Read The Cowboy's Secret Baby: BWWM Cowboy Pregnancy Romance (Young Adult First Time Billionaire Steamy African American) for Free Online Page B

man in his thirties walked up to the stalking human tigress.  “Mrs. Saxe, I presume?”
    Marion turned on her high heel, snarling.  “What’s it to you?” she responded nastily, glaring at him.
    “Merely that I am Patrick Underhill, Miss Clarice Saxe’s attorney.”  The young man offered his card.  “I’m here today to drive Miss Saxe to Sewanee and to summon the authorities if you persist in attempting to contact her here.”
    Marion reared back, offended.  “Now, see here, Mr. Underhill, Clarice Saxe is my daughter.  We may have quarreled, but you have no right to try to come between us.”
    Underhill drew some papers from his suit pocket.  “According to our information, Clarice Saxe is 26 years old and therefore beyond the age of parental authority,” he told her coolly.
    “We’ll see about that!” Marion snapped.  “Just wait until the little bitch sees that I’ve come to get her.  We’ll see what kind of authority you have then!”  She resumed her pacing, not noticing that the young man had begun talking quietly with the ground control officer on duty.
    Marion’s mind was whirling. – She should never have allowed Clarice to take that commission in Kentucky, but, at the time, she could think of no way to prevent it.  Certainly nobody would believe that she, Marion, had suddenly become so ill she needed the younger woman to take care of her. - Now she was stuck with a mess to untangle.
    A small private plane appeared in the sky.  Judging from the ground control officer’s activity, it was attempting to land.  Patrick Underhill had already taken out binoculars to study the craft, which meant he knew the serial number of the plane he was seeking.  Marion herself had no doubt at all who was in that airplane.  Very few planes except occasional FedEx puddle jumpers used this field. - She and Underhill both sprinted for the plane as it landed.
    Abruptly, the aircraft door opened, and its lean, rangy pilot stood in the doorway.  “Mr. Underhill,” he called, “have you got unwelcome company?”
    “Yes!” the lawyer yelled.  “Hunker down!”
    “You fool!” Marion ran up to Underhill.  “That passenger can’t stay in the plane all day, and there’s no other landing field within at least 50 miles.  Is that pilot planning to pretend like its World War I?”
    “No,” Underhill replied equably.  “He’s just waiting for the ground control officer to summon the authorities to insure you don’t interfere with the transfer of Miss Saxe and her luggage to my automobile.”
    Marion frowned, thinking through her options.  As a landlord, she had some knowledge of authority and its limits.  Now was time for an apparent surrender.  “Very well,” she said sweetly, “I’ll just stand over here by my car and watch my daughter disembark.  Your officers can join me and insure that I stay put.” – Not for nothing had Marion been known as ‘Leather Lungs’ in her youth.  She knew exactly how to make Clarice fold up and come crawling back.
    After about ten minutes, a couple of embarrassed patrol officers walked up to bracket her.  “We just want to keep everything nice and peaceable here, Mrs. Saxe,” one of them muttered soothingly.  “We’re sure you do, too.”
    Underhill’s closed car had now pulled up to the plane, and the pilot emerged, carrying luggage.  The ground control officer mounted the bottom step to relieve him of his burden, then transfer it to the trunk of the lawyer’s car.  This process was repeated three times, and then Clarice started down the steps.
    Truthfully, the only change in Clarice’s appearance was a more flattering haircut than usual, but Marion knew just how to work her daughter.  Standing in her place, she bellowed, “You stupid little slut, you’ve come home pregnant!”
    Clarice closed her eyes and stood still a moment, obviously gathering her courage.  “Thanks, Mother!” she yelled back.  “I’ll pick up a test kit first