Privacy Policy

The Bad Boy’s Baby
by Cindi Madsen

Copyright © 2016 by Cindi Madsen. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
 

Chapter One

Ever notice that the world-changing days usually start like every other day, never letting on that they’re about to grab onto the edge of your life, tip it totally upside down, and change every single thing?

This Monday had started much like any other, with bartering over the acceptable amount of time to wear a pink tutu, especially over pajamas, and trying to convince a two-year-old that the boring brown bits of Lucky Charms were just as delicious as the multicolored marshmallow shapes. Add in an outfit thrown together that might or might not match but definitely had a few drops of spilled coffee and a rainbow marshmallow smear and a mad dash out the door, and it was a typical Monday.

At least it was the usual for Emma Walker, and besides constantly feeling like she was forgetting something—and she most likely was—she’d been happier than she’d been in years, if sometimes a tad overwhelmed and more than a little desperate for adult conversation.

That was what happened when you were a single mother of the cutest, most energetic two-year-old this side of the Mississippi, which was the bigger side of the country, for the record.

So when she pulled up to the transforming Mountain Ridge property, she downed the last of her now-cold coffee, took a deep breath, and then opened the door of the giant work truck that announced her exit with a loud, metal-on-metal screech. The door weighed about a hundred pounds and hated to be closed, so she shoved it hard and slammed her hip into it, telling it to stay.

Still, the beast of a truck was nicer than her car, which was classic in the uncool way that meant out-of-date, rusted, and often temperamental. It didn’t handle the road to Mountain Ridge very well—she’d learned that the hard way, on day one of trying to prove she could take point on a job, only to end up high centered and stuck. It’d been mortifying, as well as a test in humility.

Nothing like telling your boss to go ahead and have his back surgery because you could definitely handle the job yourself, only to call and tell him you hadn’t quite made it to the work site on account of being stuck. Luckily he’d taken pity, sent the crew to free her car, and then lent her the work truck for trips to and from the property. On top of taking on the bumpy road better than her car, the beast hauled more supplies.

Emma pulled out her trusty clipboard, the to-do list for the day already printed and color coded by priority, then stopped for a moment to bask in the fresh air and beautiful mountain backdrop, her thoughts on a sparkling lake a few hours’ hike from here. She missed the days when she could so easily escape the world for a while, when all camping required was a small tent and a backpack full of food and essentials.

Days when she could go anywhere without three bags packed to the brim were gone, but she wasplanning on taking a camping trip once the weather grew a bit warmer. It was about time to introduce her daughter to one of her favorite activities. Although, for the first trip, she’d probably need to choose a different spot than Hope Springs Reservoir, because Zoey would definitely make a beeline toward the water, and two arms weren’t nearly enough to hold that girl back.

As much as Emma wanted to head into the mountains for a day or two, the thought also exhausted her. The Mountain Ridge job involved a lot of planning and problem solving, as well as the construction of the cabins, and lately she’d been so busy—not to mention completely mentally and physically exhausted at the end of the day—that other things were falling through the cracks. She hadn’t been to visit Grandma Bev in way too long, and she hoped that her grandmother was still taking her medications and eating healthy in Emma’s absence, although she knew that was a long shot.

I’ve just got to get through this job, and then life will slow down a bit. Plus, I’ll be able to use it for my portfolio, hopefully get a stellar reference or two, and land bigger jobs—the kind that’ll help me better take care of Zoey, me, and Grandma Bev.

Moving to Laramie or Cheyenne for career opportunities was a double-edged sword. Jobs paid more, and there were definitely better opportunities to land positions where she’d get to focus more on the architecture part she’d gone to college for, but cost of living was higher.

Emma’s blood pressure rose, the way it always did when she started trying to figure out how she was going to do it all, so she pushed her worries away to focus on the job here and now. God willing, it’d be the door the opportunities came knocking on, and then she’d decide which one to answer.

She walked up to what used to be the Mountain Ridge Bed and Breakfast but was becoming the Mountain Ridge Lodge, tucked her clipboard under her arm, and knocked on the bright yellow door. Every time she stood on this porch, she admired the new entryway and fresh lumber. Heath Brantley and his fiancée, Quinn Sakata, had been working hard to transform the once run-down property, and they were quickly becoming her favorite clients, even though she still experienced a pang of guilt every time she looked at Heath.

Quinn was even becoming a friend, too, along with her best friend, Sadie. They’d been inviting Emma along for their girls’ nights. Dressing up in clothes that didn’t have coffee, marshmallow smears, or paint on them, and getting away from her parental duties for a few hours every Friday had been helping her life feel more well-rounded and a little less lonely. The girls were also trying to set her up, but they hadn’t found the right candidate yet, and in this tiny town where she’d known most everyone since forever, Emma doubted they ever would. She’d accepted that a relationship might not be in the cards for her—for at least a few more years, anyway.

That was okay. She had Zoey. That little girl gave the kind of unconditional love Emma had always wanted, and the love she had for her…well, it filled her up and was the reason she got out of bed every morning.

Just as Emma lifted her arm to knock again, the door swung open. She stepped back to avoid being in the way and opened her mouth to say hello, but then she noticed it wasn’t Heath that’d come to the door.

Emma took another large step back, every cell in her body screaming at once as she stared up at the familiar face, hoping and praying her eyes were playing tricks on her.

She’d misjudged the edge of the porch, though, and her foot slipped, her center of gravity thrown. She flung out her arms, searching in vain for the rail, but before she could recover, Cam was right there, grabbing onto her wrist and tugging her closer to him.

Way, way too close. The rugged features that she’d admired so many times were still in full force, defined by a scruffy beard. His body had filled out even more since that night all those years ago, though, and back then the sight of him shirtless had been enough for her to completely lose her mind.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to…” He tipped his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as they roamed over her face. Her throat went dry as her flight response kicked in. Only his gaze and his grip on her wrist held her in place.

Maybe he won’t remember me.

Wait. That’d be worse. I think. Oh, jeez, I don’t know anymore.

Logically she’d known that she might see the father of her child again someday. But logic and seeing him were two different things, and the latter made her completely lose hold of the former.

One night. One night ever that she’d thrown caution to the wind and enjoyed a reckless night with a guy she’d crushed on from afar for years, and she’d managed to make the worst mess. Mostly because she’d been dumped the month before, her ex-boyfriend citing she was too boring—both in life and in the bedroom—and she’d been trying to prove she could be sexy and fun and the opposite of herself.

So she’d flirted with Cameron freaking Brantley, had way too much to drink, and ended up having a one-night stand with the town’s bad boy hours before he’d deployed.

But she’d gotten an angelic little girl in return, and she’d never regret that.

“Hey,” Cam said, his voice warmer now. “Emma, right?”

Her heart took off, beat after beat, although the fast pace made it hard to tell one from the other. It’d been torturous enough having to see Cam’s brother on a regular basis now that he was back in Hope Springs for good, but it wasn’t like she knew Heath, not really. Honestly, it wasn’t like she knew Cameron Brantley, either, although thanks to their one-night stand three years ago, she knew all about the amazing things he could do with his tongue, and the memory threatened to make her overheat, despite the cool spring breeze.

Pull it together, Emma. She spotted her dropped clipboard on the edge of the porch and scooped it up, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“I didn’t know you were…” She swallowed, waiting for him to fill in the blank. Was he back, back? Or just on leave? Why hadn’t she heard about it?

“Just got back day before yesterday,” he said.

“The army, right?”

He nodded. “I’m officially out, though, actually. Honorably discharged, so I could run the lodge with Heath and Quinn.”

While she was happy for him, her stomach still clenched at the news. That meant she couldn’t avoid him. It meant so much more, too, things she’d pushed so far to the background that she’d pretended she’d never have to deal with them. Heck, it’d been so long that she was pretty sure even the town had stopped making bets on who Zoey’s father was. No one had guessed Cam, because none of them would ever think a girl like her could land a guy like him, even for a night.

The only reason she had involved him leaving on a long deployment, a lot of alcohol, and trying to prove she wasn’t as boring as her ex claimed.

Cam’s eyes lit on hers again, and she couldn’t help but notice the irises that were somewhere between green and blue, to the point that she never knew which color to call them. Zoey had those same eyes, and they changed color depending on everything from what she wore to how tired she was. In fact, she saw so much of Cam in Zoey now that she stood face-to-face with him again, it surprised her no one had ever made the connection, especially his own family. With him back in town, people probably would notice.

Fear crawled through her at that thought, robbing her of oxygen. So many complications. Such a big chance of future hurt—she could take it, she was a grown-up, and it was her failed attempts to contact Cam that’d landed her in her current messy situation. But her daughter…all the reasons she’d freaked out when she’d first found out she was going to have a baby with someone who’d made it clear he didn’t want one came rushing back to her.

Before she could even think of what to say—or how much to say—Quinn and Heath came to the door. “Hey, Emma,” Quinn said, bounding out and hugging her. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Things have been crazy around here. Cam came home a few days early.” She slung her arm around him, and with the height difference, it might’ve been comical if Emma were in a laughing mood. Which she most certainly wouldn’t be for a very, very long time.

Employing the shoving-away-to-be-worried-over-later skills she’d already used once today, she pushed everything else to the background. Later she’d analyze for hours and weigh pros and cons, but right now she needed to focus on the matter at hand so she wouldn’t ruin all of the hard work she’d put into this job. “The guys should be here any minute, and then we’ll get right to it.”

Emma swept her gaze toward the road, hoping the guys would make a timely appearance, although her crew, while hard workers, was hardly ever what she’d call timely. They didn’t take her as seriously as they should, either, despite the fact that she’d learned to state things instead of present them like an option, and she was working on raising her voice and becoming the kind of person who could stand in front of a room and take charge.

She glanced down and discreetly scratched at the dried multicolored marshmallow smear on her shirt, which probably didn’t help the serious boss–type image she was going for. Boring and serious, yet not stern enough to be a boss—what a combo.

The cabins taking shape along the right side of the property proved that despite the bumpy start to calling the shots, she and the crew certainly got stuff done. They’re slowly getting used to my being in charge of a project after being the pushover administrative assistant/bookkeeper who answered the phone and gave them extra time to turn in their paperwork. I just have to keep proving myself.

Those were her designs out there, too, even if her boss insisted on adding Pete, an architect from Salt Lake City, to the crew to approve her blueprints and check in on the progress from time to time.

Often it struck her as funny that she’d ended up working at a construction company. “Site manager” was such a broad term, though, and in her case, it meant she was good at dealing with vendors and keeping a tight budget and schedule, and that she was picky about how her blueprints were carried out. She didn’t do a whole lot of constructing—not that she couldn’t when needed—and this job was a good stepping-stone for her future architecture career.

And hopefully once she proved herself here, her boss would let her run more projects alone. The main problem she worried about after this job ended was demand. There weren’t a whole lot of new buildings, industrial or residential, that went up in Hope Springs, and she had a family to take care of.

“Why don’t we grab coffee while we wait,” Quinn said, taking Emma’s hand and tugging her inside instead of waiting for her to agree. Probably because she rarely said no to a cup of coffee. Lack of sleep combined with long days on the site required large amounts of caffeine.

Their footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor of the main room they’d put in to keep the bed-and-breakfast feel. They’d added a few rustic decorations, going for more of a country rustic than backwoods look. Emma was especially proud of the blend of styles, as Quinn and Heath had pretty much the opposite taste on every single thing. Architect and interior decorator were hardly the same thing, but in a town this small, you multitasked and faked it until you made it. When Quinn had asked if she could help decorate, she’d said she’d figure it out. Together, with a lot of help from magazines and online shopping, they had.

Quinn wound her dark hair into a bun and secured it on the top of her head. Her Japanese heritage and rock star style gave her a unique look that made her stand out from the crowd, especially in their town, and the girl definitely knew how to kick back and have fun. She was still learning how to deal with mountain critters and the inevitable renovation hiccups, but she’d kept her optimism high, which made her an easy client to work for.

She poured four mugs of coffee, her steady stream of conversation filling the air. When she bragged up Emma and all she’d done for the property, Cam looked her way again. Heat crept across Emma’s cheeks, the attention making her squirm, and she ducked her head and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’ve got a great crew, which makes it easy,” she said, waving off the skills she’d just been feeling proud of. She knew she needed to stop downplaying what she did in order to give off the air of confidence it took for people to take her more seriously, but it was hard to change old habits.

The rumble of truck engines started low but grew, and Emma set down her mug. “Thanks for the coffee. I’d better go get to work so we can keep to our schedule.”

With a quick nod, she rushed outside.

At least once she had her long to-do list and a crew to focus on, she could stop wondering what in the world she was going to do about the fact that everything in her life just got a hundred times more complicated.

…

Through the large front window, Cam watched Emma greet the group of guys who’d pulled in. Being home was…weird. For ten years, all he’d known was military life. Orders and missions and, honestly, a lot of violence.

Ever since Heath had mentioned the Mountain Ridge property was up for sale, all he could think about was getting home and running camping and hunting expeditions with his brother. Mostly what he wanted to do was forget all the bad crap he’d lived through the past decade and escape from everything and everyone, until he remembered who he was. Especially who he was without the military.

But now that he was here, he could hardly sleep or sit or stand still. He’d only been out for a couple of days, though, and he hoped that in time he’d adjust. The other thing he hadn’t planned on was running into Emma. Years had passed since their last encounter—and man, had it been a hell of an encounter—and he wasn’t exactly sure what to say to her.

The truth was, he didn’t even know her. But their one amazing night together had played through his head several times in the past few years, even if the exact details were a bit blurry.

He’d been drinking at the Triple S with Heath, thinking about his upcoming deployment—and if he recalled right, ranting about Dad—and then he’d noticed her sitting a few stools down. Cam had remembered her from high school, the smart girl with the frizzy brown hair who had her hand up in every class, the right answer always on the tip of her tongue.

The girl had always intrigued him, his brain having a hard time wrapping around how someone could possibly be that into school. She was the sweet type of girl he knew to stay away from, because the townsfolk already blamed him and Heath for everything that went wrong, and he could only imagine the uproar it’d cause if he even dared to breathe her same air.

That night at the Triple S, though, she’d looked the same but different. Pretty in a classic way, her formerly frizzy hair transformed into sleek waves, her lips bright red and completely mesmerizing, and then there was the skirt that displayed a killer set of legs. And he’d decided he could risk offering the town’s good girl a drink, since he was on his way out of Hope Springs anyway. Only she’d offered him one first, and he’d gone from intrigued to fascinated and became more so as the night went on.

Today she had her brown hair up in a messy bun and her makeup was minimal, but she was still pretty in a classic, down-to-earth way, and those tight jeans showed off the fact that she still had a killer set of legs.

His heart thumped as he watched her lift a clipboard and point, sending one group one way and the other group off in a different direction. He tried to remember how long it’d been.

Let’s see…that was my third deployment, so right before my second tour in Afghanistan, and before I was stationed in Germany. He counted off the years on his fingers, trying to remember if Afghanistan had been a fifteen-month deployment or a year—all of them blurred together in one long streak, a lot of camo and desert and the feel of his rifle in his hands and dudes crammed into tight quarters.

Three years. Three years since I convinced the cute girl who knew everything to take shots with Heath and me, and then the night somehow ended with us having sex in my truck. His blood heated at the memory, and before he could remind himself that he should stay far away from good girl Emma Walker, he was out the door and down the porch steps, his toolbox in hand.

As he pushed through the door, Heath called out, “Wait up,” and Cam slowed his pace so that his brother could catch up. Then they walked over to the cabin where he’d seen Emma and the second crew head, the one that was still just a frame.

But when he got there, Emma wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He glanced back at the row of parked trucks, but the one she’d arrived in still sat in the driveway, the faded sign declaring it Hope Springs Construction missing enough of the P and E that it looked a bit like Ho Springs Construction. He laughed at that, then shook his head at his maturity level.

“Put us to work,” Heath said, and Tom, a potbellied guy in a yellow hard hat, gave them instructions to start on the north wall.

The two of them started in on putting up the Sheetrock. Swinging the hammer and working up a sweat in the hot sun helped take a bite out of the antsy feeling Cam had been experiencing since arriving back in town, and he decided that keeping busy was the key to transitioning back into civilian life.

After the guys called lunch, he couldn’t help looking around for Emma again. The sound of hammering, less noisy than what had been going on around him and coming from the next cabin over, caught his attention, and he wandered over to check it out.

Emma had parts spread all around her, the skeleton of a fireplace mantel taking shape inside.

“Lunchtime,” he said, and she jumped, the hammer in her hands dropping to the floor with a thunk. He quickly picked up the hammer and extended it to her. “Sorry. I just scared you for the second time today.”

“First time, actually. The other time…well, I expected the door to open, obviously, but…” She shook her head and then tucked that one strand behind her ear, like she’d done this morning.

“You didn’t expect me.”

Her chest rose and fell with a long exhale. Cam silently encouraged her to lift her big brown eyes so he could get another look into them—and so he could attempt to assure her that she had nothing to feel weird about—but he couldn’t think of a way to say those actual words without it coming across as weird. Especially since it would be practically admitting that he’d been thinking about their night together since she showed up on the porch this morning.

What the hell am I doing? I should just leave her alone. The rarely used optimistic part of him argued that he was only trying to get back to normal small-town life, but nothing about this interaction felt normal. “Would you like me to help you?”

She winced, like that was the last thing she wanted. Apparently he completely failed at remembering how to do small talk. Or maybe he’d offended her.

“Not that you don’t have it under control. I thought maybe you just pointed and gave the orders, but obviously you know what you’re doing. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, give me a hammer and screwdriver and I can bang and screw with the best of them.” Her face flushed pink, the brown eyes he’d wanted another look at flying wide.

“Trust me, I remember,” he said, shutting his mouth too late to keep that thought from popping out.

She threw her hand over her mouth, but a laugh slipped out, and he couldn’t help but laugh, too. “Oh my gosh. I’m going to go die now,” she said, but then she laughed harder, and it triggered the memory of that night, when she’d been doing shots and started laughing at any and everything—the happy sound had warmed him from the inside out, the noise carrying off his worries as it drifted into the air, just like it did now.

She put her fingertips to her forehead and shook her head. “What I meant to say was that pouring the concrete and framework are a bit out of my league, but…” She shook her head again. “I’m the queen of saying the wrong thing, and this is just…”

Cam put his hand on his chest. “No, I said the wrong thing. Sorry. I think I was trying so hard to not mention that night that it sort of backfired. I’m usually good at keeping my thoughts inside.”

Her gaze had snapped to his when he said “that night,” and he suddenly couldn’t swallow.

She winced and glanced away. “Look, I—”

“Emma. There you are.” The guy who’d arrived about an hour ago, looking more suited to an office than a job site, stepped through the doorway. He got a silly grin on his face as he looked at Emma, and it made Cam wonder if they were more than coworkers.

His gut pinched, a sensation that felt suspiciously like jealousy.

Of course she’s involved with someone else, someone who’s actually suited for her. Not like she and I were even ever involved, anyway. “I’ll catch you later,” Cam said, backing away.

Really, it was for the best. His head was nowhere close to a place where he could go out on a date and pretend that everything he’d experienced during his last mission didn’t follow after him.