The Cowboy's Secret Son. Judy Christenberry
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The Cowboy’s Secret Son
Judy Christenberry
MILLS & BOON
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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 ONE
BILLS. Bills. And more bills.
Abby Stafford sighed as she flipped through the mail. In the kitchen, dinner waited to be cooked, and in the living room Robbie watched TV impatiently. She could hear his favorite show blaring as he sang along in a high-pitched, slightly off-key voice.
If it weren’t for the snack she’d given him, he’d be trailing her around the apartment like a puppy dog looking for his dinner. Robbie was only four and a half, but she affectionately referred to him as “the bottomless pit.” Just like his daddy, she thought. Still, he was the center of her world.
A knock on the door interrupted her as she flipped through the phone bill. It had to be Gail again. No matter how many times Abby had told her neighbor she wasn’t interested in a double blind date, the woman didn’t seem to get it.
She swung open the door, not bothering to lift her eyes from the printout. “I’ve told you before, Gail, I’m not going.”
“And I’m not Gail.”
The timbre of the voice was unmistakable, the slight drawl too familiar. Before she could even look up, the mail slipped from her hands, floating softly to the wood floor. Abby thought she was going to follow it, albeit with a much harder landing.
The past had caught up with her. The man she’d loved since she was sixteen had finally turned up on her doorstep.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” She hadn’t seen Nick Logan in five years, since his father’s funeral. Since the death of Robert Logan had destroyed their marriage plans. Destroyed their dreams of moving to Cheyenne and leaving behind Sydney Creek, the small farming town where they’d both been raised.
She let her eyes light on him. They feasted on Nick like a hungry cowboy at a campfire. From his dark hair to his booted feet, the man had only gotten better with age. His tall frame was filled out with muscles now, thanks no doubt to the ranch work, and his brown eyes had crinkles at the corners, probably from working out in the sun all day.
Nick, too, took his time assessing her as held his Stetson in his callused hand. “I’m visiting you,” he told her. But his voice wasn’t pleasant. It was harsh, hard like him. He was exhibiting none of the gentleness with which he’d treated her years ago.
“I—I didn’t know you were in town.” It was all she could get out.
“Yeah. When Julie wrote me a letter about all the help you’d given her, I thought I should come say thanks.”
It had been her pleasure to help Nick’s sister; they’d been friends years ago. “That’s very kind of you, but—”
“Don’t get me wrong, Abby. I don’t feel kind.” He took a small step toward her. “I’m damn mad!”
“Wh-why?”
“As if you don’t know.”
She knew, but she wasn’t going to admit anything unless she had to. So she lied. “No, I don’t. And if you’re going to be so rude, you can just go away for another five years!” She stepped back and grasped the edge of the door, ready to slam it in his face, when Robbie’s voice startled her.
“Mommy, is dinner ready yet?” he asked as he came into the hallway.
Abby saw Nick’s hard, dark eyes transfer from her to the boy. Instantly they softened. “Hi, there. I don’t think I’ve met you. What’s your name?” Nick asked, squatting down on his haunches as she’d seen him do a hundred times around a campfire.
“My name’s Robbie. Who are you?”
Abby felt the world shrink to the three-by-six hallway. Her body tensed and she had to strain to get the words past the lump in her throat. “Nick, don’t. Please.”
His gaze flickered over her, and though she saw no emotion or empathy there, he replied, “I’m a friend of your mommy’s. My name’s Nick.” He stepped forward and stuck his big hand out to the little boy. “Glad to meet you.”
Robbie shook his hand. “Are you a cowboy?” he asked, his eyes big.
Abby didn’t think her son knew much about cowboys. She’d avoided the subject, but just the other day his preschool teacher had read them a story about a dog that helped a cowboy round up a herd. Robbie hadn’t talked about anything else since.
“Yeah,” Nick replied, “I’m a cowboy. Do you like cowboys?”
He nodded. “Do you ride a horse?”
“Sure do. Want to come ride with me?”
Robbie looked up at his mother. “Can I, Mommy?”
Despite the eager look on her son’s face, Abby quickly said, “No! You have to go to school tomorrow, honey.” She tempered her tone and urged him to go wash up for dinner.
Nick obviously didn’t take rejection well. He called the boy back. “Before you go, Robbie, I wanted to ask you something. You look mighty big. How old are you?”
That was the one question Abby didn’t want the boy to answer.
“I’ll be five in—How many months, Mommy?”
Abby didn’t respond. Instead she ushered him down the hall. When she turned back, alone, she prayed Nick was gone, gone back to the oblivion he’d lived in for almost five years. But the man was still there, his broad shoulders filling the corridor.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
There was no use denying it. Besides, she owed him an answer. “You told me to go have a life in the big city, remember?” She tried but failed to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“I didn’t know you were pregnant!”
“I didn’t, either,” she yelled back.
Nick drew a deep breath and ran his hand through his thick, dark hair. “You could’ve called me, Abby. This is the twenty-first century. There’s all kinds of ways to contact a person.”
She stood up to him, pulling herself up to her full