The Cowboy's Secret Baby: BWWM Cowboy Pregnancy Romance (Young Adult First Time Billionaire Steamy African American) by Christin Jensen Page A
Authors: Christin Jensen
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possibility I might be pregnant, but, the minute she said it, I was sure it was true.”
“Had you always been careful to practice safe sex?” Dr. Carstairs asked.
“I thought I had.” Clarice leaned forward eagerly. “You see, I was an absolute beginner. The only boys I’d ever met either ignored me or wanted to squeeze my hooters. Mother told me that was the way it would always be. Farris came as a beautiful surprise.”
“Yes, tell me about Farris.” Dr. Carstairs made a careful note. She tried not to use tape recorders in her practice unless she was doing hypnosis. Most people shied away from tape recorders, but they were used to doctors taking notes.
“He cares about animals just the way I do,” Clarice enthused. “And he didn’t stare at my breasts, even once, until things got intimate between us. I felt like he regarded intimacy just like I do – as a method of private, personal comfort. – I’ve never been hugged, you know, and I doubt he has, either, though the housekeeper, Mrs. McGee, is certainly friendly and demonstrative enough. – She raised Farris, you know. There was this car crash on the way home from the hospital after Farris was born, see, and I know Mr. Croxton must have always blamed himself.”
“So you decided to comfort Farris as well as yourself,” Dr. Carstairs concluded.
“That’s about the way it worked out between us,” Clarice admitted sadly. “I know what happened was partly my fault. – That’s why I’ll never put the blame on him.”
At home, Clarice found commissions for her art work kept coming in. The major Kentucky horse owners were all trying to help her see their charges’ personalities; most faxes included multiple close-ups in all sorts of situations. Several videos were also submitted.
Clarice found drawing a pure joy. Despite the gradual thickening of her body, the photographs still spoke to her of animals who were concerned, eager to challenge, spooked by their circumstances, or simply enjoying living. As she drew and painted, Clarice found herself hoping the horse owners could see what she saw and would treat their animals accordingly.
Farmers’ Cooperatives near Sewanee also asked Clarice to draw their sheep, goats, llamas, and alpacas for their advertising brochures. She traveled around in her little truck with her camera, and nobody seemed to mind that she was pregnant with no father visible. That kind of thing often happened nowadays, and at least she could do something useful.
Clarice’s days were emotionally bumpy now, and she often cried herself to sleep. Still, the full-blown scandal Marion had promised had not dropped onto her daughter’s troubled head.
***
Marion sat in her home office, frustrated. The first problem with raising a scandal, she had discovered, was that the thing usually washed back on you. Also, general sexual laxness appeared to have changed the popular mores, she reflected. These days, apparently, everybody did everything and flaunted it.
John Pirtle, damn him, had actually come out and admitted his paternity when the Nashville newspapers caught him at a museum gathering with his out-of-wedlock daughter. – Marion couldn’t expect to milk any more money from THAT source. He had even taken the occasion to announce that he had commissioned Clarice to do a painting of his grandchildren’s new litter of kittens. – Of course, Marion should have been prepared for that when Pirtle’s wife had died two years before.
But now even Clarice’s new fame was haunting Marion. When she had evicted a shiftless tenant, the matter had made the local newspapers, and there were references to Clarice’s artistic fame. This really infuriated Marion, since it was she who had bought the girl her first drawing materials.
Thus she was not a happy camper when Farris Croxton finally got home and returned her telephone call. “You got my daughter pregnant,” Marion charged
“Had you always been careful to practice safe sex?” Dr. Carstairs asked.
“I thought I had.” Clarice leaned forward eagerly. “You see, I was an absolute beginner. The only boys I’d ever met either ignored me or wanted to squeeze my hooters. Mother told me that was the way it would always be. Farris came as a beautiful surprise.”
“Yes, tell me about Farris.” Dr. Carstairs made a careful note. She tried not to use tape recorders in her practice unless she was doing hypnosis. Most people shied away from tape recorders, but they were used to doctors taking notes.
“He cares about animals just the way I do,” Clarice enthused. “And he didn’t stare at my breasts, even once, until things got intimate between us. I felt like he regarded intimacy just like I do – as a method of private, personal comfort. – I’ve never been hugged, you know, and I doubt he has, either, though the housekeeper, Mrs. McGee, is certainly friendly and demonstrative enough. – She raised Farris, you know. There was this car crash on the way home from the hospital after Farris was born, see, and I know Mr. Croxton must have always blamed himself.”
“So you decided to comfort Farris as well as yourself,” Dr. Carstairs concluded.
“That’s about the way it worked out between us,” Clarice admitted sadly. “I know what happened was partly my fault. – That’s why I’ll never put the blame on him.”
At home, Clarice found commissions for her art work kept coming in. The major Kentucky horse owners were all trying to help her see their charges’ personalities; most faxes included multiple close-ups in all sorts of situations. Several videos were also submitted.
Clarice found drawing a pure joy. Despite the gradual thickening of her body, the photographs still spoke to her of animals who were concerned, eager to challenge, spooked by their circumstances, or simply enjoying living. As she drew and painted, Clarice found herself hoping the horse owners could see what she saw and would treat their animals accordingly.
Farmers’ Cooperatives near Sewanee also asked Clarice to draw their sheep, goats, llamas, and alpacas for their advertising brochures. She traveled around in her little truck with her camera, and nobody seemed to mind that she was pregnant with no father visible. That kind of thing often happened nowadays, and at least she could do something useful.
Clarice’s days were emotionally bumpy now, and she often cried herself to sleep. Still, the full-blown scandal Marion had promised had not dropped onto her daughter’s troubled head.
***
Marion sat in her home office, frustrated. The first problem with raising a scandal, she had discovered, was that the thing usually washed back on you. Also, general sexual laxness appeared to have changed the popular mores, she reflected. These days, apparently, everybody did everything and flaunted it.
John Pirtle, damn him, had actually come out and admitted his paternity when the Nashville newspapers caught him at a museum gathering with his out-of-wedlock daughter. – Marion couldn’t expect to milk any more money from THAT source. He had even taken the occasion to announce that he had commissioned Clarice to do a painting of his grandchildren’s new litter of kittens. – Of course, Marion should have been prepared for that when Pirtle’s wife had died two years before.
But now even Clarice’s new fame was haunting Marion. When she had evicted a shiftless tenant, the matter had made the local newspapers, and there were references to Clarice’s artistic fame. This really infuriated Marion, since it was she who had bought the girl her first drawing materials.
Thus she was not a happy camper when Farris Croxton finally got home and returned her telephone call. “You got my daughter pregnant,” Marion charged
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