To Claim His Own. Mary Baxter Lynn
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kid.”
“Thanks.”
“He’s yours, right?” Bubba asked.
Not wanting to get personal with this man made Emma hesitate, then she thought of Mickey. When he’d asked that same question, she hadn’t been reluctant to respond at all. Just the opposite, in fact. With this Bubba character, it was another matter altogether.
Her reaction wasn’t because he’d asked about Logan per se, but because she had reacted to Bubba so strongly and wanted him to take care of business and be on his way.
Yet she wanted him to stay. How much sense did that make? None. Again, she had never reacted to a man in such a forthright way. Bluntly put, she was intrigued, much to her dismay.
Then realizing how absurd, how out-of-hand her thoughts had gotten, Emma declared in a firm, but businesslike tone, “Yes, he is.” Then she hesitated and with a proud smile added, “Or at least he soon will be.”
“Care to explain?” he asked.
Slightly taken aback by his continued boldness, Emma plastered another smile on her face and said, “Not at the moment.”
Bubba laughed, then winked. “Before I wear out my welcome, I guess I’d best unload this truck and move on.”
“I think that’s a grand idea.”
Bubba paused and looked her up and down again, leaving her breathless in her tracks. He then walked to the back of the truck, shoved up the big door and went about his task.
When he finished, he brought the invoice for her to sign, placing her in much closer proximity to him than she would have liked. Despite the warmth of the morning, the smell of soap still clung to his skin; it wafted through her senses, creating another cluster of butterflies in her tummy.
If this man didn’t hurry up and get out of her sight…
“Be seeing you, Emma,” Bubba said with a grin that recalled her attention to those kick-ass dimples.
“I’m sure you will.” She watched him climb into the truck. “Thanks.”
He nodded. “You bet.” Then added, “Take care of that boy, you hear?”
Until he disappeared, she stood her ground, feeling as if her bones had turned to water, leaving her weak and unsteady. And damned confused. Finally she hauled a heavy Logan back inside, but even that seemed like an effort.
Once the baby was back under the tutelage of Janet, Emma went into her office, closed the door, sat down in her chair and took several deep breaths, trying to quiet her erratic heartbeat.
“Stop it,” she muttered aloud, grabbing the invoice and pen, forcing herself to peruse the statement. If the truth be known, while her fingers were doing their job, her mind was not. It was elsewhere, she conceded, a mutinous curve to her mouth. It was on that driver. There was something about him that had an effect on her.
Stop it, she repeated silently, having sworn long ago not to become a clone of her sister. She almost laughed at the thought, it was so ludicrous. Even if she’d wanted to, it wouldn’t have been possible.
Connie was like a true princess, tiny and blond with a figure to die for. Enhancing that lovely body was a bubbly personality. She attracted people, especially men, like bees to honey. But underneath that Southern belle demeanor was a wild streak that Connie had never learned to control.
Men seemed to have loved that in her. Not only were they attracted to her, but she to them. Not so with Emma. The fact that she didn’t have the same appetite for the opposite sex always brought ridicule from her sister.
Connie had continually pointed out, “God, you’re such a stick-in-the-mud, sis.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Emma had responded in as calm a tone as possible.
“No, you’re not. That’s what makes it so bad.” Connie smiled her sunny smile and batted her big dark lashes. “Why don’t you let me fix you up? We’ll double-date, and I’ll show you how to have the time of your life.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Emma said with a smidgen of defiance, which Connie readily picked up on.
“What’s your problem?” Connie demanded in an ugly tone. “You gay, or something?”
That barb cut to the core. Still, Emma kept her cool, knowing that Connie thrived on a good verbal fight, determined to win no matter what. Having learned that early on, Emma merely smiled and said, “You know better than that, Connie. I just prefer to pick my own men, that’s all.”
Connie gave an unladylike snort, then mouthed off, “Yeah, right.”
A deep heavy sigh parted Emma’s lips, bringing her out of her morbid thoughts back into the sunlight. Connie was gone and it was pointless to let herself dwell on the bad times, though she had to confess there were few good ones.
While she knew that Patrick loved her, he had adored Connie. He’d tried not to show his partiality, but he hadn’t pulled it off. Patrick’s adoration remained on course even after Connie had married, divorced and even got hooked on drugs. Once the baby was born, she couldn’t stand being tied down. Not long after that, she took up with a biker. It was then that she had made Emma her baby’s guardian. They never saw Connie again except in her casket.
That child had been the only thing that had kept Patrick from falling apart after Connie’s death. Realizing that her mind had once again backtracked into the morbid, Emma lunged up and took several calming breaths.
She had made peace with Connie’s death. Out of that peace had come the certainty that she would never end up like her sister, who couldn’t control her lust for a man.
A wail almost erupted from Emma’s lips. Hadn’t she done the very same thing this morning? Lust had shot through her when she’d first seen Bubba McBride. Why? Because he’d made her feel like a woman for the first time in her life. How crazy was that? Most likely he was married with a home in suburbia with two-point-three children, even though he hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring. However, a ringless finger didn’t mean anything.
Gritting her teeth again, Emma shoved the thought of that stranger out of her mind and went in search of Logan. When things in her life began to get out of kilter, the responsibility of him put her back on solid ground.
Thank God.
He’d never lacked balls before. Why this morning? Why hadn’t he told Emma Jenkins who he was?
Cal had asked himself that question countless times and still hadn’t come up with an answer worth a damn. Bubba? His mouth twisted. God, where had that idiotic name come from? He had no idea; it had crossed his mind and he’d blurted it out. Now his foot was stuck in his mouth and it sure didn’t taste good.
What now?
That was the really big question, the one he had no choice but to answer. Only not right now. He was too busy controlling the sick feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. Finally, he reached the gates of his ranch several miles north of Tyler.
His mother and dad had left him this prime piece of property only because they hadn’t gotten around to selling it before their deaths. Cal’s lips twisted sardonically, remembering his parents and how unimportant he’d been to them.
If he hadn’t run away from home and joined the army, he’d probably be dead by now. He would’ve joined a gang and been sucked into the same underworld he’d spent much of his adult life fighting.
Thank God that hadn’t happened and thank God he had this place.
It was home to him now, especially since he loved the outdoors, reveling in the freedom it gave him. Until his new security job took him out of the country, he aimed to spend as much time here with his horses and cattle as he could.
He just wished he could bring his son….