Page 4 of A Baby for the Texas Cowboy (The Texas Wolf Brothers #3)

W here was all the goddamn air? He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t think. Where the hell had Whiskey gone?

Before he could even process anything—including having a bottle of Jack poured on his head—she’d sauntered off, all but middle finger saluting him.

And then it was like she’d evaporated. He’d searched the sponsor tent, but it was cleared out.

He’d even paced in front of the women’s bathroom toward the front of the arena, thinking she was avoiding him, and then he’d stomped in, startling three primping buckle bunnies who had recovered from the shock of his appearance more quickly than he had.

“Maybe you should just calm down first,” Kane suggested, not for the first time. “Finding out you’re going to be a daddy is a shock. I know,” he said quietly. “Give it some time to settle and then talk to her.”

“Time?” He whirled on his friend. “If the kid is mine, she’s months along. It was at my brothers’ double wedding in June. She had to know before this, right?”

“Not every woman knows right away,” Kane said looking rather evasive.

“Seems like it would be pretty damn obvious to me.” Anders stalked back into the arena and ran his hand through his wet, sticky hair. He swore. He needed to talk to Whiskey, and he needed a shower. He couldn’t drive home tonight now. He’d be arrested and tossed in jail.

“Text her,” Kane said probably for the fourth time.

“This needs to be an in-person thing.” Anders was so aggravated he really wanted to smash his fist through a wall.

He was barely hanging on. Pregnant. A baby.

He kept repeating the words, but they still sounded impossible.

Something that happened to some careless idiot.

They’d used a condom every single time. He was always careful.

He had a plan, and it didn’t include being a daddy until he’d retired from the tour and moved home to Last Stand.

“Anders, you’re going to see her next weekend.”

“No. I’m not. She quit.”

He’d heard that stunner from the truck driver who’d been loading the last of the booth Whiskey and her crew put together and took apart at every sponsor event.

“This was her last weekend. Another fact she didn’t tell me.”

Not that he’d been encouraging any heart-to-hearts. He’d been too focused on avoiding her so he could stop obsessing.

“You could go visit her wherever she works or lives when she’s not pouring at the sponsor events,” Kane said reasonably.

“I don’t know where she lives. I need to—”

Kane grabbed his shoulders. “Settle down. This wasn’t the end. This was her opening.”

“Pouring whiskey on my head and essentially telling me to fuck off sounded pretty damn final to me.”

But he’d check the parking lot. She hadn’t been riding with the driver of the truck. She hadn’t flown here on a broom, although it felt that way.

Okay. Okay. He did have to pull himself together. Kane was right about that.

He switched directions and went out the back just in time to see Whiskey hand something to his brother, shake his hand, and then slide one of her long legs in painted-on black denim and leathers over her Ducati.

“Whiskey, hold up.”

She straddled the bike and kicked on the engine.

He lunged forward and grabbed the handlebars.

“Just stop a minute.” He had to shout over the roar of the engine.

She smoothly put on her helmet, tucking the length of that copper ponytail that bounced with such attitude into her jacket. She lowered the visor so all he saw was black and his pinched and pale reflection. He imagined her eyes were narrowed and shooting fire.

“I said, hold up.”

She pulled on her gloves, the movements smooth and practiced and somehow sexy as hell.

“Just stop.” He set his body like a linebacker and she the quarterback looking for an opening he wasn’t going to give her.

She gunned the engine again.

“Are you insane?” August demanded, pulling him away.

Whiskey didn’t wait. She sped out of the parking lot and into the night.

“Why the hell did you let her go?” Anders rounded on his brother.

“What are you trying to do, get slapped with an assault charge?”

“I just needed to talk to her. Now I don’t even know where the hell she’s going.”

“That’s her business,” August said with a WTF glare at his younger brother.

“I’m getting my truck. I can catch her.” Anders spun away.

“Like hell.” August clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Anders, you gotta calm down,” Kane, who’d followed him outside, urged.

“How the hell am I supposed to calm down? She’s pregnant and speeding down the highway to I don’t know where, and she’s pissed so she’s not safe.”

“Pregnant?” August repeated.

“Yeah. You’re going to be an uncle, and you just let her floor it out of here with your future niece or nephew.”

August blew out a long breath.

“I’m going to be a dad,” Anders whispered.

“Okay, Daddy.” August grabbed Anders’ truck keys from his hand and spun Anders back toward the arena. “Go take a shower. Pull yourself together then we’ll talk.”

“Talk? This isn’t a tea party. I need to…”

“Get out of your lizard brain and think and act like a man. I know where she’s going, but I’m not telling you until tomorrow. You need a shower. Food. Time to get your head on and sleep.”

August was using his older-brother voice and also somehow channeling their older brother Axel’s tone.

Anders swore and stalked off to the showers, every atom in his body screaming for action and resolution.

But yeah, he couldn’t go after Whiskey half-cocked.

He’d already been a first-class jerk. He needed a plan for round two.

As the hot water blasted down, he closed his eyes and leaned against the cold tile. He was going to be dad.

He felt broken inside.

He’d made a colossal mistake exploding both his life and Whiskey’s, and now there was only one way forward.

Whiskey had said she didn’t want him. She’d said she didn’t want his money.

Too bad. She was getting both. And he was going ring shopping.