The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

“I, ah, I want to run something by you. Both of you.”

“Sure,” Jake said.

“Sure,” Travis said.

Caleb said nothing. He wasn’t sure how to start, or where to start, or even if he should have made this call.

“Caleb? You there, man?”

He nodded. Cleared his throat. And went for it.

“Say there’s a guy. Meets a woman. Spends, you know, spends a night with her.

“Sounds good so far,” Travis said, chuckling.

“She’s, you know, she’s okay. Pretty. Smart. Fun. She’s—”

“She’s nice,” Jake said helpfully.

Caleb shook his head.

“She’s more than nice. She’s—well, she’s special.”

Silence again. Then, warily:

Jake: “How special?”

Travis: “Special special?”

Caleb got to his feet, walked the length of the airplane.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded hoarse and he cleared his throat. Again. “Anyway, he meets her. And then, some time goes by. A couple of months. And he finds out she’s—he finds out she’s pregnant.”

There was no mistaking the sudden, sharp intakes of breath that came over the line.

“Wait a minute,” Travis said. “They were together only this one time?”

“Right.”

“Not again during those two months?”

“Three. Actually, it was three. And, no, they never saw each other after that night. He had no idea she was pregnant.”

“What,” Jake said, on a huff of disbelief, “she didn’t tell him?”

“No. She couldn’t. She, ah, she didn’t know his last name, didn’t have his address, his phone number …”

“But she claims he knocked her up.”

“He didn’t ‘knock her up,’” Caleb growled. “He made her pregnant.”

In Jacob’s office on the Wilde ranch, two pairs of eyebrows rose.

“And,” Travis said carefully, “and he’s sure he’s the guy who did it?”

“He’s sure.”

“Because there’s been a paternity test?”