The Texan's Surprise Son. Cathy Mcdavid
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largest producing oil well. The extended shifts allowed Jacob to have at least three days off on the weekends to rodeo.
It was a good job, and the flexible schedule a perk, but Jacob wanted more. Specifically, to be head of Baron Energies’ yet-to-be-formed alternative energy division.
Brock had flat out refused to consider anything not dealing with oil. Until now. With each gold buckle Jacob brought home, Brock’s resistance wavered. He claimed to see potential in Jacob previously hidden. A national title would, Jacob was convinced, break down Brock’s resistance entirely.
Thanks to a B-list country singer giving a post-rodeo concert, the arena stands remained packed, and the lines to the food vendors and merchant stalls blocked the midway. Jacob, Daniel and Jet wound their way through the throng of people, saying goodbye to their friends and promising to see their fellow competitors next weekend.
“Excuse me, Jacob Baron?”
At first, Jacob didn’t think anything of the unfamiliar voice calling to him. He and his brothers were often approached by female fans.
Then he turned to look at the woman and was immediately taken aback. She looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t recall where he’d seen her before.
“Jacob Baron?” she repeated.
“Yes.” He answered without thinking.
She started toward him, managing to cover the uneven ground gracefully despite her absurdly high heels that had no business being at a rodeo. Neither did the skintight black skirt and jacket she wore. “May I speak to you a moment?” Her glance darted briefly to his brothers before returning to him. “Privately.”
This was no fan.
Possibly a reporter, though he didn’t think so.
Beside him, Daniel whistled. “Wow.”
That was something of an understatement. Out-of-place wardrobe aside, the woman was killer gorgeous. Striking green eyes, long strawberry blonde hair and flawless skin.
The same sixth sense he counted on in bull riding came suddenly alive, and it was warning Jacob to proceed with caution.
“We were just heading home,” he said.
“This is important.”
After a moment’s hesitation he hitched his chin toward the parking area where they’d left their truck. “Go on, I’ll catch up with you.”
“No rush, bro,” Jet said, a glimmer in his eyes. “We’ll wait.”
Jacob gestured for the woman to lead the way.
She wasted no time locating one of the few empty tables near the row of food vendors. In the arena, the band was setting up on a hastily erected temporary stage.
“It seems you know my name.” He gave her a careful smile. “Mind telling me yours?”
“Mariana Snow.”
Jacob sat back, feeling as if he’d taken a blow from behind. “I’m sorry about your sister. I heard what happened.”
Leah Snow. That explained why he found this woman—Mariana—familiar. Three years ago he’d dated her sister, though describing their one long weekend together as dating was a stretch. He hadn’t seen her since. She’d refused his calls and promptly quit barrel racing.
Still, the rodeo world was a small one, and he’d learned of Leah’s unexpected passing after a short and intense battle with breast cancer. The news had startled him, and left him empty for weeks. Had that been why she’d refused his phone calls?
“Thank you for your condolences,” Mariana said tightly. “It’s been a difficult three months.”
“I didn’t know Leah had a sister. She never mentioned you.”
Truthfully, they hadn’t talked much during those three days. He’d naturally assumed they’d get to know each other over time, only that hadn’t happened. Eventually, he’d written off the weekend as one of those temporary rodeo hookups, the kind he generally avoided.
“I’m not surprised.” Mariana reached into the leather purse she’d set on the table. “Leah didn’t tell you a lot of things.” She extracted a snapshot and handed it across the table to Jacob.
He took the photo, his gaze drawn to the laughing face of a young boy. “I don’t understand. Who is this?” He started to return the photo.
Mariana held up her hand. “Keep it.”
“Why?”
“That’s Cody Snow. Your son.”
For a moment, Jacob sat immobile, his mind rebelling. He hadn’t been careless. He’d asked and Leah swore she was on birth control pills.
“You’re mistaken. I don’t have a son.”
“Yes, you do. And with my sister gone, you’re his one remaining parent.”
The photo slipped from Jacob’s fingers and landed on the table, the boy’s laughing face staring up at him.
* * *
FRANKLY, MARIANA WAS surprised Jacob had agreed to let her drive him home to Dallas. She’d suggested it when the band started playing and conversation became difficult over the noise. She’d give him credit for that. A lot of men might have run the instant she’d pulled out the picture of her nephew.
“I’m parked over here.” She pointed to the very last row in the dirt parking lot.
He’d just gotten off the phone with one of his brothers, letting them know he’d be, as he put it, hitching a ride back to Dallas with her. That was all he’d told them, and the message had been delivered through clenched teeth.
She didn’t blame him. It was a lot to take in. She hadn’t expected him to leap with joy when she sprang the news on him. His willingness to discuss her nephew was actually more than she’d anticipated. Though talk was cheap, as Mariana well knew.
“I apologize for ambushing you at the rodeo and in front of your family,” she said. “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I was visiting a client here in Shreveport. When I found out you were competing today, I decided to try and find you.”
“Did you think I’d refuse to meet you somewhere else?”
“The thought did occur to me,” she admitted. “Or that you wouldn’t come alone.” He was a member of a powerful and influential family, one that employed an army of attorneys and advisers.
“I’m not agreeing to anything without DNA testing.”
“Of course.”
Mariana had taken her sister’s word that Jacob Baron was Cody’s father. While unlikely, it was possible Leah had slept with more than one man. As Mariana only recently learned, her sister had been insistent on getting pregnant. Jacob required proof, and she understood that. Were he her client, she’d advise the exact same thing.
Reaching into the side pocket of her purse for her keys, she stumbled when her heel caught in a small hole. These shoes were definitely not made for traipsing across rodeo grounds. Not that she owned a single pair of boots.
Feeling a steadying hand on her elbow, she turned and muttered, “Thank you.”
Jacob let his hand linger. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Really.” Her ankle did twinge a bit. The sensation was overshadowed by the tingle his touch evoked and the look of appreciation in his eyes. That had startled her more than the stumble.
Withdrawing her arm, she attempted a smile. He was simply being a gentleman, right? Cowboys were like that. Old-fashioned and mannerly. At least, most of the ones who’d traveled in and out of her sister’s life were. The same could be said for their father. That was part of his charm and why the ladies loved him.