Sherryl Woods - The Cowboy and the New Year's Baby

“Ought to be going now,” he said in a rush.

She reached out a hand, but he was too far away for her to make contact. The gesture was enough to bring him to a halt, though.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said firmly. “You and I need to talk.”

“About the bill,” he guessed, based on Lizzy’s warning. “Don’t get all worked up over it. I was just trying to keep the nurse from having apoplexy. You know how hospitals are about their forms these days.”

“Oh, I’ll admit that threw me, but I figured out what had probably happened. It’s settled now. I’ve already explained to the billing office that the bill is my responsibility,” she said. “No, what I wanted to talk to you about is more important.”

Hardy regarded her warily. He didn’t like the sound of that. “What’s that?”

“The baby needs a name. I was hoping you could help me choose one. Something that would be special to you.” Her gaze met his. “Your mother’s name maybe.”

Hardy froze at the mention of his mother, a woman who’d run out on him so long ago he could barely recall what she looked like. It wasn’t a betrayal he was ever likely to forget, much less honor.

“Never,” he said fiercely.

The fervent response clearly startled Trish, but unlike a lot of women who’d have taken that as a sign to start poking and prodding, she didn’t pursue it.

“Another name, then. Maybe a sister or a girl you’ve never forgotten.”

Hardy thought of the older sister who’d left home with his mother. Neither of them had ever looked back. He’d go to his grave resenting the fact that his mother had loved his sister enough to take her but had left him behind.

Then he considered the long string of woman whose memories lingered. None were important enough that he wanted to offer their names.

Finally he shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Surely there’s a girl’s name you like,” she persisted. “Or even a boy’s name that we could change a little to make it sound more feminine.”

He squirmed under the intensity of her gaze and her determination to pull him into a process that was by no means his to share. Naming a baby should be between a mother and a father. A stranger should have no part in it. But he recalled that she’d told him the night before that there was no father. Well, obviously, there was one, but he wasn’t in the picture. That still didn’t mean that Hardy had any business involved in this.

“Can’t think of a single name,” he insisted, hoping that would be the end of it.

“Well, then, I guess it will just have to be Hardy, after all.”

He thought at first she was teasing, but he could see from her expression that she was flat-out serious.

“Oh, no,” he said adamantly. “That’s no name for a pretty little girl. Not much of one for a man, if you think about it. Comes from Hardwick, an old family name on my daddy’s side. At least one boy in every generation had to be a Hardwick. Just my luck that I came along first in my generation. You would think after all those years of saddling poor little kids with that name, some mother would put her foot down and insist on something ordinary like Jake or Josh or John.”

“What were the girls in your family named?”

He chuckled as he thought of his cousins, every one of whom had been named after flowers. They’d viewed that as being every bit as humiliating as Hardwick. “Rose, Lily, Iris,” he recited, ticking them off on his fingers. He watched her increasingly horrified expression and kept going for the sheer fun of watching the sparks in her eyes, “I believe there might even have been a Periwinkle a few generations back.”

Testing her, he said, “How about that for your baby? I really loved hearing about old Peri. To hear my father tell it, she was ahead of her time, quite the feminist.”

Trish laughed. “You’re kidding.”

“About Peri?”

“About all of it.”

He held up a hand. “God’s truth. I swear it. Somebody, way back when, had a garden thing. Nobody who came after had the imagination to stray from the theme.” He finally dared to look straight into Trish’s eyes, which were sparkling with little glints of silver that made the blue shine like sapphires. “Okay, forget Peri. What’s wrong with naming her after yourself? Trish is a pretty name.”

“Short for Patricia,” she explained derisively. “It’s a fine name, I suppose, but too ordinary. I want something that will make her stand out.”

“Take it from someone whose name was a constant source of teasing, ordinary has its merits.”

He paused for a minute, suddenly struck by a memory of the one woman in his life who’d been steadfast and gentle, his grandmother Laura. She’d died when he was only ten, but he’d never forgotten the warmth she had brought into his lonely life on her infrequent visits. She’d smelled like lily of the valley and she’d always had little bags of candy tucked inside her purse. She was the one person on his mother’s side of the family who’d ever bothered to stay in touch.

“There is one name that comes to mind,” he said, still hesitant to become involved in this at all. His gut told him even such a tenuous tie to this woman and her baby was dangerous.

“Tell me,” she commanded eagerly.

“Laura. It’s a little old-fashioned, I suppose. It was my grandmother’s name.”

“And she meant a lot to you?” she asked, searching his face.

“A long time ago, yes, she did.”

Trish’s expression brightened then. “Laura,” she said softly. “I like it.”

Hardy liked the way it sounded when she said it. He liked the way her voice rose and fell in gentle waves. Even when she’d been snapping his head off during the baby’s birth, there had been a hint of sunshine lurking in that voice.

He liked everything about this woman a little too much. She and her baby were the type who could sneak into a man’s heart—even his—before he knew what hit him. Just thinking that was enough to have him heading for the exit from the nursery.

“You’re leaving?” Trish called after him, clearly surprised by the abrupt departure.

“Work to do,” he said tersely, not turning around. “I meant to go a while back.”

“Maybe I’ll see you again.”

“Since you’re not from around these parts, I doubt it.”

He hesitated, then turned and took one last look at the two of them, sitting in that rocker with the sunlight streaming in and spilling over them. He had a feeling that image would linger with him long after he wanted to banish it.

“I’m glad everything turned out okay,” he said. “You all have a good life wherever you go.”

Not until he was out in the hallway with the door firmly closed behind him did he begin to feel safe again.

Trish had no idea what to make of Hardy Jones. He wasn’t like any other man she’d ever known. He was brusque and tough one second, a little shy the next. As gorgeous and enigmatic as he was, she could imagine women falling at his feet, wanting to unravel the mystery of him. She had no intention of being one of them.

He’d done her a huge favor. She’d thanked him. There was no reason for their paths to cross again. In fact, he’d made it plain that he’d prefer that they didn’t. Given some of the gossip she’d heard in the hallways about his active social life, she’d concluded he was a little too much like Jack. She certainly didn’t need another man like that in her life.

After Hardy had gone, her doctor magically appeared in the nursery as if she’d been waiting just outside the door.

“So, what did you think of Hardy?” she asked.

It seemed to Trish that she posed the question a little too casually. Her watchful gaze suggested she was very interested in the answer. Alarm bells went off. Between her father and her big brothers, Trish had spent her entire life with overactive meddlers. She knew one when she saw one. She phrased her reply very carefully.

“He’s very sweet, but he seemed nervous. He must be awfully shy around women, or is it just me?” she said, testing what she’d overheard about Hardy’s womanizing.

The doctor’s mouth gaped predictably. “Hardy, shy? That has to be a first. If you asked a hundred women around this part of Texas to describe him, I doubt there’s one who would come up with that.”

The doctor’s description confirmed her worst fears. “You said you’ve known him for a while, Doctor. How would you describe him?” Trish asked curiously.

“Forget the ‘Doctor,’ okay? Call me Lizzy. I think we’re going to be friends. As for Hardy, well, I’d have to say he’s a hunk. The general consensus rates him as sexy, handsome and charming,” she replied without missing a beat. “A real ladies’ man. The word around here is that he can accelerate a pulse rate faster than a treadmill.”

All the traits Trish had vowed to avoid in a man, she thought. It was strange, though. Obviously she had noticed that the man was gorgeous, that he exuded masculinity, but she’d been more struck by his gentleness, by his uneasiness around her. Not once had he tried to charm her. Of course, she doubted any man on earth would be inclined to flirt while delivering a baby, but what about today? Was she that much of a wreck that he hadn’t even been inclined to try? And why did she find that so annoying? It was probably just some weird hormonal shift.

“I hadn’t noticed,” she said, aware that she sounded ever so slightly testy about it.

The doctor pulled up another rocker and sat down, clearly ready for a friendly chat. “I’m amazed,” she said. “Flirting’s as ingrained in Hardy as breathing. Are you telling me he never so much as winked at you?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm. Isn’t that fascinating?” Lizzy said. “No little innuendoes, no flattery, no sweet talk?”

“Afraid not.” She grinned. “Of course, I have just had a baby. Not many men would flirt with a brand-new mother. What’s he going to say? You look pretty good for someone who’s just had a baby in my truck?”

“You don’t know Hardy. The guys say…” She hesitated. “Well, never mind what the guys say. Let’s just leave it that Hardy likes women. Correct that. Hardy loves women. Big, small, old, young.”

Trish studied her intently. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Just sharing information,” Lizzy insisted. “In case you’re interested.”

“I just had a baby,” Trish reminded her. “I’m passing through town. Why would I be interested?”

Lizzy shrugged, unperturbed by her response. “I just thought you might be.”

Trish recalled what Lizzy had said about her father’s matchmaking on Hardy’s behalf. Obviously she shared the trait. It just seemed a trifle misplaced under the circumstances. “It hasn’t occurred to you that I could have a husband somewhere?”

“No mention of one on your hospital forms,” Lizzy said. “I checked.”

Trish stared. “You didn’t.”

“Of course I did,” Lizzy replied unrepentantly. “You have to admit that having a baby together—”

“He delivered the baby,” Trish corrected impatiently. “We didn’t have one together.”

“Still, it had to be an incredibly intense moment. That’s the kind of moment that creates an enduring bond, don’t you think?”

Friendly chitchat was rapidly turning into advice for the lovelorn. Trish figured it was time to put a very firm stop to it. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she warned. “Stop it right there. Obviously you have your father’s matchmaking tendencies. I am not in the market for a man. Hardy clearly wasn’t the slightest bit interested in me. Even you have to realize that, since he didn’t even bother to try to charm my socks off.”