She Autumn Be Mine (Alphas Fall Hard Collection #5)

Guarded

ONE

Autumn Triggs

Little fists slapped the mesh of the playpen and protested. Stetson hated being in it lately; he’d rather be carried around nonstop. I blamed Jake for that.

“Ka-ka-ba-ba,” my baby babbled as if protesting being in a prison.

“No, honey, prison is where your Uncle Trig is,” I quipped and rolled my eyes.

Here I arrived in Montana six months ago expecting I’d find my brother and get his support while I figured out my next steps in life. Only for him to get arrested, for some crap he shouldn’t have been involved with in the first place.

He pled guilty and the judge slapped a two-year sentence on him. Just last week, he’d gotten transferred to the Montana State Prison. It was all over the news and the subject of gossip in town for about a minute.

I pulled my semi-wet hair into a spiral on top of my head and secured it with a clip. “That won’t be you, my love. No, you’re my perfect little angel boy.”

I crossed the tiny apartment to him in three quick strides, swooped him up, tickled his tummy, and reveled in his laughter. He rewarded me with a three-toothed grin that made every bad day worth surviving.

“There you are.” I buried my nose against the soft curve of his neck. I’d miss this someday: the smell of baby shampoo and a hint of whatever mysterious scent baby boys invented all on their own.

“How are you one-year-old now? Please, can we let time slow down a bit? Mama needs to catch up.”

He answered by grabbing a fistful of my hair.

“Ouch. You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

I headed back to the bathroom and set him in the sink in front of me, occupying him with stacking cups.

Immediately he put them into his mouth, as usual with everything he got a grip on.

With one hand on him, I finished my mascara with the other, while my phone sat propped against the mirror and played through today’s pictures on a video loop to the tune of the Happy Birthday song.

“How did you grow so fast?” I sighed, shoulders falling from the weight of my life, way too much to carry sometimes.

If not for the Wylde sisters putting on a Buckaroo BBQ for his first birthday party today, I would have stayed here at the apartment with him.

I would have taken a collect phone call from Trig, and ignored a call from my ex’s parents, and sat here all day wondering if my ex would even bother to reach out—which he didn’t, and for that, I was glad.

Of course, I’d have ended the day crying myself stupid over my pathetic life.

Instead, at the Off-Duty Rescue Ranch the sisters outdid themselves, along with Jake and the ranch hands, and their friends and family and kids, many I hadn’t learned the names of yet.

All there to celebrate. Since I moved here, if there’s one thing I’d learned it was that Ivy Wylde loved any excuse to throw a get-together.

With all the details handled, it was magical and perfect for my baby’s first party.

We came home with a pile of wonderful and practical presents, everything from toys to books to a winter coat a couple of sizes too big. By the time winter rolled around, I hoped it would still fit him. Right now, in this June heat of Montana, I kept him in onesies and shorts.

I picked up my phone and paused longer on each photo.

There was Stetson with white cake and blue frosting smashed all over his face and hands, but a goofy grin despite it.

Another showed him wearing the adorable cowboy hat Ivy had somehow found in a baby size.

And then the baby rode on Marshmallow, the short and squatty pony, being held in place in the saddle by Jake, who insisted I shouldn’t worry, that he wouldn’t let Stetson fall.

The corner of my mouth lifted. More than anyone else in my life, I could probably trust Jake. He’d been there for us these past few months—when no one else had.

I picked three of the best photos from the party and sent them in a text to Nanette.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Nanette: The cake! Those chubby cheeks! I miss him. I miss you. It’s not fair that we live a state apart.

I missed nothing about the old life in Wyoming. Not Stetson’s father or his controlling family. Nope, not one bit. But I missed my bestie, who always made me laugh despite the shit show my life had become.

Nanette: Who is the cowboy in these photos?

I pulled the phone closer to my face. Oh. I scrolled through every photo from the party, all showing Jake right beside me and Stetson the entire time. I’d become so used to him being around, I hadn’t noticed.

Me: Just a friend.

Nanette: That’s one sexy-ass man friend.

Well, Jake was… I caught my breath, zooming in on one photo of him holding Stetson, smiling ear to ear, full lips framed by his dark beard and mustache, hazel eyes crinkled and laughing. Both were wearing their cowboy hats, and Stetson gazed upon him as if Jake hung the moon.

Most women might find themselves attracted to a nice man like him, with a body formed by Navy SEAL training, and his black t-shirt hugging him just so. They’d adore his shy gazes that landed on me at times, as if he wouldn’t want to settle them on anyone else.

But not me. I trusted him as a friend. I didn’t trust myself to take things any further. Relationships had never been my strong suit. Except the last one resulted in Stetson. For him, I’d regret nothing, no matter what I’d had to endure.

Me: Friend being the key word there.

Nanette: Really? When I come to visit, you won’t mind if I flirt with him then?

Me: Shut up.

Nanette: LOL. I knew it. I need all the details about you and this cowboy.

Me: He babysits. That’s all.

Nanette: I’ll be the judge of that. I’m making plans to visit. Checking my calendar to see when I can get time off from work.

A knock came at the door.

“Sounds like Jake’s here.” Rarely was he late.

“Baba!” Stetson held his arms up, and I carried him to the door. Mama had been his first word. Baba came in a close second after Jake started babysitting while I worked my night shifts.

The moment I opened the door, the tall, burly man smiled as he stood there, juggling grocery bags.

“Hey, there’s my little guy,” Jake said. And with a wink to me, “Hi, Autumn.”

“Baba!” Stetson reached his arms to him.

“Hold on, buddy.” Jake moved through to the kitchen as if he were completely at home here, and set the bags on the counter. Nanette’s sexy-ass man comment floated through my head, but I shoved it back out.

Too late. My eyes had already taken inventory of him, my body completely aware of his presence, from his broad shoulders, the forearms, the flex of his back, all thanks to a muscle t-shirt I’d never seen on him before, but right for this summer heat.

A completely useless list for a woman who was never going to touch.

We were just friends. My pulse kicked up anyway.

“Alright, come here,” he said and clapped his hands.

Stetson practically dove out of my arms to get into his, and that’s how close the two of them had become. He lifted him high overhead. Baby giggles echoed off the apartment walls. He lowered him enough to bump noses, then tossed him gently up again, with a “Wee!”

If only Nanette could see this grown—okay, sexy-ass—man saying “wee.” A smile tugged at my lips.

Why in the world did I pull a Saturday night shift at the Sapphire Saloon on Stetson’s first birthday? Before I teared up, I set my phone down and focused on unloading the bags.

I pulled out boxes of Mac and cheese, hot dogs, milk, bread, eggs, bananas, my preferred brand of cheap coffee, vanilla-flavored cream, cocoa puffs cereal to feed my chocolate obsession late at night, a pint of my favorite chocolate cookie double chunk ice cream, and even diapers and baby wipes. How had he come to know what I liked?

“Jake, you didn’t have to buy all of this.”

“I’m hungry tonight. Didn’t know what you had on hand.”

“After all that barbecue I saw you eat today?” I cocked a brow.

“Psh. That was lunch. A man’s gotta eat dinner. Can’t go to sleep on an empty stomach. Right, buddy?” He held up a hand for a high-five, a skill Stetson was just beginning to understand.

“He took a long nap after the party. I think he’ll be awake all night. You’ll have to figure out how to tire him out.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll put on some tunes and we’ll have a dance party. We’ll toss some balls around. I’ll even get on all fours and let him ride on my back like a true buckaroo. Promise not to buck him off. He’ll be sound asleep by the time you get off work.”

I shook my head and let it go. Guilt pinched me anyway. Was I selfish, keeping a great guy like him occupied? What if there was a woman out there who would make him happy—one who could give him his own son? What if Jake McCall never found her, thanks to all these evenings he spent here with my boy?

“Jake, I think it’s time I found a new sitter.

” This arrangement was only supposed to be temporary when Mrs. Thompson’s husband took ill a few months ago.

Until then, the delightful couple I’d met at church had been a godsend, watching Stetson as I worked nights, their own grandchildren living down South. “You deserve a life.”

“I have one.”

“You know what I mean.”

“This argument again? Tell your mama I’d rather be here, buddy.” He winked at me, or maybe at the baby. Either way, there was no flirtation in it. No angle. Just Jake. Or so I convinced myself.

“You know I feel guilty keeping you from other things you could be doing.”

“Don’t.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one leaning on somebody else, or wondering how she’d ever repay the kindness that he’d shown.

“You spoil us.” I gestured around the kitchen.

“I buy groceries, half of which I eat while I’m here.”

He pulled the high chair over from the dining room and set the baby in it. From the remaining bag of groceries, he produced a package of Stetson’s current obsession: sweet potato puffs. With a pile shaken out in front of him, the baby dug in.