Claiming the Cowgirl's Baby
Автор
Silver James
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20
One
Kaden Waite was a simple man. Standing on the street staring up at the massive glass-and-steel tower that housed the offices of Barron Enterprises, he wondered why he’d been summoned here. Kade managed the Crown B Ranch for the Barron family. He belonged in the country, not here in downtown Oklahoma City.
Two women, chattering like blue jays, brushed past him, then slowed to glance back over their shoulders. Their appraisal embarrassed him.
Other people, men and women in suits moving at a hectic pace, pushed in and out of the building’s entrance intent on their business. The city was full of rush and commotion. Kade liked to take his time. Especially today when he was out of his element. Bells from a church near the Oklahoma City National Memorial chimed, reminding him the hour for his appointment was rapidly approaching.
Removing his cowboy hat, he reached for the bandanna in his hip pocket, only to discover he didn’t have one. Instead, his fingers encountered the crumpled envelope containing a certified letter requesting his presence today. And he had no freaking idea why. Cyrus Barron had hired him straight out of Oklahoma State University to run the Crown B Ranch, putting him in charge rather than one of Mr. Barron’s five sons. Now that Mr. Barron was dead, was that about to change? Was that why Kade had been summoned?
He was dressed up—at least by his standards. Starched jeans with a knife-edged crease, buttoned-up shirt, polished boots. No bandanna to wipe the sweat from his forehead, no spurs jangling as he walked. Kade used an index finger to ease the pressure of his collar against his throat. Hat in hand, he entered the building.
Kade stayed pressed into a back corner of the elevator as it stopped on lower floors. People got on and off. A few women smiled. Several men did double takes before their expressions turned speculative. This wasn’t the first time his presence caused that reaction. He wondered what people saw in him that created this response. Was it his Chickasaw heritage? His mother was a full-blood. He knew nothing about his father.
By the time the elevator doors opened on the thirty-sixth floor, Kade was the sole occupant. He stepped into an impressive reception area defined by dark wood and leather. Both receptionists—one male, one female—glanced up. The young man frowned, the slightly older woman smiled.
Hat still in his hands, Kade approached the desk. “Ah...good morning? I think I have an appoint—”
Smile still in place, the woman interrupted him. “Good morning, Mr. Waite. Heidi, Mr. Barron’s assistant, will be here momentarily.”
He eyed the plush leather couches and the tall-backed chairs in the waiting area wondering if he should sit down. The tall mahogany doors leading to the inner sanctum of Barron & Associates, the law firm headed up by Cyrus Barron’s middle son, Chance, opened, making a decision unnecessary. A petite dark-haired woman bustled toward him.
“Good morning, Kaden.” She extended her hand and he automatically shook it.
He remembered her. Chance’s longtime legal assistant looked refined in her stylish business suit and low heels. Kade was careful not to squeeze her hand too tightly despite his nervous inclination to do so. Ever since Cyrus Barron’s funeral, he’d fought down a sense of unease. Then a week ago, he’d gotten the certified letter.
Heidi ushered him down a long hallway. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor only to be silenced when she stepped onto one of the expensive rugs lining the corridor. Stopping at a wide door, she knocked sharply and waited a count of five before opening it. Kade got the impression this was all stage dressing but he couldn’t figure out why it would be necessary.
He made three strides into the room before the door closed at his back with a quiet snick. Kade gazed at the people seated around the massive conference table, then glanced to the windows lining one wall. He could see for miles across the rolling countryside beyond the metropolitan environs of Oklahoma City. He refocused on the people in the room and didn’t miss the looks they exchanged.
“Thanks for coming, Kaden. We’ll get started as soon as Mr. Shepherd gets here.” Chance’s voice cut through the heavy silence.
Kade noticed the plates and coffee mugs on the table in front of the Barron brothers, and then located the long cherrywood credenza loaded with food and coffee decanters. Full of nervous energy, he took his time pouring a cup of dark roast coffee and choosing something to eat from the array of muffins, doughnuts and pastries.
Black coffee, a buttermilk spice muffin and the chair at the far end of the polished wood table. This worked. He had his back to the windows but faced the Barrons and the door. Except for the occasional sidelong look, the brothers ignored him—not that they paid much attention to each other either. He didn’t want to think about his predicament. With the old man’s death, he figured he was here to be fired, and if that was the case, he wished they’d just get on with it.
When Cyrus first hired him, Kade had been young and full of ideas. It wasn’t until later, after years of watching the interactions of the Barron family from the outside, that he started wondering why the brothers didn’t resent him. The ranch was their birthright. They’d grown up there and even though each had made his own mark in the world, the Crown B was still their home, still the heart of their family. To have its management turned over so completely to a stranger must have chapped their butts. It would have chapped his.
He’d poured his heart into the ranch for eight years. It was more than just a job; the Crown B had become his home too. And his passion. Their prime beef herds were the envy of cattlemen’s associations in ten states and the horses he bred? They were coveted by horsemen the world over. His personal project had been to breed a “super stallion”—a stud to rival the American Quarter Horse Association’s foundation studs. He now had a yearling colt that was the culmination of all his work.
If he had to leave the ranch, it would break his heart.
A sharp rap on the door jerked him out of his thoughts. When the door opened, an older man in a three-piece pin-striped suit marched in, set a briefcase on the conference table, looked around then fixed his unwavering gaze on Kade.
“Kaden Waite, I presume?”
* * *
Pippa Duncan pressed the pillow over her head. Jagged lightning danced behind her closed eyelids. The last thing she needed this morning was a massive migraine. She had too much to do plus a lunch date with Kade. No, not a date, she reminded herself. A lunch meeting. She needed to finish writing a grant and she had some notes she wanted to share with the Barrons’ ranch manager to get his opinion.
She’d gone to high school with Chase and Cash Barron, had gone to parties and hayrides at the Crown B Ranch. Her father and Cyrus Barron had shared the same country club, poker games and social set. Her mother had done everything possible to pair her off with one of the Barron brothers, and had never been particular about which one. She’d endured her mother’s disappointed sighs at four weddings. Her parents hadn’t been invited to the fifth so Pippa pretty much invited herself to Cash’s wedding because she’d needed to get reacquainted with Kade. She needed his expertise and horse sense to build a string of horses for Camp Courage, her riding therapy program. That was her only reason. Okay, she’d crushed on the Barrons’ ranch manager when they’d both been students at Oklahoma State, but she’d outgrown those feelings. Really she had.
It was all about business now because getting Camp Courage financed and running was her priority. Since Cash’s wedding, she’d spent time with Kade at the ranch and he’d come to town for lunch or dinner a few times, all so she could pick his brain. Kade had volunteered with the Oklahoma State Outreach Riders, a group of students working with disabled kids and horses. When he called last night to ask her to meet him in Bricktown for lunch, she’d ignored the zing of excitement that coursed through her. Because...business. And she was too old for crushes. Even if there was a whole lot about Kade Waite for a woman to crush on. Beyond the obvious—tall, handsome, employed—he ticked off several items on her Perfect Man list. He was a cowboy—and that was the biggest priority. Yes, she was shallow like that.
If her head hadn’t been pounding, Pippa would have laughed. She was such a cliché—the rich debutante falling for a common cowboy. Except there was nothing common about Kade Waite. She’d known that from the first time she saw him at OSU when she was hanging out on the corral fence watching the rodeo team work. She wasn’t too proud to admit fantasizing about the tall cowboy in the faded jeans with work-roughened hands, and some of those fantasies had gone straight to all things sexy. Because Kade starred in every erotic dream she’d ever had.
The prescription medication she’d taken for the migraine was finally having an effect and she could unsquint her eyes. She wasn’t ready to remove the pillow yet, afraid her room would be too bright to bear. The migraines had begun to manifest more frequently, a worry that nagged at the back of her mind. She didn’t have time to be incapacitated. She had grant proposals to write, stable and arena space to rent, horses to buy. Camp Courage was so close to becoming a reality.
Eyes scrunched closed, she lifted the edge of the pillow and peeked. When no blinding pain lanced through her head, she opened both eyes. The medications had fully kicked in. She still had tunnel vision but managed to focus on the clock next to the bed. She had time to make her lunch with Kade—if she hurried.
After showering and getting dressed, she was ready to head out when her mother met her at the front door. Pippa had been so close to escaping, but she knew she was stuck. She plastered a smile on her face. “What brings you out here, Mother?”
“I thought we might have lunch together, discuss your current activities.”
“Sorry. I have a lunch date.”
Her mother perked up. “Someone I know?” Then her eyes narrowed. “Why are you wearing those awful jeans and boots?”
“They’re comfortable, and no, you probably don’t know him. I’m meeting Kaden Waite, the Barrons’ ranch manager. He’s consulting on my foundation.”
Millicent Duncan shook her index finger in Pippa’s face. “I don’t understand you at all. There are days I can’t believe you are my daughter.” Her mother closed her eyes in an obvious effort to control her temper. The bitter edge had smoothed from her voice when she continued. “I wanted to send you to ballet school. You wanted riding lessons. You have always had this obsession with horses. And helping unfortunate people.”
Fighting her own temper, Pippa made her face blank. This was not a new argument. “It’s my money, Mother.”
“No. Technically, it was your grandmother Ruth’s. Your father and I both tried to dissuade her from setting up that trust fund. We knew you would just fritter it away on—”
“Enough.” She cut her mother off as lights started flickering in her peripheral vision again. Pippa needed to get away before the migraine precursors bloomed into crashing pain and roiling nausea. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temple in an unconscious motion.
“That man is not someone you should be seeing, Pippa.” Millicent’s voice grated on her nerves as the headache gained strength. “You need to stop all this nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense, Mother. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to be late.” Pippa slipped past her mother, shutting the door to the guesthouse behind her.
* * *
Pippa still managed to arrive a few minutes early. The patio of Cadie B’s Southern Kitchen was one of her favorite spots—especially in late spring. Overlooking the Bricktown Canal, the restaurant catered to locals and tourists alike with a menu of southern cooking favorites. Her usual table hugged the outer railing but today, she opted for one closer to the brick warehouse building that housed the restaurant. The secluded table she chose was squarely in the shade and would remain so during lunch. She kept on her sunglasses just to be on the safe side. The perky waitress set a sweating glass of sweet tea in front of Pippa and she settled in to wait.
Thirty minutes later, she checked her watch, then her smartphone. Kade was officially late and he hadn’t called or texted. Which was unusual. The guy really was a gentleman. She called him and when her call rolled to voice mail, she left a rushed message.
“Hey, Kaden. I’m at Cadie B’s. Did I mess up and get the day or time wrong? Give me a call, please. Talk to you soon.”
She wouldn’t panic. But she reflected on her mother’s pursed lips and condescension when Pippa mentioned she was meeting Kade. Even though she’d assured her mother this was a working lunch, Millicent Duncan seemed to have the idea that Pippa was dating him. Ha. She wished.
After no return call and repeated texts to Kade, three refills of tea and a waitress morphing from perky to pitying, Pippa lost her own easygoing demeanor. Her thumbs flew over the virtual keyboard on her phone as she typed an angry message.
CALLED YOU AND TEXTED. NO REPLY. IF STANDING ME UP IS YOUR WAY OF BLOWING ME OFF, YOU SUCK!
* * *
Kade’s phone blew up with calls and texts starting about ten minutes after he walked out of Barron Tower. Numb, he’d climbed into his truck and started driving. Now he was northbound on I-35 headed home. Only it wasn’t his home. Not any longer. A highway exit loomed and he jerked the steering wheel, taking the ramp at twice the posted speed. He didn’t care.
Turning into the parking lot of a truck stop, he parked in the farthest corner. Stiff-armed, fingers bloodless as he gripped the steering wheel, he pressed back against the seat.
“Shut up!” he yelled at the cell phone. He wanted to turn it off. He wanted to slam it against the concrete and drive over it with his pickup. He wanted his life back. The damn phone pinged again. Another text. Wait...from Pippa?
Breathing like he’d just run a forty-yard dash, he opened her text. Standing her up? Blowing her off? He clicked over to voice mail. He had multiple missed calls from...what did he call them now? The Barrons. He’d refer to them as he always had. He couldn’t wrap his head around what else they were at this point in time. Kade listened to Pippa’s voice mail and winced. He’d blanked out about meeting her for lunch. Completely.
He hated texting. His thumbs were broad, unwieldy when it came to hitting the virtual letters but he didn’t trust his voice. Thank goodness for autocorrect.
I totally messed up. Bad morning. I’m sorry. Really really sorry.
The big diesel engine of his truck rumbled as he stared out the windshield trying to marshal his emotions. Kade ignored the phone when it rang. It stopped after three rings. His text program dinged almost immediately, and he glanced at the message.
Will you please answer the phone so we can talk? What happened? I’d like to help if I can.
Pippa couldn’t. How could anyone? He slammed his fists against the steering wheel. His mother had known. The whole damn time. She’d known who his father was. Had known the people he worked for were his half brothers. The sense of betrayal clawed at him, gnawed on his bones with teeth-jarring viciousness.
His phone rang again. He stared at the caller ID. Pippa. Accepting the call, he didn’t say anything. Had nothing to say.
“Kade? Are you there?” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “What happened? I know you were supposed to meet with Chance this morning.” Her voice trailed off but he remained silent. With a quick intake of breath, she gasped out, “Oh, no! Did he fire you? That’s... They... That’s despicable. After everything you’ve done at the ranch, after all the improvements, after...after...” She stopped and inhaled. “I’m so sorry, Kade. I can try to talk to them.”
And she could talk to them. She was part of their social class. He knew she’d gone to school with the twins, Chase and Cash. Grew up knowing all of the brothers. His brothers. Half brothers, he amended. And wasn’t that a kick in the ass. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the headrest.
Feeling exhausted, he huffed out a breath. He didn’t need Pippa to fight his battles. He didn’t need or want anyone involved in this very personal decision. He hadn’t been fired, not outright. In fact, the Crown B could be his, lock, stock and barrel. “You don’t understand, Pippa. It’s not really like that. This is something—”
He stopped speaking. This really wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. Not to her. Not to anyone. Not yet. It was too personal and he couldn’t talk about it until he figured out what he was going to do. “Never mind, Pippa. Look, I’m sorry about lunch. You can’t help, but thanks. Just leave it be. Please.” So far, so good. He could finish this conversation without losing it. “I need to go. I’ll...just...ah, later, Pippa. Bye.”
Clicking off his phone, he leaned back against the headrest. He could get everything he’d ever wanted. All he had to do was accept the callous edict of a dead man.
