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A Christmas Baby For The Cowboy
Deb Kastner
’Tis the season for a new startBut can he be a daddy in Cowboy Country?With a baby on the way and Christmas around the corner, disgraced rodeo rider Cash Coble returns to Serendipity hoping to fix his reputation. Cash never imagined that pretty Alyssa Emerson would inspire him to cowboy up—let alone open his heart. But will she agree to be part of his new family once she learns his dark secret?


’Tis the season for a new start
But can he be a daddy in Cowboy Country?
With a baby on the way and Christmas around the corner, disgraced rodeo rider Cash Coble returns to Serendipity hoping to fix his reputation. Cash never imagined that pretty Alyssa Emerson would inspire him to cowboy up—let alone open his heart. But will she agree to be part of his new family once she learns his dark secret?
A Publishers Weekly bestselling and award-winning author with over 1.5 million books in print, DEB KASTNER writes stories of faith, family and community in a small-town Western setting. She lives in Colorado with her husband and a pack of miscreant mutts, and is blessed with three daughters and two grandchildren. She enjoys spoiling her grandkids, movies, music (The Texas Tenors!), singing in the church choir and exploring Colorado on horseback.
Also By Deb Kastner (#u2e883781-8dec-50f6-8dc7-4606072b5074)
Cowboy Country
Yuletide Baby
The Cowboy’s Forever Family
The Cowboy’s Surprise Baby
The Cowboy’s Twins
Mistletoe Daddy
The Cowboy’s Baby Blessing
And Cowboy Makes Three
A Christmas Baby for the Cowboy
Christmas Twins
Texas Christmas Twins
Email Order Brides
Phoebe’s Groom
The Doctor’s Secret Son
The Nanny’s Twin Blessings
Meeting Mr. Right
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A Christmas Baby for the Cowboy
Deb Kastner


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08646-2
A CHRISTMAS BABY FOR THE COWBOY
© 2018 Debra Kastner
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“I hope I didn’t frighten them too much.”
Cash crouched beside the box and ran the tips of his fingers across the kittens’ soft fur. “I suspect the mama cat is going to be the most difficult to deal with.” He flashed the back of his left hand. Angry red claw marks etched the skin.
“Your poor hand,” Alyssa murmured sympathetically. “Between the cat and your hammer…” She was serious, but she added a teasing note in her voice.
“Rub it in, why don’t you?”
She chuckled. “Can I help it if you’re a walking accident just waiting to happen?” Who also happens to save kittens.
He snorted. “That about sums it up.”
Their gazes met and locked for a moment before she looked away.
Her heart was rapidly beating, and she took a deep breath, concentrating on slowing her pulse to its normal rate.
She tried to tell herself that it was just the adrenaline of having found the litter of kittens, but deep inside, she knew better...
Dear Reader (#u2e883781-8dec-50f6-8dc7-4606072b5074),
What fun it is to head back into Serendipity, Texas and auction off yet another bachelor for the town’s First Annual Bachelors and Baskets Auction benefiting the senior center.
It’s amazing how one second can change everything. For Cash Coble, the death of his best friend Aaron imploded his world. For Alyssa Emerson, her dear brother Aaron’s death broke apart her family. It’s only when the two of them connect and support each other that they learn to move forward.
No matter what the situation, the one cornerstone we can always count on is Jesus. He never moves but is right beside us all the way. Sometimes it’s harder to see and feel Him there with us, but the Bible assures us we can always count on His divine love and mercy.
I’m always delighted to hear from you, dear readers, and I love to connect socially. You can find my website at www.debkastnerbooks.com (http://www.debkastnerbooks.com), where I hope you’ll join my mailing list to learn of new projects and special offers. Come join me on Facebook at Debkastnerbooks (https://www.facebook.com/debkastnerbooks/), and you can catch me on Twitter @debkastner (https://twitter.com/debkastner?).
Please know that I pray for each and every one of you daily.
Love courageously,
Deb
Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near: Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
—Isaiah 55:6–7
To the choir
at St. John the Baptist Catholic Church.
You are my tribe and I’m incredibly blessed to be a part of this wonderful, talented group.
Contents
Cover (#u9a82b2a9-c6be-5f4c-8264-9cf666ccb2e0)
Back Cover Text (#u5ca2bf57-0c41-523d-ba86-c034b32d9840)
About the Author (#u6eb0adb9-b863-5ee1-b9e3-caab151ed861)
Booklist (#u0c266c27-1dc0-5598-84db-748ae52c8d25)
Title Page (#ua2b075df-1985-5792-9c91-d8e4c76f4776)
Copyright (#u2a9a2a14-31dc-5cef-ba6f-c8c6a66805d9)
Introduction (#uef97118d-e7b6-5c73-a87f-7e8ba086ea1c)
Dear Reader (#u4e4c1da3-0f5d-595e-822a-f0b0b21916a0)
Bible Verse (#u2052836a-4f1b-5d69-8c2a-46f00747c6cd)
Dedication (#u918557ff-220e-5b89-9418-3909739aeaa9)
Chapter One (#uf6ba171e-b812-58c1-94bf-7e06aaec3b8c)
Chapter Two (#ud0ef4fad-b29c-5846-8b1f-4e5d35125eab)
Chapter Three (#u64a6a96b-368d-535c-b78b-5cde1ab766aa)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u2e883781-8dec-50f6-8dc7-4606072b5074)
“Cash Coble, front and center, please.”
Jo Spencer, the bubbly elderly redhead serving as the auctioneer, had more energy in her pinky finger than Cash had in his whole body, and her warbling voice made his head throb mercilessly.
Cash, a rodeo bareback rider only recently returned to his hometown of Serendipity, Texas, winced at the high-pitched feedback of the microphone that followed his name being called over the loudspeaker. The screechy whine drilled straight into the space between his eyes.
He was the next bachelor on the docket at Serendipity’s First Annual Bachelors and Baskets Auction in the middle of June.
But if he had his way, he would be anywhere but here.
The last thing he wanted right now was to display himself for all his hometown to see. He’d left Serendipity in the dust when his rodeo career had taken off and he hadn’t been home since—with good reason.
Now he had no choice. Even if he’d rather slink off to the nearest bar and drink himself into forgetfulness.
“Remember,” said his publicist, Martin Brandt, stepping back a pace as he surveyed Cash from the tip of his boots to the top of his hat. “You get up there and turn on your cowboy charm. Don’t forget to smile. I have a photographer from Rodeo Times here to document this, so you’d better make good out there if you want your career back.”
Cowboy charm.
That was what had got him into this predicament in the first place. His once-handsome face and enormous ego.
He scoffed under his breath. There wasn’t one blessed thing that could even remotely be considered charmed about his life right now.
What was the opposite of charmed, anyway?
Pete Drexler grinned and held up his camera as Martin leaned up on tiptoe and adjusted Cash’s black cowboy hat, presumably to reveal more of his eyes. The middle-aged publicity agent was a diminutive fellow who stood no taller than five feet even. Cash, at six-one, towered over him.
But what Martin lacked for in size, he made up for in vigor, and he was one of the best agents in the business, with all the attitude of a T. rex in obtaining the best for his clients.
Cash hated being bossed around by the man. Sometimes he had to grit his teeth to fight from barking back, especially when he was feeling as physically out of sorts as he was right now. But Martin was the only one in the rodeo world who hadn’t dumped him after all that had recently happened to him, and Cash appreciated his loyalty.
Cash’s advertising sponsors had dropped him like a hot potato when his life had turned into a downward spiral after his best friend, Aaron Emerson, had died.
Martin could easily have done the same. Having Cash as a client couldn’t be good for his reputation, and yet Martin had persisted, believing in Cash when he didn’t even believe in himself. There was a lot to be said for that kind of commitment.
Martin had this inspired idea that Cash could prove himself worthy of advertising support and save his public image by participating in this bachelor auction, not only because his agent expected Cash to be popular with the ladies, but because it was for charity.
What better way to show that Cash was a changed man?
Cash didn’t blame his sponsors for dropping him. Carrying a secret darker and thicker than tar affected every area of his life, from blackouts after nights of hard drinking to losing his stamina on the rodeo circuit.
He was a down-and-out, has-been cowboy, and deserving every bit of what was coming to him. Up to and including the ridicule and humiliation he would suffer as he stood on an auction block with little to no expectations of being bid on.
When he’d been a winner, nobody blamed him for his actions. Young cowboys were expected to let off steam. He got a pass.
But now?
Who would want him?
A big fat nobody. That’s who.
Yet he had to try. Rodeo was the only thing left for him.
If he lost that, well...
He would lose everything.
The good folks in Serendipity had gotten together to raise funds for a new senior center and hospice. With such an outstanding cause, townsfolk had come out in droves and were opening their hearts and pocketbooks with cheerful generosity.
The bachelor auction, where a single man would offer his particular expertise and skill set to the winner, had originally been Jo’s idea, but it hadn’t taken long for married men to sign on, as well.
Did a young woman need her car fixed? Carpentry? Plumbing? Accounting? Painting? Laying hardwood flooring?
There was a man for that.
Refusing to be outdone, Serendipity’s women had decided to chip in by preparing down home country meals served in festive picnic baskets to the men they bid on. All for a good cause and all in good fun.
He’d given up praying the night Aaron had died, but he mumbled under his breath something that might have been a prayer. He hoped this scheme of Martin’s wouldn’t backfire. Cash didn’t know how it could get any worse, but with the downhill slide he was on, it wouldn’t surprise him if it did.
He growled under his breath and climbed the stairs to the makeshift platform. He’d watched the previous bachelors hamming it up for the crowd, curling their biceps and showing off their muscles. One guy had even run up a tree and done backflips across the stage, much to the audience’s amusement.
Cash was an athlete on the back of a horse, but he couldn’t do a backflip to save his life. He wasn’t going to flex his biceps, either, not even if Martin pressed him to do so. The auction was already degrading as it was. If the ladies wanted to bid on him, they would just have to take him as is.
He plucked off his hat, curling the brim in his fist until his knuckles hurt. The muscles in his shoulders and arms clenched, resisting the sudden hush of the crowd.
Instead of the cheering and catcalls the other men had received, people were either staring mutely or whispering to their neighbors behind their hands.
He glanced at Martin, who gestured for him to do something, but there was nothing to do. He’d made an entrance, all right, just not the kind he’d wanted.
Raising his chin, he gazed across the crowd. No one would meet his eyes.
His throat was as raw as sandpaper and he couldn’t keep still. He wiped his free hand across the rough material of his jeans, stilling a tremor that had nothing to do with his snapping nerves at being plunked in front of an unyielding audience, and everything to do with counting the minutes since the last time he’d experienced the sweet burn of alcohol.
He was as dry as the Sahara. He’d thought that after three days, he ought to be over the worst of the physical withdrawal, but if anything, he was feeling worse now than he had those first horrible couple of days.
This—abstention—wasn’t a part of his cleanup act—or at least not one meant for the benefit of the camera. Drying out was his own personal journey, made by his own choice and determination.
At the moment, it was his own personal torment.
“Now, ladies and gents,” Jo announced in a singsong voice, “you’ll be happy to hear that our very own Cash Coble is back in town, fresh from his success on the national rodeo circuit.”
Success?
That was embellishing the truth if Cash had ever heard it, but he appreciated Jo for trying to help him. A man was only successful until he wasn’t.
And Cash wasn’t.
“Now, anyone can see that Cash here is easy on the eyes. Better yet, his agent informs me that he is ready and willing to help you out, no matter how big or small your project. Whatever odd job you’ve got, Cash is your man, ladies.”
This was usually the point where the crowd broke into an uproar of laughter and the single ladies started tossing out bids.
However, the entire crowd was acting peculiar, milling around in small groups and having personal conversations rather than paying attention to the unsteady cowboy rooted to the platform.
No one called out a bid.
Not. One. Woman.
While Serendipity was full of good people, Cash knew how easy it was for gossip to flood such a small town. A perpetual game of Telephone where the story changed bit by bit as it went from person to person.
Cast blame first and find out the truth later.
Only in Cash’s case, the truth was far worse than anything these spectators’ minds could conjure, something he would carry with him to his grave, a burden that was his alone to bear.
“Come on, ladies,” Jo urged. “Let’s see those hundred-dollar bills waving in the air. Remember, it’s for a good cause,” she reminded everyone. “The new senior center ain’t going to build itself without your generosity, so I’m going to ask you again. Who will start the bidding at one hundred dollars?”
Cash waited, tapping his hat against his thigh.
Nothing.
There wasn’t a single bid, even with Jo’s urging. And if Jo couldn’t get a response from this otherwise receptive crowd, there was no hope whatsoever for Cash.
People might not believe it from the way he’d been acting recently, but he had a heart, and it was stinging nearly as bad as his ego.
There was no way he would let anyone in Serendipity know how their collective rejection affected him. He shook his head and scoffed audibly, then straightened his shoulders, jammed his black Stetson on his head and turned to stomp down the platform stairs.
“Three hundred dollars,” came a female voice that carried across the silence with the pure tone of a bell.
He turned to scan the crowd.
Who had bid on him?
“Once, twice, sold,” Jo said, speaking faster than any real auctioneer Cash had ever heard. She banged her gavel on the podium that had been placed on the stage for just that purpose. “Alyssa Joan Emerson, come on up here and rope your prize.”
Of all people, not only an Emerson, but Lizzie—Alyssa. He couldn’t get over how his best friend’s kid sister had bloomed into a beautiful woman. Her wavy strawberry-blond hair was grown out now, more blond than strawberry. He didn’t recall her eyes being so very...brown, like deep, rich dark chocolate.
Little Lizzie Emerson, all grown up.
* * *
Alyssa wasn’t in all that much of a hurry to claim her prize, as Jo had called winning Cash Coble. She wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision at all. This might very well rank up there among some of the most foolish decisions she’d ever made.
But when no one else offered to buy Cash, her soft heart had gotten the best of her and her mouth had worked faster than her head.
Her oldest brother, Eddie, accused her of letting her empathy get the best of her. She led with her heart instead of her head. She felt too deeply—and then acted on those emotions even—often—to her own detriment.
She couldn’t seem to help herself. She chose to believe the best about people, even when they showed themselves to be untrustworthy.
Was she crazy, bringing Cash back into her life? Even without all she’d heard about the kind of man he’d turned out to be, she suspected Cash would be a problem for her.
She had so many other challenges to face.
Despite her best efforts, tears burned at the backs of her eyes and she blinked rapidly. Cash would be a constant walking, talking reminder of the brother she had recently lost. Cash and Aaron had been best friends since childhood. After graduating from high school, they had traveled the pro rodeo circuit together.
Sweet, fun-loving Aaron.
How was it that he’d been the one to get behind the wheel of a car drunk and fatally crash into a tree when Cash was still alive?
It didn’t seem fair.
Alyssa was ashamed that such a horrible thought had passed through her mind, and yet there it was.
She didn’t want Cash here. She wanted her big brother back, with his jokes and smiles and unceasing teasing.
Ironically, there had been a time when she would have given anything to have Cash notice her. As a teenager, Cash had worked in the Emerson family’s hardware store part-time. Their store was the town catchall, not only carrying hardware, but boots, clothing, gardening supplies and animal feed. Once upon a time, she’d had a crush on the boy whose dark hair flopped over his forehead and into his impossibly blue eyes, but too much had happened in her life since high school to consider those errant feelings as anything more than childhood fantasies.
Little Lizzie Emerson had grown up. While she was still called Lizzie by a select few of her closest friends, most people now referred to her by her given name, Alyssa.
She didn’t give much stock to rumors, but from what she’d heard around town, Cash was a heavy drinker. He’d got a woman pregnant and then walked away from his responsibilities to the baby. She couldn’t respect a man like that.
She had no idea why she’d piped up with a bid at the last second.
Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. Cash was the logical man for the job she had in mind. He’d worked at Emerson’s Hardware in his youth and already knew how she did things. She could put him straight to work without having to explain everything.
Which was why, despite everything, he was a good fit for the work she needed done. Kickfire, a major brand name in boots and Western wear, had contracted with her to sell their products in her store. That meant a lot of rearranging, building new display cases, creating a window display and, just before Black Friday, putting out the new stock.
But she wasn’t really going to trust him. Emerson’s was the one solid thing she had left in a world that had completely tilted awry.
She intended to lay down the rules and keep a sharp eye on Cash to make sure he didn’t screw up.
But first things first. She threaded her way to the front of the crowd and marched up onto the stage. This auction was supposed to be fun, and she’d been looking forward to it for weeks. Count on her to make a cheerful town event into something stressful instead of something sweet.
Nice one, Alyssa.
“Here’s your lariat, dear,” Jo said, pressing the rope into her hand. “Now, you go lasso your handsome cowboy.”
Cash wiped the sweat from his brow, then planted his hat back on his head, challenging her with his gaze.
Wonderful. He was intentionally making it more difficult for her to successfully swing a loop around him. She could adjust the lariat until it was big enough to go over Cash even with his hat on, but it wasn’t as if she was an expert roper. She owned a hardware store. If her toss was the slightest bit off, the coil would bounce right off his black Stetson.
Was he throwing down the gauntlet? Did he think she wasn’t good enough for him?
Tough bananas. She was the only one willing to rescue him today and he was just going to have to deal.
Was he expecting all the pretty single ladies to treat him as if he was still hot stuff, falling all over him as they’d done when he was a teenager?
Well, he wasn’t.
Not anymore.
He most definitely wasn’t a teenager. He’d filled out in all the right places. He’d grown a couple of inches taller. His shoulders were broader, his face a hard chisel of lines and his muscles more defined.
But for all that, he wasn’t hot stuff anymore.
Now that she was closer to him, she could see that his eyes were sunken into his head, with dark circles shadowing his gaze. His skin was roughened from the sun, which might have appeared rugged were it not for the stress lines on his forehead and etched around his eyes. The week’s worth of scruff on his face only increased the shadow.
“Do something, Cash,” demanded a man in the crowd, a voice Alyssa couldn’t identify.
Alyssa’s gaze switched to a short man in a gray suit and shiny black shoes. Everyone else in the crowd had on blue jeans.
Alyssa looked back at Cash and raised an eyebrow in question.
“Let’s get this over with, Lizzie.” Cash swept his hat off his head with a grunt and gestured for her to rope him.
Alyssa adjusted the lariat and swung it in the air a couple of times to get a feel for the weight. She was a shopkeeper’s daughter and had zero ranching experience, but she was standing all of two feet away from Cash.
How hard could it be?
She swung the rope toward Cash, mimicking the actions she’d seen her brother Eddie and her neighboring rancher friends do a thousand times. But instead of soaring in a nice loop up and around Cash, the noose tightened too early and swung off to one side.
It would have dropped to the ground, but at the last moment, Cash’s hand darted out to grab it. Her cheeks heated as Cash slowly and deliberately loosened the lariat and threaded himself through it until the noose circled his waist.
Was he intentionally trying to embarrass her?
Well, she wasn’t going to let him.
She yanked the rope tight around Cash and turned her back on him, leading him off the platform, her fashionable cowboy boots thumping loudly down the stairs. She didn’t care when the rope became taut and he appeared to be pulling back, scuffling his feet behind her.
Too bad for him that she was more stubborn than he was. If he was going to dig in his heels, she would just pull harder. He’d have to give in sometime.
She was relieved when they were finally off the stage and could pause while Cash pulled the rope off from around himself, tossing it back to Jo for use with the next bachelor.
Now, at least, they could find somewhere semiprivate to talk—not that there was anywhere on the community green, already spotted with dozens of brightly decorated picnic baskets, that could be considered truly private.
She sighed deeply.
“Follow me,” she said. “My picnic basket is over there, in the shade of that oak tree. I brought a lot of food. I hope you’re hungry.”
Cash muttered something unintelligible, but he stayed by her side as she led him to the basket she’d prepared. Thankfully, she’d arrived early at the community green, wanting to complete a last-minute check, since her family’s store, Emerson’s Hardware, had provided all the materials to make the platform.
It also allowed her to secure a prime spot on the lawn. The sun was shining brightly and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so the shade would be welcome.
Of course, she’d made her little banquet with a cute single bachelor in mind. Never mind that she knew every available guy in town and had either already dated him or wasn’t remotely interested in doing so.
One of the woes of a single woman growing up in a small town. She longed for the special connection that was somehow missing in the few boyfriends she’d had over the years.
Not that it really mattered. After everything that had happened recently, she had neither the time nor the energy to pursue a romantic relationship.
It was all she could do to keep her head above water, between the hardware store renovation and struggling to keep the business afloat virtually on her own.
Recently, she’d also begun to make all sorts of changes according to the contract she’d signed with Kickfire.
Eddie had abandoned the shop for ranching. Her mother had walked out on the family for unknown reasons just after Aaron died. And her father had just plain given up on life.
She sighed inwardly. Just as well she’d won Cash. No chance of a romantic entanglement there. He had the skills she needed—both in sheer muscle and in the knowledge of her store. She might never trust him to serve customers at the register as a clerk, but she had plenty for him to do even without handling money.
Cash hesitated as Alyssa unfolded a red-checked wool picnic blanket and dropped onto it with her legs folded underneath her. Only then did he seat himself, leaning on his forearm and stretching out one long, jeans-clad leg. She tried not to notice the way his bicep bulged under his T-shirt, but she found it difficult to avert her eyes.
She was a woman, after all. And once upon a time, she had been attracted to Cash.
Silently, she unpacked the picnic basket, passing him a plate, utensils and a cloth napkin before revealing the meal she’d made.
She’d cooked a turkey the day before and had prepared several sandwiches stacked high with all the fixings for them to feast on. She’d also wrapped the turkey legs as an extra treat. She’d made mashed potatoes and had topped them with a brown gravy. She’d prepared a cheesy broccoli casserole as a side and fudgy chocolate brownies for dessert.
She was starving. Her mouth watered just looking at the delicious spread. It had been a long time since breakfast and her stomach growled in anticipation.
Cash picked up a turkey leg. It was halfway to his mouth when Alyssa bowed her head to offer a short, silent prayer of thanksgiving to God, as she always did before a meal. When she opened her eyes, Cash had returned the turkey leg to his plate and was staring at her, his gaze, the vivid blue of the summer sky, wide with surprise.
Guilt speared her gut. She hadn’t even asked if he wanted to pray with her, assuming, based on the rumors she’d heard, that he wouldn’t be interested in offering thanks to God.
Heat flooded her cheeks. Where was her Christian charity? She should have at least asked if he wanted to share in the blessing.
But it was too late now. She gestured for him to eat and he picked up the turkey leg he’d previously dropped to his plate. He took a healthy bite, then another.
“Really good,” he said between mouthfuls.
“Er—thank you,” she replied, not quite sure what to do with his compliment. The warmth in his gaze made her feel as if fire ants were swarming over her skin. This situation was beyond uncomfortable.
And they hadn’t even begun talking about the results of the auction yet. How was she supposed to explain what she expected from him?
They were eating in silence, which only made the situation worse. Could this be any more awkward? At least if they were talking she could try to lead the conversation toward her expectations.
A movement to her right caught her eye and she turned to see the stranger in the gray suit approaching, followed by a laid-back-looking fellow in a white T-shirt and ratty blue jeans. He carried a high-end camera with a long lens and a boxy camera case slung around his shoulder.
Without waiting for an invitation, the well-dressed man crouched next to the picnic blanket. He shifted his gaze from Cash to Alyssa.
“So. Here’s the deal,” the man said, not bothering to introduce himself. “We’re looking at a six-month hiatus while we put together Cash’s publicity campaign. Our goal is to have him back in the saddle and the public’s good graces by the National Western Stock Show in Colorado in January. With that in mind, this charity auction thing is our first event.”
The man paused for her to acknowledge what he was saying, but rather than nodding, she shook her head. Even when Aaron was in rodeo, she’d never been interested enough to follow his career, so she knew nothing about the stock show he’d mentioned.
“You don’t know of it? Well, never mind. That’s not the point. Here’s what’s going to happen. Cash does whatever you have in mind for him to do, along with some carefully orchestrated acts of charity I’ll prepare. I’ll also line up some public appearances, so his fans can meet him. Something that emphasizes his hometown roots.”
The man put an odd emphasis on “acts of charity,” as if the words didn’t mean what they were commonly meant to describe.
“I’m sorry—and you are?” Alyssa didn’t like the way this man was looking at her—or talking about Cash, as if he was a piece of merchandise and not a man.
“Martin. Martin Brandt. Cash’s agent and publicist,” Martin answered in a clipped tone.
“I’m Alyssa Emerson.”
He waved aside her introduction and continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Our goal is to photograph Cash in the best possible light, capturing him working hard and doing good—for the sake of his new sponsors, of course.”
Cash scoffed loudly, and Martin narrowed his deep-set eyes on him.
“What new sponsors?” Cash growled.
“Potential new sponsors, then,” Martin corrected. “You’ve burned a lot of bridges, but I still think with the right publicity campaign we can get you back on track. You were once at the top of your game. You do exactly what I tell you, and I see no reason for you not to recover from your fall from grace.”
“I’m sorry—photograph?” It was a lot to take in all at once, but the first part of the stranger’s statement was what grabbed Alyssa’s attention.
The guy with the camera just shrugged and smiled sheepishly.
Alyssa had won Cash in the auction, paying her hard-earned money for his services—not the other way around. So why did she suddenly feel like they were expecting, no—demanding—all take and no give?
This whole thing felt very much like they were ganging up on her, these three men, and she didn’t like it one bit. If they thought she’d be a pushover, they had better think again.
“Yes. Photographs. By a photographer,” Martin repeated. “Pete Drexler here is from Rodeo Times, the top rodeo magazine in the world. He’ll be tailing Cash over the next few weeks and taking pictures we can use for good publicity. Which he desperately needs,” Martin added.
Cash scoffed.
“The benefit to you being three months of free labor,” Martin pressed. “More, if I think it’s necessary. I’m sure you’ll see it my way when you consider all the facts.”
Oh, yes, indeed. She could see. The picture was becoming increasingly clear. She snorted under her breath, but there was nothing funny about this situation.
She was being used. They intended to play upon her kindness to bring Cash back into the good graces of the rodeo world.
Not to mention she was now in possession, so to speak, of a sullen cowboy who clearly didn’t want to be here in the first place. This was obviously not Cash’s idea. It didn’t take a genius to see Martin was twisting his arm, forcing him to do something he would rather have rejected.
It didn’t matter what Martin said. This was never going to work.
Between keeping the store running, taking care of her ailing father and committing to a renovation that she now realized might be perfect on paper but in execution was going to be more complicated than she’d imagined, she was already in way over her head.
The last thing she needed was to worry about a photographer getting in the way all the time. The guy would be blocking the merchandise. Customers who might come into the store to browse wouldn’t want Pete standing in their way.
She was worried that the mess and chaos of renovating the store for Kickfire was already causing her customers to look elsewhere for their hardware, outdoors and clothing needs. With most of the work still ahead of her, she couldn’t afford to lose even a single sale, which might very well happen. Even if the townsfolk dared to brave the maze of new displays and boxes of stock around the store, she was certain they wouldn’t want to be caught on camera for all the world to see.
They lived in a small town for a reason.
And she didn’t even want to get started on Cash using charity for his own purposes.
Alyssa pressed her lips together into a tight line and narrowed her eyes on Martin before sliding her gaze to Cash, whose stony expression revealed nothing.
“I see,” she said in a dry monotone. “But I’m going to have to decline.”
Chapter Two (#u2e883781-8dec-50f6-8dc7-4606072b5074)
There was a big difference between humility and downright humiliation. Cash had known he was going to have to eat a lot of dirt when he came back to Serendipity, but Alyssa’s words felt more like she was burying him in it, ten feet down.
He still wished he could walk away, but beggars didn’t get to be choosers.
Rodeo was his life, and bareback riding was the only skill in which he truly excelled. Up until Aaron’s death, he lived for the adrenaline that came along with the feel of a horse’s muscles as it tried to fling him from its back. He reveled in the sound of the roaring crowd and the glare of the spotlights.
And yeah, he still wanted to be there. He wasn’t quite ready to put his buckles on the shelf and succumb to the quiet life of a wrangler, which was the only job he would be qualified to do once his rodeo career ended.
Maybe someday he’d settle down, but not just yet.
Alyssa had bid on him and won him at this auction, and he wouldn’t quickly forget hers was the only bid he’d had. He was obligated to assist her on whatever project she had in mind for him.
Because that was the promise he’d made by stepping onto the platform in the first place.
His word was one of the few things he had left, and he intended to honor it. Whatever she expected of him, he would do, if not willingly, then at least not grudgingly.
This was more of an opportunity than he deserved. This situation wasn’t easy for a man who led with his ego, more often than not. The least she could do was agree to give him a little boost up in the process.
He was about to say something to that effect when Martin jumped in.
“What did you just say?” Martin snapped. “You’re going to decline?”
Cash’s agent was used to getting his own way, which was what made him so good at his job. Martin didn’t take no for an answer. But he got the job done, and that was the bottom line.
“Was I not clear?” Alyssa countered.
Cash was impressed by her backbone. Not too many people dared take on Martin.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to have a photographer lurking around my store right now. It would be bad for business.”
Her gaze switched to Cash in silent appeal.
“Cash, help me convince your agent that we’re not a good fit. It’ll be in both of our best interests for you to work with someone else on your publicity scheme. I inadvertently put you in this awkward position by bidding on you, so I’ll help you find someone else who will be more eager to work with you.”
He shook his head. “There is no one else. Maybe you didn’t notice back there.” He gestured toward the stage, where the auction continued. Men were hooting, and women were cheering over whichever poor clod was out on display now. “People weren’t exactly champing at the bit to pick me up at the auction.”
She brushed a hand back through her hair and blew at a strand she missed. It floated upward and then down again, right into her eyes.
“Does that really surprise you? Rumors about your behavior on the rodeo circuit have been milling around here for months. The town does love gossip, you know.”
He shifted his eyes away from her. “I figured as much. And you’re right. I didn’t expect any better.”
“Martin? Can you give me some time alone with Cash?” Alyssa asked in a soft yet firm voice. It was a question, but not really a question. Not the way Alyssa delivered it.
Martin didn’t look as if he was in any big hurry to capitulate to Alyssa, but when Alyssa shifted her gaze to him and narrowed her eyes on him, he reluctantly got to his feet and shrugged.
“Cash, I’m trusting you to convince her that this is in her best interest.”
Anger flared in Cash’s chest, mostly directed at himself and the circumstances he’d landed himself in.
How, exactly, was he supposed to convince Alyssa of anything?
He’d managed to royally screw up his life, and as a public figure, it wasn’t surprising that his hometown neighbors knew what a mess he’d made.
Neither was he astonished they’d judged him for it.
He didn’t have any excuses for all he’d done. He was guilty on nearly every count, with the one exception of his connection with Sharee, the mother of his unborn baby. That woman had spouted off dozens of lies about him and completely wrecked his character, for no other reason than to get her own face in front of the camera.
No one other than Sharee knew that he’d immediately contacted her as soon as he’d heard, had attempted to accept his responsibility to his baby. He had offered his support and expressed his desire to be a true father to his child, only to be shot down by a woman who had no interest in him other than how she could use him to reach for her own celebrity status.
He’d tried everything he could think of. What more was there for him to do?
It was just another one of his failings, and one of his deepest regrets.
Alyssa waited until Martin was gone before she spoke.
“I’ve never been one to believe in rumors,” she stated firmly. “I know how quickly things can get bent out of shape. Things are rarely as they seem.”
Cash cringed so hard his muscles ached, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
What was she going to do when she realized the rumors were true? Most of them, anyway. But the very worst was one that had never been spoken of at all—something he’d kept hidden from everyone. A secret that he’d have to conceal in the dark of his soul for the rest of his life.
That he was guilty of causing Aaron’s death.
Alyssa’s voice pulled him back to the present.
“I’d rather hear the truth directly from you, if you don’t mind. I want you to tell me why you’re here, and why you think your rodeo career tanked in the first place.”
A spark of hope struck in his heart. She wanted to hear his side of the story. But that wouldn’t matter. He quickly doused the flame.
“Why? What difference is it going to make what I have to say? What will make you believe me? Are you going to keep me on if I give you the answers you want to hear?”
“No. Yes.” She paused and shrugged, rubbing her forehead thoughtfully. “Maybe.”
He extended his other leg and stretched. This was going to take a while.
“Let me ask you something first,” he said.
“Okay,” she answered. She sounded hesitant, but she met his gaze head-on.
“One thing doesn’t make sense to me. Why did you bid on me when you knew going into it what you were going to get?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
A broken cowboy.
“My baggage. Even without a photographer following me around, I’m loaded with problems. As you said, you’ve heard the rumors. You know what I am. You realize people are going to judge you, too, just for associating with me.”
“I’m not worried about that,” she said, although her face drained of color. “I know who I am, and that’s all that matters.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” he reminded her.
She sighed.
“I bid on you partially because you are—were—Aaron’s best friend,” she admitted. “I kept thinking about how he would feel if he saw you floundering up there, and I felt I owed it to his memory to rescue you.”
She might as well have slapped him across the face, because that’s how her words felt. That she would rescue him in Aaron’s memory, after he—
No. He wouldn’t go there.
He couldn’t.
He wasn’t going to think about it, much less talk about it. Not if he didn’t want to end up on a bar stool, ordering a bottle of whiskey, which was the inevitable conclusion if he let his mind wander back to that night.
Instead, he lightened the mood and attempted to tease her, though he wasn’t fully successful in his effort.
“Wow, thanks,” he muttered sardonically. “And here I thought you picked me because I’m good-looking.”
She snorted. “Inflate your own ego much?”
He tipped one edge of his mouth up in a half smile. “Hey, I’m just calling it as I see it. Remember, every morning I have to look at my reflection in the mirror.”
The truth was, he hated what he saw when he looked in the mirror these days—blotchy skin, sunken eyes. The polar opposite of the good-looking youth he’d once been. Everyone else who laid eyes on him saw the same thing.
She apparently noticed the shift in his mood, because her lips turned to a frown.
“This isn’t just about Aaron,” she hastened to explain. “Yes, that was part of the reason I bid on you, but besides that, you really are the best fit for what I need done.”
“How is that?” He couldn’t imagine she believed he was good for anything.
“I’m doing some fairly major renovations with the store. I have to have everything done before the Christmas season starts this year because I’ve signed an exclusive contract with Kickfire to sell their products. Another pair of willing hands would be much appreciated.”
“I’d be happy to help,” he said, and meant it. “But if you don’t mind my asking, what happened to Eddie? And your father? Aren’t they helping in the shop?”
Her gaze dropped and her cheeks pinkened. “Eddie decided wrangling is more fun than adding up accounts at the end of the day. And my father—” She choked on the word and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that I’m running the store myself for the time being.”
He blew out a low whistle. “That’s a lot to carry around on your shoulders.”
“Mmm,” she answered, but he couldn’t tell whether she was agreeing with him or not. “I didn’t anticipate having you around for more than a week at most, but a longer stay might not be all bad.”
“Gee, thanks,” he muttered, but he narrowed his eyes in concern when Alyssa’s shoulders slumped.
“If I’m honest, I have to admit I’m bone tired from working six days a week with rare breaks.”
She ran a hand down her face. Cash followed the movement with his eyes and for the first time noticed the tiny lines of strain in her expression.
“Back when you were in high school, you were employed part-time here at the store,” she continued. “I suspect it won’t take you very long to remember how we do things. Not much has changed since you’ve been here last. You already know how to set modules, restock, receive freight and keep the storage room in order, so I won’t even have to teach you, will I? Or do you need a refresher?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” he assured her. “Working at Emerson’s with Aaron is one of my best memories from high school. Your dad was good to me when I probably didn’t deserve it. I wouldn’t mind saying hello.”
Her face suddenly blanched a pasty white and it looked as if she was choking on her breath, just as it had a moment ago when she’d mentioned her father.
Instinctively, he reached for her arm.
“Are you okay? What? What did I say?”
“Dad is ill,” she said gravely. “That’s part of the reason I’m running the store virtually on my own.”
A tremor ran through her and Cash brushed his hand across her shoulder, comforting her as best he could, despite feeling awkward and powerless to do more for her.
“What’s wrong with him?” he asked, his voice dropping lower than usual.
“I don’t know if you heard anything about what happened to my family after Aaron died. It really affected my parents’ relationship. The long and short of it is my mom evidently couldn’t handle the pressure. She left town—and Dad.”
Her voice cracked. “She left all of us. And she never looked back.”
He sucked in a surprised breath between his teeth.
He hadn’t known. Hadn’t heard a word about it.
Having her mom abandon her? That couldn’t have been an easy thing for Lizzie—Alyssa, he reminded himself, to go through, especially just after Aaron’s death. Her mother. It didn’t matter that Alyssa was an adult now. He couldn’t even imagine what that felt like.
His stomach roiled. So much could happen in a mere six months. No time at all, and yet it felt like an eternity had passed.
A wave of guilt washed over him. Like the ripple created when he tossed a rock into clear water, his actions had caused so much turmoil. Cash was only now beginning to realize how much that one act—the proverbial rock he’d thrown into the water—had affected not only his life, but others’, too.
Aaron had died. He had inadvertently hurt Alyssa—and her father. And no doubt Eddie, as well. The circle just seemed to keep growing.
This—all of this—was his fault.
“Dad hasn’t recovered from Mom abandoning him,” she whispered raggedly, continuing the story.
She cleared her throat. Her chocolate-brown eyes were glassy, but no tears fell.
“Like all of us, he’d depended on Mom for practically everything. She didn’t just run the household. She supported everyone with her internal strength.”
Alyssa sighed wearily. “Dad can’t get along without her. I didn’t know it at the time, but he recently admitted to me that he barely ate anything the first few weeks after Mom was gone. He lost a lot of weight, and it was only then that Eddie and I started noticing the changes in him. He can’t sleep without a sedative. His health has taken a major nosedive and he’s only a shell of the man he used to be.”
“I’m so sorry. To lose your mom that way...”
Twin clefts appeared between her eyes. “We didn’t lose her. She isn’t gone. She walked away. And she didn’t look back. I don’t even know if she considered how her actions would affect the family. She selfishly thought only of herself. Aaron’s death might have been the last straw for her, but I suspect the situation went much further back than that.”
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, not knowing what else he could say. No words could possibly act as a salve on Alyssa’s heart. Cash of all people knew that.
Alyssa was in an even worse predicament than Cash had originally imagined. It was more important than ever that she agreed to accept his help. If Aaron hadn’t died, her mother might not have left. Eddie might still be working in the store alongside Alyssa and their father. Cash had to try to make right the misery he’d caused, not that he would ever be able to do that.
“I’m surprised Eddie didn’t stick around to help you,” he said.
She scoffed. “I wish. Eddie spent last summer wrangling at a local ranch and decided that was what he wanted to do with his life, rather than running our family business as Dad had always intended. I’m happy for him, but—”
“But that leaves you high and dry.”
She nodded. “Exactly.”
“Which means you really do need my help.”
She looked uncertain. He slid his hand down her arm and reached for her hand. Her gaze dropped to where their fingers met but she didn’t remove her hand.
“You could have bid on anyone, but you bid on me. Let me help you.”
“I want to,” she said hesitantly. “But what about the photographer? The publicity? You must realize I don’t have room in my life for extra hassles right now, however small.”
A lightbulb went off in Cash’s mind.
“Maybe that’s precisely what you need.”
She lifted her gaze to his and raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
“Publicity. Free promotion for your store. Pete’s photos can do as much good for Emerson’s as they can for my career. Surely that would be a boon to you, getting your face in front of the masses, so to speak. Let them know about the changes you’re making.”
Her face went from white to flaming red in a single breath of air.
“Not in this lifetime.”
“What? Free publicity?”
“No. My face in front of people. That’s not something I want to do.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” he pressed, as the notion formed into solid concept. “You know all of those car salesmen and ambulance-chasing lawyers on television? They get their clients by using themselves to sell their products and services.”
“I’m pretty sure everyone in Serendipity already knows I run Emerson’s Hardware.”
“Maybe so, but isn’t part of the reason you’re doing the renovation to bring in customers from surrounding towns? To be the go-to store for Kickfire Western wear products?”
“True,” she admitted.
“It’s solid marketing. Giving your store a face is a great way to personalize it,” he said, “and draw in customers. That’s the reason sponsors use me in their commercials. To give their products a face.”
“Yes, but—”
He could see he wasn’t convincing her. She didn’t appear shy or introverted, but it had been a long time since they’d interacted on a personal basis. Maybe he was pushing her out of her comfort zone.
Whereas Cash—well, he loved the limelight.
“No, wait. I’ve got a better idea. I can do it,” he crowed as the lightbulb in his head beamed brighter than the sun.
For the first time since Aaron’s death, he felt excited about an idea, allowing it to break through the black cloud of his meager existence. He embraced the feeling. He wanted to do something other than nurse a tumbler of whiskey to numb his pain.
“Look. I’m trying my best to repair my reputation. If I clean up my act and become a positive influence—and wear Kickfire products—I can be your spokesperson. It’ll help you gain more leverage with the store, and it will help me find new sponsors, once they see what a difference I’ve made for you and Kickfire.”
“Maybe,” she hedged.
He squeezed her hand. “It’s the perfect plan. I help you, you help me.”
He had every intention of helping her with far more than just offering his face for the camera and his public persona for the store. He aimed to receive inventory, move displays around, stock shelves and sweep the floors.
But she didn’t have to know he’d be looking for extra ways to make her life easier.
This was the perfect way to redeem himself. He had developed his own set of moral principles to help him stay on the straight and narrow and he intended to follow those values to the letter.
Not that he ever could.
Not with the burden he carried.
He made a silent promise to himself. By the time he left Serendipity and went back to the rodeo, Alyssa would trust him.
If he couldn’t win her over, there was no hope that the rest of the world would embrace him. Until he proved himself with her, he wasn’t ready to go back to his old life.
“I can see what you’re saying about my marketing plan,” she acknowledged. “But before we go any further, there’s one other issue, and I need you to tell me the truth.”
His heart beat so hard he thought it might leap out of his chest.
“What do you want to know?” he finally asked, his voice raspy with emotions.
She stared at him for a long moment before speaking.
“How many of the rumors I’ve heard about you are true?”
* * *
Alyssa believed asking Cash about his recent past was reasonable, especially if she took him up on his offer to become the face of Emerson’s Hardware. She couldn’t have surprises lurking under every stone, revelations that could potentially harm the good name of Emerson’s Hardware.
She hated to admit it, but what he’d said about her publicity strategy—or lack of one—made sense, even for as small a town as Serendipity. She intended to target several surrounding towns. As Cash had mentioned, people would come in from out of town once they heard she was selling Kickfire products. She’d recently created a website for the store so folks in the tri-county region and beyond could peruse weekly specials and feel compelled to visit her store. She was even looking into the prospect of shipping products directly to consumers.
That would majorly change the focus of her little shop and held the possibility of creating a substantial second stream of income. Her biggest concern was that once Cash fulfilled his obligation, she would once again be working the store alone. No matter how desperately Emerson’s needed a boost in income, she didn’t want to bite off more than she’d be able to chew.
At this point she wasn’t planning to ship beyond the local area, but who knew what the future held?
One thing was certain—having a handsome cowboy hawking the goods—one who’d successfully sponsored other products in the past—would be a definite plus, especially for the Western wear.
But only if she could trust him.
And that was a big if right now.
If Cash was willing to lay it all out on the line and tell her the truth, and if he truly intended to strive to make up for his wrongdoings, she might be able to overlook the predicaments that got him into trouble in the first place.
Even if she had to put up with Martin’s annoying interference and his own ideas for what a publicity campaign should entail, not to mention Pete’s camera flashing.
Everyone deserved a second chance, didn’t they? Even a man like Cash, who’d fallen from grace in the rodeo world and was now struggling just to survive.
Maybe especially a man like Cash.
But only if he came clean now—literally and figuratively.
She waited, her breath catching in her lungs as Cash gathered his thoughts. He dropped his gaze and stared at the picnic blanket.
Was he going to explain what had really happened to him, or was he preparing to put on that false cowboy charm of his and try to find a way to gloss it over?
She suspected he was wearing a mask, and it was up to him to remove it and let Alyssa see what he looked like underneath the facade.
“Yeah. Okay.” He paused and pursed his lips. “You deserve the truth if we’re going to work together.”
She nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard. Why don’t you tell me, and then I’ll tell you how it really went down?”
“The drinking,” she prompted, saying the first thing that came to mind. She might as well give it to him straight and hope he did the same with her.
“Yes.” He didn’t say another word, just caught her gaze and held it firm.
That was it?
Yes?
There had to be more to it than that.
“You did drink? You still do? I suppose what you do on your own time is your business, but I can’t have you under the influence of alcohol while you’re working at my store, especially with the renovations going on. It could be dangerous.”
“I understand. And to answer your question, at one point I drank a lot, but now I don’t.”
“At all?”
“At all. Look. When I first entered the rodeo scene, I partied as much as the next cowboy, but once I lost Aaron, I lost my moral compass completely. I floundered, not only in my private life, but out in the arena. Alcohol was a way to dull my senses.”
“I’m going to be forthright with you. After everything I heard about you, I half expected you to show up drunk today at the auction.”
He frowned. “I won’t ever do that to you. I promise I’m dry and will do everything in my power to remain that way. But I think it’s only fair to tell you it’s only been three days since my last drink. At this point I’m still going through physical withdrawal, not to mention emotional issues. It’s not easy, but I’m detemined.”
She pinched her lips. “I see.”
She didn’t understand the struggles he was facing. Not really. She’d never even tasted alcohol, much less been tipsy, nor had she ever spent any time around an alcoholic before, so she had nothing to gauge what Cash was pledging to her.
Could he really stop drinking cold turkey, and all on his own, as Martin had insisted?
“Is that a deal breaker?” He tilted his head and met her gaze. Like her, he didn’t couch his question in sweet terms.
She considered his words for a moment, chewing the corner of her lip. After a long pause, she shook her head.
“No. Not necessarily. But know this. If you show up drunk on the job one time, I will kick you out the door faster than any bareback bronc ever did. You have exactly one opportunity to prove yourself. Do we understand each other?”
She knew she was being tough on him, and her demands wouldn’t be easy for him to follow, but she wasn’t about to start pulling punches now. She had her store to think of, before anything else, even her own emotions.
She understood herself well enough to know that if she worked with him, she would become entangled in his battle. She didn’t have the strength, nor the good sense, to hold him at arm’s length, especially if she saw him struggling. So the rules were as much for her as they were for him.
“Understood.” His voice sounded like gravel, as if his throat was lined with sandpaper. “What else?”
She paused, opening and closing her mouth twice, about to speak and then stopping herself.
He tensed, and his gaze narrowed.
“Spit it out. Let’s get everything out in the open now. Like you said. No surprises.”
There was one other thing, but it was a touchy issue, perhaps even more so than his drinking. And Alyssa suspected Cash already knew what she was about to say.
“I heard there was a woman.”
He exhaled and dropped his gaze to his hands, no longer willing or able to meet her eyes.
“Yes. I figured you would have heard about Sharee. She was all over the news with her smear campaign.”
“Is that what it was?”
Alyssa thought she wanted the truth from him. But did she really want to hear it?
What if what Sharee had said was true? What if he had “knocked her up”—Sharee’s words, not hers, and a phrase Alyssa found especially repugnant—and then refused to acknowledge his baby?
“A smear campaign?” He shrugged. “Yes and no.”
“Cash?” she said, when he didn’t continue.
“Yes, she is pregnant with my child. I willingly admit that I’m the father, and I take full responsibility for my actions, both then and now. But not one word of anything else she has blurted to the press is true.
“She’s cast me in a very bad light, making it appear that I abandoned her when she told me I was going to be a father. The truth is, she didn’t even bother to inform me she was pregnant. I had to hear that from the evening news.”
He picked off his hat and tunneled his fingers through his thick black hair.
“Yeah, I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Alyssa. But I didn’t walk out on her, because we never had a relationship. She was a buckle bunny and I was a rodeo cowboy too big for his britches. Which I guess makes me a jerk, so maybe she has that right. She pursued me, not the other way around. Not that I’m making excuses.
“We connected one time, and I was so drunk I barely remember.”
She was trying not to judge Cash. But what kind of man got a girl pregnant like that?
Alyssa felt for the woman, buckle bunny or not. That Cash had a one-night stand with her only made the situation worse.
“And?” she pressed. “What now?”
“Are you asking me about my intentions?”
“I am.”
He could tell her it was none of her business and he would probably be right. But if he did, she would send him on his way, auction or no auction.
“Believe me, I’ve tried to do right by her,” he said, his voice cracking. “And my baby. As soon as I heard she was pregnant, I contacted her. There is no question in my mind that I’m going to pay child support, but it’s more than that. I don’t want my child to grow up without a father. I know I’m a mess right now and not the kind of man who would be a positive influence on a child. But I’d like to share custody after I get my life back together. Being a father is a huge motivation. Except Sharee has made it crystal clear she wants nothing to do with me, nor does she want me to have any part of our child’s life.”
His gaze dropped. “And who can blame her? Look at me. I’m hardly in any position to be a father, to take care of a baby. I’m a wreck.
“I have every intention of doing all I can for my baby—giving my financial support, at least, even if Sharee won’t let me into my child’s life in any other way.” He groaned. “If I can’t really be a father to him or her in the ways that really matter.”
“But if it is your baby—”
“It is. I can’t prove it right now, but I feel it in my gut, and the timing is right.”
“Yes, but then don’t you think...”
“Believe me, that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” he cut in. “I need to be a better man. Not just for the rodeo’s sake, although there is that, since that’s the only way I know how to provide for my baby. But the adjustments I intend to make in the way I live? In a few months my baby will be born. Talk about life changing. Suddenly it isn’t all about me. My baby will be born soon.”
His mouth curved up and a spark fired in his eyes at the mention of his baby’s upcoming birth, but then he frowned and shook his head. “I only saw the ultrasound of the little bean because Sharee shared it on the news. She announced that she had just finished her first—trimester. Is that the right word? Trimester? I don’t know much about pregnancy, and Sharee won’t tell me anything.”
Alyssa didn’t much like the way this woman was treating Cash. Maybe he deserved it for how he’d treated her, but now there was a baby involved. They needed to put aside both their agendas for the child’s sake.
It sounded like Cash wanted to do what was right, but if what Cash said about Sharee was true, she was using her baby for her own gain. It made Alyssa sick just to think about it.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Don’t be. It’s all my own doing. I dug this hole, and now it’s up to me to crawl out of it. I’m not anywhere close to being ready to be a father, but it’s up to me now to become a good daddy. I know what I have to do now—and that starts with cutting out the whiskey.”
“And that’s why you’ve stopped drinking.”
“I’m three days sober. That doesn’t sound like much, but to me it feels like I’m climbing up the side of a steep mountain. I don’t know if I’ll ever reach the summit, but I have to try.”
At least he was man enough to own up to his mistakes. But was that enough to keep him on the straight and narrow? Alyssa knew enough about alcoholism to know the path wasn’t simple, and she sent up a short, silent prayer that God would be with Cash throughout the struggles he would face.
“So now you know the truth, it’s up to you as to what you want to do with it. With me,” he amended. “Are you willing to help me, not only with my rodeo publicity, but in regaining my life and integrity? Or do I need to look elsewhere?”
Alyssa thought of his agent, Martin, who stood just out of earshot, his gaze zoned in on them and a frown lining his face. At least the photographer who’d taken pictures of Cash at the auction and when they’d first shared the picnic was nowhere to be seen.
But Pete would be back, hanging around Cash, and no doubt getting in the way. Her customers would be bumping into him every time they turned around, and that was to say nothing of how chaotic the renovation might be.
She pressed her palms against her eyes where a headache was forming. It was a lot to consider, and she wished she had more time to think about it, but Cash needed an answer now.
And Cash wasn’t the only one waiting for an answer. Even now, Martin was inching forward. Alyssa was certain he wouldn’t walk away until he got what he wanted.
Her stomach churned, and she prayed she wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of her life.
“Okay, I’ll help you,” she said. “But I’ll be watching you like a hawk. One mistake and you’re gone. Is that clear?”
He gave a curt nod.
“Understood. And thank you.” He tipped his hat at her.
“Don’t thank me yet,” she warned him. “This arrangement can end as quickly as it begins.”
“I get it. It’s all on me.”
“I’ll expect you to be at the store at 8:00 a.m. sharp Monday morning.”
He stood, gesturing toward Martin. “I’d better tell him I’m sticking around so he can make arrangements for Pete to stay in town.”
“Okay. And, Cash?”
“Yeah?” He turned, one dark eyebrow raised.
“Don’t be late.”
Chapter Three (#u2e883781-8dec-50f6-8dc7-4606072b5074)
Cash’s head was slamming harder than the nails he was pounding with his hammer. Every movement was excruciating, like an ice pick repeatedly striking his temple. Cold sweat clung to his brow.
He’d been working for Alyssa for nearly a week, which meant he was close to ten days sober. He’d presumed he would be past any physical withdrawal symptoms. Mostly that was the case, but there were moments, like this one, where he felt like he had on his first alcohol-free day.
It was as if his body had a peculiar, regressive muscle memory. A cold sweat covered his skin, his entire body ached, his hands shook with tremors and his head throbbed incessantly.
He wished he had someone to ask about what he was experiencing, someone who had been through withdrawal and who would know if what he was feeling was normal. But he was too ashamed to participate in a twelve-step program or have a sponsor and, anyway, there wasn’t a meeting within an hour’s drive. He didn’t have the time nor the inclination to make that much of a sacrifice.
No, he was going to conquer this all on his own. He’d used the internet to find out as much information on alcoholism as he could, facts he hoped would keep him from backsliding, but there were moments like this one that took every ounce of his willpower to battle.
He blew out an unsteady breath.
One sip and the shakes would go away. Two fingers in a tumbler and the black cloud that always covered his head would no longer threaten to rain on him.
But that was all an illusion, he reminded himself. Just because he numbed himself to the world didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
Alyssa had wasted no time putting Cash to work, and to his surprise, she’d put him on the payroll. He hadn’t expected that, but he gratefully accepted it all the same. Every dime he pocketed was something he could give to his baby. He wouldn’t say no to that.
And he was earning his keep. She needed six wooden storage shelving units built and four dozen new shelves cut, sanded and stained as part of her store renovation, using distressed wood to give the cabinets an old-fashioned appearance.
Building new shelves to mount boot displays on seemed a bit premature to Cash, since the new stock wasn’t slated to arrive for another few months yet.
It hadn’t taken much prompting for Alyssa to open up about her dreams for Emerson’s. She really did love the store and the work she did. Once Cash had got her talking about the renovation, she’d become surprisingly animated, though the stress lines etched on her forehead deepened.
“I have the exclusive opportunity to represent one of the most well-known Western wear companies in the nation—the Kickfire brand. Not only their specialty line of clothing,” she’d explained excitedly when she’d given him a tour of the store and described all the changes she wanted to make, “but their hats and boots, as well.”
“That’s awesome,” he told her. “They’re one of rodeo’s biggest sponsors. They even have a bareback bronc by the name of Kickfire.”
“It is a big honor for me to have pulled in the brand, but it’s also going to be quite a challenge. I’ve promised the company that my renovation will be done before Christmas. Ideally, their product line will be stocked before Black Friday, so folks can buy Kickfire Western wear to use as Christmas presents.”
“The people in Serendipity and surrounding towns are going to be stoked,” he assured her.
“I hope so. But I still have so much to do. I want to patch the drywall and repaint all the walls before the shelves you’re building can be hung. I’m also hoping to replace the wood flooring, if the budget allows. At this point some parts of the renovation are still very much up in the air.”
As far as Cash was concerned, she still had plenty of time before the beginning of the Christmas season to complete her detailed vision, but Alyssa appeared as anxious as if the entire load of stock was heading her way now.
Apparently, she wasn’t as certain as Cash was that she could pull it off. It was a lot to do. She wanted the grand reopening ready to go on Black Friday, with her store completely renovated, newly stocked and thoroughly decked out with Christmas decorations.
Bah humbug.
That was one part of her scheme Cash could do without. He didn’t have much use for Christmas and everything that went along with the season, and it was going to be pure torture for Alyssa to remind him of her holiday goals ten times a day, every day.
He’d be gone long before the Christmas season started, of course, but she was already talking about Christmas as if it were tomorrow. He didn’t even want to think of how obnoxiously her cup would runneth over with holiday cheer the closer she got to December 25.
Peace on Earth and goodwill toward men. Bright lights and Christmas carols. Deck the halls and joy to the world.
Stuff and nonsense, that’s all it was.
What was there to be cheerful about? This world and everything in it only caused strife and sorrow.
He was proof of it.
Aaron was proof of it.
Well, it wasn’t his problem. He had enough quandaries of his own to deal with, without accidentally allowing his relationship with Alyssa to become personal in any way. He was always ultra-aware of her whenever she was in the same room with him, but it was better for everyone that he kept his distance from Aaron’s sister.
With his resolve firmly in place, he turned his full attention to the work at hand. When she’d first mentioned building display cases, he’d told Alyssa that he could hammer and saw, but a carpenter, he was not. The whole project was going to be slow going, but he supposed that was making it easier for Pete to capture pictures of him covered in sawdust with a pencil behind his ear.
Working hard on his charity project, for what that was worth.
After Cash posed for the camera with a hammer in his hand, Pete indicated he was taking a break and Cash was able to relax and actually enjoy working with his hands. He gauged the next board out with his tape measure and cut it to size with a circular saw, nodding to acknowledge Alyssa as she approached him.
She’d been busy with a steady stream of customers all morning. A couple of times he’d considered asking her if she’d like him to help out at the register. It had been a few years since he’d worked at Emerson’s, but he thought he remembered how to use the till.
But since she didn’t ask, he didn’t offer. He hadn’t shown himself to be the most stand-up guy in the past few months. She probably didn’t trust him around money.
Not that he could blame her. He wouldn’t trust him around money.
So instead, he did his best to keep himself and Pete out of the way of the flow of shopper traffic. Some of his old friends and neighbors stopped to say hi, which surprised him, especially after the public shunning he’d received at the auction.
Slade and Nick McKenna, ranchers who’d both competed in rodeo with him when they were in high school, stopped by to say hey. Cash had expected to feel uncomfortable, but his friends treated him as they always had, laughing and joshing around.
He supposed he was old news now, which was just as well.
He set aside the saw and picked up his hammer, ready to finish nailing the shelving unit together.
“How are you doing back here?” she asked, examining the wooden case he was currently building. “I’m impressed at how much you’ve been able to get done with Pete constantly in your face snapping your picture. Doesn’t that bother you?”
He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”
“The cabinet looks nice and sturdy.”
“Ha, ha. It ought to be.” He lifted his hammer to strike the next nail. “I’ve been using more nails than is probably strictly necessary. Remember, I’m a cowboy, not a carpenter.”
“It looks good all the same.”
Her words of praise surprised and pleased him, and his fingers slipped, bringing the ball of the hammer straight down on his thumb.
“Ow,” he grumbled before he could stop himself. He held up the offended appendage and shook it out.
Alyssa reached for him. She pulled his hand down and examined his thumb. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I distracted you, didn’t I?”
That ship had already sailed a long time ago. Alyssa was distracting by her mere presence, which was probably why he’d already smacked his thumb more than once today. He might be trying to build an emotional barrier between them, but he wasn’t immune to her pretty face, especially when she smiled.
“Don’t worry about it.” He tried to shrug it off. “It’s not the first time today I’ve slipped up,” he admitted, gritting his teeth to grin at her and realizing it probably looked more like a grimace. He didn’t want to be a baby about it, no matter how much his thumb was throbbing. He was too much of a man to ever admit how much pain he was really in.
“Oh, no. Cash. You should have said something.”
“Nothing to say,” he muttered. “It’s all good.”
It would take more than a few splinters and slamming the hammer into his thumb to keep him from his task. He would take a couple of aspirin when he got home.
His head was throbbing louder than his thumb, anyway. He had so much on his mind that it was no wonder his brain felt as if it were about to explode.
Mollifying Martin and bringing his rodeo skills up to par, for one thing. Another, infinitely more significant reason for his stress was that he couldn’t get a hold of Sharee. She wasn’t answering his calls and now her voice mail box was full.
What were her plans for their baby? He suspected she was avoiding him, so she wouldn’t have to answer that question.
He blew out a frustrated breath. Hitting his thumb was little more than pain transference, if he wanted to look at it that way. And Alyssa was a nice diversion.
He picked off his hat and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
Her lips twitched.
“What?”
“Forgive me.” Despite her best efforts, a giggle escaped her lips. “I know you’re in pain. It’s terrible of me to laugh, but...but you...you...”
She waved her hand toward his forehead, the cutest little snort escaping her lips.
He arched his brows.
She covered her face as another giggle escaped her.
He reached up and brushed his forehead with his fingers. He pulled his hand away to see grime caking the tips. He suspected what had started as a swirl of sweat and sawdust now had three distinct finger marks treading through it, like an animal’s track.
What now?
He couldn’t think of a way to fix the problem without making it worse. He obviously couldn’t use his gunked-up shirtsleeves, and he didn’t carry a handkerchief.
“Hold on a second,” she said, jaunting off to the bathroom just inside the stockroom. She returned a moment later with a couple of wet paper towels and two dry ones, as well.
“Here. Let me.” She leaned on tiptoe to wipe his forehead clean and then handed him the dry paper towels to finish mopping up.
“Dirty work, I guess,” she teased.
“No worse than rodeo. Anyway, I’m enjoying doing something different for a change. Working with my hands is fulfilling. It’s a new experience for me to build something from nothing but raw materials. And I think I’m getting the hang of it. Give me a day or two and I’ll be a regular Mr. Fix It.”

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