Don’t miss A Baby for the Cowboy, book 2 in the Triple C Cowboys series.

Read on for an excerpt:

He tugged the ruffled window curtain to one side. The front yard needed mowing. Another item for a chore list he had yet to make.

A car turned down the driveway and slowly approached the house. The heart he’d thought had stopped at the cemetery thudded painfully to life.

Emily. Again. What did she want? Didn’t he have enough guilt and shame to deal with? Why couldn’t she leave him to grieve in peace?

He watched her exit the shiny late-model SUV. She straightened her dark skirt, the same one she’d worn at the cemetery. As if she had to muster courage, she stood perfectly still, some kind of manila folder under her arm, and gazed at the house. He got that. This place held a nightmare for her too. He didn’t blame her for any of it. The fault was his.

Over and done, cowboy. Move on.

But seeing her again brought the shame back as fresh as this morning’s funeral. Even with shorter hair and with fourteen years added to her age, Emily looked as beautiful as ever standing there in the faded evening. A man didn’t forget some things, no matter how far he ran.

He dropped the curtain and went to the front door. Outside he heard a car door slam. Then another. Curious, he stepped out onto the porch. She toted a baby carrier in her left hand.

So, she’d had a baby. What did he expect? By now, she and her husband probably had several kids.

Why was she here? Certainly not for a friendly reunion of high school sweethearts. Certainly not to rehash their break-up.

He squinted, looking as unfriendly as he knew how, which wasn’t too difficult given the situation. “What do you want?”

“We need to talk.” She didn’t seem intimidated by his bad mood. The teenage Emily would have gotten flustered. Not this Emily, though from her taut expression and shifting eyes, she didn’t want to be here anymore than he wanted her to be.

Levi leaned a shoulder against the porch post and folded his arms. “So, talk.”

She hitched her chin, drawing attention to a tiny white scar beneath, the one he’d loved to trace…and kiss. He’d been with her the day she fell, landed on a sharp rock, and needed four stitches. She’d wanted him to go to the emergency room with her. The old man wouldn’t let him.

To shake the thought, he glanced aside, but the memory lingered.

“Inside, if you don’t mind,” she was saying. “Mason may only be three weeks old, but this car seat gets heavy.”

His insides seized upward and obliterated all thought of Emily’s soft, white skin. Mason? Scott’s son was in that carrier? What was Emily doing with him?

He stepped to the side and pushed the door open with one hand. Without a word, she sailed into the living room. A subtle scent like apple blossoms trailed behind, tickling his nose. In spite of his determination to steer clear of Emily Caldwell, he inhaled and held the fragrance next to his heart.

Less than five minutes in her company and she was messing with his head.

He wanted her gone. Gone, so he didn’t have to think about what he’d done, who he was. Gone so he could hide from the humiliation. She was too much of a reminder of everything he’d spent fourteen years trying to forget.

She stopped in the middle of the living room and turned to face him, the baby carrier swinging from one hand. She looked nervous. Good. She’d leave faster that way. She glanced at him and then away, but in that nanosecond of eye meeting eye, he saw the past and pitied her. She’d loved him, and he’d failed her magnificently.

Hot regret burned his conscience. Maybe he should apologize, but he’d never learned how. And after all this time, surely she no longer thought about him or that awful day.

He thrust a hand toward the couch. “Might as well sit down.”

She turned away slightly, but her gaze lingered on the wall photos of Mason’s smiling parents before she lowered the carrier to the black-and-white rug and took a seat.

“He’s asleep. Do you want to see him?”

Yes. No!

His pulse kicked in as if he’d stepped up on a wild mustang for the first time.

“Why do you have Scott’s baby?” He folded his arms again and leaned against the wall, as far away from her and the child as possible.

“I’m a social worker for Calypso County family services. Mason is in my care until permanent arrangements are made.”

Social worker. The career choice fit her. Even as a teenager, Emily fretted about the less fortunate and rallied friends to help with her latest volunteer project. Him included, though he’d had to sneak away from the ranch and give up sleep to do it. He hadn’t wanted to let Emily down. Then he had.

But she wasn’t here to revisit a teenage love affair. Neither was he.