The Cowboy's Secret Baby: BWWM Cowboy Pregnancy Romance (Young Adult First Time Billionaire Steamy African American) (2 page)

But first came breakfast and a tour of the barns and pastures.  This morning Clarice had made the effort to tuck her loose shirt into her pants and equipped herself with a camera with telephoto lenses.  “I want to get candid close-ups of each horse,” she explained to Farris.  “Then I can magnify them on my laptop and get the images you want.”

This seemed a good plan to Farris, who had estate (and other) business away from the farm during the afternoon.  He spent almost more time watching Clarice than he did watching his horses.  These animals all knew him, and the stallions seemed just about ready to give him a wolf whistle – but maybe that was his imagination.

Clarice spent the afternoon indoors sketching and enjoying the air conditioning on this warm morning.  The temperature was milder than it was in Tennessee, but she loved the cool air and the cleanliness of Mrs. McGee’s domestic arrangements.  Also, she began to dream about the beautiful message Farris had left on her computer. – To love someone physically and be loved in turn; she had never thought of such a thing.

Farris returned just before supper, and Clarice walked down to the Big House with a portfolio under one arm.  “I’ve got character sketches of five of the stallions,” she told the assembled company.  “Let’s see if you can guess which five you’re seeing.”

Farris and Terence McGee immediately guessed all the names correctly.  “That’s Far Seer,” McGee chortled over one drawing.  “You’ve caught his ‘just you try me’ look.  That boy will challenge any comer.  You have to be sharp to handle Far Seer.”

“And there’s Charles Atlas, looking down his nose at us.”  Farris pointed to another sketch.  “You’ve got these horses pegged, Clarice. – Now we’ve got to teach you to ride them so you can see how their behavior meshes with their facial expressions.”

It took nearly a week for Clarice to learn riding well enough to go on the trail alone with Farris.  The two had been gently sexting in the evenings, but he had carefully waited until she felt comfortable on a horse.

“I’ve been soaking in the bathtub every evening,” Clarice confessed as they started out.  “I never realized horse riding could be so strenuous.”  She did not mention how delightful it was to loll in the bathtub, well away from her mother’s text messages.

“Wait until you see some of my Cossack Horse Show videos,” Farris told her.  “I can hold my own in almost any sport around here, but those guys do absolutely crazy stuff. – Women, too, though mostly they arrange themselves in innovative ways to show their legs.”

“That’s all most men seem to want of women,” Clarice responded.  “That’s what sells tickets. – I’m glad to hear you have women and men working together in the Bluegrass Hunt.”

“Oh, we’re very egalitarian now everyone’s given up the side saddle.”  Farris led the way onto a tree-lined ride and continued his chatter.  “Did you know an American girl rode 40 miles side saddle to warn her community that the British were coming?  There’s even a statue of her, side saddle and all.”

“Riding astride something as big as Bellona here is enough for me,” Clarice said decidedly.  Bellona was one of the gentler mares.

“Come on, let’s canter!” Farris declared suddenly.  “It’s just a mile to a spot where we can eat lunch.” – A euphemism, he thought, if he had ever heard one.

Clarice was slightly winded when they stopped but gamely dismounted without any help.  “This is a mighty pretty place,” she remarked.  “There’s even a stream to water the horses.”  She acted completely ignorant of Farris’ intent.  During the last few days, he had pleased her with quick kisses and tender touches, but today she knew he meant to assuage their mutual loneliness in a way animals could never fathom.

Farris untied a blanket from his saddle roll and laid it out on the ground.  “Today, lovely lady, I will finally show you what love means – once we have tethered these horses on a long lead.”

“Yes,” she replied demurely, leading Bellona, “they must have a cool drink and a lovely nibble.”

     Farris’s hand found its way to her neck, rubbing and caressing her dark skin with his rough hands. He could feel her pulse, beating rapidly in her veins and they locked deeper in embrace. Clarice let out a sigh, this was the closest a man had ever been to her and his scent was invigorating. Emotions stirred alongside a growing lust and she felt the wetness of her body as it reacted to his caress. She longed to feel his skin pressed up against her body in the heat of love making. Farris couldn’t believe that this beautiful creature had fallen into his life, capturing his full attention. Suddenly he recalled what she had told him, about the treatment of the other men in her life. He paused his kisses and backed away. Clarice opened her eyes and stared at him confused, and fearful he was rejecting her.

“Listen to me,” He cupped her face with his strong hands, her big brown eyes penetrating him as he spoke, “I want to take this slower. I don’t want you to think that I am just after sex.”

“I know you’re not.” She looked down for a moment, unsure of that claim fully.

“No,” He smiled, “I want you to know for sure with my actions. Words are just that, nothing more. Okay?”

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, still planting wet kisses on her neck, “Inside and out you are the most amazing woman I have ever met.”

     His honest words heightened the desire even more and she nervously glided her hand down to his chest, feeling the chiseled muscular figure below his shirt. His washboard stomach ripped with muscle under her soft touch but she longed to feel his skin. As if reading her mind, he lifted his shirt high above head and placed it beside him on the blanket. Clarice gazed hungrily at the bulging muscles and sun soaked skin, gliding a single finger along the edge of each solid pec. Farris could feel his excitement growing in his pants.
You have to keep control
. He coached himself, knowing he had vowed to take it slow. It was easier said than done as he longed to feel inside her, the warmth and wetness of her passion. He lay her down gently on the blanket, allowing her long brown hair to flow out to the side and gazed into her loving brown eyes. He could see the anxiousness in them, feel the heat of her desire. She was his and he knew it.

     Farris ran his tongue along the length of her stomach, stopping to spend a moment of his time on her navel while he undid the jeans and slid them away. She looked down at him, clearly frightened and yet wanting more. He nuzzled at her sex with the tip of his nose through her panties and then they too were slipped away, revealing to him all of her beautiful mound below. He kissed her thigh, giving a gentle nip that sent shivers through her legs. She could feel her cheeks flushing from the exposure, but yet, she didn’t want it to end. With a flick of his tongue on her clitoris waves of desire rocked her groin, and she tilted back her head to the sky, closing her eyes. He licked and kissed, the need growing overwhelming as her body cried out for release.

“Cum for me Clarice.” He gave a muffled whisper.

     His tongue swirled in torturous, rhythmic circles around her sex the pressure building until she could no longer withstand the urge. She released, shouting into the treetops above, her wetness gliding onto the blanket below. While she dressed, he retrieved the picnic from his saddle bags.

Clothed once more, the couple folded the used blanket and sat down for their picnic.  “Was it good for you?” Farris asked gently as he unwrapped a sandwich.

“So good I have no idea what I will talk about in polite company,” Clarice declared.  “We’ll have to be careful, but I do so enjoy feeling loved for a change.”

Since Clarice had no definite time she needed to go back home, Farris began accepting commissions from his neighbors on her behalf.  He often kept other people’s horses on his feed lots anyway, so the service was an extra convenience.  Clarice’s ‘speaking’ close-ups became quite popular; she even had a ‘showing’ at a gallery in Lexington.  This involved her shopping for clothes, and Dina McGee had had the joy of playing mother while she shopped.

Back in Tennessee, Clarice’s birth mother noticed the news pieces and internet gossip, and her anger knew no bounds.  That ungrateful girl had slipped out from under her thumb and landed on her feet.  Marion Saxe redoubled her nagging telephone calls to her daughter and tried to learn everything she could about the Two Flags operation.

Meanwhile, Clarice helped Farris deliver several foals, plus attending to litters of puppies and kittens.  These latter deliveries were also committed to paper and sold well.  Clarice herself was too happy even to think of going home; the man she loved was considerate when she was on her period.  She had startled Farris by thanking him for his gentlemanly behavior.  He had just stared at her.

“Look, Clarice, I may not know much about women, but I did have my comprehensive sex study in high school.  The coaches divided our class by sex for that section, to keep anyone from getting too embarrassed, and the McGees signed my permission slip.”  He made a disgusted snorting sound.  “I’m not a damned cave man, sweetheart, I don’t have to get it every night.  Just curling up next to you and feeling you near me is enough.”

Farris spent most nights in Clarice’s guest cabin.  Every soul on the place knew what was happening between the two, but no one said a word.  “Sometimes,” Clarice remarked one evening, “I think even the animals know what we do in here.”

Farris just grinned at her.  “Of course they know; they can smell it on us.  Animals have a highly developed sense of smell, you know. - I dare to think we have their blessing.”

“That would not surprise me,” Clarice remarked, finishing a detail with her paintbrush.  “But, seriously, Farris, how long do you want me here?  This is such a beautiful idyll, I don’t even want to think about going home, but I’ve got to leave sometime.  Mother’s been on the phone constantly, reminding me of my local responsibilities.  Usually I give her half my earned income, you understand, and she’s unhappy I’m sending my money to Mr. McGee’s credit union instead.”

“I haven’t wanted to consider your leaving either,” Farris admitted glumly.  He had been dreading this, but it had to be faced sometime.  “I’ve got some commitments in Virginia I’m going to have to honor, and sooner or later I’ll have to show some horses in Lexington, but I’d still like you to stay here. Look, do you want to marry me?  That’s what a gentleman would offer in my position.”

Clarice simply stood and stared at him, pallet hanging from one hand.  “And stick you with my toxic Mother? Farris, I love you more than that.  This is a problem I’m going to have to go back to Tennessee and settle.  We can’t just wish it away.”  She really hadn’t wanted to have this conversation.  Only in these last few months had she realized how her mother was manipulating her.  Until now, it had been easier just to give in.

Farris had by this time set a private detective to learn the truth about the so-called Marion Saxe, and he had not liked the sound of what he had learned.  “I’ve run an inquiry on your Mom,” he admitted.  “She’s talking about retiring.  Do you think she’d sell everything and move up here?” he queried anxiously.

“In a heartbeat,” Clarice responded, her voice miserable.  “She’s been sort of hinting around about how you’re my sugar daddy.”  Clarice put down her pallet and dropped into a chair.  “Oh, Farris, I’ve never even HINTED at anything about us.  I learned to keep my mouth shut around her long ago.”

Farris, who knew that anybody could hire a private detective, stared down at his boots.  Did he really want to risk having a flaming, dysfunctional bully descend on his household?  Look what she’d done to Clarice.

“All right, here’s what we’ll do,” he decided.  “We’ll end your commission at the end of next month, when I have to go to Virginia.  You can go back to Tennessee then. – But, for God’s sake, break things off with her immediately and get into therapy or something!  You’re too good an artist – too sweet a PERSON to suffer like this.”

Clarice nodded unhappily.  “I’ve come to realize I’m the one who has to make a choice.  I’m the one that’s stuck. I’ve always been stuck; I just didn’t realize it.  The clothes, the attitudes it wasn’t until I left home that I saw how different life could be.”  She tapped a brush idly against her pallet.  “I was a day student at Sewanee, you know.  The college was close enough to home that I could drive to and from. My car is even in her name.”

“Just remember that, if you’ve got trouble, you can call on me.”  Farris nearly choked on the words; he wanted her so badly.  “And, look, while we’ve still got a month and a half, let’s love each other.”

Meanwhile, Marion Saxe was calling her erstwhile lover at his Nashville bank.  John Pirtle perforce took the call. 
The sin that keeps on giving
, he thought to himself sourly.  “Alright, Marion, what do you want this time?” he asked resignedly.

“I suppose you’ve seen the stories of your daughter’s triumphs in Kentucky,” Marion began nastily.

“My name isn’t on her birth certificate, Marion,” John replied, trying not to clench his teeth.  “Otherwise, I would say I was proud of her. – I knew I could expect a call from you, though.  What do you want from me?”

“Can you call in some of the lines of credit on that Two Flags operation?” Marion demanded.  “They shouldn’t have unlimited cash to pay for Clarice’s services; I need her back here.”

“Look, Marion, the Two Flags business manager moved all their money to credit unions just before the bust in 2008,” he responded.  “I already checked when I saw the girl had gotten out from under your thumb. - I don’t know how that business manager got the warning, but horse breeders have always had pretty sharp management. – Are you afraid Clarice will get some money of her own besides my little annuity?”

“Clarice has always shared her income equally with me,” Marion responded primly, “except for ‘your little annuity’.  Then she stopped sending me checks the week after she went to Kentucky.  She claimed her pay was irregular and that she’d catch up when she got home.”

“Good for her,” John Pirtle declared.  “I hope she’s putting her money into the McGee guy’s credit union.  I’ve quietly advised my legitimate children to make the switch locally.”

“Your legitimate children are none of my concern,” Marion snapped.  “Did you know she’s sleeping with one of the men at Two Flags?  I can’t tell whether it’s the owner or not; those people up there are tighter than a miser’s purse. – But, one way or another, I’m going to get my share of the little slut’s income.  Mark my words.”  She hung up.

John Pirtle sighed.  If Marion managed to force his little Clarice back to Tennessee, he would have one of his lawyer friends approach the girl to offer his help.

Clarice had made a special friend of little Courier, the foal she had met her first day in Kentucky.  He often followed her around the estate and would occasionally trot onto her front porch when she was sitting outside.  Thus it was Clarice who noticed immediately that something was wrong with the little fellow.  She grabbed her phone and called the stable-hand who managed Courier’s stable.  “Courier is up here on my front porch,” she began, “and I think there’s something wrong with him.  He’s restless and sweating, and he keeps looking around at his rear.”

“Mercy on us; that sounds like colic,” the hand replied.  “I’ll be over immediately.”  Stable hand Stinson was as good as his word, running up to the porch with a loose rein in his hand.  “Let’s see if I can walk him back to the barn, and you can come along and bring your phone if you want to.”  Gently and with much coaxing, he managed to lead Courier back to a clean, empty stall.

“Colic can be caused by all kinds of things,” Stinson explained once they got to the stable, feeling the colt’s torso.  “It can be anything from indigestion to impacted bowel and worse.  Why don’t you call Mr. Farris up in Lexington?  I know he’ll be concerned, and he can be back here in half an hour or so.”

Clarice punched in the number with nervous fingers; Courier was almost a member of her family.  She was crying uncontrollably while she talked to Farris.  Meanwhile, Stinson was using his own telephone to call the vet.

Dr. Franklin was alternately using his stethoscope on Courier’s belly and listening to Stinson’s description the foal’s feeding and worming routine when Farris ran into the stall, his eyes wild.  “Little buddy,” he whispered, going down on one knee beside the animal’s head. – This was hardly the reaction of a man with a six figure investment in danger, the vet noted.

Finally, Dr. Franklin stood up.  “I don’t think this is too bad,” he declared.  “I’m going to give him a shot and some mineral oil, and I have some IV bags on the truck.  You folks know how to administer those?”

Farris also rose.  “Yes, doctor, we’ve done the routine before. – Get the IV setup, Stinson.”  He turned to Clarice.  “You want to stay?  This business may take several hours for us to get Courier settled again.  An extra phone would be helpful.”  Clarice nodded mutely, unable to trust her voice.

Soon the little stall was quiet, the humans sitting quietly side by side on the straw against one wall, watching the little horse sleep.  Presently, Courier broke wind, producing a horrible odor.  “That’s good.”  Farris relaxed slightly.  “He’s gotten into something he shouldn’t and gotten a little case of constipation.”  He turned and clasped Clarice’s arm.  “Dad always used to wonder where the phrase ‘healthy as a horse’ came from.  Every horse breeder knows the critters are subject to every sort of disease, even when you treat them right.”

“I suppose that’s one reason they used to lose so many of them in a war,” Clarice said dreamily.  Anything to keep her mind off the here and now!  “That’s why Mother’s land is so fertile; men and horses defecated and threw up on it. – Most of them got buried somewhere else, of course.”

“We had a few little skirmishes up our way, too,” Farris admitted, “although Kentucky never left the Union. – I think Courier’s about half awake.  Would you like to go stroke his head and talk to him?  I think he’d appreciate it.”

Clarice crawled over to the foal on hands and knees, giving Farris a singular view of her charms.  Even though more worried than he pretended, Farris could not help noticing her neat, beautifully ample rear. That was part of the glory of loving a person, he reflected; he could lust after her body and still rejoice in the soul within it.

Clarice began stroking Courier’s forehead and mane.  “He’s not sweating anymore,” she reported, “and he doesn’t feel feverish.”  Then she leaned over and stared into the foal’s partially open eye.  “You want to be talked to and comforted?  Well, I only memorized one long poem in college, so it will have to do.”  She began in a soothing sing-song.  ‘The curfew tolls the knell of parting day/the lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lee/the cowman homeward plods his weary way/and leaves the world to darkness and to me.’

Farris sat up sharply.  He didn’t even know anybody memorized that old chestnut any more. Perhaps it was because Sewanee was a small, private college noted for the arts.  Anyway, he hadn’t heard ‘Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard’ since he was in high school.  Relaxing after his long drive, Farris succumbed to sleep until Stinson came in to change the IV packet.

“Doing better, sir,” Stinson reported.  “He’s sitting up nuzzling the lady, and his bowels have just moved. – I’ll get a sample down to Dr. Franklin’s office.”

“Thanks, Stinson.” Farris sat up.  “Take a sample of Bolivia’s milk, too, if the doctor didn’t get one earlier.”  He looked over at Clarice, who was looking angelically beautiful in the dim light with Courier’s muzzle resting on her breast.  “I’m sorry to conk out on you like that. – I didn’t know you liked poetry.”

Clarice smiled at his frowsy black hair and the little suggestion of five-o’clock shadow.  “It’s great for comforting animals – but that’s the only poem I know.  I always have to fall back on song lyrics.  All you need is a soft, soothing sound to help them psychologically.”

“Yes, even animals heal better when they know they’re cared about.”  Farris looked up, startled.  “You know, I never thought I’d meet a woman who realized that.”  By now, Stinson had left on his errand, and his employer was ready for confidences.  “Do you know how our family came to own this breeding operation?”

“No, is there a story behind it?” Clarice asked.  Family stories were the currency of gossip in her area, and she had rather missed them.

“Well, it’s an old tale,” Farris replied with feigned off-handedness, “which is rather fortunate, considering all the trouble it caused. – You see, it was like this.  My Grandpa was originally the business manager of this farm; my Dad was raised in that little house over beside my private hangar.  Two Flags was owned by the Bonner family back then.  They were good folks, but Damian Bonner took a city wife.”

“She didn’t like living out here on a large estate,” Clarice guessed.  “Transportation was kind of clunky in those days.”

“Oh, Miss Lauren always had the latest model Packard to drive,” Farris continued.  “It just turned out that she didn’t like Mr. Damian to spend money on anything except her.  She was always carrying on at my Grandpa to find her a little more money for this or that.”

Clarice didn’t like the way this story was heading; her mother had always been like that.  “What a damned headache,” she muttered sympathetically.  “What finally happened?”

“I said she interfered in Grandpa’s management,” Farris’ voice was grim, “but that wasn’t the worst of the problem.  Once when Mr. Damien was out of town, Hubert’s Fortune got sick; he was one of their prize stallions, still drawing hefty covering fees.  Miss Lauren was in the business office when the stable hand reported to Grandpa. She grabbed the scissors off his desk and cut the phone cord then she ran to the house and cut her own.  Those were the only two phone lines within 20 miles in those days. Of course, Grandpa got his own old Ford and drove to the vet, but by that time it was too late.  Veterinary medicine has advanced a heap in the last 40 years.”