Page 22 of Cowboy

“Unrequited love. I might know a thing or two about it.”

“I might have heard a thing or two about some proposals,” I tease, perching my chin on my hand, wanting all the juicy details. It’s weird how sometimes I miss all the gossip I used to report on, and I’m expecting Bull to share some teenage story of angst and broken hearts.

“My wife left me.”

“Oh God. I’m so sorry.” My hand lowers for his forearm, and my heart sinks to my belly. Bull loved someone else. Of course, he loved someone. He’s him. But why wouldn’t she love him in return?

“It’s a complicated story,” he begins. “But the long and short of it is, we were married too young, and she wanted babies.”

Oh no.

“And we couldn’t make them. With all the tests and schedules and practice, we couldn’t conceive.”

“I’m so sorry, Bull.” What must he think of our situation? If this isn’t his child I’m carrying, he’ll feel emasculated.

“It wasn’t me,” he says, offering a weak smile as if reading my thoughts. “At least, that’s what the doctors said.” He shrugs, looking toward the end of the dining table. Did they sit here every night like we’ve been doing, talking about babies? Bull and I have random discussions about how I’m feeling, our thoughts on a birth plan, and baby names. He knows more than I would have expected about pregnancy.

“It was still my fault, though. We could have done artificial insemination or adoption, but Jen was on a mission. I reached a point where I didn’t believe it would happen, so I gave up.”

He speaks as if he’s beat himself up a bit over the years, taking the blame for something that is just biology.

“Eventually, she had enough, as had I, and she left.” With the faraway look in his eyes, I recognize the sting of a failed marriage.

“Did you live here together?” I wonder, looking around the room, suddenly feeling like an intruder in someone else’s dream.

“No. Jennifer left fourteen years ago. We lived in the main house, and sometimes, I thought that was the thing preventing us from getting pregnant. Although my family knew we wanted a child, and how to make that happen, it wasn’t always the most romantic setting, especially when Jen was checking herself for ovulation.” Bull shakes his head. “Once she left, I needed some space. This house didn’t become my project until each of my grandparents passed, which was about ten years after her departure.” He glances up at the ceiling before scanning the large room with pride.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” For all of them. His wife, his grandparents, babies he never had.

Bull shrugs, gazing back at his dinner plate. Tonight, he made pork chops with diced potatoes and green beans. He’s really too good to me. “I don’t know what happened between Jen and me. One minute, you think you’re in love, and the next, it’s all temperature-taking and baby-making business, minus the tenderness needed to be close to someone.”

My thumb rubs back and forth at the hairs on his forearm. He’s such a strong man. His arms define arm porn, but it’s his heart that’s the strength of him.

“It was never the right time to have children with Shelton,” I explain of my own situation. “I didn’t think I even wanted a baby until he was suddenly having one with someone else, and I was left questioning everything in my life.” My other hand automatically moves to my belly although there’s no outward evidence of my condition yet. Bull smiles a little deeper, but it still isn’t setting off sparks in those deep eyes surrounded by thick lashes.

“I’m glad I’m pregnant now,” I offer, my voice quiet while my thumb still rubs at his skin. Bull’s hand covers mine and lifts my fingers. He turns my hand to press a kiss to my palm, closing his eyes a second before re-opening those beautiful lids.

“I’m glad you’re pregnant, too.” His words are full of so much sincerity, and I don’t want to disappoint him. It’s embarrassing enough to question who the father is, but it will be devastating to discover it isn’t Bull. I haven’t allowed myself to consider one man over the other. It’s too hopeful for me. For now, I concentrate on how the baby is mine.

“You’re starting to spoil Sprout and me.”

“Sprout?” Bull inquires, and I tip back so he can see my hand patting my belly. He pushes back his chair and reaches over for mine as I’m sitting to his left. After pushing it out as well, he drops down to one knee and faces my tummy.

“Hello, Sprout.” He places a hand over my hand on my stomach and then lowers his head, pressing kisses to my covered belly. I slip my fingers through his hair. He’s so sweet like this, so tender. Every part of me vibrates—my inner thighs, my hammering heart, my shaky fingers. I want to tug his hair and pull him up to me, kiss him with the pregnancy passion churning inside, and tackle him down to the floor, but I don’t. It wouldn’t be fair to Bull to keep taking advantage of him, especially sexually. His heart is too big for just sex.

He wraps his arms around my back, scooting me to the edge of the seat to hold me like this—his head on my belly—and I send up a silent prayer.

Please let him be the father.

The next night, Bull and I walk to the main house for dinner. The sun is up a little longer. The air is heating. Everything is bursting into bloom, and soon, so will I.

“Let’s not mention our predicament to my family,” he states as we walk down the dusty gravel drive. “Not yet, at least.”

“Totally agree. What will be our story? How did we meet? Why am I here?”

“Pretty sure Canyon already told them we had a one-night stand.” Bull cringes as he speaks. “We can say we’re friends. I’m helping you out while you’re between places.” Bull glances off in the distance, not liking his own explanation, but it’s as close to the truth as we can get for now.

When we enter the main house directly into the kitchen, I’m accosted by the smell of something mouthwatering and spicy. “What is that?” I ask of the intoxicating scent.