Page 11 of Born Wild

Scared to hurt someone the way Calvin hurt me.

I’m stuck. Torn between what I should do and what I want to do. Marrying Tim would be the easy way out. We could pass off this child as his and no one would ever be the wiser. Hell, the only other person who knows the truth is my baby’s father, and he won’t be popping up to stake parental rights.

But can I really do this to Tim?

I blow out a frustrated breath and check my reflection in the mirror to finish styling my hair. It’s wild how much my body is changing. My breasts are full and heavy in a way they never were before. The curves of my body are more pronounced too. Thank goodness for fall weather because I can get away with big sweaters and leaving the top button of my jeans undone. I appear as if I’ve gained some weight, but it’s only a matter of weeks before the roundness of my belly is undeniable.

I try not to think about that. At least, not today of all days. I want to celebrate my birthday without the weight of my uncertain future on my shoulders. I’ll pick it back up tomorrow. Tonight is for friends.

I’m at the diner with my best gal pals, sipping on milkshakes and sharing a few baskets of fries as we catch up on school gossip. I haven’t done something like this in ages and it’s overdue.

“So . . .” Regina leans forward and drops her voice, causing the rest of us to do the same to hear her. “What’s going on with you and Tim Wilder? Are y’all going steady?”

“Umm . . .” I freeze.

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time together,” Ginny adds, flashing a conspiratorial grin.

“I always thought he was so strange in high school,” Roberta contributes. “Never said much of anything to anyone. How did the two of you become friends?”

“He’s not strange at all.” My spine straightens. I might not know how to answer their questions, but I won’t stand for them putting him down. Not after all he’s done for me. “He’s actually one of the best men I’ve ever met. Honestly if we’d all been a little less judgmental in high school, we would have noticed how kind and smart he is.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry, Cassie.” Roberta touches my shoulder. “We’re just curious, that’s all. We’ve noticed him pick you up after school a few times.”

My shoulders relax. I might have overreacted a smidge. I just didn’t like hearing them speak about Tim that way. “Well, we talked a lot this summer. Wrote letters back and forth when I was in Montana.”

“Letters”—Regina swoons—“That’s so romantic.”

“Yeah.” I exhale, not sure how far to take this. If I act like we’re dating, it’ll make a fake marriage more believable. But if I go it on my own, it’ll appear as if I’ve cheated on him.

There’s a jingle of bells as the door to the diner opens, and we all turn in interest to find Tim standing across the room. I’m saved from answering, but I can’t speak. My mouth feels dry as I drink him in. Button down shirt, jeans and buckle, boots and a hat. He’s one hundred percent the cowboy I know him to be. Only these clothes aren’t marked with dust and grime from a hardday’s work on the ranch. He’s all polished and clean. Even his face is freshly shaved.

As our eyes lock, my pulse quickens. He’s holding flowers. How did he know it’s my birthday? I never said anything. Just told him I was finally getting together with the girls.

“Cassie, you better go get your man,” Regina hums.

That’s when I notice I’m not the only woman in this diner checking out my man—or rather, Tim.Dear Lord. I don’t know what’s come over me. Tim is not mine. At least not for real.

“Go! We’ll catch up another time.” Ginny practically shoves me out of the booth.

I say my goodbyes and then make my way to the front of the diner where Tim’s still waiting.

“Hey.” I can’t help but grin as heat fills my cheeks.

“Hey.” He smiles back, handing over the bouquet of wildflowers. “These are for you. Happy birthday, Cassie.”

“These are beautiful.” I lift them under my nose and inhale their fragrant scent.

“I picked them for you.”

My heart skips a beat. Of course he did. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured you might need a ride home?” He glances around the room, noticing all eyes on us. “I thought we could go for a drive.”

“Okay.” Nerves bubble in my belly. He holds the door, then walks with me to the truck, where he helps me into the passenger seat. We’ve gone on numerous drives and hung outalmost every day. Maybe it’s my imagination, but somehow this feels like a real date.

“You haven’t changed the music,” he observes after we pull out of the parking lot and travel several miles down the highway.

“Where are we going?” I ask when we miss the exit to the road that leads to my parents’ house.

---