The Billionaire's Secret Love Child(103)

And there was.



*****

THE END





The Cowboy’s Forgiveness – A Western Modern Romance




Chapter 1

When I was fourteen, I was certain that my life would be an Eliza Doolittle. I had just begun my first year of high school. My overalls were pressed. My braces were set. I had become increasingly more conscious about my freckles and the impossible knots that my bushy brown hair got itself into. Eliza and I, while we had our differences, were in similar straights. I was just another country girl waiting for a handsome, high-society man to pamper me with things and teach me some class. Further down the line, I jokingly figured I’d settle for a Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman. But, being a romantic and a girl longing for adventure never really worked out in the small town of Gordonsville, Montana: population two thousand.

In a small pond like that, I quickly realized my path was never meant to be quite so serendipitous. I wanted to travel the world, live in a big city, eat sushi, ride a subway for the first time... So in my twenty-second year, that’s exactly what I did. I left town for big dreams, and had no intention of returning. Five years passed, and I got everything I ever wanted. But there were some parts about Gordonsville that never quite left…

Well, I did manage to live out a Julia Roberts scenario like I always wanted, though not at all like I had planned. Welcome to the life of me, Erin McGarity, Gordonville’s very own Runaway Bride.



“Zelda!” I called, weaving through piles of clutter and stacks of boxes. It was an early Tuesday morning, and the apartment was in utter disarray. Unpacked boxes were scattered about, clothes still piled in hangers and some half-folded into suitcases.

At this rate, we’re never going to catch our flight in time.

I chided myself for thinking that I had enough time to finish everything. It wouldn’t have been too bad, but Mr. Kinney begged me to take on one more account before I left and it completely tied me up for the weekend.

“Zelda!” I bent to peer beneath the living room coffee table. I sighed, resting my hand underneath my chin, and slumped over the table.

In the corner of my eye, I spotted a small, white ball dart toward the fireplace.

“Philip,” I called. “She’s in the fireplace!”

The sound of pattering feet became louder as he neared.

“Where is she? Where is she?” Philip’s loud squeal echoed across the apartment. He ran into the room and dove to the floor, crouching on his hands and knees, his head peering at the fireplace. He wore his dinosaur pajamas, his blonde hair whirred into messy tufts from tossing in his sleep.

“You have to be very quiet,” he said in a whisper. I sat with my arms folded, silently laughing to myself at Philip’s serious nature.

“If you’re quiet,” he said, “she won’t be scared. And if she’s not scared, then she trusts you.”

For a moment, Philip cooed toward the logs that sat in the fireplace. He reached into his pajama shirt pocket, and began piling sunflower seeds on the floor in front of him.

“Oh, Philip…” I sighed. “You shouldn’t put--”

“Look, look!”

A little white head peeked out from behind the logs. Zelda’s little ears twitched, and her tiny pink paws skittered toward the pile of seeds that Philip left. Soon, she was climbing on his shoulder, twitching her little whiskers at Philip’s face as he giggled.

Of all the animals my son could have possibly chosen to love, it had to be a rat.

At least he seems to be taking the move well, I thought. Perhaps Zelda’s presence helped with that. I was thankful for any relief I could get. I knew it would get much harder in the days to come. But, for now, I reminded myself, it’s time to pack!



“The prodigal daughter returns,” a familiar old face met with us outside of the airport. Leaning against his dusty, blue pick-up, was Peter Hargrave, Gordonville’s very own carpenter, welder, and plumber extraordinaire. To me, however, he was an old family friend, the uncle I never had. He stretched out his arms for a hug, his rosy cheeks beaming under his silvery-white beard.

“You’re all grown up now,” he rested his hands on my shoulders.

“It’s only been six years,” I said. “I’ve been grown up for a while, Pete.”

“But your hair--how’d you get it so straight?--and your clothes--why, I remember when you were just a little bony thing, always gettin’ tears in your dresses from playing with the boys.”

My cheeks grew warm. “Well, a lot has changed.”

A small hand pulled at my jacket.

Pete’s eyes widened. “A lot indeed!”

He bent down to meet Philip. Philip hugged at Zelda’s carry-box close.

“You must be Philip,” Pete sent him a wink.

“You must be Uncle Pete,” Philip said.

Pete stood up and chuckled.

“I am indeed.”

“This is Zelda,” Philip held up the little carry-box. “She’s shy at first, but if you’re nice to her, she will be nice to you. Also, she loves sunflower seeds.”

Pete smiled and fished into his front flannel pocket for some sunflower seeds. One, he bit into himself, prying out the seed from inside the shell. The other he gave to Philip, whose face lit up. Pete tousled Philip’s hair.