Home > Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3)(7)

Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3)(7)
Author: Jane Porter

“They’re heading to their ranch, but it’s the opposite direction of Marietta. No sense putting them in harm’s way, either.”

Erika nodded, because of course Summer Wyatt was right. “I wouldn’t want to do that, no.”

“I can drive her down in my truck, Mom,” Billy said, his deep voice pitched even lower. “Tommy and I could get her car down to her sometime in the morning.”

“That’s a good idea,” Erika said quickly, latching onto the possibility.

“Unless it doesn’t stop snowing and then she’s trapped without a car, and she can’t go hiking around town with a baby without any snow gear.” Summer’s brow creased as she looked at Erika, even as she continued rocking the car seat. “Did you bring snow gear?”

Erika shook her head. “It’s, uh, almost April.”

“It can snow here until May,” Tommy said, from his position leaning against the stove. “The day can start out hot and sunny and still end in wind and snow.”

“Let’s not discuss weather. Let’s get our guest settled,” Summer said. “Tommy, Billy, please?”

Billy nodded, not about to argue with his mom, but he didn’t know why his mom was so insistent on Erika and the baby staying when she’d always been firmly against any pretty single woman staying over.

Nevertheless, he waited while she retrieved her car keys for Tommy before lifting the car seat from the kitchen table and carrying it with him as he led the way upstairs to a room halfway down the hall. Billy pushed open Sam’s door and flipped on the light. The room was distinctly chilly. He placed the baby and car seat on the floor and walked to the closed ceiling vent, opening it, but there was no encouraging gust of heat. It’d take considerable time for the room to warm up. As if reading his mind, Erika stopped him before he’d gone to the closet.

“I can plug the heater in,” she said. “You don’t need to trouble yourself further. Just tell me where I’d find a couple of towels and a bathroom and I’ll be fine.”

“The bathroom is next door. Sam and Joe used to share it but since neither are here anymore, it’s all yours. There should be clean towels under the sink.” He hesitated. “What about the baby? Does he need anything?”

“The travel crib in the car trunk. It’s stored in a large black backpack.”

“I’ll go get it. Anything else while I’m going that way?”

“I have a large water bottle by the driver’s seat. It’s red with bright orange and pink flowers.”

He returned a few minutes later with the backpack and water bottle. He could see that Tommy had already brought up the rest of her things. She’d also plugged the heater in and turned it on. It hadn’t warmed the room yet but the night was cold and it’d take a while. “I’m going to grab you an extra quilt,” he said. “And then I’ll set up the crib if you’d like.”

“I can do it.”

“I don’t mind lending a hand.”

She gave him a strained smile. “I’m fine, thank you.” She crossed to her purse and diaper bag and pulled a little photo album from one of the bags. “But I shouldn’t have this. For all I know, it was meant for you.”

He didn’t want the photo book, and he tried to hand it back but she wouldn’t take it and it’d be rude to just leave it on the bed.

He left her room and went to his, a room he’d shared with Tommy since they were both in cribs, and setting the photo book down on his dresser he headed into his bathroom, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the shower. The water came out cold, little ice needles raining down, but Billy forced himself to stand there, finding a strange solace in the brutally cold shower. Anything was better than looking at that small square book Erika had thrust into his hand as she said good night to him.

He didn’t need a book to remember April, and he didn’t need photos to picture her. She’d been fun and she’d had a wild streak, enjoying cutting loose with him—drinking, dancing, not vanilla lovemaking. But there had never been feelings between them, much less serious feelings, nor were they ever in a relationship.

From the beginning, she was seeing different guys—there had even been a sugar daddy from New Jersey that visited her in Vegas—and he’d been clear he was seeing other women, too. They’d agreed that they weren’t into commitments, and even if they were, long-distance relationships didn’t work. Far better to just meet up when convenient, than have hard and fast rules. He’d put April on the rodeo pass list more than once, happy to see her when she showed up at one of his events, and then they’d always hang out after, but she wasn’t the only one he did that for. While he didn’t have a woman in every town, there was a handful he enjoyed seeing when he was in their town.

The shower finally turned warm and Billy lifted his face to the spray. He wasn’t going to apologize for liking women. He’d never apologize for that. He was single, thirty, and in the prime of his career. What was wrong with enjoying himself? Why shouldn’t he have a pretty girl to kill time with?

He wasn’t going to apologize for not loving any of them, either. It wasn’t that he went out of his way to not fall in love. He just didn’t. And he didn’t know why. To be honest, he was rather on the fence about the whole falling-in-love thing anyway. If it wasn’t for Joe and Sam, he’d doubt that romantic love existed at all. Joe had a serious girlfriend back in high school, a girl from Marietta named Charity, and he’d been head over heels for her, and now he had Sophie and he loved her, too.

Sam and Ivy had a completely different love—the kind that just wouldn’t go away—even when they were apart for years. Now that they were back together, they were inseparable, traveling on the circuit together, training horses together, working with young riders together. It was as if they couldn’t function without the other and Billy had never once felt that way about anyone. He and Tommy had even talked about it, and Tommy said that although he wasn’t ready to settle down, he looked forward one day to having a family.

Not Billy.

Family meant commitments and responsibilities he didn’t want. Not now, not ever.

He turned the water off, stepped from the shower, water sluicing down his body and reached for a towel, taking his time drying off, enjoying the brisk rubdown.

So what if Beck was his?

What if the baby in the next room was his son?

Billy lifted the towel, dried his hair and then covered his face with the towel, and drew a deep breath, trying to process it all.

My God, if he was Beck’s dad, everything had just changed. Forever.

It was a strange thing to think about, being a father, possibly having a son, aware he was nowhere near ready to be a decent father. He was strong, fit, able to do things physically most men could never do, but take care of another human being? Never mind a helpless little thing that could barely hold his head up on his own? Billy shuddered. Now that was danger.

Being the third son meant you were the third in line for everything—clothes, food, opportunities. But it also meant that you had fewer responsibilities. Joe had always shouldered the most work and most of their mother’s grief when Dad died. Sam had taken on what Joe needed help with. That left Billy and Tommy free to screw around and do what they wanted to do, which generally meant have a good time. And they did have a good time. They loved life. They loved their freedom and their career and their success. Good Lord, they’d been successful, earning more money than either of them knew what to do with—well, not true. Tommy knew. Tommy was the one with the head for numbers. He was the Wyatt everyone talked to when needing investment advice. Tommy understood the stock market, he understood economics. If he’d gone to college, he’d probably be working on Wall Street now. He was that smart, that good at math, that good at equations, predictions, statistics.

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