Stockyard Snatching. Barb Han
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His gaze didn’t budge from Kate. She was embarrassed.
“Oh, I have no one to blame. I did it to myself,” she said wistfully.
“I may not be an expert on babies, but I do know how they’re made. And I’m fairly certain there has to be a partner.” It was his turn to shoot her a confused look.
“Adoption,” she said.
And then he gave her another.
“Surely you’ve heard of adopting a baby before,” she said with an exasperated look.
“Of course I have. I just didn’t know that was your circumstance,” he said stupidly.
Looking closer at the baby, Dallas couldn’t help but notice the boy had dark curly hair.
Not unlike his own.
Stockyard Snatching
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Barb Han
USA TODAY bestselling author BARB HAN lives in north Texas with her very own hero-worthy husband, three beautiful children, a spunky golden retriever/standard poodle mix and too many books in her to-read pile. In her downtime, she plays video games and spends much of her time on or around a basketball court. She loves interacting with readers and is grateful for their support. You can reach her at www.barbhan.com.
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My deepest thanks to Allison Lyons. It’s hard to believe this is already our 10th book together! Working with you is a dream come true and I’m so very grateful. Special nod to Jill Marsal for your unwavering support and guidance (and brilliance!).
My love to Brandon, Jacob and Tori. I’m so proud of each one of you. You’re bright, talented and have the best quirks!
To Amelia Rae, you stole our hearts a year ago. Happy 1st Birthday!
And to you, Babe. I can’t even imagine being on this journey without you. All my love. All my life.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
It was a bitterly cold early October morning. The temperature gauge on Dallas O’Brien’s dashboard read 17 degrees, beneath a gray sky thick with clouds.
As it turned out, the Lone Star State had a temper and its tantrums came in the form of cold snaps that made him miss having a winter beard. Dallas hated cold.
Yesterday, the sun had been out and he had been in short sleeves. Texas weather—like life—could turn on a dime.
Another frigid breeze blasted through Dallas, piercing his coat as he slid out of the driver’s seat and then closed the door of his pickup. He flipped up the corners of his collar. Since there was no traffic, he’d made it to the supply store in record time. Normally the place would be open, but Jessie had been running late ever since his wife gave birth to twins early last month.
A car tooled around the back of the building and across the parking lot. Was that Kate Williams, the proud owner of the soup kitchen, The Food Project? Dallas hadn’t had a chance to meet her yet, with everything going on at the ranch after his parents’ deaths.
A female came out of the driver’s side, rounded the car and moved to the rear passenger door. From this distance, Dallas estimated she wasn’t an inch more than five and a half feet tall. He couldn’t see much of her figure through her thick, buttoned-to-the-collar, navy blue peacoat. Her cable-knit scarf looked more like an afghan wrapped around her neck. He suppressed a laugh. Apparently, she didn’t do cold any better than Dallas.
From what little he could see of her legs, she had on blue jeans. Furry brown boots rose above her calves. She wore expensive clothing for someone who owned a soup kitchen. And apparently—Dallas glanced at his watch—that process began at five thirty in the morning.
This had to be her, he reasoned, as she pulled a baby out of the backseat, bundled from head to toe in what looked like a fitted blue quilt. Blue.
A boy?
Didn’t that twist up Dallas’s insides?
First, his ex Susan Hanover had dropped the bomb that he was going to be a father. Then she’d pulled a disappearing act. And even the best private investigator money could buy hadn’t been able to locate her or the baby since.
Knowing Susan, she’d been lying to trap him into a wedding ring. Dallas’s finger itched thinking about it.
With her and the baby gone, all he had left were questions—questions that kept him tossing and turning most nights.
What if