His Best Friend’s Baby

Widowed and pregnant, Laney Beckett wants nothing to do with stubborn rodeo cowboy Slade McKenna. But avoiding her late husband’s best friend is nearly impossible now that Slade thinks Laney and her baby need his protection. Though Slade figures he’s too rough a man to settle down, his thrill-seeking ways have already cost him his childhood pal. Looking out for the man’s wife and child is the least he can do, especially when headstrong Laney doesn’t know the first thing about running the family’s ranch. For the sake of baby Beckett, Laney and Slade give friendship a chance…but could they become a true family?

Cowboy Country: Surprise babies lead to unexpected love in Texas

“I’ve come to take you to the doctor.”

Slade clenched his jaw. “It’s only a five-minute drive, but I don’t know how long it takes you to do…whatever it is that women need to do to be ready to go out.”

Laney laughed. He raised a brow, but she only shook her head.

What had he said that was so funny?

Women. He’d never understand them, and frankly, he didn’t even want to try. Especially this one.

If it weren’t for Brody’s baby, he’d be out of there so fast Laney’s head would spin. It was asking a lot just for him to be in the same room with her, but for Brody’s kid, Slade would grit his teeth and try to get through it.

“I’m a wash-and-wear kind of girl,” she informed him, tossing her hair over her shoulder with an animated flip of her hand, which to Slade felt like a major brush-off. “I’ll be ready in five. And I’m going to ignore the fact that you just tried to order me around again.”

His gaze widened on her and he hoped he wasn’t gaping.

“But don’t do it again.”

DEB KASTNER is an award-winning author who lives and writes in beautiful Colorado. Since her daughters have grown into adulthood and her nest is almost empty, she is excited to be able to discover new adventures, challenges and blessings, the biggest of which is her sweet grandchildren. She enjoys reading, watching movies, listening to music, singing in the church choir, and attending concerts and musicals.

The Cowboy’s Forever Family

Deb Kastner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes;

There shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying;

And there shall be no more pain,

For the former things have passed away.

—Revelation 21:4

To the Texas Tenors: John Hagen,

Marcus Collins and JC Fisher.

I’m incredibly grateful for your beautiful music. My Texas Tenors playlist has accompanied me through many tight deadlines,

and this book is no exception. Thank you!

Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“I miss you, buddy.”

Slade McKenna’s throat burned and he swallowed hard. He shook his head and grunted at his own foolishness. He wasn’t in the habit of talking to those who’d passed on. Thankfully, no one was here to witness the rarity.

Stirrup-high Texas grass brushed across his boots as he rode the fence line in search of bent posts or breaks in the barbed wire where the Becketts’ cattle might get free. Mending fences kept his mind off the bad stuff.

Mostly.

He wasn’t the kind of guy who expressed emotion, verbal or otherwise, but right now his feelings were digging as deeply into his side as spurs, no matter how hard he bucked and resisted to throw his grief.

His best friend Brody Beckett was gone. Forever.

Dead.

He could hardly bear to think the word, much less say it aloud, especially when Brody’s absence was such a stark, bitter reality. Checking the fences on his parents’ ranch property had been Brody’s chore since he was old enough to sit straight on a horse, and as his best friend, Slade had often accompanied him in his rounds. When they were both little tykes, Slade and Brody had spent many hours out here on the range together, where the lowing of cattle, the gentle Texas wind and the creak of saddle leather were the only sounds to break the sweet silence.

That, and the howling and hollering of a couple of ornery young boys who’d rather have been wrestling than wrangling.

Riding and roughhousing with Brody. Those were some of the best memories Slade had. And all of Brody he had left to take with him now.

Memories.

Slade pulled his mount up, clenched his jaw and concentrated on pushing his thoughts—and the pain—away.

His black quarter horse mare Nocturne shifted sideways and pricked her ears forward. Slade was suddenly alert and completely attuned to both his mount and his surroundings. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the area for the prospect of danger, thankful for the shadow of the brim of his black Stetson against the glaring sun.

He knew his horse as well as he knew his own thoughts. Nock’s muscles twitched underneath him. He tightened the reins and squeezed his knees to encourage his horse to remain steady. The hair on his arms stood on edge from the crackle of tension in the air and he strained to listen to the sound of movement within the silence. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he had no doubt there was something out there on the Texas prairie. Nocturne wasn’t easily spooked.

A snake? A cougar?

But it wasn’t the sound of rattling Slade’s keen ears picked up on.

Instead, he heard sniffling, coming from just over a rolling mound of earth only a few feet away.

Adjusting the brim of his hat low over his brow, Slade dismounted, leaving Nocturne to graze. He approached the direction of the unlikely sounds cautiously, unsure of what he’d find—or rather, who he was about to encounter. Frankly, he’d rather face a whole pack of hungry coyotes than one weeping female.

If he had to guess, he expected her to be a teenager, one of the local girls who’d just had her heart broken and was hiding out trying to sort her emotions. Bit far out of town for a kid, but she’d probably parked near the fence and decided to walk for a while. Not the smartest idea. A girl could be easily lost. But she probably wasn’t thinking straight.

Adolescent angst. Just what he didn’t want to have to deal with today.

Slade’s first thought was that he shouldn’t interfere with whatever drama was going on in the Becketts’ backyard. He hadn’t yet made his presence known. He could turn around, mount up and ride away and the Mysterious Crying Female would be no wiser for him having been there at all.

He had no business here. For starters, he wasn’t any kind of expert in female drama, teenage or otherwise. If the girl was hiding out here fairly far out on the range to have a good cry, she probably didn’t want to be found or interrupted, especially by a guy like him.

On the other hand, he couldn’t very well walk away if the poor kid needed his assistance. It wasn’t in him to leave when he might be needed. He was a cop, for one thing. Helping people was his day job. He figured he ought to at least check her out and make sure she wasn’t hurt, even if it did make him feel every kind of awkward. And it was what God would expect him to do, right? Help his fellow man—er, woman?

But consoling a teenager? So far out of his comfort zone. This newfound faith of his was going to be a whole lot harder than he’d imagined when he’d first bowed his head at the cowboy church and acknowledged the Almighty.

The ranch was private property, but Brody’s parents wouldn’t be too bothered by a girl seeking out somewhere to be alone and find some solace. In fact, they’d be urging him to help her out, since he was the one to find her.

He shoved out a breath, resolving to be nice to the kid. Patient, if he could manage it. He wasn’t known for that particular virtue, or many others, for that matter. But he would try.

Yanking his Stetson from his head, he topped the grassy mound, his shadow engulfing the female huddled on the other side. “Excuse me, miss, but I was riding by and I couldn’t help but overhear—”

His sentence slammed to an abrupt stop at the same moment his gaze met a pair of fiery brown eyes showering sparks at him.

“You.” His voice formed around the word like an accusation because that’s exactly what it was. “What are you doing on Brody’s property?”

Laney Beckett, Brody’s estranged wife and now his widow, scrambled to her feet, all five feet and nine inches of her. She raised her chin and brushed the moisture from her cheeks with the sleeve of her lavender-colored shirt. She might be on the taller side for a woman, but Slade stood at six-two when he was slouching and he towered over her. He squared his shoulders and used his superior height to his advantage.

“I could ask you the same thing, Slade McKenna,” she countered, apparently unfazed by his attempt to intimidate her.

Fury rushed through him, heat rising from the heels of his boots until it burned in his ears. It was all he could do to rein in his temper. He curled the brim of his Stetson until his knuckles were white.

She crossed her arms in a paradoxically defiant and defensive gesture. It was only then that his gaze shifted away from her eyes—and straight to her burgeoning middle.

Slade’s breath slammed from his lungs as if he’d been sucker punched. He scowled in disbelief.

The woman was pregnant. Had he lived, Brody would have been a father.

Slade clenched his jaw, afraid he was gaping, or that he’d say something he’d later regret. Emotion surged through him. He was angry, shocked, grief-stricken and indignant on Brody’s behalf, all at once, and he didn’t know what to do with any of the feelings consuming him.

Brody couldn’t have known about it. Slade was certain of that fact. Laney must have been pregnant at the funeral, but Slade certainly hadn’t been the wiser for it. She hadn’t looked pregnant. But she must have known she was carrying Brody’s baby, even back then. How could she take off without even sharing that information with anyone? It made him sick just to think about it.

He spun away from her and stalked several yards, scrubbing a hand through his thick black hair and forcing raspy breaths into his lungs.

“Why are you here now?” he growled. “Especially in that—” he waved a hand in the general direction of her protruding midsection “—condition? It certainly didn’t take you long to hightail it out of Serendipity after the funeral. With Brody’s baby, no less.”

“I don’t answer to you,” she responded, her tone deceptively quiet and even. It wasn’t hard for him to hear the barely concealed disdain for him in her voice.

He couldn’t care less what Laney thought of him. His only concern was for Brody’s honor and memory, for which Laney obviously cared so little. And what about Brody’s folks? Did Grant and Carol know they had a future grandchild?

Brody’s baby. How was this even possible? Laney and Brody had been separated. And now she was pregnant? How could he have missed that fact when Laney was here for the funeral? A looming sense of guilt and responsibility clouded Slade’s thoughts.

Brody’s baby.

“You owe me some answers,” he pressed, turning to face her full-on. One way or another, she was going to tell him everything.

She sputtered and gasped. Her irises flared, darkening the chocolate brown of her eyes. “You are the most arrogant, self-absorbed man I have ever met in my life. This isn’t about you, and I’m certainly under no obligation to answer to you. What would possibly make you think I’d tell you anything, especially after the way you’ve treated me today with all your blustering and bullying?”

Slade flinched. He was many things, but he wasn’t a bully. Maybe he was trying to intimidate her a little bit, but for good reason. He was after the truth. And Laney did owe him that much, even if she didn’t acknowledge it right now. He had an obligation toward that baby. But maybe he was approaching her wrong, although he didn’t have the slightest idea how to fix that problem. He took a mental step backward, regrouping his forces against the stubborn woman.

“Brody was my best friend.” Nothing like stating the obvious, but he had to say something to fill the awkward void left by her question.

“He was my husband,” she launched back, spitting the words. “Not that you would have any idea about the kind of commitment a man and woman make to each other.”

He hissed through his teeth. He had less use for love than he did for Laney. Just look at what it had done to Brody. He glared at her belly rather than meeting her gaze. One way or another, he was going to pull the truth from her.

“I don’t understand. You didn’t even look pregnant at the funeral, and now you just show up in Serendipity out of nowhere.” A statement of fact, even if it resembled an indictment. “What’s your angle, Laney? Why are you really here?”

* * *

What was her angle? What was her angle?

How dare he?

Laney pulled in a deep breath through her nose in an unsuccessful attempt to force herself into a state of calm she didn’t feel—not so much for her sake but for the baby’s. If it wasn’t for the little one growing inside her, she might very well have launched herself at Slade and really given him the what-for he clearly deserved. She had the notion he’d never been walloped by a woman before, and it was high time he was taken down a notch or two.

Or ten.

Despite her best efforts, her heartbeat roared in her ears and her pulse skyrocketed. If real smoke could blow from her ears she’d be steaming like a kettle right now.

“I wasn’t yet showing at the funeral, but I knew I was carrying Brody’s baby.”

His piercing blue eyes narrowed on her and he stepped forward, looming over her and puffing out his chest like a rooster. As if that would intimidate her. She was exactly right in saying he was nothing but a schoolyard bully.

“How did this happen?” His voice was low and icy.

“Excuse me?” Both of her eyebrows arched, disappearing under her hairline. If Slade didn’t know the facts of life she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to explain them to him. The very idea was laughable.

“You and Brody were having a baby together, when I know for a fact you two were separated well before his—” He paused and his voice deepened and turned gruff “—accident happened.”

“Obviously, we spent some time together trying to work things out,” she retorted, clipping her words. “He was my husband,” she reminded him again.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

Wow. He might as well have slapped her. She could give and take as well as the next woman, but it wasn’t only her character he was maligning. It was Brody’s. And Slade was casting a shadow over their beloved baby, as if the unborn Beckett was some kind of mistake.

“You can’t imagine how I felt when I discovered I was pregnant,” she informed him coldly. “I was so happy. So angry. And horribly, horribly saddened by it all. I’m responsible for raising Brody’s baby all on my own. He or she is all I have left of my husband.”

He shrugged. “But you sure didn’t take any time after his death to grieve for him, did you? You ran away to—wherever—instead of sticking around.”

“Take that back.” She shoved at his chest and he immediately raised his arms in surrender.

“I’m only saying how it looked to me.”

“Then maybe you need to get glasses. Not to mention giving me—and Brody—a little more credit.”

He jerked his chin. She wasn’t sure whether he was agreeing with her or merely acknowledging what she’d said.

“I had my reasons for leaving town after the funeral. And Brody and I were trying to work it out,” she reiterated, in case there was any doubt whatsoever in the big oaf’s mind. “Brody is the only man I’ve ever loved. But it didn’t help that you put ideas in his head, did it? Led him away from his family obligations without a care for how it affected me. Don’t you have a conscience?”

He had the good grace to flinch, but the way he was eyeing her rounded middle, as if weighing her words for truth, made her want to cover her belly with her arms to protect the child within.

“Why were you crying?”

His question caught her off guard, not only the words themselves, but the muted tone in which they were asked. Surely he hadn’t picked now to decide to control that wicked tongue of his. He’d already done too much damage to go back now.

“I—” She started to deny she’d been crying at all, but that would have been a lie. She had been crying. He’d caught her with tears pouring down her cheeks. She couldn’t very well deny it now. “Sometimes my emotions catch up with me. I try to keep them in check, but every so often, something reminds me of Brody and it’s just too much of a burden for me to bear.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sifting his finger through his thick black hair. “I know what you mean.”

He probably did, at least to some degree. For all his faults, Slade had been Brody’s best friend and had known him from childhood. He had to be hurting, too, she supposed, in his own ill-mannered way. Maybe that was part of the reason he was acting like such a Neanderthal. Not that that was any excuse for the way he’d treated her when Brody was still alive...

“Where are you parked?” he asked gruffly.

“Back at Brody’s folks’ house.” She glanced around her but saw only grassland in every direction. It all looked the same to her. She hadn’t realized she’d wandered so far from the homestead. Not only could she not see the house from here—she didn’t even know from which direction she’d come.

She was lost.

Not that she’d admit that particular fact to Slade.

“You walked all the way from their house in your condition?” He looked her up and down, disbelief in his gaze. “Do you know how many miles that is? What were you thinking? You could have hurt yourself or the baby.”

“I’m pregnant, not ill. It’s perfectly acceptable for me to walk. If anything, it’s a good thing for me to get all this fresh air and exercise.” Maybe she shouldn’t have wandered quite so far off onto the range, but she hadn’t been thinking.

Or maybe she’d been thinking too much.

He didn’t look the least bit convinced she wasn’t taking unnecessary risks. Well, too bad for him.

“You’ll never make it back to the house before dark on foot.” How did the man make every single statement out of his mouth sound like an accusation? Then again, she had to concede that he did have a point.

Heat flushed her cheeks. She’d left midafternoon. It had never occurred to her that she might be caught with the sun setting on her. She might be fine now, but she’d be completely helpless in the dark. Of course, she hadn’t planned to walk quite this far.

Or to get lost.

“You don’t even know where you are, do you?”

As much as she’d hated the accusatory tone he’d used on her earlier, at least she’d known how to respond to it. What she heard now was sympathy, with a note of kindness. Where had that come from?

She didn’t answer, shifting her gaze to somewhere over his left shoulder.

“You don’t.”

He didn’t have to sound so satisfied.

“It’s settled, then. You’re coming with me.”

She ignored his dictatorial attitude. She would argue all night about his high-handedness if it was just her at risk in the dark with no clear route home, but she had the baby to consider, and pride only took a pregnant woman so far. “All right, I guess. You’ve got your truck parked somewhere nearby?”

He laughed, a deep, rich rumble from low in his chest. “Something like that.”

“Why do I feel like I should be worried?”

He chuckled again and took her hand to steady her as they walked over the uneven soil. She allowed it, but only because the increase in her waistline made her steps ungainly. Laney might not be a country girl, but she was a native Texan and she knew the wild terrain was filled with treacherous bumps and hollows along the way.

As they crested the hill she saw why Slade was hedging. His mode of transportation was a horse, not a truck, contentedly grazing on the grassy knoll.

So much for a comfortable ride back to the house. Did he really expect her to get up on that thing, as pregnant as she was?

Slade whistled and the black mare lifted her head. A second whistle and she trotted to his side. It was the most unusual thing she’d ever seen.

“Let me introduce you to our ride,” Slade said, smoothing his hand over the horse’s mane as she nudged her muzzle into his shirt pocket. “This is Nocturne. She knows where I keep the sugar.”

Somehow the idea of Slade carrying sugar cubes in his pocket went against her image of him as an unfeeling, cold-hearted cowboy. Clearly his horse, at least, liked him, and that was saying something. Animals sensed when a human was the genuine article, didn’t they? Or maybe he just bribed Nocturne with sweets.

Slade checked the cinch. “You about ready to climb up here?”

Laney hesitated, then nodded. Mounting would be awkward with her rounded belly. Getting her foot into the stirrup would be next to impossible, but at least she’d changed into a pair of jeans before she’d left for her walk. It would have been considerably more awkward had she still been in the dress she’d been wearing earlier in the day.

She reached for the saddle horn, intending to attempt to slip her foot in the stirrup, but she never had the opportunity. Before she knew what was happening, Slade’s hands spanned her waist—or where her waist would have been seven months ago—and picked her up as if she weighed nothing. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he placed her onto the saddle.

“Are you gonna be more comfortable riding side-saddle or do you think you want to sling your leg over?”

Laney weighed his question in her mind. In her present condition, sitting on a horse period wasn’t the ultimate in luxury, but as to how she would ride—she supposed that had to do with a number of other factors, such as where, exactly, Slade intended to sit when he joined her. If, in fact, Nocturne could handle the extra burden of the two of them riding together. Slade wasn’t a small man.

She pictured herself being relegated to the “backseat” behind the saddle, clutching her arms around Slade’s waist and hanging on for dear life as he galloped home. Then again, if she was in front and he rode behind her, she would by default have those enormous, muscular arms of his wrapped around her. A wave of anxiety rolled over her just thinking about it. She didn’t know which would be worse. Certainly neither option even remotely appealed to her.

“I’m walking,” he said, answering the question she’d left unspoken. “So get comfortable. Whatever works for you.”

She sighed in relief. One less source of anxiety to deal with—for now. She thought she’d feel more comfortable riding astride so she swung her leg over the saddle horn.

Slade adjusted the stirrups for her height and then waited a beat for her to adjust her weight in the saddle before clicking his tongue to Nocturne. He strode forward without giving Laney so much as another glance. She noted that he followed the fence line, which would have been a good idea for her, as well. Assuming she’d found the fence in the first place. And even then she wouldn’t have known which direction to follow it. Still, it was something to keep in mind should she decide to wander off by herself again.

She tried to observe the countryside, to look for landmarks she could use on future outings, but there was nothing to hold her interest and her gaze kept returning to Slade. Thick black hair curled from under the brim of his hat. His broad shoulders sloped into a well-muscled back which then narrowed to a trim waist. He had the build of a perfect athlete and moved like one, too, his stride long and energetic, and yet with the easy country swagger that had clearly melted many ladies’ hearts.

Too bad his mouth and his attitude went along with that easy-on-the-eyes profile. Laney pitied the women who’d tried to take Slade on.

Thankfully, he didn’t realize she was staring at him. He appeared completely oblivious even to her presence, walking and whistling softly as if he were alone on the grassy plain. He held Nocturne’s reins in a loose grip but it was clear his horse would have followed him anyway, lead or not.

Sugar. It was the sugar.

Laney estimated they’d been heading back toward the house for about ten minutes when she first noticed the sky turning into a watercolor painting of pastel pinks and blues, with hues of yellow and orange undertones mixed into a breathtaking combination. The most gifted painter ever born could not have duplicated such a sight, and Laney offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for His handiwork.

Even as she breathed amen, she realized the flaw in Slade’s rescue strategy. While he’d thankfully saved her from the embarrassment of riding with her, he’d overlooked one important detail.

“I appreciate you helping me out this afternoon,” she said, flinching both at the echo of her own voice breaking the silence and the fact that in all honesty she’d much rather have had nearly anybody in the world discover her. “But how is it that you think walking me home is any better than if I’d simply made the hike myself? It appears to me that we’re still going to get caught in the dark either way.”

He grunted and tossed a condescending look over his shoulder.

“What?”

“I’m bigger than you are.”

Seriously? “And that would relate to what I just asked you...how?”

“My stride. It’s much longer than yours. Quicker, too, I’d imagine, given your condition. We’re going to get there faster than if you were walking on your own. In fact, we’ve almost arrived. You’ll be able to see the Becketts’ house in just a few minutes.”

Laney scoffed and shook her head. She didn’t see how Slade could make a ridiculous claim like that and make it sound like a fact. Yes, they were still following the fence line, but the fence—and the land—all looked the same. How could he possibly tell where they were in relation to the house?

“You sound mighty sure of yourself.”

“I am.”

Even though Slade couldn’t see her, she rolled her eyes. Exasperating man.

“You didn’t even know where you were going, Laney. You would have wandered around in circles all night.”

Point taken. But he didn’t have to rub it in.

“And you’ve got to watch out for Brody’s kid.”

As if he had to remind her. Feeling as if he’d just jabbed at her, she instinctively laid a protective hand across her belly. She didn’t like the way he’d just referred to her precious unborn child as the kid. And Brody’s kid, as if she had no part in the baby at all.

“Stop,” she hissed as her anger escalated. Heat expanded through her chest and pressed into her head.

He turned and removed his hat, dabbing sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. “What?”

“Before we get back to the ranch house, I want to make something perfectly clear to you.”

His shoulders visibly tightened and he frowned. “And that would be?”

“Brody’s parents have been through enough grief without you making unfeeling remarks about their grandchild. This baby is bringing hope, peace, and—pray God—maybe eventually even a little happiness into their lives. I won’t have you upsetting them with your thoughtless implications.”

One side of his mouth ticked. She didn’t know if that meant she’d gotten through to his hard heart or if it was a sign of anger, but frankly, she didn’t care, as long as he agreed to her nonnegotiable terms. She wouldn’t have him upsetting the Becketts. Not for anything.

“Well?” she challenged when he didn’t speak.

His dark brows lowered over his blue eyes, which had darkened from bright and electric to a midnight color. He glowered at her, and between the scowl and the frown were menacing, almost dangerous overtones. He wasn’t a man to cross.

She stared him down, refusing to give in to her roiling stomach and hammering heart. This was one battle she had to win.

“Okay,” he growled and forcefully jamming his hat on his head. “I won’t say anything negative about you or the baby to the Becketts.”

“Do I have your word on that?” She had no idea why she was pressing him. What good was his word, anyway? From what she knew of him, he’d say or do anything to get what he wanted.

He jerked his head in a clipped nod and stalked away from her, causing Nocturne to jolt forward. Thankfully she’d been holding on to the saddle horn or she might have been unseated. The thoughtless man didn’t even consider the consequences to his actions. And yet he had the gall to be all over her about hers?

Slade had better not renege on his promise, if he knew what was good for him. Because if he somehow hurt Brody’s parents—well, he’d have her to deal with.

And it wouldn’t be pretty.

Chapter Two

Slade uncinched Nock’s saddle and slid it from her back, slinging it over a barrel with an audible huff and probably more force than was strictly necessary. Since he was temporarily taking over some of Brody’s duties for the Becketts, he’d recently been stabling Nocturne in their barn and not at his parents’ spread next door, where Slade usually kept her. His two brothers ran the family ranch, leaving him to pursue his own interests.

In his day job he was a member of Serendipity’s police force, and he stayed busy with the local small-town rodeo circuit on the weekends. Maybe someday he’d have a ranch of his own, when he settled down. If he settled down. But he was having too much fun being an unabashed bachelor to think about that day.

Or at least he had been, until Brody’s death. Slade no longer considered himself a carefree bachelor. That life had little appeal to him now. Not without Brody. The importance of living every day to its full value meant more than ever.

He should never have given his word that he wouldn’t talk to the Becketts about the baby Laney was carrying and his suspicion that she might take advantage of them, or worse yet, not stick around once the baby had been born, take off again as she’d done right after the funeral. Brody’s folks were like second parents to him, and he wouldn’t forgive himself if they ended up getting hurt when he could have said or done something to keep themselves from heartache. He didn’t know what Laney’s game was, but there were too many unanswered questions that left Slade wary of her motives. In their grief, it made perfect sense that Grant and Carol Beckett would be quick to grasp at a carrot like the one Laney was dangling before them.

A grandchild. Brody’s legacy. A flesh-and-blood reminder of their son.

Slade winced as pain jolted sharply through his chest. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. What kind of world did he live in where a good man was taken away just as a new life was given?

Why Brody? He’d been a far better man that Slade could ever hope to be. And now to find out that Brody would have been a father. It was almost too much to bear. Why was he still here when Brody was gone? Where was God in all this?

Slade brushed Nock’s sweat-soaked back with long, even strokes. It didn’t make sense. Brody had only recently given his heart to God, vowed to change his ways, and yet had never been allowed to see that through. He’d never been able to go home to Laney and make a new start. He’d never even known he was about to be a father.

Slade had likewise made a commitment to God, for all the good it had done him. After nearly a year of living his new faith, he was more aware than ever that he was too rough a man to settle down and be good. Not like what he figured God expected of him. It wasn’t fair.

Brody—he would have made it. He could have become the man God wanted him to be—with a wife and a family. Brody would have managed to change his life completely, and for the better, if it weren’t for Slade goading him into riding Night Terror that one last time at the rodeo. Bring home the purse, Slade had told Brody, and Laney would be sure to forgive him for whatever fight had caused their split. In truth, Slade hadn’t cared about Brody using the money to placate Laney. It had really been just one man’s thrill-seeking challenge to another. It made him sick just to think about it.

If he hadn’t taken that ride, if he hadn’t gone for that prize, Slade had no doubt Brody would have managed to patch things up with his estranged wife without the insubstantial purse a small-town rodeo afforded. Surely Laney wouldn’t have wanted to separate her baby from his or her daddy. Brody would have been the best father ever to that little baby Laney was carrying.

He would have been so happy. So pleased.

It was painfully easy for Slade to picture the joy Brody would have found in a son or daughter, the proud papa holding his infant in his arms for the first time. Teaching his kid to ride a horse and rope a cow, raising up a new generation of Becketts to work the land that had been in their family for over a century.

Now—nothing.

The child would grow up without knowing his or her father. Without having Brody’s fine influence to emulate.

And Slade could have prevented that loss. All of it.

He smothered the curse that came naturally to his lips—a bad habit that was difficult to break, but he was trying. God forgive him, swearing was the least of his sins.

He dumped a bucket of oats into Nock’s bin and made sure she had plenty of fresh water. When he was finished, out of habit more than anything else, he headed for the Becketts’ ranch house. He’d gone about twenty feet when he stopped so suddenly his boots created a cloud of dust from the dirt path. His breath turned as heavy in his chest as if he’d run several miles. Sweat dotted his brow despite the cool evening and he dabbed at it with the corner of his shirt.

Things were different now—and if Laney stuck around, they always would be. The easy camaraderie he shared with Grant and Carol, folks he considered as second parents to him, would be history. Slade was a living, walking reminder of all they had lost—in addition to being a man Laney had despised from the start, long before his thoughtless dare had cost her a husband. Why should they want to have anything to do with him when instead they would have Brody’s baby to love?

Maybe he shouldn’t visit the Becketts tonight. It would probably be better for all concerned if he just turned around and walked away. If it wasn’t enough that he might cause Grant and Carol any means of distress, he and Laney had knocked heads enough times already for one day.

Then again, why should he let Laney dictate anything he did with his life? If he wanted to visit with the Becketts, he’d do it, Laney or no. Grant and Carol hadn’t given him any reason to believe his presence caused them any grief, although now that he thought about it, he would try to be more aware of their feelings.

His decision made, he hastened to the house. He didn’t go to the front door as a guest might do, but rather entered through the mudroom like one of the family, where he removed his boots and hung his hat on a peg on the wall and then washed up in the sink, using extra soap and scrubbing thoroughly to make sure his hands were clean, then wiping his face clean with a nearby towel. Carol Beckett would have his hide if he got dirt on her good rugs or touched her furnishings with grubby hands.

“Slade.” Grant Beckett emerged from the kitchen and extended his hand for a firm shake. “Good to see you, son. Join us in the kitchen. Carol’s making cookies, and you know how she gets when she starts baking. She’s already made enough baked goods to feed a small army.”

“Be happy to take a few off your hands, sir.”

“Thought you would.” Grant slapped Slade’s back affectionately.

Slade entered the kitchen and immediately tensed when he saw Laney propped on a stool next to the counter, laughing at something Carol had said. They looked like a couple of giggly schoolgirls with their heads close together, sharing secrets.

His gut churned and he frowned, remembering the promise he’d made to Laney. Once again he wished he wouldn’t have made it, if only for the fact that he could use some advice right now—like what part he might be able to play in giving Brody’s baby everything he or she deserved. What he could do for the child.

Brody’s baby.

There it was again, glaring before him, as clear and bright as looking straight at the midday sun. The inherent happiness in Laney’s brown eyes and the way she shared that pleasure with Carol—the knowing. The anticipation. The joy.

Brody’s baby.

A link to his friend that went far beyond words or memories. Slade swallowed hard against the emotions pummeling him.

Laney’s presence wasn’t doing the Becketts any harm, he realized. Not now. Not until she up and left town, which Slade was fairly certain she would do. The real danger wasn’t that she’d upset them now, but that she’d abandon them later. How would Carol and Grant feel when their status as grandparents—their only living link with their beloved son—was relegated to some back burner so Laney could move on to the next thing in her life? She’d split with Brody fast enough when he didn’t fall into line with her silly expectations even though she’d claimed to love him. How much easier would it be for her to walk away from his parents?

The mixture of grief and excitement he’d experienced only moments earlier was quickly replaced by a panic that made his pulse roar in his ears. As bad as he felt for Grant and Carol at the thought of them losing access to their grandchild, there was yet another reason for him to worry.

What if he had no part in the baby’s life?

Personally, he thought she was a pain in the neck, but when other people looked at her, they probably saw Laney as a young, attractive woman. She’d won Brody’s heart, after all. She was bound to meet a man, get married again and settle down far away from Serendipity. Brody would be nothing more to her than a sad, distant memory, one she’d likely tuck into the back of her mind as she moved on with her life. It hurt his heart just to think about it.

“There’s the man of the hour.” Carol beamed at him as she passed him a plate piled with warm oatmeal cookies. “I understand we owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“I’m sorry?” he asked with a confused glance toward Carol and then to Grant. Man of the hour? Gratitude? What were they talking about?

“Heard tell you rescued our princess from danger today.” Grant grinned at him and wagged his eyebrows.

Still unable to decipher what they were talking about, Slade’s gaze flashed to Laney, but she only rolled her eyes and shrugged.

They were talking about Laney?

Princess?

Yeah, right. Laney was a regular damsel in distress. And that would make him—what? Prince Charming? A knight in shining armor? The Becketts were barking up the wrong tree with that one. He scoffed at the nonsensical notion.

“There he goes,” Carol said, nodding her head as if she’d disclosed some major secret. “I told you he was going to make light of his actions. He never admits the good he does. Has to maintain that tough cowboy image, you know. Never lets on that there’s a kind heart underneath that gruff exterior.”

Slade barked out a laugh and everyone joined him. Whatever else he could be accused of, and there was plenty, making himself into something he wasn’t was not even on the list. And kindness wasn’t something he was often accused of, either.

“Laney would have been fine,” he assured the Becketts. Maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate, but he didn’t want them making too much of his actions, which hadn’t been entirely altruistic. “She just got a little turned around. I’m sure she would have found the fence and made it back to the house with no problem. Please. It’s no big deal.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Carol said, shaking her head. “But I’m grateful all the same, and so is Laney.”

He very much doubted gratitude was what Laney was feeling for him. Not from the frown she flashed at him when she thought the Becketts weren’t looking.

Slade bit into a cookie and groaned with pleasure. His own mother didn’t cook a lick, and since there was no other woman with a constant presence in his life, the only fresh baked goods he ever got besides Carol’s occasional but heartfelt forays into baking were Phoebe Hawkins’s fare from Cup O’ Jo’s Café in town. Phoebe was a professional chef and her baked goods were delicious, but they lacked the significance of being baked just for him, with love.

He poured himself a tall glass of ice-cold milk and took a long drink, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand to prevent a milk mustache. He caught Laney’s gaze and she lifted a brow.

What? Was she laughing at him?

“You’ve never heard of milk and cookies?”

She smirked. “You’ve utterly ruined your tough-guy cowboy image for me, you know.”

He shrugged, trying to make light of her comment, even if it was a direct strike to his ego. “Don’t knock it until you try it.” He met her gaze, speaking without words. Or knock me when you don’t even know me.

She glared right back at him, and her gaze was no less telling. It stated clearly that she knew him well enough to judge him and find him wanting.

“Consider the cookies and milk the least we can do as your reward for a job well done,” Carol said, grinning mischievously and seeming completely oblivious to the silent war brewing between her two guests.

“If I’m going to get cookies and milk every time I’m good, you can count on me to rescue fair damsels every day of the week.”

He was joking, of course, and the Becketts chuckled along with him, but instead of joining in the laughter, Laney frowned.

“I am neither fair nor a damsel in distress,” Laney remarked. Slade wondered if Carol and Grant could hear the ice in her tone or if she only sounded cold to him.

Apparently he was the only one who’d interpreted her frostiness because if anything, Carol’s eyes sparkled not with surprise, but with concern for the woman. “We’re just grateful you’re here with us, Laney. We only wish the circumstances were better.”

Laney’s expression fell and for a moment even Slade felt sorry for her. She looked thoroughly devastated at the reminder of Brody’s death. He’d known his fair share of female deceit in his life, but could a woman fake that kind of pain?

“Speaking of,” Slade inserted, seeing an opening to ask what was really on his mind. Maybe it was wrong of him to take advantage of the moment, given Laney’s current vulnerability, but he wasn’t sure how else to bring up the subject. It was now or never. “How long are you staying, Laney?”

Hmmph. So much for casual. He couldn’t have sounded worse if he’d tried. Every eye in the room turned on him in surprise. He wished he had figured out a more tactful way to ask the question, but he was as good at being tactful as the proverbial bull in a china shop, bumping around and smashing things—feelings—with his words.

“Didn’t she tell you?” Grant asked, scratching his red-blond beard. “She’s staying in Serendipity for good. This is Laney’s permanent home now.”

As a matter of fact, she hadn’t mentioned anything about her future plans, not that he had asked. He was relieved to hear it all the same. How else would he be able to be a part of Baby Beckett’s life?

Of course, that meant he’d have to deal with Laney on a regular basis. But he’d do what he had to do. The baby was that important to him.

“Nice of you to give her somewhere to stay for now,” he acknowledged. She’d probably be looking for a place of her own soon. Maybe he could help her find something, extend the olive branch, so to speak.

“Oh, no.” Carol shook her head, her white curls bobbing. “You misunderstand. It’s the other way around. It’s nice of her to give us a place to stay.”

“What?” Slade’s pulse roared in his ears and his voice rose. His gut turned wildly and lurched in nauseating waves. “What are you talking about?”

“Brody never told you?” The depth and restraint in Carol’s tone suggested Slade had better calm down before speaking again. He recognized the mother tone of her voice when he heard it and took it as the warning it was. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm the whirlwind in his mind.

“Sorry,” he muttered, though he wasn’t really feeling it. He stared at the ground as if a hole would open and swallow him, which might be the better way to get out of this sticky situation. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. You just caught me off guard.”

Which was the understatement of the century.

Carol rolled cookie dough balls in her palms as if it was every day that she said things to him that turned his whole world upside down and backward. “It’s in the will. Black and white, just as we expected it to be. There are no surprises here, Slade. Brody left everything to Laney.” She smiled at him without an ounce of anxiety or regret showing in her features, and then her warm, compassionate gaze shifted to Laney. “She owns this ranch, part and parcel.”

* * *

If glowering were an art form, Slade McKenna would have made a million dollars out of it. At the moment, his face was an alarming shade of red, almost as if he were being choked with the effort of holding his temper in check. He clenched his fists into tight knots and Laney could see his pulse hammering in the tense lines of his neck. She didn’t even want to know what was running through his mind right now, but she suspected she was about to find out.

“Brody. Left. Her. Everything?” He separated each word into its own unique sentence, each one with more emphasis, more power, than the last.

Laney felt the unfathomable urge to duck beneath the counter to avoid the coming explosion. Clearly Slade was doing everything in his power to contain his words, but she had little faith in his self-control. He was too much like Brody, only more volatile in temper. Just as recklessly, foolishly impulsive, with no restraint. If he was this angry, then sooner or later—likely sooner—he’d snap.

The prospect was distinctly unsettling. The man was downright scary in his current state. He looked completely mad, poised to snort and kick in every direction.

But no matter how she was quaking on the inside, she didn’t allow herself to do so much as flinch. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing he had affected her in any way, much less that he had intimidated her. She straightened her spine and squarely met his gaze, ready for whatever fireworks were about to explode.

Except they didn’t.

He was clearly affected by the news that she was the new owner of the ranch. He glared at her. He swept in a long, ragged breath and tunneled his fingers through his dark hair.

But he didn’t yell. Didn’t fume.

In fact, he didn’t say a word.

His reaction—or lack thereof—was far more frightening to Laney than if he’d ranted and raved. The fact that he could contain his emotions suggested an entirely unexpected strength of character. The thought would be more comforting if that strength didn’t seem so focused on hating her.

His eyes were spitting fire, his gaze accusing her of a myriad of offenses.

She tipped her chin, unwilling to give him an inch in this silent war of wills. She had no reason to back down. He was the one making all of the incorrect assumptions here, not that she needed to explain herself to him. She’d done nothing wrong.

Anyway, it was none of his business.

“I don’t understand. How was the ranch Brody’s to give?” Slade’s gaze shifted to Carol, and Laney observed the immediate change in his demeanor. Tempered. Respectful. Deferential. Everything he wasn’t whenever he spoke to her. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but doesn’t the ranch belong to the two of you? I guess I just assumed—”

Grant held up a hand to staunch Slade’s flow of words. Slade actually looked relieved that he hadn’t had to finish his sentence. As well he should be.

“We aren’t getting any younger,” Grant explained in a no-nonsense tone. “We spoke to Brody about the ownership of the ranch right after we found out he’d married Laney. He told us he was planning on raising a family here. It seemed only right to pass the reins along while we were still alive to see it.”

Slade winced visibly and Laney wondered what he was thinking.

Carol moved to Laney’s side and placed one arm around her shoulders and her opposite hand on Laney’s belly. It would have bothered Laney had a stranger been so intimate, but she already considered Carol a mother to her. “And now you can see just how right we were to make that call when we did. We couldn’t possibly have known about the baby at the time, but the good Lord had it safe in His hands. Now Brody’s family will be able to live and thrive on this ranch. It isn’t quite the way we envisioned it, but—” Carol’s voice cut out with emotion “—at least Laney and the baby will have the ranch to help get them by.”

“What about y’all?” His question was directed to Carol and Grant but his eyes were on Laney.

She hated how Slade was able to make her feel as if she’d done something wrong when she hadn’t. He had no right to even think such negative things about her, never mind hint his suspicions aloud. She had left a perfectly good career in business management at a large marketing firm in order to honor Brody’s memory and raise his son or daughter the way Brody would have wanted. In the country. On the land. Did Slade imagine she would heartlessly throw Brody’s parents to the curb after all that?

The Becketts were already family to her, and as dear to her heart as her own mother and father. They had welcomed her and embraced both her and her unborn child. They had never once questioned her relationship with their son, as complicated as that had been. She was perfectly aware she owed them more than she could ever repay.

But she would, of course, give them every courtesy she could to make their lives easier in any way she was able. So why did she feel the need to justify herself to Slade?

“Laney has been nothing but kind,” Carol assured Slade, her tone brooking no argument from him.

“I’m sure she has been,” he responded, sounding as if he believed exactly the opposite. “But still—you have to understand why I’d be worried about your future.”

Only the fact that Slade sounded genuinely concerned about the Becketts kept Laney from pelting something at him. He seemed to be missing the point—or rather, all of the points. It was high time to set him straight.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Grant and Carol are staying right here. I may technically own the ranch, but in a very real way they have taken me in when I needed them most. I can never begin to repay their generosity, but I’m certainly going to try.”

Slade brushed his palm across the stubble on his jaw and gave Laney’s belly a pointed look. He appeared to be debating something in his mind.

She tensed, ready for the worst he could give.

His gaze shifted to Carol. Without warning, he strode forward and enveloped the older woman in a big, affectionate bear hug, dwarfing Carol and causing her to giggle like a young girl. “You know I love you both.”

Laney nearly fell off her stool. Of everything Slade could have said or done, verbally and physically expressing his love for this family was the last possible guess she would have made. Who would have imagined that the harsh, judgmental cowboy Laney was familiar with had a soft side? Clearly he held great affection for the Becketts, and to her very great surprise, he wasn’t afraid to express it.

“If y’all are set on accepting Laney into your lives, then I will, too. I’ll show her around the ranch and give her some pointers on country living. She’s got a huge learning curve here, and I’m sure she can use all the help she can get.”

Laney sniffed indignantly. That was all well and good for Mr. Arrogant, assuming she would be doing back flips because he’d conceded to allow her to live in her own home, and had, in fact, offered to help her, whatever that meant.

As if she needed his assistance—with anything. He made it sound as if he was doing her a favor. It obviously never even occurred to the big lug that she might not want anything to do with him. As if it was his decision to make whether or not she was part of his life. No need to ask her what she thought about it.

Even if she wasn’t seven months pregnant, she would in no way be doing any kind of gymnastics over Slade McKenna. Hadn’t he already created enough havoc in her life? Hadn’t he stuck his nose into her business when he had no right to be there and ultimately been the primary cause of the demise of her marriage? Hadn’t he led Brody down all the wrong paths, tempting him with all manner of reckless ideas when Brody most needed to learn to be responsible and to live up to his commitments?

Laney wanted nothing to do with him. Not one single thing.

But when Slade raised his milk glass in a silent toast to her, she realized just how difficult it was going to be to avoid him and all his meddling in her affairs. The Becketts accepted what he said at face value. They clearly adored him, and he filled an extra special role in their lives now that Brody was gone.

Whether she liked or not—and she didn’t, not one bit—it appeared Slade was about to become a permanent part of her life.

Chapter Three

Slade awoke in a cold sweat, thrashing back and forth as he wrestled with the blanket that had somehow become knotted around his ankles. In his mind he kept hearing the eight-second buzzer—a bull rider’s favorite sound and now his worst nightmare.

He groaned and yanked at the stubborn blanket, refusing to let his thoughts go back to the moment that had darkened his life permanently. Unfortunately, his life was about to get even more cloudy, with the distinct possibility of thunderstorms in his near future.

He had a new goal in life, a new mission to fill his time and his thoughts. He had a baby to protect.

If that meant being in the company of Laney Beckett, then so be it. A restless night’s sleep hadn’t made the situation any more palatable, but at least he knew what he should be doing next—getting Laney under Dr. Delia’s care. Hopefully she’d been seeing a doctor all along, taking extra precautions to make sure she and the baby were healthy, but she was here in Serendipity now and Slade trusted Delia, whom he’d grown up with, more than any city doctor he’d ever encountered. Besides, if Laney was sticking around like she said she was going to do, Dr. D. would likely be the one delivering Brody’s baby.

Might as well start out the way he intended to finish—making sure Brody’s kid had the best of everything life could offer. He took a shower and then made a quick phone call as he dressed. It took a bit of finagling, but he managed to get Laney an appointment for late morning as he’d hoped.

His beat-up blue pickup truck rumbled to a start and within minutes he was pulling into the Becketts’ long driveway. Located only a few miles out of Serendipity proper, the Becketts’ ranch bordered Slade’s folks’ spread, which had been one of the many reasons he and Brody had originally become friends. Slade’s two older brothers still worked the land, but Slade had opted to become a cop and live in an apartment complex just off Main Street.

Once he arrived at the ranch, he parked next to a pathetic little silver hybrid, which he assumed was Laney’s. Certainly Grant and Carol would never drive anything so small and impractical. There were more dirt roads than paved ones in Serendipity, especially outside of town. Her ridiculous little car wouldn’t handle the washboard more than a dozen times before breaking down, and he shuddered to think of her driving that flimsy car in a rainstorm.

Slade scoffed and shook his head. The woman now owned a ranch and she drove a hybrid vehicle. What kind of irony was that? She clearly didn’t have the first clue about country living. Leave it to Laney to make all the wrong choices. She really did need his help if she was going to have any hope of making it here.

He rapped twice on the Becketts’ front door to announce himself and then entered without waiting for anyone to answer. He knew Grant and Carol were both early risers, and if Laney wasn’t an early bird then she needed to learn to be. It was part and parcel of life on a ranch. Up with the sun. Starting now.

Instead of encountering Carol and Grant, the first person Slade came upon was Laney. Dressed in garish bright pink sweatpants and a purple sweatshirt that stretched tightly over her middle, she sported rectangular black-framed reading glasses which were perched on the end of her nose, reminding Slade of an owl. Or a librarian. She was stretched out on the living room sofa with a book in her hands.

A romance novel. It figured.

She didn’t appear to have heard him enter the house, or else she was too engrossed in her novel to care. Or maybe she was just ignoring him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice still low and hoarse from sleep. He cleared his throat and waited for her to acknowledge him.

She raised her glasses and glanced up at him, then rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. “Oh, lovely. What are you doing here?”

“Well, good morning to you, too.”

She picked up a mug from a nearby end table and took a noisy sip of the contents. “Can we start over? I’m not a human being until after my second cup of coffee.”

He frowned. It was a good thing he was here to take her to see the doctor, if she was loading herself up with caffeine. He didn’t know the first thing about pregnancy, but he was fairly certain coffee wasn’t good for her.

“Should you be drinking coffee? Isn’t that bad for Brody’s baby?”

Her eyebrows rose as if he’d said something shocking and not simply suggested she take better care of herself and the baby. “It’s just an expression. If you must know, I’m drinking tea this morning.”

He opened his mouth for the obvious follow-up question, but she held up a hand to stave off his words.

“Decaffeinated green tea, full of antioxidants that are good for Baby Beckett. Are you always this pushy?”

He started to shake his head but ended up shrugging a shoulder. “Sometimes.”

When it had to do with the welfare of Brody’s baby.

“Well, cut it out. You’ll quickly discover I don’t respond to bossiness And I don’t like bullies.”

Was she calling him a bully again? She’d probably be surprised to know he was the guy in high school who championed the little guys. He wasn’t a bully—he was the guy who beat up the bullies of the world.

Sooner or later, she’d realize that she couldn’t be more wrong about him. But he didn’t have time to argue about it with her now. They needed to get going if they were going to be on time for the appointment.

“Get up. Get dressed. I’ve come to take you to the doctor.”

“I don’t have an appointment. I’m sure you’re aware I’ve been pretty busy since I arrived in Serendipity. I haven’t even had the chance to go online and find a local OB.”

“Serendipity only has one doctor, and she does everything from patching up skinned knees to delivering babies. That’s why I made an appointment for you.”

She’d been about to take another sip of tea, but at Slade’s pronouncement she sputtered and then inhaled the liquid, sending her into a fit of coughing.

Not knowing quite how to help her but wanting to do something productive, Slade crouched by her side and patted her back.

“Cut it out,” she said when she could speak. She squirmed away from him. “Stop hitting me.”

He dropped to his knees in surprise, leaning his hands on his thighs. “I wasn’t hitting you,” he protested, appalled by the very suggestion that he would hit a woman. “You were choking, and I was trying to—”

“Give me the Heimlich maneuver? Knock the breath out of my lungs?”

He scowled. The least she could do was show a little bit of gratitude, but no. She was ridiculing him, pressing down on his male ego, which was aching to spring back into action and snap back at her.

“My tea went down the wrong pipe,” she informed him, pursing her lips. “I didn’t need your help, thank you. Now, what is this about making me a doctor’s appointment?”

He clenched his jaw. He was about to tell her to forget the whole thing, seeing as she didn’t think she needed his help, but he couldn’t very well turn his back on Brody’s baby, no matter how downright crazy the kid’s mother made him.

“You happen to be especially blessed today,” he informed her, not caring if his tone was cold. She was lucky he didn’t just walk out right now. “Since Dr. D. is the only doctor in town, she’s usually booked for weeks in advance, barring emergencies. Providentially, she had a cancellation for this morning. I convinced her to take that time to see you.”

Laney’s brow lowered. She appeared undecided. “I do need to be under a doctor’s care for the duration of my pregnancy,” she admitted, sounding as if she were saying the words against her better judgment.

Her expression was cringe-worthy, and once again Slade experienced the strong urge to simply get up and walk away. She didn’t need to look as if she was getting a tooth pulled when he was doing her a favor.

“You need to get dressed, then,” he reminded her. “We have a half hour before we have to be there for your appointment. It’s only a five minute drive to Main Street where her office is located, but I don’t know how long it takes you to do—whatever it is that women need to do to be ready to go out.”

She laughed. He raised a brow, but she only shook her head.

What had he said that was so funny?

Women. He’d never understand them and, frankly, he didn’t even want to try. Especially this one.

If it weren’t for Brody’s baby, he’d be out of there so fast Laney’s head would spin. It was asking a lot just for him to be in the same room with her, but for Brody’s kid, Slade would grit his teeth and try to get through it.

“I’m a wash and wear kind of girl,” she informed him, tossing her hair over her shoulder with an animated flip of her hand which to Slade felt like a major brush-off. “I’ll be ready in five. And I’m going to ignore the fact that you just tried to order me around again.”

His gaze widened and he hoped he wasn’t gaping.

“But don’t do it again.”

* * *

“Baby is growing just exactly like he or she is supposed to be,” Delia informed Laney, who breathed a sigh of relief. She had no reason to believe anything was amiss, but it was still nice to know she and the baby were healthy, especially with Slade breathing down her neck. The man simply didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

“You decided not to find out whether it is a boy or girl?” Delia asked as she rolled up her tape measure. “I did the same thing with my son Riley. You don’t get too many pleasant surprises in life. Having a baby is one of the best.”

“It is,” Laney agreed, tears springing to her eyes as grief clenched her chest so severely that she could not catch a breath. This was a surprise she should have been able to share with her husband.

Delia was instantly by her side, gripping her hand. “I am so sorry. That was thoughtless of me. I should never—”

“No. It’s fine.” Laney laid a tender hand on her belly and felt the baby kick. “At least I have a way to honor Brody. His love continues on through this baby, so how could I ever consider Baby Beckett as anything but a blessing?”

Laney heard a loud thud coming from the waiting room and wondered what Slade was doing that was making so much noise. Probably inadvertently knocking things over with those brawny arms of his like the big boor he was.

The doctor glanced toward the waiting room and chuckled. “Looks like Baby Beckett is not the only blessing in your life. Slade was pretty insistent you get in to see me sooner rather than later. Thought it was important for you to get the care you need, and if you haven’t yet noticed, he’s pretty persuasive when he needs to be. He’s a good friend to have on your side, that one.”

Seriously? Delia must be deluded if she thought Slade could be an actual asset as anyone’s friend, most especially hers. He wasn’t insistent. He was downright pushy. And arrogant. His friendship with Brody had led Brody down a destructive path, one that had virtually destroyed her relationship with her spouse. Even if Brody had lived, Laney wasn’t positive her marriage would have survived despite her prayers and her best efforts. Not with Slade’s influence on her husband. Despite the hastiness of their marriage, Laney had been committed to the relationship. But Brody—

“I guess he’s okay,” she conceded when Delia’s gaze became curious. Okay for what was the real question.

“I imagine he’s a little overprotective of you and the baby. He and Brody were very close.”

“I know.”

“Since they were kids. Those two were inseparable. He took Brody’s death hard—harder than most. I think it’s good for him to have a positive way to direct his energy, looking after Brody’s baby.”

Was that what Slade was trying to do? Insinuate himself into her life so he could have an influence on her baby?

That was so not going to happen.

As if she would ever subject her child to anything more than a bare minimum of time with a womanizing adrenaline junky whose idea of fun was taking crazy risks with his life. Someone with no stability, not to mention his complete lack of understanding when it came to what romantic relationships were all about. He had less sense than the big, shiny belt buckles he wore.

Not exactly mentor material, and not whom she wanted around her child. She was going to be the best mom she could be to Baby Beckett, and that included avoiding people who clearly wouldn’t be good for the child. Nothing Slade tried, either by being his usual overbearing self or by turning his good looks and charm on her, would change her mind. Thankfully, he had not yet tried the catch-more-flies-with-honey tactic with her, but she knew it to be the key weapon in his arsenal, and she suspected if he couldn’t win one way, he’d try another.

She’d learned her lesson about falling for easy charm, and she wouldn’t make the same mistake again. She’d once made an impulsive leap into a permanent relationship based on little more than a wink and a grin, but she was no longer that young, foolish woman—and she had a baby to protect.

Laney heard another thud in the waiting room and Delia excused herself to go investigate. Moments later, Slade appeared in the doorway, his hat clutched in his hand.

“Is everything all right? You’re okay? The kid’s doing well?”

If he hadn’t sounded so sincere—worried, even—Laney would have rolled her eyes. As it was, she reluctantly answered his question. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

To Laney’s surprise, he sagged in relief. As if he really cared.

“Did you think there’d be a problem?”

He shook his head and then, as if changing his mind, he shrugged. “Maybe. Didn’t know all the particulars. Just wanted to get you checked out.”

“Well, consider me checked. Baby is good to go.” When Slade’s eyes widened, she added, “But not for two months yet.”

He smiled. It was the first time she’d ever seen him smile—at least the genuine article and not the catching-the-eye-of-the-ladies grin he usually sported. Twin dimples carved deeply into his cheeks. On any other guy the dimples would have made him look boyish, but Slade was all man. Which, to Laney, at least, was one of his biggest shortcomings—among many.

“What were you doing that made so much noise out there?”

He shook his head. “Just pacing. The waiting room is too small for comfort.”

Or he was too large.

“He’s kicking right now,” she said, laying a hand against the rib Baby Beckett was currently using as soccer practice and wondering if she should even make this small concession. She suspected Brody would have wanted it, which was the only reason she continued. “Would you like to feel?”

“It’s a boy?”

“Oh, no. I mean, I don’t actually know—I’ve chosen not to find out the gender until I give birth. Saying he/she every time I refer to the baby is getting to be too much of a tongue twister. I should probably just stick with Baby Beckett. It’s easier to say.”

“Yeah,” Slade agreed, his voice unusually deep and thick. “You know Brody wouldn’t have cared if Baby Beckett was a boy or a girl. He would have loved the baby just the same, no matter what.”

“He would have been a good father.” Her throat clogged with emotion. Their eyes met, and just for a moment they mutually shared the one thing they had in common.

Grief.

“The best.” The corner of Slade’s mouth ticked, a tell Laney now recognized as reaction to stress.

“Come here,” she urged, holding out her hands.

He looked reticent, almost shy, as he stepped forward and offered her his hand.

She laid his palm where the baby was moving and the child responded with a swift kick, then another.

Slade’s brilliant blue eyes filled with wonder. “Well, I’ll be.”

“Amazing, right?”

“Amazing doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to believe Brody’s kid is in there, just waiting to come out and say, ‘Hey.’”

Laney chuckled. “I’m not sure that’s the first thing Baby Beckett will say. You never know, though. Could be.”

One side of his mouth kicked up. “Close enough. Two months, huh?”

“More or less. You do know babies don’t necessarily come right on their due dates, right?” She had a clear mental picture of Slade hustling her off to the hospital just because the calendar said the time was right. That was just exactly the sort of thing he would do, exasperating man.

“On their own time, huh?”

“And in their own way. Each baby is different. Their own little person, with a unique personality. One of God’s greatest blessings.”

She half expected Slade to scoff at her for her beliefs, but he nodded fervently and curled the brim of his hat in his fist. “The very best of them. Especially this one.”

“I wish Brody was here.”

Slade’s gaze clouded with pain. He might not be the nicest of men, but there was no doubt he’d cared for Brody.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t keep bringing that up.” She couldn’t believe she was apologizing to him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“No. You’re right. Of course Brody should be here.” He turned away from her and punched at the air. “He should be here. Not me.”

What did that even mean? She understood the sentiment but not the anger.

“I’m sure we’ll both do our best to honor Brody’s memory.”

Slade turned back and shoved out a breath. “For Brody. We’ll give the baby the best of everything. Enroll him in football. Baseball.”

“Ballet lessons,” Laney added with a chuckle, feeling a crazy mixture of joy and sorrow. Grief was impossible to understand.

Slade looked surprised, but then he nodded. “Right. If it’s a girl. No way are we enrolling any boy of Brody’s in dance class.”

She didn’t know why they were discussing what they would do for Baby Beckett as if these were decisions the two of them would make together. Slade sounded awfully determined to be a part of her child’s life.

“Maybe he’ll want to take dance.”

Slade scoffed. “Let’s hope not. Of course, you do realize Brody would have taught his little girls how to throw a football, not to mention rope and ride every bit as well as his sons.”

Laney chuckled. “I’d expect no less from him. I’ll be spending the rest of my life in Serendipity. I would hope if Baby Beckett is a girl she’ll know her way around the ranch.”

“I could do it.” Slade’s statement was made so low she could barely understand the words.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Roping and riding. I could teach the kid how to do that stuff. Boy or girl. Either way. If you wanted me to, I mean.”

That was probably the nicest thing Laney had ever heard Slade say. He’d actually asked. Kind of. Or maybe her emotions were overwhelming her. Either way, her answer was the same. It had to be. “I’d like that, and I’m sure Baby Beckett will, as well.”

“Good, then. It’s settled.” His nod was no more than a quick jerk of his chin, his jaw tight and his lips pressed together.

Great. So she’d just sealed the deal. Slade was going to be a part of her child’s life for an extended period of time. Maybe always. Which by default meant she’d have to interact with him, as well. How had this conversation gotten so turned around?

“Brody had planned to reconcile with you, you know. Right after the rodeo was finished.”

Laney was so startled by the statement she gripped a nearby table for support. She was afraid she’d heard Slade wrong, but when she met his gaze, she knew he’d said just what she’d heard, and for whatever reason was sharing it with her now.

Brody had planned to come home to her.

And then that chance had been taken away from them both.

Chapter Four

Slade’s thoughts were a million miles away as he pulled his pickup onto the Becketts’ long gravel driveway. Probably a good thing he’d made this very same drive so often over the years, seeing as he couldn’t seem to be able to keep his mind on the road.

Even after nearly a week of not seeing her, he was thinking of Laney and Brody and wondering what Baby Beckett would look like. Would the little nipper have Brody’s white-blond hair or a rich caramel brown like Laney? Laney’s chocolate-brown eyes or Brody’s light blue ones?

He had no doubt that any kid with Brody’s and Laney’s genes was going to be a cutie. However Slade personally felt about Laney, any man with eyes in his head would have to admit she was a real looker, the kind of woman that would cause a man to do a double-take if he passed her on the street. And while Slade had no clue what women found attractive in a man, he knew Brody had never had any trouble catching the ladies’ attention. Women had flocked to him, especially buckle bunnies like Laney.

Not that it mattered one way or another what the baby looked like. Slade was going to love the kid—purple, green, blue or otherwise. He would love Baby Beckett, and protect and defend the child against whatever life through at him or her. Teach the kid everything he knew about ranching. About life.

It was the least he could do, since it was his fault the child would be growing up without a father. He owed Brody that much, and more.

Slade scowled when he realized there wasn’t a single place to park in front of the Becketts’ house. What was the deal? If the Becketts were throwing a party, they’d forgotten to invite him—not that anyone had parties on a Monday morning. He couldn’t even take a guess what was really going on.

He pulled farther down the driveway and parked his truck in the only empty spot he could find. His original intention in coming to the Becketts’ this morning was to saddle Nocturne, ride her to his parents’ spread next door where he would stable her permanently, and afterward walk back for his truck.

He’d been bedding his horse at the Becketts’ for long enough, though he still had every intention of helping them out wherever and whenever he could, just as he’d promised. He’d give Laney pointers on ranching and of course he’d be around when Baby Beckett arrived, but at the moment he felt it was time to back off and get a little distance from the situation. For his own good. Every day it seemed he was getting more and more wrapped up in Laney, both in the circumstances they each faced and in the woman herself. Half the time he didn’t know whether he was coming or going.

“What’s all this?” he muttered to himself, taking stock of the trucks parked up and down the driveway in front of the house—old, new and everything in between. Some familiar. Most not.

He started toward the house to investigate, then turned when he heard a ruckus coming from the ranchers’ bunkhouse, where the wranglers slept and Brody’s father kept his office. Grant primarily oversaw the ranch, but Brody had always helped when he was around and as time allowed. Slade knew Brody would have eventually found his way home again, taken over the ranch for good. Started a family.

But now everything had changed. Brody was gone. The ranch belonged to Laney. And there was a long line of scruffy, weathered cowboys, some young and some older than their beat-up trucks appeared to be, winding out of the office and around the bunkhouse.

Slade didn’t recognize more than a few of them, and he knew everyone in Serendipity. Something was definitely up, and with the way his stomach was twisting and turning, he was fairly certain he wasn’t going to like what he found. He’d learned to trust those inner nudges that he couldn’t always explain. Those gut feelings were part of what made him so good at everything he did, from bull riding to serving as a police officer.

He strode across the uneven ground, his boots first crunching against the gravel and then silently sweeping through the long grass. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

Now.

It very well might not be any of his business. Grant probably had it all under control—whatever it was. Call it curiosity, or another opportunity to find a way to help the Becketts. He’d know soon enough.

“Hey,” one of the younger wranglers protested when he ignored the long line of cowboys and cut through to the door of the office. Slade didn’t care if he was breaking the rules, and he especially wasn’t concerned over what the other men in the long line thought of him. He wasn’t some random cowpoke applying for a job at the ranch. Was that why these men were here? Was Grant doing some hiring? Maybe one of the wranglers had given notice.

He entered the office with a friendly greeting for Grant on his lips, but stopped short in the doorway as if he’d slammed into an invisible force field. Laney was sitting behind Grant’s desk with those silly reading glasses of hers perched on the end of her nose. She looked completely out of her element, her hair combed back into a neat ponytail, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink and her full lips curved up at the corners. She looked as neat and fresh as a bouquet of tulips in a room that was anything but. Her appearance was a stark contrast to the rest of her surroundings. Random piles of papers and file folders littered the top of the desk. The smell of sweat and leather permeated the room and lingered in the stale air.

And that was to say nothing of the sloppily-dressed wrangler standing before the desk, dusty hat in hand and one side of his shirt untucked and dangling like a tail at the back of his well-worn blue jeans. The man flashed Slade an irritated frown, which Slade completely ignored. The wrangler didn’t worry him. He was far more concerned about Laney’s thunderous scowl and the lightning flashing in her brown eyes.

Fire and ice. Everything about the woman was contrary.

“What’s going on here?” He could guess, but he wanted to hear it from her. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and folded his arms across his chest.

Her eyes narrowed and her spine straightened. “Excuse me?”

The lanky wrangler across from Laney turned and faced Slade. “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you think you are, but there’s an interview goin’ on here, and in case you didn’t notice, there’s a line outside the door. You wanna talk to the missus here, go wait your turn with the rest of the boys.”

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