Free Expecting...in Texas by Marie Ferrarella

snapped. “She told me it wasn’t mine. That the baby belongs to some man she was in love with before she came here.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth. Why couldn’t he make peace with that? Why couldn’t he just believe her, and move on?
    “But you’ve been with her.”
    Resentment flashed in Cruz’s eyes, put there by his own confusion. “Since when did you start keeping a diary on me?”
    Ruben’s face grew stern. His temper was slow, but it could burn just as strongly as Cruz’s, once it was stoked. “I would watch my mouth if I were you. You’re not too big for me to take a strap to.”
    “Big words from a man who never raised a hand to any of his children.” But Cruz’s voice had softened a little. He hadn’t meant to be disrespectful. His father didn’t deserve being on the receiving end of his temper.
    “One is never too old to learn.” Ruben looked at him pointedly. “Never.”
    Taking off his hat, Cruz dragged a hand through his hair. For a long moment, he watched the horse move about the small enclosure, anxious to be free. Like him. Savannah was releasing him of all responsibility, telling him the child wasn’t his. Why wasn’t he content with that?
    He flashed an apologetic grin at his father. “You’re right. I’m sorry. And yes, I’ve been with her. But that doesn’t matter.”
    “Perhaps it does.”
    Wearily, Cruz put his hat back on. “What are you getting at?”
    Ruben smiled. “Only that maybe she wasn’t telling the truth.”
    Cruz looked at his father. “You think she lied about the baby?”
    “About who the father is, perhaps.”
    It didn’t make any sense to Cruz. Savannah would have everything to gain by telling him. “Why?”
    “I don’t know.” Ruben shrugged. “Perhaps because she does not want you to feel responsible. Perhaps she does not want to be a burden.” He paused. “Perhaps she does not think you would be a good father. Or perhaps she has heard about your plans to be your own man, to own your own place, and she knows that a child would rob you of those dreams, at least for a little while.” He looked at Cruz. “Does she know about your dreams?”
    Cruz crossed back to where he had left the lariat. It was time to get back to work, back to what he knew and understood. For all his experience with women, he didn’t understand them. All he understood was how to make them feel good, and how to live in the moment.
    But his time with Savannah had been different. They had done more than enjoy each other. He and Savannah had talked a great deal. She had been a good audience, and he had caught himself sharingfeelings with her more than once—something he’d never before done with a woman he’d slept with.
    Turning around again, he shrugged in reply. “I might have mentioned them.”
    “Did she listen?”
    “Yes, she listened.” And that had been what had intrigued him about her. Savannah hadn’t just pretended to listen. She really had listened.
    “Then perhaps you have your answer. Perhaps she does not want to rob you of those dreams of yours.”
    Irritation, not far from the surface these last few days, leaped up. “Why are you so convinced that this is my baby?”
    His father’s gaze was unwavering. “Why are you so convinced that it isn’t?”
    “Because she…told me.” Begun with conviction, the sentence dribbled away into doubt. Cruz saw the look on his father’s face and realized the error of his logic.
    Ruben laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. The support was silent, but strong, nonetheless, and understood. “My point is made. If I were you, I would ask her again. And then a third time, as well. The truth will come out if you look for it hard enough.”
    Maybe it was better to leave well enough alone. Maybe he really didn’t want the truth. And maybe,Cruz thought in annoyance, he no longer knew what he wanted. “If it is my child—”
    Ruben spoke to him, not father to son, but man to man. “Then you have a right to