Baby Makes Three

And all I could do was stare.

Chapter 4: Chelsea

The shock on his face was evident, and I really couldn’t blame him. The butterflies were flying so hard through my stomach I thought I was gonna heave all over him, but when I saw the advertisement for the rodeo, I just knew he would be here. Some of the advertisements showcased the fact he was riding, but some of them were just handouts, and before I even knew he was riding I just knew I had to come.

I had to see him again.

I stared at him for a long time, and I couldn’t help but notice how wonderful age looked on him: his dark brown hair held the very first hints of gray at his temples, and his green eyes still sparkled with that independence I never could figure out how to wrangle. He had been impressive on the back of that bull, and I knew when he trotted off behind the stadium that I had to find him.

I had to talk to him.

“Come on in, Chelsea,” he said lowly.

He stepped aside, and I brushed passed him, and I couldn’t help but relish in the warmth his body temporarily provided. I eyed the couch and decided I’d sit there, hoping that maybe he’d sit down beside me. But when he shut the trailer door and turned around, all he did was stand on the steps.

The silence hung heavy in the air, impregnated with so many unanswered questions, and I knew I owed him answers to things he probably was asking himself many times over the years. What I did to him in college was wrong, but I knew if I would’ve told him about the job in Paris he would’ve figured out a way to make me stay. A guy like him didn’t belong in a city like Paris, and a woman like me didn’t belong in a town like this, and I knew I’d never get him to understand that. I knew he’d try to talk me into staying, into being by his side and working in one of the boutiques in town. Maybe he would’ve encouraged me to open a shop of my own and sell my own fashion line for the rest of my life, but I wanted something else.

Something bigger.

Something more…

I knew if I told him about the offer, he’d talk me out of it; and I knew that if he tried to talk me out of it, that I would let him.

I knew I’d give up my dreams for him, and I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that to myself like my mother had.

I eyed him carefully and watched him look at me. He’d always been a good-looking boy, but what was now in front of me was a burly, handsome man. The stubble on his cheek burned the inside of my thighs, and his sea foam eyes raged with the confusion he was probably feeling. He was a lanky boy in college, but riding bulls and raising his own animals etched his body well, and his broad shoulders now held a rigid and chiseled chest that my fingertips wanted to sink into. His hips were strong, and his legs were taut, and I felt my entire body begin to shiver on the couch.

My god, he’d filled out his body well, and it took all the energy I could muster not to stare.

“What’re you doing here, Chelsea?” he asked with a guarded tone to his voice.

“Well, uh… I’m visiting my family, and I saw the advertisements for the rodeo,” I answered lightly.

“Having fun?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” he asked.

“Well, I just… was really hoping I could see you.”

&nbs

p; “Mission accomplished.”

I nodded my head and swallowed hard, and for the first time since I’d sat on that couch he darted his eyes away and danced them around the trailer. I knew all the questions flying through his head, and I wished he would just ask them. He deserved to know the answers, and I honestly wanted to give them to him. I’d built up a decent career for myself after the fashion scene in Paris took me under its wing, and I was being offered the chance to create my own fashion line to debut this year at fashion week. I wanted to tell him all about it, about the dresses and the pant suits and the flamboyant shirts. I wanted to say him that I was bringing cowgirl chic to the streets of the biggest fashion city in the world, and I wanted him to tell me he was proud of me.

I wanted Flynn to be proud of what I’d accomplished.

“How long you in town?” he asked.

“A week.”

“A week...” he trailed off.

“Yeah…” I sighed. “Do you, um… do you still ride often? That was a hell of an impressive turn you did out there.”

“Nah. First time I’ve been on a bull in years,” he murmured.