Cowboy Baby Daddy

“Did you hear what she did?”

“How could she do that?”

“Christian ran this place better than her father.”

“She’s selfish.”

“She’s grieving.”

“She’s a bitch.”

I allowed the tears to tr

ickle down my face while I walked over to the office. I left my car parked in front of the store, half-expecting employees to key it in retaliation. I held the papers under my armpit while my hands swung at my sides, and the only thing I could think of was how I was going to approach Christian. I was going to use my toe to knock lightly on his door, then speak to him through it. I couldn’t expect him to open the door and face me, but at least he would be cornered enough to listen.

I’d tell him I didn’t want the company. I’d say I made a serious mistake because I was a grieving daughter and things had changed. He ran the business better than I ever could, and the employees adored him. I would tell him this was what he was born to do. Going forward, I would listen and take his instruction just like I did in the park.

I was going to tell him the lawyer blindsided me with this. That I didn’t give him the go-ahead, and he was the one that called me. His phone call was what made me so sick, and I was a coward for not telling him. I’d admit to him all my faults and get on my knees and beg for him to forgive me.

But, when I got to the office and saw that his door hadn’t even been unlocked, much less opened, I started to cry once more.

He didn’t even come into the office today.

I knew I’d ruined things with him. I walked into my office and placed the inventory sheets on the coffee table before I flopped down onto the couch. The room still smelled of him, his cologne from where he sat here last. I breathed him in, closing my eyes while my hands throbbed in my lap. I could feel them swelling to their breaking point, and part of me hoped they would just burst.

If they did, I wouldn’t be able to do shit with this company, and Christian would have no choice but to come back.

He was this company’s life support, and I would be its eventual downfall.

I was never going to get him back. I was never going to see him again. I’d fucked up so royally and so profoundly that I’d never be able to fix this. I wanted to scream and cry. To retreat and give up. I wanted to fight and claw my way back to how it was before. I wanted to do so many things at once, but all I had the energy to do was lay down on the couch and curl up like the scared little girl I really was inside.

Then, a knock came at my door.

“Miss Harte?”

Great. My fucking lawyer again.

“I thought I fired you,” I said.

“You did, but not before something came across my desk. Figured I’d hand you the information before I told the person on the phone that I was no longer in your employ,” he said.

“Just leave it on the coffee table along with the statement of your final bill. Your services will no longer be needed,” I said.

“Maybe you’ll reconsider when you see this,” he said.

“What is it?”

I sat up and looked at the papers he set on the desk. There were only two: a statement of intention and a notarized notice to appear in court.

“Mr. Gunn has hired a lawyer. To fight for the company, I assume. You are to appear in court next Friday,” he said.

“And you think I’m going to waltz into court with you at my side?” I asked.

“I was hoping you would come to your senses, yes,” he said.

“You can leave your final bill with me,” I said.

“Miss Harte, I really have to warn you.”