Cowboy Up(56)

He isn’t even my own son and I already know I’d protect this child with everything I have in me. Knowing that, I can’t even fathom how a parent could ever feel anything but unconditional love. I don’t have to guess that both my brother and sister are thinking the same thing. We might not have had a mama who cared or a father who could until it was too late, but this boy and any children born into our family will never know that kind of pain. He’s got two parents who love each other and will love him fiercely, but he’s also got two uncles and the women in their lives who will do the same.

I bend at the same time I lift my arms up and press my lips to Grayson’s tiny head before handing him back to his mama.

When I’m finally able to look away and at Caroline, I’m not sure how to read what I see in her eyes. For as long as I can remember I’ve known I’d never bring a child of my own into the world. The way I’d been raised hadn’t shown me anything positive in the way of having my own children. Looking at the woman I can’t imagine a life without, with the reminder of what my nephew felt like in my arms, makes me want to be able to see something other than what I’ve always believed.





17


CAROLINE


“Sunday Morning” by Parmalee



I climb into bed and pull the covers up over my bare legs. I can hear Clayton as he moves through the house, locking up and setting the alarm. He’s been quiet since we left the hospital. To be honest, I’m glad for the silence. Watching him holding Quinn and Tate’s son shifted something inside of me, something I hadn’t been sure was there. Something I hadn’t even been sure I had even wanted until I met Clayton. Knowing his past, I was completely unsure if the man I was building a future with wanted the same thing.

Children.

I never thought about that for myself.

Why would I? I was raised by a woman who hated me, hardly tolerated me, and had been one of the main reasons I desperately traded one nightmare for another. I went from living with her hate to just surviving another’s. I never would have brought a child into that. Luckily, John had been meticulous about protection and I had never had to deal with that problem.

I’ve never experienced the positive love of a mother, and I’m not sure that’s something I capable of, but seeing Clayton with a baby in his arms and a look of pure, tender love, I started to hope.

I know, though, that if that’s something Clayton doesn’t want, I will never have it, because there will never be another man for me. My heart only belongs to one man and without him, I’ll never bring a child into this world. Knowing that, it feels like a dark cloud has settled over a special night.

“I could hear you thinkin’ downstairs, Linney.” I jump at the sound of Clayton’s voice, so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even notice him enter the bedroom.

He starts unbuttoning his plaid button-down, pulling it off and grabbing the white undershirt he had on underneath and yanking it off too. His belt clanks on the floor in the silence after he toes his boots off and then, in one fluid motion, he’s got his jeans and boxer briefs off. I don’t look away when he straightens and hooks his hands at his hips, studying me with silent consideration.

“We’ve got two choices, sweetness.” His brow is furrowed, but other than that he appears calm. I know my dark cowboy better than that, though. He’s holding his control close to his chest. “We can either finish what we were talkin’ about in the waitin’ room earlier or . . .” He looks down, shakes his head, and, with a heavy breath, glances back at me. “Or you can tell me what I saw in your eyes when you watched me holdin’ my nephew.”

“I . . . Clayton.” My thundering heart jumps into my throat and I feel my lips press together tightly. He waits, but without being able to find the words I need to continue, I lift both my shoulders, silently telling him I need his guidance, because I honestly don’t know if I can pick one over the other. Not when I could be getting his love in one breath and losing a piece of my heart in the next.

He steps forward and rounds the bed. I track his every movement until he’s standing next to my side of the bed. When his hands leave his hips, I glance down and watch with wide eyes as they both slowly come toward me. He pulls the covers from where I have them tucked into my hips, baring my legs. He makes a sound of disapproval when I start to pull the shirt of his I stole—like every night—to sleep in over my panties, halting me instantly. When he takes my ankles in his strong grip, I close my eyes, not even shocked when he pulls me gently down the bed until my back is no longer against the pillows propped up against the headboard. Even in the heaviness of the moment, his strength is something that amazes me.