A pint-sized Texas surprise!
Nothingânot even a bucking broncâcan unnerve Nate Gallagher...until he lays eyes on the tiny newborn whoâs been entrusted to his care. The former rodeo champ isnât ready for fatherhood. Heck, the precious baby girl may not even be his. Still, he aims to step up and give her a home at the Rocking C. That is, if pretty social worker Anna Reynolds decides Nateâs daddy material after all.
Making sure that father and infant daughter bond is Annaâs job. But what about the fiery bond forming between Anna and Nate? Can Nate become the family man Anna believes he can be? Because sheâs this close to gambling her future on the rugged cowboy daddy!
âI wasnât expecting you so soon.â
Nate glanced at the baby, then touched a little foot that peeked out from her blanket. The flicker of a smile crossed his face.
As if sensing that Anna was watching him, he straightened and caught her eye. They gazed at each other for a beat, long enough for her to realize a little dust and perspiration did very little to lessen his sexy appeal. In fact, it made him even more manly, more...
Oh, wow. It seemed to be getting awfully warm in here.
âDo you want to stay with the baby?â he asked. âOr would you rather go outside and talk to me?â
âLetâs take a walk,â she said, liking the sound of it.
Nate nodded, then swung out his arm in a gallant âafter youâ manner.
Anna started toward the door, but when she walked past the handsome cowboy and caught a whiff of an alluring scent of leather and musk, she wasnât so sure being alone with him was such a good idea after all.
* * *
Rocking Chair Rodeo: Cowboysâand true loveânever go out of style!
Chapter One
Nate Gallagher had run with the bulls in Pamplona and ridden some of the toughest broncs in rodeos all over the country, but heâd never faced anything as scary and as unnerving as this.
What in the hell was he going to do with a premature baby girl? Heâd bet he had champion belt buckles at home that weighed as much or more than she did.
The neonatal nurse, whoâd just finished strapping little Jessica into her carrier, pointed to a white plastic bag bearing the hospital logo. âIâve packed some bottles and formula for you to take home. Are you ready to go?â
Hell no. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might break out of his chest, and he was sweating like crazy. But heâd be damned if heâd show any sign of fear.
âYep.â He reached for the baby carrier that would fit into the car seat base heâd secured in the backseat of his pickup, amazed that it felt just as light now as it had when heâd brought it into the Brighton Valley Medical Center. If he hadnât glanced inside where baby Jessica was dozing, heâd never know she was there. But she was thereâand leaving the safety of the hospital to go with him.
Oh, man, this was happening way too fast. It had taken every bit of his courage to sign her release forms moments ago. Sure, sheâd gained a pound or two since her birth. But why couldnât they have kept her a little longer, until sheâd grown biggerâlike the size of a kid entering kindergarten?
If they had, heâd feel a lot better about dealing with her. At least sheâd be able to talk and tell him if he was doing something wrong.
âMr. Gallagher?â a soft, feminine voice said from behind him.
As he turned, he caught sight of a petite blonde in his peripheral vision. He might consider the attractive woman worth his full masculine attention if heâd met her in a bar, throwing back a shot of tequila with her friends. But here in a hospital, holding a patient file in her hands? All bets were off.
âYes,â he said.
âIâm Anna Reynolds.â
Was he supposed to know her?
She must have sensed his confusion because she added, âIâm the social worker assigned to your case.â
Just the words social worker and case were an unsettling reminder of the years heâd spent in foster care and enough to stop him dead in his tracks. The only reason heâd stepped up and claimed paternity was to keep the tiny girl out of the system.
The womanâAnna, Ms. Reynolds or whatever he was supposed to call herâoffered him a warm smile, no doubt meant to disarm him. âItâs standard procedure.â