The Baby And The Cowboy Seal

WILEY COULD TELL MACY all he wanted not to be upset about Charlie, but that didn’t mean she’d listen. After hanging up the phone, she bundled Henry into his car seat, then drove Clem’s more-rust-than-red pickup the short way to Wiley’s grandfather’s cabin.

The dust from her fishtailed parking job hadn’t yet settled when she leapt from the truck to pluck Henry from his seat and into her arms, then met Wiley where he stood glowering in front of the barn.

“I told you this wasn’t an emergency.” He tugged the brim of his straw cowboy hat. “There was no need to drive over—let alone, drive all crazy.”

“Where is he?”

“In the barn, but—”

“Thanks. That’s all I need to know.” She wasn’t in the mood to decipher what Wiley may or may not deem a serious injury. When it came to her grandfather’s llamas, Macy considered them family, just like she’d told her mom.

She tugged open the heavy barn door, then paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the shadowy light.

Thankfully, the first thing she saw was Charlie, contentedly munching feed from a tin bucket. His leg was scratched from his tussle with the barbed wire, but as long as it was treated to ward off possible infection, he’d no doubt live to escape another day.

“You scared me,” she said to the infuriating, yet lovable creature. She tried hugging his furry neck, but he wrestled free before returning to his meal.

“Told you he’ll be fine,” Wiley said from behind her. “The vet’s on his way.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m just sorry it happened. Charlie got into Gramp’s old junk pile. I’ll get someone over here to haul all of it off. In the meantime, guess we should look over your fences to see how your escape artist keeps getting out.”

“Sure.” We? Wiley was the last person she’d expect to propose a group project. But now that he had, she wasn’t sure how that made her feel—especially when she once again detected alcohol on his breath. Part of her wanted to be near him—no matter what they were doing. Another part felt wary. Since her breakup with Rex, she hated the way loneliness sometimes compelled her to strike up longer-than-necessary conversations with everyone from grocery store clerks to Henry’s pediatrician. The last thing she wanted in regard to Wiley was to confuse neediness for attraction. “I’m free most any day, but Saturday.”

“What happens then?” he asked.

“Henry and I visit Dot. You should come with us some time—I mean, if you want.” The moment the suggestion left her mouth, Macy mentally kicked herself. Backpedaling, she said, “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to. Grandma probably wouldn’t even remember you.”

“Actually, it’d be nice seeing a familiar face. Hard to believe we’re the last ones standing on this old mountain.”

“I know, right?” The fact made her terribly sad, so she changed the subject. “How long ago did you call Doc Carthage?”

“Just before I got ahold of you. He was looking in on a sick calf over in Blue Valley. It’ll probably be at least thirty to forty minutes before he gets out here. Want to head home, and I’ll give you a holler when he shows?”

“I suppose that would work.” Craving company, she’d like nothing more than to stay—maybe play cards or simply reminisce about happier times, but since Wiley had suggested she leave, did that mean that’s what he preferred?

“Great,” he said. “I’m sure you’re busy, so—”

“Not particularly.” Henry’s weight made her arm muscles burn.

“Oh, well...” They left the barn to stand in the yard’s warm sun.

“This is the part when you’re supposed to say ‘in that case, how about joining me on the front porch for a nice, cool glass of tea or lemonade?’”

He winced. “That would be the civilized thing to do, only I’m fresh out of any beverages besides water, beer and Jim Beam.”

“Right about now, any of those would do.” She’d meant her statement to be funny, but considering he made her feel like a nervous teenager, she realized she meant what she said. And so she figured why not venture a step further into their land of social awkwardness. “Remember the night of your high school graduation?”

“How could I forget the night my folks died?”

“Right. Sorry.” She’d been angling to see if he remembered their almost-kiss, so ashamed didn’t begin to describe how low her spirits dipped upon realizing that of course he wouldn’t remember something so inconsequential in light of what happened only a few hours later.

“It’s okay.” He kicked a pebble near the toe of his boot. “I mean, it’s not, but you know what I mean. What part of the night were you talking about?”

Her cheeks blazed.

“Because there’s an awful lot I recall besides what happened to Mom and Dad.”

Was it possible he’d thought about their dance in the rain as many times as she had?

“Your daddy still hate me?”

His direct question made her laugh. “Hate’s a strong word, but...”

Wiley laughed, too. “Can’t say I blame him. I wouldn’t have been much good for you then, and I’m a whole lot worse now.”

“Says who?” Her pulse roared in her ears like a jet engine.

“Common sense.”

“I never had much.”

“True,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I recall daring you to jump off Myer’s Bluff—never for a second thinking you’d do it, but you did. The water in that swimming hole had to be barely above freezing. Took me damn near an hour’s worth of holding you to get your teeth to stop chattering.”

She grinned. “Ever think maybe I just liked being held?”

“Talk like that—” he bowed his head, but couldn’t hide his smile “—is liable to lead to trouble.”

“Maybe I like that, too.”

“Macy Shelton, Dot was always threatening to wash your sassy mouth out with soap, and now I remember why. You can’t run around saying things like that.”

“True. But I’m not running—just standing here in the sun with an old friend. What’s the harm in that?” He was so handsome, looking at him might as well have been a dream. Macy didn’t have a clue what had all of a sudden turned her so brazen, nor did she care. All that really mattered was that she was tired of being alone, and no matter what her father said, the fact that fortune had chosen now to bring Wiley back into her life had to be a sign.

“Lord...” He took off his hat, wiping his sweaty brow with his forearm. “That always was your problem. You liked playing with fire, but at least had Clem and Dot around to make sure you didn’t get burned. Only now, you’re a single mom, charged with this little guy’s care.” He jiggled Henry’s left sneaker-clad foot. “Make no mistake, Macy, I’ll always be your friend, but I’m also the worst kind of guy—guaranteed to bring you nothing but pain.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_57b366ec-bac9-573c-8416-6890400e7d00)

“You were right to call.” Randall Carthage had been the veterinarian for the Eagle Ridge area for as long as Wiley could remember. His tall, wiry build didn’t quite match his shock of white hair or Santa-worthy beard, which was why when he played the jolly old guy each holiday season, he had to add lots of padding to the moldy costume that had probably been used back when Wiley’s dad had been a little boy. “He’ll be fine, but to be on the safe side, let’s give him some salve and a round of antibiotics.”

“Thank you.” When Macy held her baby on her hip while gifting the vet with a one-armed hug, Wiley fought a jealous pang. For an irrational flash, he wanted to be on the receiving end of her gratitude. “Charlie’s a mess, but I love him.”

The vet stroked the animal’s side, and the miserable beast didn’t stomp or spit.

Wiley asked, “How come I’m the only one who draws out Charlie’s nasty side?”

The vet laughed. “Don’t take it personal. Maybe he’s partial to the fairer sex. Although, if that is the case, I’m not sure what that means about him getting along with an old codger like me.” He winked at Macy. “Now, Wiley, if you don’t mind, let’s hold him in your barn overnight to keep him calm, and then, if he seems all right in the morning, go ahead and walk him over to his pasture.”