An Honorable Texan

“HAVE YOU BEEN TO THE RANCH?” Cal asked after they’d ordered lunch.

“I drove out there, but you didn’t appear to be home yet, so I didn’t go to the door. The animals are wonderful, though.”

Cal snorted. She was such a city girl, thinking animals were “wonderful.” She probably didn’t know a dairy cow from beef on the hoof.

“Where are you staying?”

“In Graham, for now, but I’ll be moving to Brody’s Crossing.”

“Why? Don’t you live and work in Fort Worth?”

“I quit my job a few months before Peter was born, and, yes, I still have my place in Fort Worth.”

“So you mentioned you don’t need my child support. This might sound a little rude, but how are you getting by?”

She sighed and wiped a little milk from the baby’s mouth. His baby. Peter.

This was going to take some getting used to.

“I already told you I’m a widow. My husband left me rather well off. And also, I should let you know, I come from a wealthy family. I was working for my father’s company, SHG, when we met in Fort Worth. That’s Simmons Hotel Group. He inherited a few hotels and expanded the business. I inherited a trust fund.”

“Oh.” She was wealthy. Even he, a small-town rancher, had read about those hotels in the business sections of the paper. Christie Simmons probably had more money than he’d ever see in a lifetime. “So now you’re just hanging out in Brody’s Crossing and Graham, waiting to see what my reaction would be to the news?”

“Of course I wanted to see your reaction, but I decided to stay in town before you came home. Actually, I’ve bought some property of my own, and I’m starting my own business.”

“Yeah?” He was just about to ask what she’d possibly do in Brody’s Crossing when Twila brought their food. He’d ordered chicken-fried steak—something he hadn’t had in a year and a half—while Christie had chosen a chicken tenders salad. At least she’d found something on the menu she liked. She was obviously more accustomed to eating gourmet food in fancy restaurants.

Not that either one of them had paid much attention to food that weekend they’d spent together…. He shook off the errant thoughts and asked, “What business?”

She shifted and fiddled with her salad before looking back up. “The Sweet Dreams Motel near downtown.”

He almost jumped out of the seat. “That old place? It was falling down twenty years ago!”

“I don’t doubt that, but it has a certain appeal,” she said as she sprinkled a few more little cereal circles on the high-chair tray for Peter.

“That place should have been bulldozed years ago, and would have been, if the city could make it go away.”

“No! It’s wonderful—it’s so retro.”

“It’s old, that’s what it is,” he said, stabbing his chicken-fried steak with his fork. “You won’t be able to open it as a motel for at least six months. Maybe a year, if ever.”

“I’m hoping for a fall opening. Perhaps around Labor Day if I’m lucky.” She righted Peter after he leaned sideways in the chair and dropped cereal on the floor.

“That’s pretty aggressive. Who’s doing the work?”

“Toni Casale’s company—Casale Remodeling,” she answered before taking a bite of salad.

“She’s good, but I’m not sure even she can save that old motel.”

“We’ll save it together. I’m committed to making it into a viable business again. Retro is in. I can get great press from the Dallas–Fort Worth area. It’s not too far for a quick weekend trip, which adds to the appeal.”

“Well, you’re the marketing expert. I just think it’s a waste of time.” He tried to concentrate on his food, which tasted a lot better than he remembered. Christie planned to open a business here in Brody’s Crossing, but she’d also kept her place in Fort Worth. He wasn’t stupid; she wasn’t really making a commitment to live here. She’d get bored or frustrated with her project and leave. It wasn’t as if she needed the money.

“I can understand your reservations about the property, since you’ve seen it as only a run-down motel.” She shrugged, then flipped her head to send her long blond hair behind her shoulder. “I disagree, of course, but I understand.”

Nice of you, he felt like saying, but didn’t. He didn’t want to argue with her. He didn’t care about the old motel. He cared about the fact he now had a son who wasn’t named after him, and a former lover who’d sort of moved to his hometown while he was recovering from a roadside bomb.

“You can’t stay in Graham in a motel for six months,” he said after finishing his meal. “That would get darned uncomfortable for anyone, much less with a baby, I imagine.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh, pushing lettuce around the bowl. “I’m going to look into renting a house here until the owner’s suite I’m planning is finished. We’re doing that one first, of course, so Peter and I will be able to move in.”

He would no doubt regret what he was about to say—if not today, then soon and probably often. But, dammit, he could see that Christie was serious about renovating that old motel, at least for now, and that meant she was going to be in town for months. With his baby. He pushed his plate back and folded his arms on the table.

“Look, now that I’m home, Troy and Raven are leaving tomorrow for New Hampshire. She needs to get back to her farm, and Troy is starting a new job.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “Since you need a place to stay and I’ve got plenty of room at the ranch, why don’t you move in out there?”

“Move in with you?” She sounded slightly appalled.

“Well, yeah. It’s not like I’m asking you to do anything but live at the ranch. Frankly, I doubt you’ll be able to find anywhere to rent that would be suitable for a baby. My house might not be plush, but it’s comfortable and clean. Raven fixed it up a little. Painted the walls and stuff like that.”

Christie pushed away her salad bowl. “I’m sure the house is fine, but…well, we hardly know each other. Won’t your friends and neighbors jump to conclusions?”

He shrugged. “I suppose they will. After all, we have a child together.”

“You’re going to tell everyone that Peter is your son?”

“Of course!” What, did she think he was ashamed of having a son? He wasn’t, but she should have named the baby after him, in the tradition of the Crawford firstborn sons. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change the baby’s name….

“I didn’t tell anyone. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to the news, so I tried to be careful.”

“I’ve found it’s better to be up-front about things my friends and neighbors are going to discover anyway. They can be nosy and sometimes they’ll interfere. That’s just the way things are in a small town.”

Twila came and cleared away their dishes after chatting a bit. Peter began to fuss, then cry. Christie efficiently unlatched the seat belt on the high chair while Cal watched, feeling completely out of his element. He knew nothing about babies. He could shove a bottle in an orphaned calf’s mouth, dose him with antibiotics, vaccinate him and do a half dozen other procedures, but he’d never been around a baby. Maybe if he’d had a chance to get used to the baby when Peter was a newborn, he’d feel more confident, but right now, the baby’s needs were a complete mystery.

All the more reason to spend time with his son, no matter how scary the idea.

“I think we’ll go. I’ve got to stop by Toni’s office, then Peter needs a nap. Besides, I need to consider your offer.”

He stood up. “For how long?”

She looked up at him, looking a little frazzled. By the crying baby or by him? “I…I’m not sure. Maybe until tomorrow.”

“I’ll help you to your car.”

“You don’t have to,” she answered, but he was already picking up the diaper bag. That and the baby carrier were a lot for one woman to carry.

She preceded him out of the Dewey’s, Peter held high on her left side, facing backward. The baby watched him as he followed. Cal resisted the urge to make a silly face at the fussing baby. Would that make the little guy laugh or cry? Cal wished he knew. He wished he felt comfortable enough with his child to find out. Of course, they’d just met.

At the front, Christie paused for him to open the door.