Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,1

she would have gotten her help—she broke off, shook her head, the sharp pain in her stomach echoing the ache in her chest. It was too late for all of that, too late for April, but not for April’s son.

As the infant’s tiny fingers slipped around her fingertip and held on tightly, Erika vowed to do right by April’s baby. We’ll find your dad, she silently promised him, gazing down into his wide blue eyes. How could he not want you?

Chapter One

The need to discover the identity of Beck’s father drove her as Erika cleaned and organized April’s apartment, packing up clothes and making plans to donate all the furniture. Erika had been in Las Vegas for two days when she unearthed a box of photo books, the kind you made by uploading your pics and then getting a little bound book sent to you. One of the books was filled with photos from the weekend Erika had spent with April two years ago, pages filled with smiles and laughter as well as lots of food shots. They’d eaten out every meal and had snapped endless pics of food and drink. And then there was another photo book, this one filled with April and a handsome cowboy. Pictures of a rodeo with the handsome cowboy in chaps, pictures in a bar, pictures in bed, where a sheet barely covered his hips and all he wore was a sexy half-smile with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Dark blue eyes, like Beck.

Dark blond hair, like the sole wisp of hair on Beck’s round head.

Could this rugged—naked—cowboy be Beck’s dad?

She glanced down into the bassinette where Beck was sleeping and an ache formed in her chest, an ache that filled her every time she thought of the baby’s future. She wanted what was best for the baby, and she wasn’t sure she was the best, but was a cowboy better?

But it wasn’t her right to make that decision. She needed to find Beck’s dad and see what he wanted for his son. First, she needed the cowboy’s name, and then second, she needed to locate him.

Discovering both didn’t take long, not after finding out there was a whole association of professional cowboys, and scrolling through the membership profiles online, she saw a photo of April’s cowboy. His name was Billy Wyatt.

Googling his name pulled up pages of rodeo wins, as well as articles and interviews. Within hours, she knew far more about him than she ever wanted to know. He was one of four brothers, three who were world champions on the professional rodeo circuit, often competing together, especially in the team events. He’d been raised by his mother and grandfather on the Wyatt family ranch in Paradise Valley, Montana, after his father, an emerging rodeo star, had died in an accident with his younger brother, Samuel, also a fixture on the rodeo scene.

The Wyatt brothers were talented, successful cowboys, and as it turned out, Billy was competing at the Tucson rodeo this very weekend.

Her heart sped up, adrenaline flooding her veins, making her push away from the laptop keyboard.

Did she dare? Could she just go, show up, introduce herself? But then why not? She’d been trying to locate Beck’s father for days. This was her chance.

But two days later, while she and Beck sat in her car in the Tucson rodeo and fairgrounds parking lot, waiting for the late-February rain to let up, she wasn’t so sure this was the best plan. Not because of the rain—it wasn’t a hard rain, and outside the temperature was relatively mild, and no one else seemed to mind the rain. Even though the rodeo wouldn’t start for hours, the vast parking lot was nearly full and folks streamed toward the gates in boots and hats and some kind of waterproof layer. But rather, she was a little worried at her audacity. Just showing up unannounced could be a problem. Her announcement could backfire. Billy Wyatt could be unpleasant.

Erika glanced over her shoulder into the backseat where Beck was securely strapped into his car seat. She’d hung a small mirror on the headrest of the seat so she could see his face, and he was wide awake, his dark blue eyes gazing intently at the bold black-and-white pattern beneath the mirror, his little feet moving restlessly. How could anyone be unpleasant to Beck though? He was the sweetest, most gorgeous baby boy, and he deserved all the love in the world. But the world wasn’t a