Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,6
kitchen door opened and laughter filled the kitchen as his brothers trooped in. He shot Erika a hard look, his expression fierce. “Not a word, not to any of them.”
*
One minute it was just Billy and her, and the next, the kitchen was full of Wyatt men—one cowboy after another, the vintage kitchen alive with deep, masculine voices, broad shoulders, and intense testosterone. The brothers, clearly they were all brothers except for the grandfather, had a remarkable family resemblance, with thick hair ranging from dark gold to a sun-kissed brown. Their eyes were all light, and they each had the same features, strong jaws, straight noses, high cheekbones. Looking at the older man, she could see they’d inherited their rugged good looks from him, as he was the same, only more weathered with silver hair and piercing blue eyes.
The boisterous Wyatts drew up short when they spotted her. She knew the moment each noticed the baby, as their expressions changed, one by one, from open to surprised to guarded. She felt much the same facing them and her heart raced, making her feel anxious all over.
“Don’t mind me,” she said brightly, trying to hide her nerves, and just how much Billy had rattled her. “I’m on my way out.”
One of the brothers looked to Billy, but Billy said nothing.
She lifted her purse, which also served as a diaper bag, and headed for the door, stepping between the cluster of men. As she lifted her cheerful yellow, flower-strewn coat, the older man spoke, his voice deep, almost gruff. “No need to rush away. Nice to have visitors up here.”
“She’s got to get back to town,” Billy said flatly, again giving her that same don’t-try-me look. “The baby needs to eat and nap.” His gaze locked with hers, the blue in his eyes almost icy. “It’s what you’d said, right?”
She stared into his eyes, anxiety fading, anger growing. Who did he think he was? She held his gaze another moment, letting him know she wasn’t intimidated, or impressed. He didn’t care about his son or April. He didn’t seem to care for anyone but himself.
“Not exactly,” she answered, not bothering to smile or soften her tone. “But I will go, as you’ve asked, and since you’ve promised to call me in the morning, I look forward to speaking to you then.”
Erika then looked to the others, nodding stiffly at the circle of men, hating the lump filling her throat. “Goodbye,” she said, before glancing at the senior Wyatt, the one Billy said was celebrating his birthday today. “Happy birthday, Mr. Wyatt. I hope it’s a happy one.” Then she opened the door, stepped out, and closed it firmly behind her.
It had grown cold and windy while she’d been in the house, steely clouds blanketing the sky, hiding the sun. Jaw tight, Erika buckled Beck into his car seat, hating the hot emotions rushing through her, making her feel too many things. She was angry and appalled. She’d known Billy was a playboy, a man who had a woman in every town at every rodeo, but she’d expected him to be a little more interested in his son.
How could April have fallen for him? What had she seen in him? Other than a handsome face and lean, muscular body?
The mudroom door opened and Billy appeared on the back porch. Erika shot him a look of pure disdain as she walked around the car to the driver’s side.
“Hold up,” he said.
She arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Could you please wait?” he replied, closing the distance between them.
She tugged her coat closer. “Why?”
“My grandfather would like you to join us for dinner.”
She stood even straighter. “Why?”
“It’s his birthday.”
“No, I know that. But why would he want me to join you for dinner? Did you say something to him?”
“No. What would you want me to say?”
“That there is a very good chance that Beck is your baby, and your grandfather’s great-grandson.”
“Not going to do that until we know for sure.”
“Because it’d get his hopes up?”
“Because my brother Joe and his wife Sophie are expecting a baby late spring, the first Wyatt grandbaby for my mother, and I’m not going to steal Joe and Sophie’s thunder, not unless it’s absolutely essential.”
“Seems like everybody’s feelings are more important than a four-month-old baby’s needs.
His jaw tightened. “You’re a stranger, and you show up on our doorstep with a baby and a photo book, claiming I’m its dad—”