Chapter 14

Colored lights twinkled, draping the Sundowner’s windows and doors in festive red and green cheer. With fresh snow falling, a reindeer on top of the roof, and a large snowman beside the entrance, the place looked about as holidayed up as a bar could ever be.

Ivy inhaled the fresh smell of winter and took a few moments to appreciate it all. There was something about this time of year in Montana that was magical, and it never failed to impress. She smoothed out her hair and picked her way through the shoveled path that cut through ankle-high snow. She was late and had no one to blame but herself.

She’d spent far too much time on her hair and makeup, and then, God , she must have tried on ten different outfits. Maybe fifteen. All for nothing because the first one had been the winner.

And why had she wasted all that time? She could tell herself it was because of the party—more to the point, a Christmas party , so folks would be dressed up. Jeans and a sweater wouldn’t cut it. Or she could pretend that she’d been bored with casual dressing and needed a pop of something more. Maybe it was because she wanted to wear a dress. But none of that was true, and she was a big enough girl to admit it.

She’d spent hours getting ready. Heck, she’d even shaved her legs and used one of those mud masks she’d found in Millie Sue’s bathroom. It was supposed to make her face glow. She’d pulled out the good makeup, the expensive stuff she hardly ever used, then grabbed the perfume she only hauled out on special occasions. She’d dabbed it behind her ears, between her breasts, and even on the backs of her legs.

All because she knew Mike Paul would be there. As if he was a scent guy. As if she’d let him get close enough to appreciate the intimate notes of vanilla and lavender.

Whatever the reason, at some point, a girl had to accept that there was no use in trying to avoid her kryptonite. Mike Paul would always be there in some form or fashion, and she’d rather be at her best when they interacted because being at her best was the only kind of armor she had. And if that meant the smoky eye effect and a dress that was so damn tight she had problems walking up the stairs, then so be it.

She would ignore the fact that she’d fantasized about him and all the sex they’d had that one night. Of how his mouth was like a little taste of heaven that lingered. Of how big his hands were, the fingers nimble and inquisitive in the best way possible. She sure as hell wouldn’t think about the fact that the three orgasms she’d managed to pull off with those fantasies flooding her mind had been the best orgasms she’d had since…well, since she’d gotten busy with the real deal.

God, her lady parts still tingled at the thought, and with a hot blush, she exhaled and hopped onto the bottom step that led to the entrance. Maybe she needed to get laid. Maybe she needed to tell Kip their arrangement needed some spice. She could do the friends-with-benefit thing. Maybe.

She grabbed the railing and glared at the steps as she hopped up a couple more, cursing the material that stretched tight over her hips and thighs.

Get your shit together, Wilkens.

She heard voices and music. The voices weren’t loud, and the music was low for a few reasons. One, the invite-only gathering was limited to a close circle of friends. And two, no longer in their twenties (for the most part), their friends had kids, and those kids were generally included. Heck, she’d heard that Santa had made it to the last few parties with treats for the next generation.

We’ve all grown up, she thought, finally reaching for the door. She hesitated and shored up some of that resolve she’d looked for earlier, then with a gut full of butterflies she wished would just fly away already, Ivy stared at the door for a couple more seconds and pushed in.

She stamped snow from her black booties and glanced up. The first thing she saw had her insides turning hot, then cold, and then back to hot. Ivy glanced back at the door. She could leave. No one had seen her yet. She considered the notion for all of two seconds, but then something curious happened. Something unexpected and, she couldn’t lie, more than a little worrisome. A yearning, a feeling she’d never felt before, hit her square in the chest and knocked the breath out of her.

With a gasp, she stepped back and leaned against the door while she struggled to control it and sort herself out.

What in the actual fuck.

Mouth dry, she looked across the room, lashes lowered because she couldn’t be that obvious. And yet, the pull was too strong. Slowly, she lifted her head an inch or so for a better view.

Mike Paul stood near the bar, chatting with Millie Sue, his handsome face alive with a smile that could burn down the damn world. He was dressed for the occasion—not surprising since the guy had always been fashionable—at least for Montana cow country. Black chinos, dress boots, and a dark green sweater that clung to his wide shoulders and muscled arms. But it wasn’t his outfit that had her heart churning. It was the accessory he sported. A baby, strapped to his chest. A small little human wrapped in one of those sling-type gadgets. He cradled the child with those big hands of his, gently stroking its back while listening intently to whatever it was Millie Sue was saying.

It looked so natural for him. So right.

And it made her heart hurt to watch.

“Pretty incredible, isn’t it?” The voice came from nowhere and startled Ivy.

“Excuse me?” Ivy sputtered but quickly gained her composure.

Wanda Weatherly-Caulfield raised a glass of red wine and smiled. “All the man candy and all the babies.”

Ivy followed Wanda’s gaze and could do nothing but nod in agreement. Mike Paul might have been the only man she’d focused on, but Cal Bridgestone had his little guy sitting pretty on his hip while Taz and Scarlett’s little boy (a boy the man had adopted as his own) clung to Taz like he was his hero. Then, there was Bryce Caulfield with his young son nestled in his arms. The scene was enough to make any woman look twice.

“Man,” Wanda said softly. “My ovaries are exploding. I might have to grab my husband and find a quiet spot to make another one.”

Ivy gave the woman some serious side-eye. “It’s a family Christmas party, Wanda.”

“I know,” the woman giggled. “Here, let me take your coat so you can grab some of this delicious, mulled wine.”

Ivy slipped out of her coat and handed it over.

“You look amazing,” Wanda said with a slow whistle.

“Stop it.” Secretly pleased, Ivy hid her smile.

“You do. You’ve got the look of love or something like it.”

Not sure if the woman was playing with her, Ivy ignored the comment.

“Your fiancé isn’t here.”

“Nope.” Ivy smoothed her hands over the deep red fabric. “He’s in Japan.”

“Will I ever get to meet him?”

“Maybe.” She turned to the woman. “Where’s the wine?”

Wanda smiled and pointed to the large crock pot perched on the bar. Inches from the men and babies. “Over there.” She winked. “I’ll put your coat with the others and join you in a sec.”

Ivy gave herself a few moments to get her game face in place, then turned and headed for the bar. And the crockpot. Which held the all-important warm mulled wine. She had a feeling she was going to need the extra fortification.

She took the indirect route, hoping Mike Paul wouldn’t see her just yet, and said hello to people she used to know. Lacey and Johnny Pearson. Donna and Presley, the latter who was married to Mike Paul’s cousin. There were others, faces connected to old memories, and as she bypassed the men and babies and headed for the bar, something settled at the back of her throat. It tasted…bittersweet. Like visiting another life, one you weren’t quite sure how to navigate anymore.

She’d spent all of her twenties running from this place. From a life she used to love. A life she’d, at one time, wanted. Family. Friends. Mike Paul. She’d told herself it was because she needed to protect her heart. That if she didn’t have to face the past, it couldn’t hurt her.

How wrong she’d been.

With a sigh, she reached for a glass and was about to fill it when Oliver appeared with a smile. Just seeing the man lightened her mood.

“Let me,” he said, taking the glass from her. The Englishman filled it to the brim and handed it over. “You look hot as hell,” he said with a wink.

“So do you.” It wasn’t a lie. The guy cleaned up well. Dressed from head to toe in black, his thick hair waved over his collar, though his tattoos were still visible along his neck. His handsome features were relaxed, his chin and jaw shadowed as if he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. On his feet, a pair of custom boots. Ivy could tell from the stitching.

“Ariats?” she asked.

Oliver grinned and nodded. “I was told they were the best.”

“You’re a real cowboy now.” She pointed to his face. “Though that thing doesn’t fit. It’s giving seventies porn.”

He chuckled and stroked what looked to be the beginning of a brand-new handlebar mustache. “Thought I’d try something new.”

“It’s a conversation piece, that’s for sure.” She took a sip of the warm wine, hyper-aware that Mike Paul was a few feet away.

“Nice dress.” Oliver gave her the once-over, then cranked his head and looked around the bar. “I don’t see your man.” He glanced back her way and frowned. “I don’t see the ring either. You got news to share?”

“What?” Her eyes flew to her left hand, and she swore. “Shit, I forgot to put it back on after the mask.”

“Mask?”

“Face thing,” she replied absently. Her hand looked bare without the big rock.

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, huh?”

“Don’t frown, my girl. You’re too beautiful tonight to be doing that.”

“Well, stop insinuating stuff, and I might.”

“Insinuating what stuff?” Mike Paul appeared from nowhere, it seemed, which was silly since the man had been inches away. His hand was still on the baby’s back, and he gently repositioned her as he raised questioning eyebrows.

“Nothing, mate.” Oliver nodded to Ivy. “We’ll chat later, yeah?”

She watched the Brit walk away and slowly turned back to Mike Paul. His blue eyes seemed electrified as if he’d somehow managed to find colored eyedrops. That sparkled like magic. And glistened like stars.

Seriously? That’s where your head is at?

Ivy blinked away the nonsense and tried to focus. But it was damn hard because of the child.

“Is this Cobi’s baby?” she asked.

Mike Paul’s face immediately lit up, and it was something to see. He moved closer, and she made the mistake of taking a deep breath because all that did was fill her lungs with his scent. That woodsy, clean smell that was all him.

Carefully, he leaned toward Ivy and turned a bit so that she could see the baby properly. The little girl had a thick dusting of dark hair, and long lashes that touched the tops of her chubby cheeks as she slumbered in his arms. Her face rested against his chest, and with her little cherub mouth and small pointed nose, she looked like an angel. Ivy didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud.

“She is,” Mike Paul replied, “an angel.”

Ivy touched her little hand. “She’s so small.”

“She’s a good size. Was over eight pounds at birth, and she’s gained another pound or so.” He looked down on his niece with pride. “Cobi did a great job.” When he raised his eyes and met hers, the world stopped spinning. The room faded away. And they were the only ones in the Sundowner.

Seriously. That’s how it felt.

Moments ticked by with Ivy staring up at Mike Paul, wordless and helpless to stop those damn butterflies that were back with a vengeance. Did he feel it, too? The intensity of it all? She knew he wanted more than what she was willing to give. More than she should be thinking about. But with Mike Paul, it had always been on the fly. Not serious. Not permanent.

“Is she here?” Mouth dry, Ivy licked at her bottom lip. “Your sister?”

“She’ll be here soon. Had a massage booked, and trust me, she needed it.”

“It must be hard doing this on her own.”

“She’s a strong woman, and she’s got me.” Mike Paul was back to cradling the baby like it was the most natural thing for him to do.

“I never pictured you like this.” The words slipped from Ivy before she could stop them. Or reword them. Or maybe just not say them.

“You look beautiful.” The words were husky. No longer were his eyes soft and laughing. Nope. The glitter was gone. Replaced by dark, mysterious depths that had her heart flopping all over the place like a fish out of water. Super inconvenient, considering that now that the fog had cleared and the room was in focus, she was aware that more than a few pairs of eyes were turned their way.

Accept the compliment and move on.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Inwardly, she winced and chastised herself for not having the balls to walk away.

I’ve really got to work on that.

“Lafferty’s still in Japan.” It wasn’t a question.

“He is.”

Mike Paul’s gaze fell to her left hand and lingered on her bare ring finger. She held fast a large glass of the kind of stuff she shouldn’t be drinking. Not tonight. Not the way she felt. Chaotic and out of sorts.

“I forgot to put it back on after I did this face thing, mask, um, stuff.” Could she sound any lamer? Probably not. “How’s the foal?”

“The foal is doing great.” A heartbeat passed. “I liked having you for the day.”

“That’s because you weren’t the one who paid two thousand bucks for the privilege.”

“No,” he replied slowly. “I hope it was worth it.”

“It was.”

It was strange. This conversation. How she felt. Why else would she give him that answer? She had to change course quickly, or who knows where the hell she’d end up. Making an ass out of herself in front of all of her friends for one.

“Truthfully, I could have spent the day with Mary Margaret, and it would have been worth it.” She kept her voice light. At the look on his face, she grinned. “Considering all the money is going to a good cause.”

“You would have had to pay a lot more than two thousand bucks to make that worthwhile. She’s something else.”

“You’ve got me there.”

“This is nice.” Mike Paul inched closer.

“What’s that?”

“You and me having a nice conversation at a nice party with all our nice friends.”

She took a sip of wine. “It’s Christmas. We’re supposed to be nice.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “We are.” He looked like he was wrestling with something and opened his mouth to speak when a teenager appeared at his side. The kid was tall for his age, at least six feet, and Ivy pegged him around sixteen or so. A good-looking boy with thick dark hair and classic features, he was thin and lanky, the way so many boys his age were, with wide shoulders, he’d eventually grow into.

“How long do we have to stay?” he asked, eyes on Mike Paul.

“Jacob, say hello to my friend, Ivy.”

The teen turned to her and offered a small wave. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Curious, she waited for more, but he didn’t say a thing.

“Jacob does some work for me.” Mike Paul carefully slipped out of the baby sling and, before Ivy could protest or run away or leave the country, handed her the sleeping infant.

“What are you doing?” she asked, uncaring that panicked, her voice sounded tinny and loud.

With a wink, he leaned close. “She doesn’t bite, Wilkens. You’ll be fine.” Then he nodded at the teenager, and the two of them walked away.

Who was the teenager, and what did Mike Paul have to do with him? The whole thing was weird.

But the baby in her arms was weirder. Babies were cute and everything, but they weren’t something she was used to. And maybe she’d fantasized about having one herself. Eventually. Years from now. Because, at the moment, Ivy didn’t do babies. Heck, she’d never even changed a diaper before because she’d never babysat. Well, technically, that wasn’t true. She’d watched Millie Sue’s little guy a couple of times, but he’d been sound asleep and, more importantly, in his crib. It had been an easy gig. She’d flipped through Netflix and played games on her phone.

But this? Holding a real, live baby who was snuggled up against her body like she belonged there was foreign. But also, warm and fuzzy and nice.

It was more than nice.

And that was a problem. Because, dammit, how could Ivy even consider the possibility of having a child when the only man she wanted one with was the one man she’d sworn off? And why had she sworn off Mike Paul?

Because he would break her heart.

Again.

But would he?

The thought snuck in as she inhaled the yummy scent that only babies had, and cradled the little girl close to her chest. Her insides had melted along with any resolve she’d mustered. Ivy watched Mike Paul walk away with the teenage boy and realized things had just changed. He wasn’t the man he’d been before. Or maybe he was, but she was seeing him clearly for the first time.

She couldn’t ignore how she felt just as much as she couldn’t ignore her engagement, even if it was fake. She was in a pickle and the real question became…

What was she going to do about it?