The Cowgirl's Little Secret. Silver James
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Chance found a space in the parking lot behind the historic building housing Cattlemen’s Cafe. After some frustrated manipulation, Cord settled into the wheelchair. Cassie insisted Chance push and Cord grimaced.
“I can push myself. I’m not helpless.”
“Of course you aren’t.” Cassie hastened to soothe him. “But this is your chance to make Chance your minion.”
Cord still wasn’t happy, but the way Cassie phrased it took the sting out of the fact that he was stuck. Not for long, though. He fully planned to be rid of the freaking wheelchair as soon as possible, if not before.
They had missed the lunch rush and were too early for the dinner crowd, so they were seated immediately.
While Cord and Chance went for the large filet, Cassie opted for prime rib. Their salads were quickly followed by their entrées, and they dug in like starving people, which Cord was. Beef, for him, was its own food group.
Their meal finished, Cassie maneuvered Cord’s wheelchair through the narrow aisles between seating areas while Chance stepped ahead to handle the door. The entrance to the restaurant consisted of two sets of heavy glass double doors, their handles shaped like the horns of a longhorn steer. They’d just passed through the inner doors only to stop when the exterior doors were opened by a woman wearing scrubs, holding a little boy’s hand.
Jolie.
Cord watched her eyes widen to deer-in-headlights proportions as her gaze darted between him and the child beside her.
Nobody moved until Cassie elbowed Chance and whispered, “I didn’t know Cord had been married.”
Her voice broke the spell and both Cord and Chance stared at her.
“He hasn’t.”
“I haven’t.”
The men answered all but simultaneously.
“Why would you think he had, Cass?” Chance muttered the question.
The kid tugged at Jolie’s hand. “Ow, Mommy, leggo. You’re squeezin’ me too hard.”
Cord stared at Jolie then the boy. Mommy? She had a son? His heart shriveled like mud under a hot August sun. She’d found someone else and married him. Had his child. He relaxed his fists and smoothed damp palms along his thighs, hoping to hide his agitation. And sitting in this damned wheelchair sure didn’t help his ego.
Cassie hissed, “If that little boy isn’t a Barron, then I’m deaf and blind.”
All the color drained from Jolie’s face. Her gaze jerked to the child beside her before returning to meet Cord’s stare. She swallowed convulsively and guilt radiated from her. Cord couldn’t speak for a minute as Cassie’s words sank in.
“Jolie?” Her name rasped across his tongue, which felt like sandpaper.
“Cord.” She blinked several times and her grip on the boy’s hand tightened even more.
People knotted up behind them, wanting out. Cord pushed the chair forward, and Jolie had no place to go but backward onto the sidewalk. Chance and Cassie followed a step behind.
Brown eyes as curious as a chipmunk’s stared at Cord. This time, he was the one who swallowed convulsively. “What’s going on, Jolie?”
“Who’re you?” The boy’s lips pursed and his brows knitted together.
Tilting his head so he could watch both Jolie and the boy, Cord replied, “I’m Cord Barron. Who’re you?”
“I’m CJ. Do you know my mommy?”
“I thought I did.” Cord was pretty sure his voice dripped icicles. Cassie was right. Everything about the kid screamed Barron. His aggressive stance, his expression. Looking at CJ was like seeing a picture of himself as a kid.
“Cord...I...I can explain.”
Jolie looked terrified as he pushed the wheelchair toward her, only to be brought up short by his brother’s hand on his shoulder.
“Easy, Cord. Let me handle this.”
Chance was using his lawyer voice. Rather than shaking off his hand, Cord inhaled deeply. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper. Not here in the middle of the sidewalk. Was it possible CJ was his? He knew nothing about kids, or how to judge their ages, but the boy couldn’t be more than four, five at the oldest. He stopped breathing for a minute. St. Patrick’s Day. Five years ago. The Bricktown Street Party. Hannigan’s Pub. He felt the color drain from his face and now he surged forward, jerking away from his brother.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jolie backed up several steps, dragging the boy with her. CJ pulled free and charged. His little fists hammered Cord’s thighs as Cord jerked the chair to a stop to avoid running over the kid.
“You leave my mommy alone.”
Cord picked him up, hiding the twinge of pain in his ribs, and placed him in his lap, one arm corralling the kid’s legs so he couldn’t kick. Oh, yeah. CJ was all Barron. He had no doubt.
“Cord? Please...”
He glanced around CJ to stare at Jolie. She had her hand raised, reaching toward her son, her eyes pleading with him. Folding the kid in his arms, he settled the child he was pretty damn sure was his son more firmly on his lap. “Is he mine?” He was pleased his voice remained calm and sounded reasonable. Inside he was a seething cauldron of anger.
CJ stopped squirming, as if he sensed something momentous about to happen. His eyes jittered between his mom and Cord.
“I...” Jolie looked away. “Cord... You don’t understand.”
“No. I guess I don’t. Since you didn’t give me a chance. Or explain. But you didn’t answer my question. He is mine, isn’t he?”
Anger cramped his gut, but his touch remained gentle as he held the boy in his lap. His eyes stayed fixed on Jolie, and even though they burned, he didn’t blink. How could she do this to him? Did she hate him that damned much? When he’d caught her crying over him in the ICU, he’d hoped for a second chance, but she’d obviously wiped the slate clean and eradicated him completely. His heart turned to granite when he realized what Jolie had done—and had done deliberately. If he said a word, his face would crack, shattering just like his heart was doing. But he had to know.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
Jolie flushed and her chin rose to a stubborn angle. The anger in her green eyes flashed like emeralds lit by firelight. “No, Cord. No, I wasn’t.”
“Let go of my son, Cord.” Jolie reached for CJ, but the boy shook her off, curling in closer to Cord’s shoulder.
CJ ignored his mother and cupped his hands on Cord’s cheeks. The boy pulled his head around to draw his attention.
“Do you have a little boy?”
Where the dickens had that question come from? Cord studied CJ’s face, noting the similarities.
“Yeah, it seems like maybe I do.”
“Oh.” The kid’s expression shuttered as he tucked his chin against his chest. He squirmed a little, as if to get away.
With a touch of his index finger, Cord got him to look up. None of this was CJ’s fault. But he had to know. Was there another man in Jolie’s life?
“Do you have a dad?”
“No.” The boy lifted his shoulders up around his ears and shot his mother a guilty look as he whispered, “I kinda wish I did.”
The kid’s voice did something to