Operation Cowboy Daddy. Carla Cassidy
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what I do for a living,” Mary said. For the next twenty minutes as they ate, she told him about Mary’s Choctaw Culture Inc., the business that had paid her bills for the last ten years.
In turn he talked about his life and work on the Holiday ranch and it was obvious by his tone that he loved what he did and had a fierce allegiance to Cassie Peterson—big Cass Holiday’s niece, who now owned the ranch.
They had just finished eating when Joey cried out from the living room. Tony shot a frantic look at her. It would have been easy for her to take the burden off him and go attend to the little guy, but she met his gaze levelly.
For now they had to function on the assumption that he was the father, and if that was the case, then Tony needed to step up and take responsibility, no matter whether he’d wanted children or not.
“Why don’t you go tend to him and I’ll clear the dinner dishes,” she said.
“And I’m going to write a blog about tornadoes and tin men,” Halena announced as she got up from the table and headed out of the room.
Tony looked at Mary curiously. “Don’t ask,” she said.
It was only when he left the kitchen that Mary realized his presence in the house had her just a bit breathless. It was ridiculous how acutely aware of him she had been while they’d eaten.
He not only had a strong and handsome countenance, but he also had hands that were big and capable, with calluses that proved he was a hard worker.
Halena’s outlandish comments during the meal had made him laugh out loud twice and his laughter had been deep and rich, and invited anyone around him to join in.
She finished up in the kitchen and went into the living room. Joey was in the bouncy chair on the floor facing Tony, who sat on the edge of the sofa and dangled a colorful plastic ring of keys in front of the baby. Joey kicked and waved his hands with a happy smile on his face.
Tony’s features held a combination of quiet horror and awe. He looked up and smiled as she entered the room. It was a smile that pooled a touch of unwanted heat in the pit of her stomach.
“Are all babies this happy?” he asked as she sat next to him.
“I’m certainly not an expert on the matter, but yes, I would guess that most babies are naturally happy as long as they have a full tummy and a clean diaper.”
She should have sat in the chair across from him. She should have never sat next to him, where she could smell his evocative male scent, where his energy seemed to wrap around her and leave her with that breathless feeling once again.
“I haven’t been around any babies before,” he said as his focus once again returned to Joey.
“Is there a specific reason why you don’t want any children?” she asked.
His eyes immediately shuttered and his shoulders stiffened slightly. He set the plastic keys on the coffee table and then scooted back deeper into the sofa. “It’s just a decision I made a long time ago. It’s not like I hate kids or anything. I’ve just never seen myself as a father.”
She knew he was one of the cowboys that several not-so-nice people in Bitterroot referred to as the lost boys. They were men who had been hired on when they’d been young teenagers, mere boys who either had been thrown away by their families or had chosen to run away.
She couldn’t help but wonder what Tony’s story was and then she reminded herself she shouldn’t even be interested. Within the next day or two Amy would show up or he’d find her and then she’d never see Tony Nakni again.
Tony walked out of Mary’s front door at just after eight thirty. He’d given the baby a bottle and then he’d changed his diaper and clothes and placed him in the playpen for bed.
Mary accompanied him out to his truck. “What time should we expect you tomorrow evening?”
“About four thirty or five,” he replied.
The deep shadows of approaching night clung to her features, emphasizing her straight nose, her high cheekbones and the dark depths of her eyes. God, she was beautiful in moonlight and shadows, he thought.
“We’ll hold dinner until you arrive.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he protested. “You’re already doing so much for me.”
She smiled. “Setting another plate on the table is no big deal.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped back from her. “I don’t think your grandmother likes me very much.”
Her smile widened. “If she’s giving you a hard time, then she likes you. If she isn’t speaking to you at all, then you have to worry.”
He frowned. “She didn’t have a lot to say to me.”
“That’s because you were interrupting our usual routine. Sunday and Wednesday nights are always movie nights for us, complete with popcorn and theater candy.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? I could have taken the baby into the bedroom so that you two could have gone about your normal routine.”
Once again she smiled at him. “A little shake-up in the routine isn’t always a bad thing. Now, you’d better get back to the ranch and we’ll see you tomorrow evening.” She didn’t wait for his reply but instead turned and headed into the house.
He got into his truck and took off for the Holiday ranch with Mary on his mind. She’d smelled of dark and mysterious spices, so different from the light floral scent that Amy had always worn.
He’d cared about Amy and he worried about the trouble she might be in now, but something about Mary Redwing stirred him on a level no woman had ever done before. Amy had been like a delightful teenager, but Mary was definitely all grown-up woman.
And something about her scared him just a little bit. A lick of desire burned in his stomach when he got near her and he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes where she was concerned.
Just a couple of days, he reminded himself. He needed her now because he had no other alternative. He was just grateful that she’d agreed to help him out.
Why wasn’t she already married? She must be in her early thirties. She was beautiful and was a successful entrepreneur and she even knew how to cook. Why hadn’t some man already snapped her up to build a family?
As he turned onto the long Holiday ranch drive that would take him to the shed where the men parked their vehicles, his thoughts shifted back to Amy. Maybe while he’d been gone today she’d come back here. Maybe she was sitting in the cowboy dining room right now just waiting for him to return with Joey.
Although he didn’t see her car anywhere it didn’t douse the modicum of hope that rose up inside him. She might not be here right at this very moment, but it was possible she’d been here earlier in the afternoon. Hopefully, if she’d been here and gone, she’d spoken to several of the other cowboys and had given somebody a phone number where Tony could contact her.
That hope carried him from the shed to the back of the cowboy motel, where he knew a few of the men would still be up in the recreational area of the large dining room.
Before he even entered, the dulcet tones of Mac McBride’s guitar drifting out on the cool night air met his ears. The man could make magic with that musical instrument and he sang as well as he played. Most evenings ended with Mac entertaining the men with a few songs before bedtime.
Mac stopped playing and set his guitar down next to him when Tony entered through the door. Mac wasn’t alone in the room. The ranch foreman, Adam Benson, was there, along with Sawyer, Brody and Clay.
“You didn’t have to stop playing,” Tony protested.
“It’s