Читать книгу The Texas Cowboy's Baby Rescue - Cathy Thacker Gillen - Страница 9

Chapter Two

“You really don’t have to walk us to my SUV,” Bridgett said half an hour later, as she got ready to go.

Cullen was clearly skeptical. “You’re saying you could easily manage all this on your own?”

Bridgett looked at the messenger bag she took to work, the diaper bag filled with emergency essentials, and the swaddled infant she was about to pick up. He had a point. It was a lot.

“Okay.” She handed him both bags and her vehicle keys, then gently picked up little Robby.

She’d handled hundreds of newborns in her career. Cuddled and given medical aid and taken care of their emotional needs for as long as they were in the N-ICU.

But this was different. It had been from the first moment she’d gathered the little infant in her arms.

She felt connected to this child, heart and soul.

As if she were already his mother.

“But that’s all the help we need,” Bridgett continued firmly. “Once I get to my apartment and you meet the puppy, to see if that sparks anything, I’ll be able to handle it from there.”

The only problem, she noted ten minutes later as she pulled up in front of her nondescript brick apartment building and saw a furious man pacing outside, was that she still had a few more wrinkles to iron out.

Cullen emerged from his pickup truck. He nodded at the short and stocky man storming their way. “Who’s that?”

Her heart sank as she stepped from the driver’s seat and faced off with the man who had just been peering in her apartment windows. “My landlord, Amos Stone.”

The gray-haired man marched closer. “Miss Monroe! Do you have a dog in your apartment?”

Too late, Bridgett realized she should have found another emergency solution that morning. One that hadn’t involved spiriting a dog who’d had no place in the hospital to yet another place he was absolutely forbidden to be. She fixed the building’s owner with her most winning smile. “I can explain.”

Her landlord did not think so. “Your lease explicitly says no pets of any kind allowed. Ever.”

“I know.” Bridgett reached into the car to gather Robby in her arms. “But—”

“No buts,” the older man huffed. “You’re out of here! Effective immediately.”

Cullen stepped forward. “Surely there’s some middle ground here,” he beseeched cordially, on her behalf.

Amos Stone glared. “Nope. Twenty-four hours to get everything out, or I start formal eviction proceedings. And that mangy mutt goes right this instant. Or I call animal control to take him for you!” He stomped off.

Able to hear the barking from inside her unit, Bridgett handed Robby over to Cullen, then hurried to unlock her front door. What she saw, as the pup barreled toward her and leaped into her arms, was even more dismaying.

Riot had pushed aside the temporary barrier she’d set up between her small galley kitchen and the rest of the unit. He’d wreaked havoc throughout the apartment, knocking pillows off the sofa and upending plants, lamps and a basket of clean laundry. He’d also had several accidents on the wood floor.

Apparently being left alone had stressed the poor little guy out.

But now that the puppy was in her arms again, he was quiet, cuddly and clearly exhausted.

Cullen stood beside her, a drowsy Robby held against his broad chest. He looked around, surveying the damage. “What next?” he said.

Outside the window, she saw her landlord standing next to his car, phone to his ear. She headed outside again, to her vehicle, and Cullen followed. “Mr. Stone is probably on the phone with animal control right now. So we need to get Riot out of here.”

Cullen inclined his head toward the slumbering infant. “Want to switch?”

“Um...let’s not rock the boat just yet.”

Especially since Robby looked as if he were in baby nirvana. She nodded at the safety seat that had been installed in the backseat of her SUV. “If you can settle Robby back in that, I’ll hand off Riot to you and then get the baby strapped in.”

Cullen did as she asked and then took the dog from her. “Where do you want the pup?” he asked.

Good question. To have Riot on the loose while she was driving and Robby was strapped in a car seat did not seem like a good idea.

Cullen understood her indecision. “Why don’t I put him in my truck and drive him wherever you’re going next?”

If only she knew where that was, Bridgett thought, opening the door on the driver’s side to let the pleasant spring breeze circulate through the interior of the car. For the next few minutes, they remained next to her SUV while she scrolled through the hotel listings on her phone and made a few quick calls.

“Any luck?” Cullen asked, after the third.

Disappointed, Bridgett shook her head. “None of the inns in the county allow pets.”

Still holding the puppy against his chest, he used the index finger to tilt his hat a little higher on his forehead. “Doesn’t your family own a ranch?”

“The Triple Canyon. My younger brother, Nick, and his wife, Sage, live there now, but they’re currently putting a commercial kitchen in the ranch house so Sage can do the majority of the baking for her café-bistro on the premises. So they are at Sage’s old one-bedroom in town with their two kids for the next three months.”

He squinted down at her thoughtfully. “What about your twin sister?”

“Bess lives in the same building I do.”

“So that’s out.”

“Right.”

He studied her. “There’s no one else in the area you could call upon in an emergency? Other family?”

Yes and no, Bridgett thought. “I’ve got two more siblings. My older brother, Gavin, and Violet and their two kids live in a shotgun house here in town that is already bursting at the seams. And my sister Erin and Mac are living in the Panhandle now, with their brood, so although they would take me in, I can’t leave the county with Robby until everything is straightened out.”

He edged close enough that she could smell the soap and sun-warmed-leather scent of him. “Friends, then?”

“The ones who live in houses all have kids and pets of their own, and the ones who don’t live in apartments.”

Cullen shrugged. “You could board the puppy at the vet clinic in town temporarily or turn him over to the animal shelter.”

“No!” The force of her response stunned them both.

Bridgett drew in a bolstering breath. “If it hadn’t been for Riot’s determination to get my attention, I never would have known Robby had been abandoned at the fire station. Who knows how long it would have been before he’d been rescued? Plus, the note specifically said the mother wanted the two of them to stay together. I intend to honor that.”

“Do you even know anything about caring for a dog?”

Irked by his doubt, she tilted her chin at him. “No. But I’m sure I can learn. I just made an offer on a house, so all I need is a short-term solution that will hold us until I move.”

He regarded her with new respect. “You’re buying a home?”

Apparently, real estate was a language they both spoke. She nodded, forcing herself to relax. “An adorable little bungalow here in town. I’m just waiting for my mortgage application to be approved. Which unfortunately rules out renting another place. No one’s going to want me in and out for just a couple of weeks.”

“Well, since you are clearly out of options...” Cullen gave an affable shrug. “You could bring Robby and Riot to the Western Cross.”

Bridgett blinked. “Stay with you? At your ranch?”

He nodded.

She crossed her arms and glared up at him. “Why would you want to do that?” she blurted out.

He regarded her calmly. “To fulfill my moral obligation, and to preserve my reputation and that of the McCabe family, of course.”

* * *

CULLEN COULD SEE it wasn’t the explanation Bridgett wanted. Which was too bad, because the blunt truth was the only reason he was prepared to give. “I’ve got a virtual cattle auction coming up in ten days. My first at the Western Cross ranch. If people think I am unreliable on any level, they’re not going to buy livestock from me. So it’s to my advantage, and yours, to get this resolved as soon as possible. And maybe if we’re all together I’ll be able to more quickly figure out who would have wanted me to be responsible for all this.”

“Makes sense. I guess.”

He continued looking her in the eye. “I also don’t want to embarrass Frank and Rachel or any of the rest of my family.” Thanks to his mom, and the way she had selfishly kept his paternity a secret, for years, so she wouldn’t have to share him, they had already been through enough.

Bridgett went still, for a moment giving him a glimpse of the woman she was, at heart. “You call your parents by their first names?”

His attention drifted to her mouth. “Rachel is my stepmom. And Frank didn’t come into my life until I was sixteen.”

She bit her lip, her gaze glued to him. “That explains the Rachel. But Frank...?”

He shrugged, wishing he could table the urge to take down her hair and run his fingers through the thick, silky waves. “I never got the hang of calling him Dad.”

She moved closer. “Did he want you to call him Dad?”

“We never discussed it,” he said curtly. And he sure wasn’t going to dissect his tumultuous early years with the nosy nurse in front of him. “So,” he said, bringing the conversation back around to the current trouble at hand. “Are you going to take me up on my offer or not?”

She looked down at the baby, who was beginning to stir, and sighed. “I’m not sure if I’ll stay the night or not, but I’ll follow you out there, assess the situation and then figure out what I’m going to do.”

Not exactly a yes. But likely the closest he would get.

He gave her the address to put into her navigation system in case they got separated, and then they took off. Twenty minutes later, they were turning beneath the archway to the Western Cross ranch. Both sets of vehicle headlamps swept over the live oaks lining the drive, the fenced pastures filled with cattle and the cluster of brand-new state-of-the-art barns and stables. Finally, he drew up in front of the ranch house and parked behind the Laramie Animal Clinic van.

His good friend, and recent widow, Sara Anderson stepped out. It was hard to tell whether the pale, drawn hue of her face was due to grief over the sudden loss of her soldier husband or the nausea associated with the first trimester of pregnancy. But he appreciated her willingness to help them out today.

He picked up Riot and met her in the middle of the circular drive. “Thanks for coming,” he said.

The willowy blonde smiled, kind-hearted as always. “No problem.” Sara studied Riot with a clinician’s unerring eye, stroked him beneath the chin. “This the little runaway?”

“It is.” And though it had been years since he had held one, Cullen experienced the lure of a puppy all over again.

Bridgett parked and got out, too, a fussy baby Robby in her arms. Cullen made introductions. “Sara Anderson, Bridgett Monroe. Sara’s a neighboring rancher and the veterinarian who sees to all of my cattle and horses.”

Bridgett nodded. “Sara and I talked at the county’s High School Career Fair last fall. And we also both volunteer at the West Texas Warriors Assistance nonprofit.”

“Ah, then no introduction necessary.” Indeed, the two women looked surprisingly chummy. He hadn’t thought about them being friends. But then, he didn’t spend a lot of time socializing with anyone outside the cattle business.

Sara moved an electronic wand over the pup, between his shoulders and neck and from side to side. Then over the rest of his body.

“Anything?” Cullen asked.

“No.” Sara frowned. “I thought he might be a little too young for a microchip, but I wanted to be certain. There were no tags on his collar?”

“No.”

“That’s too bad. I’d like to know more about him.” She opened up the back of her van and pulled out a medium-sized plastic crate with a metal-grill door. “The food, dishes and leash you requested are all in there. You’re also going to need to make sure he gets started on all his vaccinations, ASAP.”

“I’ll make an appointment.”

“Good.” Sara grinned, tossing Cullen a bottle of puppy shampoo. “And you might want to give him a bath while you’re at it.”

Grinning, Cullen caught the bottle with one hand. “Thanks, Sara.”

Sara paused to greet little Robby, who was wide-eyed and squirmy. “Bridgett? Good luck with the baby. I heard about the situation.” She frowned, shaking her head. “I hope you get to keep him.”

Abruptly looking like she might burst into tears at any moment, Bridgett nodded. “I want what’s best for them both,” she said thickly, the strain of the day showing on her pretty face. “And I appreciate your help with Riot.”

“It was my pleasure,” Sara said with a warm smile. “And if you need anything else, just ask.” Then she climbed back into her van, gave a parting wave and took off.

Silence hung heavy between them as they stood there together, cradling puppy and baby.

Bridgett looked up, wordlessly scanning the compact century old farmhouse, whatever she was thinking at that moment as much a mystery to him as the emotion resonating in her dulcet tones.

“So, this is where you live,” she said.