Cowboy Secret (The Dalton Boys Book 4) (3 page)

She did the only thing she could think of—she held Owen out to his father.

Beck didn’t hesitate. He scooped him up and held him with practiced ease, shocking her. He hugged Owen to his chest and buried his nose in their son’s hair. When she saw Beck’s lips moving over the baby’s round head and his throat working, she couldn’t hold back another minute. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Damn you,” he said hoarsely, but even cursing her, he didn’t look mad. He shifted Owen to one arm and looped the other around her waist. She found herself tugged against six feet of hard man. Her nose filled with leather and the tang of hard work.

He squeezed her once then dropped his forehead to hers. She dragged in an uneven breath. The intimate pose wasn’t what she’d expected. Well, she’d had no clue what would happen when she came here, but this wasn’t it.

Up close his blue eyes burned. She wanted to look away but was helpless. Owen wrapped his fist around one of his favorite playthings—her hair. He yanked, but she ignored it.

“Why, Sabrina?” Beck’s words were hot with pain.

She trembled, wanting to run. Over a year ago moving far away from Beck had seemed best. But now, seeing him hold his baby, she wasn’t so sure.

“You and I weren’t going anywhere. It was a dead-end relationship.”

He jerked back. Pain prickled her scalp as Owen’s fist came away with her hair. The place Beck’s forehead had touched hers seemed to throb at his loss.

“I had a right to know.”

Now was the time to tell her tale, but she was dead on her feet. She’d driven until a few hours before dawn the first night, then parked in a hotel parking lot, locked the car doors and slept with parking lot lights glaring through the windows. Driving during the day with an infant had been misery. His shrieks for escape still echoed in her ears. She’d had to stop for hours at a time, letting him roll in the grass in a park or just sit in her arms playing with his teething toy.

They’d lost a lot of time, so as soon as he’d fallen asleep, she’d locked her boot to the gas pedal and driven hell-bent for Paradise Valley Ranch.

Beck didn’t want to hear the story of her journey, though. He wanted a different tale.

She bit her lower lip, and his gaze followed it. Something warm blossomed in her core, spreading out before she could douse the flames. At one time, he’d done nothing but look at her that way.

No, they’d never had trouble in the lust department.

She settled her hand on her hip, fortifying herself to present her case. But also to throw a wall up between them. She didn’t trust herself not to fall right back into his arms.

Owen seemed pretty happy there.

As she turned her attention to the baby, Beck did too. Very carefully he unfolded Owen’s fist and removed the curly hairs from his palm. Owen gave him a wide, spitty grin. A bit of drool dribbled down his chin, and Beck swiped it with a thumb.

He wiped the spittle on his worn Wranglers, which until now she’d avoided looking at. He filled them out to perfection. Muscled thighs strained, and she knew if he turned, she’d get a look at that fine, hard ass.

Shoving down a shiver of excitement, she said, “You didn’t sound too worried about the broken condom. And when you came back for your truck, you weren’t concerned about finding me to apologize.”

He leveled his gaze on her. Eyes dark with anger, mouth a firm line. “You made it pretty clear we were through, Sabrina. There didn’t seem anything left to say.”

Her nerves snapped, and she wrapped her arms around her middle to keep from shaking loose. “Maybe all you needed to say was if I got pregnant, you’d be there for me.”

Their gazes locked. For an eternal heartbeat, they stared at each other. So many things hadn’t been said. Like how she’d been in love with him. And carrying his child had been made her feel amazingly close to him. But in the end, she’d known it was for the best.

Either Beck was there wholeheartedly or not at all. Owen wasn’t going to be a game piece on a board, being moved by parents to make themselves happy.

She drew a breath so big her lungs creaked. Before she could utter a word of the speech she’d mentally written during her drive, Beck spoke.

“I was an ass to you, Sabrina. I have no excuse, and I’m sorry. But this…” He looked at Owen, who’d found his father’s hat brim and was trying like crazy to pull it to his slobbery lips. “This is inexcusable from you. I would have made things right.”

“By marrying me?” The words slipped out, and she wished she could swallow her tongue. Another tear trickled from her eye. As it fell, she cursed the wetness and her stupid emotions.

Something shivered over Beck’s face but was wiped clean as Owen’s chubby fist glanced off his cheekbone. He didn’t blink at the hit, but lightly clasped their boy’s hand in his big one.

“That might not have been my offer, but I damn well would have been here for him. I don’t even know his name.”

Her gaze skated away from Beck’s to their son. “It’s Owen.”

“Dalton?”

She quivered. “Myers.”

Beck’s jaw was working again. When he turned his heated gaze on her, she sucked in a breath. “I’m sorely tempted to turn you over my knee and spank your ass for this, Sabrina.”

Her eyes bulged and her throat was suddenly dry at the vision he’d planted in her head. What could she even say to that?

“Don’t think for a minute you aren’t going to explain everything. But right now I have a stack of pancakes waiting for me, my boy has a soaking wet diaper and you look dead on your feet. Come inside.” He jerked his head toward the big ranch house.

She balked. “Isn’t your family in there?”

“Yes.”

“But…the baby. How will you explain?”

“Sabrina, it’s evident who he belongs to.” With that, he turned and started walking to the house.

She gaped after him.
Who he belongs to.
Her heart soared, higher than she’d ever dreamed possible. She’d driven into Beck’s life, presented him with a secret child. And he’d taken the baby into his arms and claimed him as his own.

As he walked away, she caught sight of his tight buns in tighter jeans. Dammit, she was in serious trouble.

* * * * *

Beck walked through the door, hungry as a bear and madder than one. The whole family was gathered in the kitchen, from youngest Dalton to their pa. Even Manny’s deep voice drifted to the mud room.

For a long heartbeat, Beck met his son’s gaze—as blue as his own. The baby seemed totally unconcerned that a stranger was holding him. Was he used to being with strangers all day while his mother worked? Or did he inherently know Beck was his father?

The foyer bench where they all sat to pull on their boots was covered in various belongings. Coats, sweaters and the odd piece of horse tack littered the surface. Beck spotted exactly what he needed—a diaper bag. Surely there was a diaper to fit Owen inside.

“Owen,” he said quietly, testing the name in his mouth. He plucked a diaper from the bag and laid the baby on the bench while Sabrina looked on, hands knotted.

“You coming, Beck?” Momma called.

“He’s probably afraid we’ve eaten all the pancakes,” Kade responded, his mouth obviously stuffed.

“So much for winning a bet,” Beck said to Owen.

With quick movements he unsnapped the baby’s footed PJs and removed his diaper. He fitted his little butt with a new one before the boy could pee on him. He knew firsthand how Dalton boys could aim. He’d seen his eldest infant nephew shoot a five-foot stream.

Sabrina made a noise in her throat, and Beck looked up at her, one hand planted on Owen’s fat belly so he didn’t roll off the bench. For a dizzying moment he thought he may be dreaming—he was still buried under his covers and his alarm was about to wake him for morning chores.

He shook himself.

Sabrina looked as dazed as he felt. She reached for the baby, but Beck hurriedly snapped his PJs and lifted the infant against his chest.

“You’ve got a dry butt. Now let’s see if we can fix up your ma.” He stood and caught Sabrina’s hand. Her fingers were silky in his grasp, causing his chest to tighten painfully.

This situation hadn’t remotely sunk into his thick skull yet. Hell, he hardly knew up from down or mane from tail. All he understood was Sabrina and his son were here—and he had to take care of them.

Drawing a deep breath, he entered the kitchen. Sabrina’s hand convulsed in his. Too many sets of eyes settled on them.

Everyone went still.

“This is Sabrina. She was a schoolteacher in Vixen a coupla years ago.”

Dead silence.

Owen flapped and gave a squeal—his own greeting.

“And Owen.”

Nobody said a word or even moved. Cash had a slab of pancakes halfway to his mouth. Syrup dripped off his fork to his plate. Even the babies in the room were silent.

“Scoot down the bench.” Beck nudged Kade’s leg with a boot and his brother slid without shifting his attention from Owen’s face.

My son.

Jesus Christ. I’m not dreaming.

“Here, Sabrina. Please sit.” Charlotte moved over to make room, and Sabrina threw Beck a desperate look. He gave her a nod and she jerked into motion, her fingers pulling from his reluctantly.

Beck could nearly hear the cows in the top pasture mooing, the room was so quiet. He dropped onto the bench beside Kade and settled the baby on his lap.

“Beck, do you want me to…” Sabrina blushed five shades of red when everyone looked her direction.

“Nah, I got him. I’ve got some time to make up for, wouldn’t you say?”

Momma set a plate before her and Sabrina looked at it, face blotching as if she might cry again.

Damn the woman. She was going to get an ear blistering from him just as soon as he gathered his wits and filled his hollow stomach.

Owen batted Beck’s plate, rattling it on the table. Another Dalton grandchild did the same farther down. Then a third. Pretty soon a music of banging plates filled the room.

Beck lifted his gaze to his mother’s. She stood at Sabrina’s elbow, a hand clasped over her lips and tears of joy in her eyes. Beck released a quavering breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Then he looked at his pa.

Oh shit. Sabrina wasn’t the only one in the hot seat. He was in for a hard word or two of his own.

No help for it. He’d take it like a man.

He forked some pancakes and dropped them on his plate. Owen reached for a handful.

“I’d say that boy’s hungry,” Kade said.

Beck lifted a brow at Sabrina, and she gave a faint shake of her head. “Umm…do you have any…bananas?” she asked Momma.

“With all these little ones, I buy as many as possible when I head into town. And I can do better than that. I’ve got a pot of fine-ground oatmeal on the stove.” Momma bustled to the stove and returned with a tiny bowl of oatmeal with mashed banana. She set it at Beck’s place, and Owen dived for it.

The laugh shot out of Beck, shocking him with the sound of his own exaltation. Whatever had happened between him and Sabrina, Beck planned to be there every step of the way for this little boy.

My son.

It still felt like a dream.

With her heart in her eyes, Momma reached out and traced a finger over the baby’s round cheek. Beck wondered if he might look the same way—smitten at knowing there was a twenty-pound piece of himself in the universe.

He swallowed hard.

Momma wrapped her fingers around Owen’s chubby arm and squeezed before returning to her seat. He had no doubt his mother would scorch his ears with a lecture too. Right after she got her mitts on this baby boy.

“So Sabrina…you taught in Vixen?” Charlotte asked, serving her from the platter of pancakes.

Sabrina nodded, her gaze fastened on Beck and their son.

Damn her.
Beck had missed so much. The pregnancy, birth and too many goddamn months of this child’s life. What had brought Sabrina back? And why now?

His mind whirled with questions that he pushed down so he could shovel food into his starving child’s mouth. Owen ate it all and smacked his lips for more.

“His bottle’s in the car.” Sabrina half-rose from her chair.

“No need. We’ve got bottles and sippy cups galore. Can he have juice?” Momma jumped out of her seat before anyone could move.

Beck’s chest constricted. Maybe…just maybe this would work out. Not a Dalton at the table didn’t know Owen belonged to Beck. Yet no one was asking questions or firing insults.

He glanced up to see Sabrina pushing her pancakes around her plate. Her lips worked as if she were battling tears. Yes, he needed to get her alone—out of earshot of this family. They had a lot of things to say.

When Momma bustled back to the table with a bottle in hand, Beck held Owen out to her. “Would you do the honors? I need to talk to Sabrina.”

Momma’s eyes flooded with tears and she took Owen with a happy noise. Pa’s eyes softened.

Beck motioned for Sabrina to follow him outside.

Sabrina lost a little of her tormented expression—but it was replaced with one of a person about to be taken out and hanged.