Page 12 of September’s Bad Boy: Cooper (Bad Boys of Mustang Mountain #9)

CULLEN

After two days of fighting the fire at Miles and Kinley’s place, my body felt like it had been worked over with a crowbar.

Every muscle ached, my throat burned, and my eyes were so gritty I could barely keep them open.

I’d been battling fires in Mustang Mountain for the past ten years.

Each one had its own personality. Some crept along, moving slow and staying low.

Others bulldozed their way over everything in their path.

This one had been the worst kind… the kind that dug in and fought back.

It raced ahead, jumping from one patch of dry grass to the next, always one step ahead.

We’d managed to save the house, but two barns and an outbuilding were gone. Miles stood at the edge of the blackened field, his jaw clenched, one arm wrapped around Kinley like he was afraid she’d vanish too.

I could relate. Fire stripped everything away. What you built, what you thought was safe… it could chew through it in a matter of seconds and leave you with absolutely nothing.

I hauled my wet gear toward my truck, my boots heavy with mud. Huck was rolling up a hose a few yards away. He looked like he’d been through a meat grinder and barely survived.

As I passed, he caught my eye and hollered, “Ruby’s looking for you.”

“Now?” My stomach clenched. All I wanted was a shower, something to fill my belly, and my bed. Maybe not even in that order.

“Yeah. She said to tell you it’s urgent.” Huck leaned against his truck and offered a sympathetic grin. Hell, even his teeth were streaked with black from the fire. “Her words. Not mine.”

I groaned. Ruby’s definition of urgent usually involved coffee running low or one of her schemes to try to marry me off before I hit forty.

“Did she say what it’s about?”

Huck shook his head. “Didn’t ask. Peyton’s waiting on me at home, and I didn’t want to risk getting pulled into something that’s none of my damn business.”

“Asshole,” I grumbled.

Huck laughed. “She said to head to the Merc as soon as you’re done here. Good luck.”

The drive into town was quiet, especially after being smack dab in the middle of a roaring blaze for hours.

My cab smelled like damp gear, so I rolled the windows down to let in some fresh air.

Normally, I’d crank the radio up to drown out the crackle of the fire that still played through my head, but tonight even that felt like too much.

When I pulled up in front of the Merc, my truck rattled as I killed the engine, like it was just as tired as I was. The cafe next door had a line spilling out onto the sidewalk. Half the town must have had the same need for comfort food after a hellish week. At least the Merc didn’t look too busy.

I pushed through the front door. The scent of coffee brewing hit me first, followed by cinnamon rolls in the oven, and that mix of sugar and soap that always clung to Ruby’s place.

Every stool at the counter in back was full.

Conversations hummed around me, bits of gossip rising and falling.

The Merc had always been the heart of Mustang Mountain, and Ruby Nelson had always been the one who kept it beating.

She sat at a table in the back corner, in a pumpkin-orange cardigan. Her silver hair was pulled into its usual no-nonsense twist, and her eyes fixed on me like she’d been waiting for this exact moment all day.

But she wasn’t alone.

A woman I didn’t recognize sat across from her.

She had on a black suit jacket with a crisp, collared shirt underneath.

Everything about her screamed that she was from out of town, from her ramrod straight spine to the fancy messenger bag hanging from the back of her chair.

Between the two of them, a baby carrier sat on one of those wooden frames I’d seen people use at the cafe.

The handle was in the air, and a pink blanket patterned with tiny flowers draped over the top.

My gut clenched and my throat tightened. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn’t going to end well.

Ruby lifted her chin in a way that told me not to argue because it wouldn’t do me a damn bit of good.

I walked over, each step heavier than the last. “You wanted to see me?”

“Sit down,” Ruby said as she slid a mug of coffee toward me. “You look like death warmed over.”

“I feel worse.” Sinking into a chair across the table from the baby bucket, I wrapped my hands around the mug. “What’s this about?”

The stranger held out her hand. “Mr. Jameson? I’m Valerie Hibbing with the Department of Child and Family Services.”

That got my attention, even through my sleep-deprived haze. I glanced at my hand, still darkened with soot. “I don’t think you want to shake my hand, Ms. Hibbing.”

“Oh.” Valerie offered a tight smile and reached into her bag. “You look like you’ve been through a lot. I’ll try to make this brief.”

She pulled out a manila folder and set it on the table as a soft whimper came from underneath the blanket. Ruby immediately peeled back the edge, her eyes softening at whatever was inside.

Valerie cleared her throat. “Are you familiar with a Rebecca Lane?”

The name didn’t ring a bell. I leaned against the chair and reached up to rub the back of my neck.

Then a flash of blonde hair and a wide smile hit me.

That was the girl I’d met on a trip up to Whitefish a while back.

She’d laughed too loud, worn perfume that smelled like peaches, and written her number on a napkin I threw away the morning after.

Because that was my regular MO. I didn’t do callbacks.

“Yeah. We… well, I guess we kind of knew each other.”

Valerie’s voice softened. “I’m sorry to tell you she passed away last week.”

“What? How?” All the air left my lungs. I wasn’t close to her—hell, I barely remembered her name—but death still had a way of punching holes in a man’s chest.

“A car accident. She left behind an eight-month-old daughter,” Valerie went on. “Her name is Calliope.” She opened the folder and turned it toward me. There was the birth certificate. Rebecca’s name was listed as the mother, and printed next to, listed as the father, was mine.

The blood drained from my face, and my cheeks went numb. “That can’t be right.”

“I attempted to contact you,” Valerie continued.

“When I couldn’t reach you, I called the town hall to find out if you still lived in the area.

I was told you were in town but out working on a fire, so I headed this way.

Usually, I’m much more discreet with this type of news, but I needed a place to stay last night, and Mrs. Nelson offered one of her cabins.

She assured me she could get a message through to you as well. ”

Ruby gave me a tight smile, her eyes kind but serious. “I told you it was urgent.”

“There are no other family members able to assume custody,” Valerie said. “Which leaves you.”

I stared at the folder, then at the baby carrier. A tiny hand flailed out from under the blanket, fingers curling and uncurling like she was trying to grab a handful of air. My throat went dry.

“We were careful,” I mumbled. This couldn’t be happening. I’d never had unprotected sex. Never wanted to be tied down. Never wanted to be a father. I shook my head, unwilling to accept what Ruby and Ms. Hibbing were saying as truth.

“Mr. Jameson,” Valerie said, her voice gentle, her gaze steady on mine. “You’re welcome to do DNA testing if you’d like, but as far as the state is concerned, the child is yours.”

While I’d been struggling to make sense of what they were saying, Ruby had pulled the blanket off the carrier and now held a tiny human in her arms. “Cullen,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “You’re a father. This is Calliope, your baby girl.”