The Cowboy and His Baby

The Cowboy and His Baby
Sherryl Woods

Revisit the Adams Dynasty in this heartfelt story of forgiveness and second chances from New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods.A year and a half ago, a tragic mistake cost single mother Melissa Horton her one true love–and a father for her baby girl. Now Texas rancher Cody Adams was back, shocked to discover he was a parent and determined to make Melissa his wife. But Melissa surprised herself–and him–with her newfound independence. She didn't want just a marriage of convenience. She wanted it all–true love and forever…

Revisit the Adams Dynasty in this heartfelt story of forgiveness and second chances from New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods.

A year and a half ago, a tragic mistake cost single mother Melissa Horton her one true love—and a father for her baby girl. Now Texas rancher Cody Adams was back, shocked to discover he was a parent and determined to make Melissa his wife. But Melissa surprised herself—and him—with her newfound independence. She didn't want just a marriage of convenience. She wanted it all—true love and forever…

The Cowboy and His Baby

Sherryl Woods

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Contents

Cover (#u11faeaaa-e173-56c9-9aa6-dcb023b26f51)

Back Cover Text (#u2db7aef0-eae2-53a2-8a52-82fdfc20f837)

Title Page (#u9e43a911-ea59-5898-91bb-fc9c5074b975)

Chapter One (#ufa88db2d-74f0-5029-ac2b-f0722aafa616)

Chapter Two (#u9272750c-ae55-520f-a35c-24481123370b)

Chapter Three (#u35ea7b61-bb32-5b1e-98a7-3355e49935ca)

Chapter Four (#uac280105-108f-566d-a90f-b7b1b94d930f)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_832b0565-2dba-55d4-9dd0-77d20414e2e9)

Damn, but it was cold, Cody Adams thought as he chased down the last of the herd of cattle he was rounding up. Texas had never been this frigid, not even in the middle of January. He was surprised half the livestock hadn’t flat-out frozen in the harsh Wyoming winter. They’d lost a few head of cattle, but nothing like what he’d anticipated the first time the temperatures had dropped below zero and the snow and ice had swirled around him.

The bitter cold and the frequent blinding snowstorms did serve one useful purpose, though. They kept him so busy—kept his brain cells so frozen, for that matter—that he hardly ever thought about home. He’d freeze his butt off and suffer frostbite on most any part of his anatomy for the blessing of a blank memory. He didn’t want to think about Texas or his family. Most of all, he didn’t want to think about sneaky, conniving Melissa Horton and the way she’d cheated on him.

It had taken him a long time to block out the image of his longtime girlfriend wrapped in his best friend’s arms. Even now, more than a year later, that terrible, gut-wrenching moment sneaked up on him when he least expected it and reminded him that that kind of pain might hide out, but it seldom went away.

With the last of the herd rounded up and dusk falling, Cody gestured to one of the other hands that he was leaving and headed back toward the small but cozy line shack he’d insisted he preferred to the bunkhouse. He’d claimed it kept him closer to the cattle for which he was responsible, but the truth was, he craved the isolation.

For a man who had been a very social creature back in Texas—okay, a notorious flirt—it was quite a change and, for the time being, a welcome one. It was the only surefire way he could think of for staying out of trouble and avoiding the sort of heartache that falling for some woman just about guaranteed.

His boss, impressed by the fact that for years 28-year-old Cody had been running White Pines, his family’s ranch back in Texas, hadn’t argued with his idiosyncratic decision. Lance Treethorn had insisted only that a phone be installed so he could reach Cody on business. He was the only one with the number. He rarely used it. Cody dropped by the ranch house often enough to stay in touch.

On the tiny porch Cody stomped the snow off his boots, gathered up an armload of firewood and went inside. Within minutes he had a fire roaring and had shucked off his skeepskin jacket. He stood in front of the blaze, letting the heat warm his chilled body. Unfortunately, it couldn’t touch the cold place deep inside him.

He’d been standing there for some time, lost in thought, when he noticed the stack of mail sitting on the table in the kitchen area of the one-room cabin. It was sitting atop a foil-covered pan that he suspected from the sinful, chocolaty aroma, contained a batch of freshly baked brownies. He grinned and ripped off the foil. Sure enough, brownies. Apparently, Janey Treethorn had been by again.

The fifteen-year-old daughter of his boss had a giant-size crush on him. Thankfully, though, she was painfully shy. She limited her overtures to dropping off his mail, always with a batch of brownies or his favorite apple pie. In the summer it had been fresh fruit cobblers. She was usually careful to stop by while he wasn’t home. On the one occasion when he’d caught her, she’d blushed furiously, stammered an apology for intruding, and fled on horseback before he could even say thanks.

Unable to resist, he grabbed one of the brownies and ate it as he sorted through the few pieces of mail she’d left, putting the bills aside to be paid later. A small blue envelope caught his attention. Turning it over, he recognized his sister-in-law’s handwriting.

As always, when anything came from a member of his family, his heart skipped a beat. Letters were rare enough to stir a pang of homesickness each time one arrived. Jordan’s wife had been dutifully writing to him once every two weeks or so from the moment she and Jordan had gotten married. For a man who swore he wanted nothing to do with anyone or anything back home, it was downright pitiful how he looked forward to Kelly’s chatty letters and the family gossip she shared with such humor and telling insight. This one was more than a week overdue. Since the others had come like clockwork, he’d been trying not to admit just how worried he really was.

He could tell right off there was something different about this one, too. It was stiffer, more like a card than a letter. He grabbed a second brownie, then carried Kelly’s latest correspondence with him back to his chair in front of the fire.

When he ripped open the envelope, a tiny square dropped out of the card inside. He grabbed for it instinctively and found himself staring at an infant swaddled as tight as a papoose in a blue blanket. He caught himself grinning at the sight of that tiny, red, scrunched-up face.

So, Jordan was a daddy, he thought, amazed by the shaft of pure envy that shot through him. He’d known the baby was due any day now. Kelly had kept him apprised of every detail of her pregnancy, including his older brother’s bemusement at the natural childbirth classes she’d insisted he take with her. He wondered if Jordan had made it through the delivery or if he’d fainted at Kelly’s first big-time contraction.

He closed his eyes against the tide of longing that rolled over him. He was missing so damned much, he thought, once again cursing Melissa for the betrayal that had made staying in Texas where he belonged impossible.

He was missing seeing his other brother Luke and his wife Jessie’s little girl grow. Angela had turned two back in December. Kelly had sent a picture of her with her face streaked with icing and her fist in the middle of the chocolate birthday cake with its two, fat pink candles. He’d tucked it in his wallet, along with the snapshot of Kelly’s daughter from her first marriage, Dani, a little con-artist-in-training who could persuade penguins to buy ice, if she was of a mind to. Now he opened his wallet and inserted the tiny picture of this latest addition to the family.

He stared at the brand new baby one last time and wondered if he’d ever see him. He’d been named Justin James, according to the information on the birth announcement.

“We’re going to call him J.J.,” Kelly wrote in the note accompanying the card. “We can’t wait for you to see him. Jordan swears he hasn’t slept a wink in the past week. I don’t know how that can be, since I’m the one up every time the little monster screams in the middle of the night. I haven’t noticed Jordan pacing the floor alongside me. I think he’s been sleeping with a pillow over his head deliberately, so he can claim he never hears J.J. crying. He swears he only wakes up after I’ve already left the bed. The silver-tongued devil says it’s missing me that wakes him. He thinks a line like that will make me more sympathetic to him. Fat chance.

“No, seriously,” he read on, “your big brother has been a huge help. I think he’s a little awed by fatherhood…or maybe it’s just that mountain of diapers he’s expected to wash every night.”

Cody chuckled at the image of his button-down brother, the big-time oil company executive, changing diapers and warming bottles. Maybe he was taking to it better than any of them had anticipated, including Jordan himself.

“We’re scheduling the baptism for the end of the month and we expect you to be here,” the letter continued. “No excuses, Cody. It’s time to come home.”