margie lifted her right hand as if she were in a courthouse, about to take the witness stand. “I’d never do anything to hurt a child, especially one who’s been dealt such a cruel blow already. You can count on me to keep quiet about that.”

“You’re a good-hearted woman,” Nate said. “I never doubted that.”

Margie glanced at the baby then back at Nate. “I heard that it was the woman’s husband who beat her up. How did you...? Well, since y’all said the baby is yours, I just wondered how...that happened.”

Nate tensed, and Anna didn’t blame him. She’d had the same question herself, but voicing it, even in a nearly empty diner, was in poor taste and completely out of line. Still, Anna couldn’t help waiting for his response. Had he been having an affair with a married woman?

“Just for the record,” Nate said, “Jessie’s mother was single when she and I dated.”

To Margie’s credit, her cheeks flushed bright pink. “Oh, goodness, Nate. I never meant to imply that you’d... Well, it’s just so sad, that’s all.”

When Nate didn’t respond, Margie placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss, darlin’. It must have ripped your heart right out to lose your sweetheart and your baby’s mama, especially with her dying the way she did.”

Rather than address Margie’s comment or her sympathy, Nate said, “I don’t suppose we could bother you for two cups of coffee.”

Margie straightened then seemed to pull it all together. “Yes. Of course. Coming right up.”

When Nate and Anna were finally alone in the corner booth, he continued to lean forward, his forearms resting on the table, his clasped hands on top of the menu, and said, “You might not like coffee or feel up to having any right now, but I needed to change the subject and give her a reason to move on.”

Anna placed her fingers over the top of his knuckles, an intimate reaction that took her by surprise. But she shared her remorse and an apology anyway. “I’m sorry, Nate. I have a feeling that’s something you’d wanted to keep to yourself. So I’m sorry if I said or implied anything that might have stirred her curiosity.”

“You didn’t.” He shrugged a single shoulder. “Sooner or later that news was going to get out anyway. Everyone at the Rocking C already knows. Not that any of them are talkers, but...well, some secrets are hard to keep.”

Anna understood why he’d want to keep the tragic news about Jessie’s mother from a woman who was undoubtedly prone to passing along community news, even if it only amounted to gossip. But he was right. This was the kind of thing people naturally wanted to ponder, speculate and share.

“Just for the record,” Nate added, his sky blue eyes locking on to Anna’s and stirring up an emotion of some kind, one she couldn’t quite put her finger on, “I’m really not grieving for Beth. Not the way you or Margie might think. I mean, I feel bad about what happened to her. She was a nice woman, but we weren’t...very close. It’s Jessie who’s really going to miss her. A girl needs a mother.”

That was true. At times, while Anna had been growing up, she’d wished she had a mother like some of her friends. But Sharon Reynolds had been too young and self-centered to step up and be a strong feminine role model. Not that the two of them had any lingering relationship problems. They were actually somewhat close now, even though Sharon had yet to fully grow up. In fact, to this day, she acted more like a big sister—one that could be a bit wild and reckless at times. Thank goodness her new husband could afford a nanny to take care of Kylie and to handle most of the day-to-day parenting issues.

A girl needs a mother.

Anna glanced across the table, where Nate stared down at the closed menu in front of him, a crease marring his handsome brow. A girl needed a father, too.

Was he worried that he might not measure up to what his daughter was going to require in the future? Was he afraid that she or others might find him lacking?

“Daddies are important to little girls, too,” she said.

Nate lifted his head, his gaze seeking out hers. He didn’t comment right away, but when he did, his voice was low and soft. “They’re also important to little boys.”

She tried to read the subtext behind his words and assumed he might have a few daddy issues, just like she did. She didn’t talk about them anymore, hoping they’d just fade away. But thanks to a nearly nonexistent relationship with the man who’d abandoned her as a child, they always seemed to be hiding under the surface, ready to pop up like an annoying jack-in-the-box when she least expected them to.

Sure, as a licensed social worker, she was trained to spot those things in others. But it wasn’t always easy to recognize them in herself.

She studied the man across from her, and while she’d meant to observe him as a daddy, her thoughts drifted from those meant to be professional to others more personal. In spite of her best efforts, she found herself observing him as a man—and a very attractive one at that.

His brown hair, which had a slight indention from where his hat once rested, nearly shouted cowboy, even without his Stetson. His eyes were a pretty shade of blue, the color of bluebonnets growing in a meadow. Yet that was the only thing “pretty” about him. He was both rugged and handsome, something she found far more appealing than she’d expected to—and way more than she should.

Jessica squirmed again, scrunched her little face and began to fuss, this time sounding irritable—and hungry. Anna had never been one to let a baby cry, but this time, tending to the little girl’s needs quickly would allow her to change her focus, to get her thoughts back on an appropriate track.

“It sounds like she’s hungry,” Anna said. “Would you like me to feed her?”

“Sure.” Nate’s response came out quickly, nearly sparking with enthusiasm. Then, as if catching himself, he added, “That is, if you want to.”

Actually, she should let him do it so she could observe his interaction with the baby, but it was too late to backpedal now. “Of course.”

Nate reached into the black canvas tote he used as a diaper bag and whipped out a small plastic bottle with premeasured dry formula. Next he withdrew a container of water.

While he unscrewed the lids and mixed the two together, Anna removed Jessie from the carrier and cuddled her in her arms. She felt warm and soft—so sweet and vulnerable. Her baby powder scent triggered a protective streak, something Anna hadn’t felt with the other infants on her caseload. Sympathy, she supposed, for a child who didn’t have a mother.