The Texan's Baby (Texas Rodeo Barons)

“Yessir.” They walked down the quiet corridor, their shoes echoing on the concrete floor. Chris stopped at the tack room and looked inside. “Holy cow. This is huge.”

She flicked on that light, too, illuminating the long room that smelled like leather and rags and oil—memories of her childhood. “I love this room,” she confessed. “When I was younger, I’d sneak down here with a book and disappear. Saddle blankets are a mighty comfortable reading bench.”

“You came here a lot?”

She looked up at him with a small smile. “Are you kidding? With two sisters and three brothers? Peace and quiet was a valuable commodity.”

He laughed and ran his hand over a smooth saddle, his fingers tracing the elaborate design on the fender flap. She tried not to stare at the gentle movement of his hands, caressing the supple leather.

“We’ve got some new babies right now that are out with their mamas in the corral,” she suggested, scrambling for conversation. “You want to see?”

He nodded, so she shut off the lights and they went back out into the corridor. At the end, she rolled back the door and led him to the white-fenced corral next to the barn.

Lizzie looked at the mares and foals differently now that she was expecting her own baby. There was no question the sight of them made her heart go a little mushy. Her hand drifted once more to her tummy, an action that was becoming rather automatic as she got used to her pregnancy. Mamas and babies—strong, solid legs and fragile, gangly ones. Stability and fragility as the unsteady foals relied on the security of their mothers. Together Lizzie and Chris rested their elbows on the top rail of the fence and watched as one soft, chestnut-colored foal with white socks nuzzled close to his mom to nurse.

“They’re so adorable at this age, aren’t they? All soft and fuzzy and wobbly?”

Chris nodded and gave a soft laugh. “And then they turn into teenagers and want to buck you off into oblivion.”

She grinned. “Well, that’s their job.”

“My dad, he was foreman on a ranch where they raised working stock. I used to love it. Lived for it. I spent my weekends cleaning stalls and grooming horses when I was small, and then I got into rodeo. His boss’s son and I started out as juniors together. I was lucky, because Mom and Dad probably couldn’t have afforded to do that for me. Jeb Tucker treated me like I was his own kid.”

“Sounds like you had a good childhood.”

“The best,” he confirmed. “The kind I’d like to give my child, too.”

Her heart softened even more. “You’re going to be a good dad, Christopher. Maybe how we met was less than ideal, but...I’m starting to think that if this had to happen, I got pretty lucky.”

His shoulder nudged hers. “We’re going to be all right, aren’t we?” he asked.

She nodded. “I think so. I think we both want to put this baby first, and as long as we do that, everything else will fall into place.”

“Liz...”

He turned to her and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to let him put his arms around her and kiss her. His lips tasted like Savannah’s pecan pie and the scent of his cologne mingled with the verdant smells of springtime—grass and bluebells and rich, fertile soil. He shifted just a little, and her arms slid around his back, running over the taut muscles beneath his shirt.

“Whew,” he breathed, breaking off the kiss.

She smiled shyly, though inside desire was pounding through her. Maybe it was just a hormonal surge, but his kisses lit her up like Fourth of July fireworks.

“You want to see the arena Dad built? The boys do a lot of their training there.” It would probably be good to change the subject, not let anything get out of hand.

“Does it mean we’ll be out of view of the house?”

There was an urgency to his voice that made her heart pound. “Maybe the arena isn’t a g

ood idea,” she retracted.

“Maybe the arena is a great idea,” he replied, his eyes dark with intent as twilight fell around them.

“Chris...”

“Stop analyzing everything. I’m enjoying getting to know you in your element.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She tilted her head up, frowning a little.

“It means,” he murmured, leaning forward and nuzzling her ear, making her shiver with delight, “that your condo is a bit of a mystery. There’s not a lot of you in it. But here, with your family...” He smiled against her cheek. “It’s very illuminating.”