Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,17
answered. “That mark around his eye looks like a heart.”
“That’s cute.”
Billy gave her a look that made her insides squirm.
“Sweet?” she said instead.
He gave her another long look.
Erika grimaced. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about horses.” She hesitated then said, “And I owe you an apology.”
“You do?”
“I shouldn’t have come here. I should have waited to track you down at a different venue. I’m sorry for dropping in like this, and involving your whole family. I did exactly what you didn’t want to happen—”
“You don’t want April’s son?”
Her mouth opened, closed.
“Mom said you’re considering adoption if you can’t find his father.”
“It’s one of the options under consideration.”
“Why wouldn’t you keep him?”
“I can barely take care of myself sometimes. I don’t know how I’d take care of him, too.”
He studied her for a long time, blue gaze assessing. “I’ll take a test tomorrow. I imagine it will take a few days to get results.”
“Thank you.”
“But if he’s not mine…”
That ache was back in her chest, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. “As you said, that’s a bridge to cross later.”
Chapter Three
Billy wasn’t comfortable with the direction the conversation had turned. “What would you do?”
“I’d do what I thought was best for Beck. I’d consider all options. Including adoption.”
His gut cramped. The idea of a baby being given up, given away, didn’t sit right with him. Children weren’t disposable, and family was meant to take care of family. “I can’t believe you’re really serious. I thought it was a test for me, a way to gauge my commitment.”
Erika’s cheeks flushed and she looked away. “You make me sound heartless.”
He’d always thought she was pretty, and he’d always worked hard to ignore it because she was April’s cousin, and she didn’t strike him as the type of woman interested in just a good time, and those were the women he pursued. Far better to play with those who knew, and understood, the rules of the game.
But in this moment, Erika looked not just pretty, she looked vulnerable, and it woke a protective instinct in him. “Would never dream of calling you heartless. I am sure you’ve been doing your best to keep your head above water, being thrust into the role of guardian out of the blue.”
She shot him a grateful look, which only served to strengthen his desire to not come at her when she was down. “It has been hard,” she admitted. “I’ve been his sole caretaker for close to four weeks. I’d never cared for a baby before and had to learn everything, even as I made arrangements for April’s cremation, and then moved her out of her apartment and made arrangements for all her things—” She broke off, drew a deep, unsteady breath. Her eyes, blue green shimmered turquoise with tears. “I reached out to April’s mother, and she hung up on me. My mom and I haven’t spoken in years. There is no one else in my family to go to. They’d already rejected April and the baby, and maybe that’s a good thing because there will be no battle for custody—”
“Why doesn’t your family want him?”
“It’s not just him. They don’t want me, either.”
He heard the crack in her voice and the underlying pain. “Why?”
She brushed the tears away. “I hate crying,” she muttered fiercely, pushing off the column to pace the floor. “Tears are so stupid.”
He checked his smile. “I won’t tell anyone, if that helps.”
She lifted her head, giving him a crooked smile. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m in a bad mood.”
Billy bit down to keep from laughing. Even then he smiled. “Why doesn’t your family want you?”
“I don’t come from a family like yours. We didn’t have a lot of love. I wasn’t raised with hugs and laughter. I’m not confident in my parental skills. I can’t help but think that there might be a truly wonderful family out there, desperate for a child—”
“You’d miss him.”
“I would, yes. Absolutely. But at the same time, if I thought he was with people who would love him and provide for him? Be there for him throughout his life? Then I’d be happy, for him. I would.” She stopped pacing to face him. “Have I ever told you what I do? What I’m studying?”
“You’re a researcher?”
“No. A student.” She dragged her hand over her head, pulling little blonde wisps from her loose ponytail. “I’m just a student. If I’d finished my degree, if I’d finished my dissertation and had a