Driving to the south barn, Chad called Annie and then swore to himself as he pushed his cell phone back into his pocket.

What the hell had he been thinking, asking Catie to call the vet? As if he’d never had a calf birthing before. He’d always called the damn vet himself. He didn’t need someone else to do it. She wasn’t his helpmate. It wasn’t her problem.

He shook his head.

The whole damn night had been a mistake. But oh, how her tight little body had sheathed him. He’d barely gotten into her and she’d gripped him like a vise. He’d had to work to keep from coming then and there. Now, all he could think about was burying himself in her sweetness again.

A spike of heat hit him low in the gut, and his groin tightened in expectation.

Not a boner. Not now.

Christ.

All he had to do was imagine her pretty face, her sweet raspberry kisses, her lovely brick-orange nipples.

The tangy scent of her heated sex.

He was a goner.

Like he always said about his brothers. Always said they were goners. Damn.

This had to stop, and it had to stop now.

Otherwise he’d break her heart, and he wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he did that.

She wasn’t in love with him. This was a little girl crush that had gotten out of hand, yes, but it was nothing more than pure infatuation. He’d help her see that. He shook his head slowly. He sure couldn’t help her see that if he was sleeping with her.

Yep, it had to stop.

Goddamn it.

Raspberries were his favorite fruit.

---

When Chad didn’t return within the hour, Catie called her sister, Angie, to pick her up.

Angie, the gossip of all gossips, flooded her with questions of why her baby sister was at Chad McCray’s house. Catie fended off the inquiries as best she could. They’d gone riding. It had been late, and they were closer to his house. She’d stayed in one of his guest rooms.

Luckily, it didn’t occur to her sister to ask why she wasn’t riding Ladybird home. She didn’t want to talk about this to Angie or to anyone. Not now. Not ever. She was too busy ruminating about the torn condom.

What would happen? Chad didn’t want to get married. If he didn’t want to get married, he sure didn’t want kids.

Now sitting back in her bedroom, Catie’s tummy tumbled and threatened to empty, even though she hadn’t eaten since the party. Her mind was a whirl of conflicting thoughts. A baby? She wasn’t sure she was ready for a baby. But a sweet little boy or girl who looked just like his handsome daddy? Oh, she could make do.

But Chad? What would Chad say? Would he marry her? Would he want to? Would he want the baby? She choked back a sob. She might be alone in this. She would never abandon her baby, but could she raise a child alone? Women did it every day. She was certainly as capable as anyone else.

She forced her thoughts to the back of her mind. This was all purely speculation. Not everyone who had unprotected sex got pregnant. Couples all over the world spent all kinds of time and money trying to get pregnant. Chances were good that nothing would happen. What were the statistics? Like eleven percent chance of pregnancy from one unprotected encounter? Still pretty good odds. And the condom might have ripped when Chad took it off.

There, she felt better. Nothing to worry about. At least not yet.

For now, she had a rodeo queen competition to win.

“Angie!” she called.

Her sister arrived, breathless. “Yeah? I was just on my way out.”

“I’m entering the rodeo queen thing.”

“You?”

“Yeah, me. What’s your problem?”

Angie, who was Chad’s age, had been crowned rodeo queen fourteen years earlier, at the ripe age of eighteen. Bakersville’s youngest rodeo queen ever.

“Aren’t you too old?”

“Nope. Not too old. And you’re gonna help me win.”

“If this is just a ploy to get Chad McCray to notice you, I want no part of it.”

Damn. Was she that transparent?

“I can ride circles around you, and you won.”

“There’s more to it than just riding, and you know it. You’ll need to dress the part. You’ll actually have to wear makeup, little tomboy.”

“I wore make up last night, didn’t I?”

“Barely.”

“Just ’cause I don’t apply it with a putty knife—”

“Uh, little sis, if you want my help, I’d stop with the insults.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Catie nodded. “You’re right. Okay.” She grinned. “You have to help me, Angie. I need you. I intend to win this stupid thing.”

“That’s just my point, Catie. If you think it’s a stupid thing, you have no business entering.”

“You’re right,” Catie agreed. “It’s worthy, actually. It showcases the equestrian talents of Bakersville’s young women, right?”

“Yes, among other things.”

“Like?”

“Poise, intelligence, beauty, to name a few.”

“I’ve got those.”

“I’ll give you beauty and intelligence, Cate, but poise? Sweetie, you trip over your own two feet.”

Catie cringed. She hadn’t thought of her perpetual clumsiness. “Well, I’ll have to get over that, won’t I? Besides, no one can beat me on horseback. Isn’t that most of what this competition is about?”

“Don’t kid yourself, sweetie. It’s a beauty contest, pure and simple.”

“No. No, it’s not. I mean, the McCray brothers are judging it. Two of them are married. What interest would they have in a beauty contest?”

“Little bit, you are so naïve.” Angelina laughed and shook her head. “But if you’re bound and determined to enter, I think I can work with you. You’ll need to work hard with Ladybird. You’ve been gone awhile.”

“You make it sound like I’ve been in hibernation for four years. I did manage to ride a horse or two in Europe. They have them there, you know.”

“All right, all right. Simmer down, little bit.”

“I think I’ve outgrown that nickname, Angie.”

“Okay, Catie. We’ll need to think about your wardrobe, and your platform.”

“Platform? This is rodeo queen, not Miss U.S.A.”

“Still, you need to stand for something.”

“I stand for the rodeo. For the art of the equestrienne.”

“Hmm. That might work.”

“It’s gotta work. It’s all I’ve got.”

“We’ll work with it. We’ll take this competition back to what it’s really about. The horsewoman. Rodeo. Hmm, it’s too bad you never stuck with barrel racing. We could get Dusty to give you some pointers.”

“Angie, I'm not going to become a champion barrel racer in a week.”

“True. You’ll be able to do the required patterns though.” Angie paused. “You’ll do, little bit. You’ll do just fine.”

Though she cringed again at little bit, Catie welcomed her sister’s expertise. God knew she’d need it.

---

Chad was glad to have Annie at the birth. The calf had had to be turned, and Chad hated doing that. His hands and forearms were big and caused needless pain to the cow. Annie took care of it, and the calf was born quickly and was already standing and searching for a teat.

“Thanks, Annie,” he said at the house, while they were washing up.

“It’s my job. No need to thank me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. But thanks anyway.”

“You’re welcome. I need to get back, though. Dallas has a meeting later today and I need to be there for the girls.”

“You can bring ’em over here if you’ve got something to do.”

Annie smiled. “Don’t you have a ranch to run?”

“Yeah, but heck, I love spending time with them. You know I’ll take ’em anytime.”

“Well…” Annie hedged a bit. “If you could, it’d help me out. I promised Catie I’d get together with her and help her prepare for this rodeo queen thing.”

“You?”

“Don’t look so surprised. I won a pageant or two in my day.”

“You’re kidding.”

She swatted him with the towel she’d used to dry her hands. “Thanks a lot.”

“Nah, I didn’t mean it like that. You know I think you’re beautiful. Hell, if my brother hadn’t snatched you up—”

“Then you wouldn’t have either, Chad. The day you settle down’ll be a day of celebration for sure.”

He lifted his lips in his trademark lazy smile. “Won’t be anytime soon, Doc. Tell me though, because I’m morbidly curious. What’s your experience with pageants?”

“It’s every little girl’s dream to be Miss America, isn’t it? Especially a girl who grew up in Atlantic City?”

“Maybe, but I’d’ve bet money it was never yours.”

She guffawed. “Okay, you got me. It wasn’t mine. It was my ma’s. She took me through several local pageants when I was a teen, and I’m embarrassed to say, I did pretty well until I was old enough to enter the regional pageants.”

“What happened then?”

“I had the looks, the poise, they all said. But the bigger pageants have talent competitions, and I didn’t have a speck of it. I can’t carry a tune, never took to an instrument, I look like a marionette when I dance.” She laughed. “You can’t get up on stage and perform a dissection on a fetal pig. That’s the stuff I was good at.”

“Well, there’s no talent competition for rodeo queen. It’s just struttin’ around and making a stupid ass speech. There’s a little horsemanship involved, but it’s stuff Catie can do in her sleep. It ain’t no Miss America, Annie.”

“She wants to do it, Chad. Quit giving her guff.” Annie wiped her hands once more and replaced the towel. “Besides, I can’t imagine you or any other guy in Bakersville having a problem watching Catie strut her stuff in a bikini.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Chad nodded, but his gut hurt like a knife had stabbed it.

He sure as hell didn’t want Catie strutting her stuff for anyone but him.

And that fact gnawed at the back of his neck like a persistent mosquito.