the modest home they used to live in. Back when the Riddells lived next door to the Arnolds. Their homes had been carbon copies of each other. Plain old two bedroom homes with one bath and one living room.
Since then, things had changed a lot for both families. Too bad they’d veered in opposite directions, though. The difference was that old neighborhood had been the Riddells’ worst place to live—while it had been Jolene’s best until she’d gone out on her own and learned how to use her assets in the best way.
Thoughts of the past zipped away as she turned right onto Riddell Way, the made-up street name Mr. Riddell had put up at the beginning of their mile-long driveway. The closed gate at the front was a surprise, as was the little box that she had to push a button to talk into.
When she rolled her window down, a frozen patch of air whipped in and caught her by surprise. From the backseat, Amanda Rose let out a howl of displeasure. “I hear you, honey. Hold on now,” she murmured before pressing on the button.
Two seconds passed before Trent’s voice answered. “Yeah?”
“Trent, it’s me. Jolene.”
“Jolene?”
It was cold enough to set her nose to running, and her eyes watering, too. “Remember I told you I was coming by? I’m here.”
“Oh. Hey, any chance you could come back later? I’ve kind of got my hands full.”
And she didn’t? “No, I cannot.” Behind her, Amanda’s little whines of protest morphed into a giant howl. She had to speak a little bit louder now because Amanda Rose was threatening to burst a lung. “Hush, baby.”
“Baby? Who’s that?”
“Baby is my daughter. She’s cold because I’ve got the window down, talking to you,” she added impatiently over Amanda Rose’s carrying-on. “I’ll explain everything as much as you need me to … later. Now open the darn gate.”
Right away the gate opened.
“Praise the Lord for that,” she muttered. She rolled up the window and inched forward before Trent changed his mind and closed the gates on her.
Amanda Rose continued to cry.
Oh, but a road had never seemed so long. As the baby wailed for all she was worth, Jolene’s hands started to sweat as the house came into view.
All white and stately and gorgeous, it looked exactly like what any poor white trash Texan would produce, if he had a million dollars. A replica of J. R. Ewing’s home from Dallas.
She parked in the circular driveway, grabbed her bag, and before she could chicken out, opened the back passenger door and unbuckled the baby. With Amanda in her arms and the carrier slung over an elbow, she marched up the steps and rang the doorbell.
Not two seconds passed before Trent opened the wide oak door decorated with the fanciest Christmas wreath she’d ever seen.
“Hey,” he said.
It was cold. It was windy. Amanda Rose was crying for all she was worth.
But still Jolene was stunned into submission. Trent Riddell was a magnificent piece of man, and that was putting it mildly.
Dressed in dark jeans, black boots and a form-fitting indigo blue sweater, he looked like a model in an ad for men’s cologne. He’d either forgotten to shave, or was fostering that Brad Pitt look. The one where men constantly looked scruffy.
Boy howdy, could he pull it off.
Her mouth went dry. Oh, what was it about Trent that made her wish she was something more?
“Hey,” she said after way too long.
Looking irritated, he waved a hand across the threshold. “Well, come on in, Jo. You’re gonna freeze your ass off if you stand out here much longer.”
“Watch your mouth, Trent,” she said testily as she walked on in. “I’ve got a baby here.”
With a thud, the door closed behind her. “So I see.”
Luckily, Amanda Rose had finally taken a breather and was happily nestled against her chest, looking at Trent as if he was her new favorite toy.
Unluckily, Trent leaned closer and grinned. The tangy scent of that cologne he should be modeling wafted closer. Mixing in with the scent of furniture polish and money that seemed to waft from every corner of the entryway.
“Well, let me see her.” To Jolene’s amazement, he held out his hands.
“Her name is Amanda Rose.” She had no choice but to carefully place her baby—their baby—in his arms.
Jolene could hardly breathe as two sets of blue eyes looked at each other in surprise. Two sets of dark blue eyes framed with inky black lashes.
The pissed off look he’d been sporting vanished in an instant. “She’s a cutie, Jo. A real doll.”
“Thank you.”
As three-month-old Amanda stared up at him, raising one tiny fist up to his cheek, rubbing five o’clock shadow, Trent slowly turned her way. “So, who’s the daddy?” His voice was husky. Uncertain. And … flat. “Do I know him?”
She noticed he didn’t ask after her husband. Didn’t even say boyfriend. No doubt he didn’t expect that much of her.
It was time. “You.”
He stepped backward fast. And his arms looked a little shaky, too. “What did you say?”
“Give her to me before you go and drop her.”
He didn’t hesitate, holding Amanda out in front of him like she was about to pee over the front of his shirt. “Jo …”
“Hold on a sec.” Liking the unfamiliar feeling of being in control, she took her time setting down the carrier, settling Amanda in it, then crossing her arms in front of her chest and staring at Trent.
“Jolene, tell me I heard you wrong.”
“You heard me right. I doubt any bull would be big enough to injure your hearing.” Lowering her voice, she said, “This little ray of sunshine here is yours, cowboy. Or, maybe I should call you Daddy?”
Chapter Four
“Daddy?” A few choice colorful swear words erupted then.
As the air turned blue, Jolene waved a hand, as if clearing the air. “Oh, for heaven’s sakes. Settle down, Trent. And watch your mouth.”
“Dammit, Jo—what the hell are you doing, springing this on me like this?”
“I’m not springing a thing. I tried to let you know from the very beginning, but you would never return my calls.”
“I would’ve returned them if I would’ve known this was what you were calling about.”
“Why
