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* * *
IN INVITING HER to stay, Cullen hadn’t meant to do anything but clear his own reputation and help Bridgett out. He hadn’t figured what it would be like to have her, and the baby and puppy, in his home. Or how much he would quickly come to admire her fierce desire to help others, even as she shortchanged herself.
Was it possible she really had no idea how beautiful and desirable she was? How worthy of having?
It seemed so. And that was something he couldn’t let stand unchallenged, as all thoughts of being a gentleman fled. She had to know how captivating she was. So he did what he’d been wanting to do since they had first caught sight of each other; he kissed her. Kissed her to discover how soft and supple and sweet-tasting her lips were. Kissed her to fulfill a yearning deep inside him that he hadn’t known existed.
And, most of all, he kissed her to show her that they could simply enjoy each other without the false illusion of love or emotional promises that would most likely end up being short-term.
But he was the one who was surprised. Because this kiss, holding her like this, didn’t feel like any normal clinch. It felt different. Unique. Amazingly unique, as it turned out.
And who was the naive fool now?
* * *
BRIDGETT HAD KNOWN from the moment that she walked into the kitchen, hours after dinner, that a kiss, a touch, an embrace, something might be coming. It was in the way he looked at her. The way she felt when she looked at him.
It was in the leftover adrenaline still sizzling nonstop in her veins. In the building emotions and aftereffects of this crazy, crazy day. Of having her dreams start to come true, but not. Of realizing she still wanted it all. Maybe could have it all. If only she could find the right man.
She never would have imagined it could be Cullen Reid McCabe. But then, she had never really imagined kissing him. Now that she had, well, suffice it to say her whole world had turned upside down.
Which was why it was a very good thing when a short, loud, high-pitched cry split the silence of the ranch house. Followed by a single urgent bark.
Destiny once again, Bridgett thought, pulling away from the sexy cowboy who held her in his arms. But this time it was telling her not to go down this particular path.
Chapter Four (#u82cf4962-05cf-5fe9-815a-a31ce4b6f28e)
“So, he kissed you?” Bess asked the next morning at Bridgett’s apartment.
“Shh!” She cast a look over her shoulder at the guys helping her move out. “Yes.”
Her sister grinned. “Did you kiss him back?”
“What does that matter?” she whispered, flushing. Unfortunately, yes, she had kissed him back! For way too long a time! “It was obviously a mistake.”
Bess grinned again. “Sure about that? From what I’ve seen, he’s very sexy. Well regarded in the community. Single and obviously interested in you. And the baby.” She taped shut another box. “And where is Riot, anyway?”
“With Cullen. He took him to work in his truck.” Bridgett selected the clothes she needed to take with her when she left versus those that were going into storage. “Well, the puppy couldn’t be here, obviously, after what happened yesterday with the landlord, and quit looking at me like that!”
Bess chuckled. “What is it they say? Life happens while you were making other plans. Well, while you were trying, rather unsuccessfully, I might add, to adopt a child on your own, a baby and a puppy and a kind, great-looking cowboy all drop in your lap!”
Bridgett thought about what a great and gallant thing it was that Cullen was doing. Not just inviting her to stay with him at his ranch but helping her out with both infant and puppy, too. She looked at her sister. “It’s almost crazy spooky, isn’t it?”
“Fated is the word you’re looking for.”
Bridgett paused. “It may seem that way.”
“I’m telling you...it most definitely is.” Bess pointed at the well-dressed Realtor coming up the walk. “Oh, and speaking of fate...”
Bridgett met Jeanne Phipps at the door. “Did you get the answer from the sellers?”
“Yes.” Jeanne flashed a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, Bridgett, it’s not the one you want to hear.”
* * *
“WHAT’S WRONG?” CULLEN ASKED, coming through the ranch house door at five that evening.
Bridgett eased the sleeping Robby into the carrier sitting on the kitchen island, strapped him in and brought him into the adjacent family room. “What do you mean?” She knelt down to greet an equally tuckered-out Riot.
He nuzzled her palm, licked it once and then went into the back of his crate and promptly fell asleep.
“You look like you just lost your best friend.” Cullen strode over to the kitchen sink, rolled up his sleeves and washed his arms up to the elbows.
She waited until he’d grabbed a towel and then moved in to wash up, too. “Not exactly,” she murmured.
“Then what, exactly?”
She drew a deep breath. “My plan to be out of here—maybe as soon as this evening—fizzled. At least temporarily.”
He kept his eyes locked with hers.
“The house I have put an offer on is currently empty. I was hoping the owners would allow me to rent it from them until I can close on the property. They told my Realtor, Jeanne Phipps, they would consider it, but only after all the inspections are done and my mortgage application is approved.”
“How long do you think that will take?”
“Three, four weeks minimum. Which means I have to come up with a new plan to get us out of here.”
“Maybe not,” he corrected with a smile.
She regarded him quizzically.
“You could continue to stay here.”
She pressed a hand against her trembling lips and drew a deep, bolstering breath. “After what happened last night?”
He leaned close enough for her to inhale the brisk fragrance of sun and man. “What happened last night?”
She gave him a droll look. He gave her one back.
Ignoring the warmth of his body so close to hers, she reminded wryly, “You kissed me.”
His mouth quirked in masculine satisfaction. “And you kissed me back.”
Boy, had she ever. In fact, she had spent the night dreaming about it. She scowled in renewed embarrassment. “We can’t do that.”
He threw his arm around her shoulders and gave them a companionable hug. “Why not?”
Tingling everywhere he touched and everywhere he didn’t, she averted her glance. “My life is complicated enough as it is.”
He tucked a hand beneath her chin and guided her face back to his. “News flash, Bridgett. It’s always going to be complicated.” His deep voice sent another thrill soaring through her. “That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself.”
“Is that what we were doing?” Her throat was thick with emotion. “Simply enjoying ourselves?” Because to her it felt as if they had been on the brink of much, much more.
He brushed his thumb across her cheek, then dropped his hand at the sound of a car coming up the drive. He went to window, looked out. Swore.
Her pulse jumped again. “Who is it?”
“My folks.” He grimaced.
“Want me to make myself scarce?”
He caught her wrist before she could escape. “Nope. There’s a chance—a remote one—your being here will help them censor their remarks.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were scared of them, Cullen Reid McCabe.”
He shoved his hands through his hair. “In awe, maybe. And you’d be damned right.” He swung open the front door before they had a chance to ring the bell and wake the little ones. “Hey. Frank. Rachel. You-all know Bridgett?”
As always, the handsome couple radiated warmth and good cheer. The petite blonde Rachel smiled. In a cardigan set, skirt and heels, a strand of pearls around her neck, she looked as if she had come straight from her work as a tax attorney. Frank’s jeans, shirt and vest indicated he had left his work on the ranch. “Actually, we know her entire family,” Rachel said. A long, awkward pause followed.
Cullen nodded at the picnic hamper in his dad’s hand and the long wicker basket stuffed with baby things in his stepmother’s. “What do you have there?”
“We heard about what happened,” Rachel said gently, “and we brought by some dinner and a few baby items to help out in the interim.”
It was a nice gesture. Or would have been, Bridgett thought, if Cullen obviously didn’t resent the interference.
Frank frowned as Cullen ushered them inside. “We were disappointed you didn’t call us to tell us about the situation yourself.”
With a sober nod, he relieved his father of the basket of food and carried it back to the kitchen. “How’d you hear?”
His dad glanced into the family room where baby and puppy were sleeping. “I think the question is who didn’t call to let us know about the note left with the baby.”
Ouch, Bridgett thought as she took the Moses basket from Rachel with a grateful smile.
“Can we see the baby?” Rachel asked eagerly.
Cullen tensed. “If you promise not to wake either of them.”
Who was sounding like a daddy now? Bridgett wondered.
Everyone tiptoed toward the baby carrier.
Robby was sound asleep. He’d worked one arm out of the swaddling—it rested on the center of his chest. A blue knit cap covered most of his dark curly hair. His cheeks were slightly pink, his bow-shaped lips pursed. He was the epitome of sweetness and innocence.
On the floor opposite the Pack ’n Play, Riot was curled up in his crate, eyes closed, chin resting on a stuffed toy. He, too, was slumbering away.
“Adorable,” Rachel whispered approvingly.
For Frank, the emotions seemed more complex.
They trooped back out of the family room. Cullen grabbed four bottles of sparkling water from the fridge and ushered everyone out onto the screened-in back porch, leaving the door to the kitchen open so they could hear.
Everyone sat.
He waited.
“I’m just going to be blunt,” Frank said, looking at his eldest son. “Rachel and I both understand why you might have felt awkward about coming to us with this. It had to have been a shock, finding out about Robby the way you did. But surely you’d know that I would understand, better than anyone, what it’s like to get news like this after the fact.”
Cullen held up a staying hand. “Before you continue, you both should know, he’s not mine.”
Frank and Rachel exchanged concerned looks.
Finally, his stepmom cleared her throat and said kindly, “What we’re trying to tell you, Cullen, is that it would be okay, if he was. A McCabe is a McCabe. Part of our family, no matter how they come into it. Whether it’s by marriage.”
“Or illegitimacy?” Cullen challenged.
Frank leveled Cullen with a disappointed look.
Silence fell once again, more awkward and fraught with emotion than ever.
Finally, Cullen bit out, “Have you talked to Dan?”
Frank nodded. “He said attempts are being made to find the mother, but without her DNA, the child’s true parentage may never be known. And that would be a shame, son. For everyone.”
His words hung in the air, simultaneously an indictment and a plea to come clean.
Uncomfortable, Bridgett rose. “I really don’t think I should be here for this.”
Cullen put a hand on her shoulder. “This concerns you, too.”
Not wanting to contribute to what increasingly felt like an emotional melee, Bridgett eased back into the chair.
Cullen turned back to Frank and Rachel. “I am not dissembling when I tell you and everyone else the child could not possibly be mine. Obviously, I’ve been tapped to be the responsible party. Why, I have no clue. Yet. But I will figure this out. And when I do—” he turned back to his parents and finished heavily “—you-all will be the first to know.”
* * *
“ARE YOU OKAY?” Bridgett asked, short minutes later, after his father and stepmother had left.
His broad shoulders flexed against the soft chambray of his shirt. Exasperation colored his low tone, resentment his eyes. “What do you think?”
Knowing that he needed her support, whether he realized it or not, she ignored his curt reply. “You really don’t have any idea who did this, do you?”
An awkward silence fell. “You’re just now figuring this out?”
Hating the fact he thought she had betrayed him in some way, she gave in to impulse and caught his arm before he could turn away. “I can see why the accusation—never mind an anonymous one—would be upsetting, Cullen.” The hard curve of his biceps warmed beneath her fingertips. “But I can also see it goes much deeper than that.”
He didn’t take his eyes off her. “Let me guess,” he muttered. “You want to talk about my illegitimacy, too.”
She blinked, taken aback. Dropped her grasp and moved away. “Were you born illegitimately?”
