Billy stopped thinking about what-ifs, clearing his mind to focus on the ride down the mountain. It had started out as a beautiful day with a pale blue sky, wispy clouds and spring sunshine but in the past hour clouds had moved overhead and the wind had picked up. Nothing alarming, just typical Montana weather.
Nearing the two-story log cabin house, Billy spotted a small navy car in the circular gravel driveway. He didn’t recognize the car, nor could think of anyone he knew with California plates. Billy frowned as he settled his horse into his stall, quickly unsaddling the gelding and giving him a rub down. Leaving the barn, he glanced at the car once more, this time noting the words UC Riverside on the license plate frame. Still no help. He was completely clueless, and somehow he didn’t think Publishers Clearinghouse announced its sweepstakes winners with a little car from San Bernardino, California.
Billy entered the house through the kitchen door, walking in on his mom seated at the big table with a strange woman. His mom was holding a baby. Billy’s stomach did a sharp nosedive, plummeting straight to the tips of his boots. He glanced at the lady, didn’t know her, glanced back to his mom who was gently patting the baby on his back. His forehead furrowed even as icy adrenaline flooded his veins.
What was going on?
His mom glanced up, met his gaze, her expression devoid of all emotion. “There you are,” she said evenly. “I was telling Erika it would take you about a half an hour, and it did.”
He looked at this Erika, wondering what she was doing here, wondering why his mother was holding the baby, wondering what any of this had to do with him. But he revealed none of it in his expression.
Instead, he washed his hands at the kitchen sink, and then turned. “Anyone want coffee? Tea? I could put the kettle on.”
“No, thank you,” Erika said. “Your mom already offered.”
His mother shook her head. “Now that you’re here, I’m going to leave you two to talk.”
Erika left her seat to take the baby, and then his mom slowly, carefully rose, reaching for her walker. “It was nice to meet you, Erika,” she said, before making her way from the room, her walker making little clicking sounds of the hardwood floor.
It was quiet after his mother left. Billy retrieved a mug from the cupboard, and then filled it with coffee from the coffeepot, giving Erika time to speak. She didn’t.
His gaze swept her and the baby. He didn’t know her. Thank God. Baby wasn’t his.
And then his attention was caught by a yellow coat hanging on a hook near the back door. Bright yellow coat with blue flowers.
He’d seen that coat before. And now that he was thinking about it, her face looked vaguely familiar, but why? Where? His brow creased, trying to remember.
He walked to the table, pulled a chair out and sat down across from her. “Have we met?”
She shifted the baby, setting him down on her lap, facing outward. “Not officially, no.”
He circled the mug with his palm. It warmed his hand. “You look familiar.”
“I bumped into you, a few weeks ago. At the Tucson rodeo.”
And then it came to him. The parking lot. The rain. And the vivid yellow jacket with French blue flowers. But the memory shifted to a sense of mistrust. First Tucson, now here. Why?
“I remember you,” he said flatly. “What can I do for you?”
“I—” Her lips parted, and she touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip before looking up into his face, her eyes meeting his. “I’m sorry. This isn’t easy.”
“Maybe just say it.”
“This is your son, Beck. Beck Wyatt.”
Billy’s gaze locked with hers, his expression hard, unsmiling. He stiffened, and gave her a long unsmiling look. “Not following.”
“He’s yours. Your son. Paternity will be legally established as soon as you take a DNA test—”
“Since we’ve never slept together, how is he mine?”
“You did sleep with someone. It just wasn’t me.” Glancing down, she gently, lightly ran her hand across the baby’s bald head. “His mom is gone, which is why I’ve been trying to find you.” She looked back up at him. “And, yes, I found you in Tucson, but you were with someone and it didn’t seem right to… do this… there.”
Tucson… who was he with? And then he remembered. Jenna. “Appreciate that.”
“I went to the San Antonio Stock Show the next weekend, but you were with a redhead then. I quickly realized that I would probably not ever find you… alone.” Her chin lifted. “So here I am.”
“Persistent, aren’t you?”
“I have to be. We have a child without a mom, in need of a dad—”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t look like social services.”
“I’m not. I’m April’s cousin.”
April.
He immediately conjured a tall slim dancer from Las Vegas. A sexy wild thing. They’d dated for a bit. Had some good times together. “April Estes?” he asked.
Erika nodded. “She was a professional dancer—”
“From Vegas,” he finished. “You said she’s gone. What do you mean by that? She’s taken off, or…”
“Or. April was killed in a car crash early February.” Erika’s voice cracked. “They say she died instantly. At least I hope so. Beck was in the car, but he wasn’t hurt. April made mistakes, but at least she’d secured him properly in the car seat so he survived the crash. Only now he’s alone.”
Billy’s attention shifted to the baby in her arms. The infant was ridiculously small, with a ridiculously big bald head and a round, pale moon face. “Why do you think he’s mine?”
“Besides his name being Wyatt?”
“That’s not his legal name—”
“It’s on his birth certificate.”
“Then it’s a middle name, not his surname. Can’t be. Not without me signing a birth certificate.”
She said nothing for a moment, surprised. “You know how this works then?”
“I’ve always been careful. I always use protection.”
“Something failed this time, because you’re his dad.”
He got up, walked to the sink, arms folded across his chest. “April told you this?”
“No. I’ve been digging through her things, trying to piece it together.”
“Then you’ve pieced it wrong. There’s no way the baby is mine.”
“You weren’t together in Tucson last year, for the rodeo?” Before he could answer, Erika added, “In case it’s hard to remember that far back, I found a photo album she made. If you’ll just hold him—” She rose and thrust the infant against his chest, leaving him there. “I’ll show you.”
Billy had instinctively wrapped an arm around the baby when she’d pushed the child toward him, and now he watched as she went to the table and dug a small photo book from her oversized purse. She marched back toward him and opened the little book, flipping through pages filled with photos and captions. He couldn’t read the captions but the photos were clearly of him and April. April looking sensational in snug jeans, boots, and a tight shirt. April in his cowboy hat. April with him, here at the fairgrounds. At a bar. At a restaurant. Kissing. Wrestling. Cuddling naked in bed. April wearing nothing but his hat.