Читать книгу Christmas Baby - Judy Duarte, Joanna Sims - Страница 11

Shane stood at the mudroom sink, chugging down a large glass of water.

The hay he’d ordered last week had arrived this afternoon, so he’d spent the past couple of hours helping the driver unload a semitruck and trailer. They’d had to stack it in the barn, which meant he’d been bucking bales that weighed ninety pounds or more and stacking them more than chest high.

Needless to say, he’d not only gotten a good workout, but he’d also built up a hearty appetite in the process. So no matter what he decided to fix for dinner, he’d have to make plenty of it. Fortunately, Eva Walker kept a well-stocked pantry and freezer, so he wouldn’t have any problem whipping up something good to eat.

For the past week, Shane had been holding down the fort while Dan, Eva and their four children—two sets of twins, toddlers and second-graders—were in New York, visiting a family friend.

Since Dan had asked him to look after things while he was gone, Shane had packed up his shaving gear and clothes and moved out to the ranch, where he’d spent his days working with the horses and his nights caring for the family menagerie—two dogs, a cat and a hamster.

Shane really didn’t mind helping out, since Dan was not only his boss, but his friend. The two of them had met a year or so ago in town at Caroline’s Diner, and Dan had offered him a job. Taking the ranch hand position had proved to be a blessing for both of them.

As Shane rinsed his face and hands in the sink, his cell phone rang. He figured it was his nephew calling to arrange the promised day of horseback riding. It had been nearly two months since Shane had agreed to let Evan come out to the ranch, but with school and T-ball schedules, they’d decided to wait until his summer vacation.

Evan was a city kid who would prefer to be a cowboy, if given the chance, and Shane couldn’t help but grin at the image of the happy boy in the saddle.

Tempted to let the call roll over to voice mail until he dried his hands and poured himself a glass of iced tea, he glanced at the display, and saw an unfamiliar number. Maybe he’d better not ignore that one. “Hello.”

“Shane?”

Jillian? After three months, he’d given up hope of ever hearing her voice again.

“Hey,” he said, his heart thudding as though it was clamoring to escape his chest. “How’s it going?”

“Good, thanks.”

He’d been tempted to contact her again, either by telephone or a drive into the city, but he’d held off. If there was one thing to be said about Shane Hollister, it’s that he could be pretty damn stubborn when he put his mind to it.

“How about you?” she asked.

“Not bad.”

That same awkward silence filled the line again, so hoping to help things along, he said, “It’s good to hear from you.”

“Thanks.”

Come on, honey, he wanted to say. Just tell me why you’re calling. Are you having a hard time forgetting that night? Or that last kiss?

He might have nearly written her off, but that didn’t mean he no longer thought about her or dreamed about her. Hell, each night he slipped between the sheets of his bed, he’d never been completely alone. Her memory had followed him there.

“I’d like to talk to you,” she said. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you called.”

“Actually,” she said, “I’d rather talk to you in person. Would it be okay if I drove out to Brighton Valley to see you?”

That was better yet. “Of course. I’ve got to work most of the day tomorrow, but I’ll be finished by late afternoon or early evening.” Dan and Eva were due back tomorrow around three, so Shane would take off whenever they arrived.

“Should I drive out to the ranch?”

Shane wasn’t so sure that he wanted to have an audience when he and Jillian met—at least, not one that would quiz him after she returned to Houston. But he didn’t think it would be a good idea to suggest that she meet him at his place, which was a small studio apartment. It might be too… Well, presumptive, he supposed.

“Why don’t we meet in town,” he suggested. “There’s a great little honky-tonk called the Stagecoach Inn, which is right off the county highway. It shouldn’t be too difficult for you to find.”

“All right. Can you give me directions?”

“It’s pretty easy to spot. If you drive out to Brighton Valley, it’s the first thing you’ll see when you hit the main drag.”

“That sounds easy enough.”

Shane wasn’t sure why he’d suggested the Stagecoach Inn. He supposed he also wanted to show her a good time—and in a place that was a whole lot different from her usual hangouts.

If she couldn’t handle a rip-roaring cowboy bar on a Saturday night, she probably couldn’t handle the small-town life in his neck of the woods. And it was best that they found that out early on.

Besides, the music at the Stagecoach Inn was enough to make most people tap their feet and whoop it up. And he hoped to see Jillian let her hair down again.

A couple of months might have passed since he’d gone to her apartment, but he still thought about her more often than not.

He wished he could say that his interest in her was strictly physical, since there’d been some real chemistry brewing between them. But as the days passed, he’d begun to realize that there was something else drawing him to Jillian’s memory, something other than great sex that kept her image fresh in his mind. He actually missed hearing her voice, seeing her smile.

So even if lovemaking wasn’t in the cards for them tonight, he was looking forward to whatever time they had.

“When do you want to meet?” he asked.

“I guess it depends on you, since you’re the one who has to work tomorrow.”

“Then why don’t we say five o’clock?” That would give him time to drive home, shower and shave.

“That sounds good.”

It certainly did. And since she was going to have a two-hour drive back to Houston, he wondered if she planned to spend the night.

If so, that sounded even better yet.

Jillian entered the Stagecoach Inn more than thirty minutes early—and sporting an unmistakable baby bump. Now that she’d passed her fourth month, her womb seemed to be growing more each day.

Hoping to disguise the evidence of her pregnancy until she had the chance to tell him about it, she’d found a table for two and took a seat that faced the front door. She really hadn’t suffered any morning sickness, like other women, but her tummy was tossing and turning now, just at the thought of facing Shane.

She’d been dragging her feet for months, and now that she’d come to tell him, she wished she’d done so sooner. But there wasn’t anything she could do about that now.

So, while waiting for him, she scanned the honky-tonk, noting the scuffed and scarred hardwood floor, the red-and-chrome jukebox, the Old-West-style bar that stretched the length of the building. If she’d ever tried to imagine what a cowboy bar would look like, this would be it.

At the table next to hers, two young women wearing tight jeans and scooped-neck T-shirts laughed about something, then clinked their longneck bottles in a toast.

Was this the place where Shane hung out in the evenings or on his days off? Is that why he’d suggested she meet him here?

“Can I get you a drink?” a blond, harried waitress asked.

“Do you have any fruit juice?”

“I’ll have to check with the bartender to see what other choices you have, but I know we’ve got OJ for sure.”

“That’ll be fine. Thank you.”

The bleached-blond waitress had no more than walked away from the table when Jillian’s cell phone rang. She grabbed it from her purse, hoping it wasn’t Shane telling her he’d been delayed, since she’d put off this conversation for too long as it was.

But when she checked the display, she spotted her grandmother’s number.

“Did you get to Brighton Valley safely?” Gram asked.

Jillian pressed her cell phone against her ear, trying to block out the sounds of a Texas two-step as it blasted out of the jukebox. “Yes. It was a pretty easy drive, although it was a long one.”

“Where are you?”

“At a bar called the Stagecoach Inn.”

“It sounds pretty wild,” Gram said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t know about that,” Gram said. “I probably should have insisted upon going with you. Where will you be staying?”

“Right next door at the Night Owl Motel.”

“That sounds a little…rustic. Don’t they have anything nicer than that in town?”

“Not that I know of,” Jillian said. “But don’t worry. I’ll be okay. Besides, you’re the one who told me I needed to tell Shane about the baby.”

“I know, but…” Gram was clearly having second thoughts.

And so was Jillian. She’d never been in a country bar before, and the Night Owl was a world away from those five-star hotels she’d been used to. But the last thing she wanted to do was to cause her grandmother any undue stress.

“The motel really isn’t that bad,” she said, trying to talk above a sudden hoot of laughter. “The room is clean, and the bed is soft. I’ll be fine tonight. Then I’ll drive back to Houston in the morning.”

The waitress returned with the orange juice in a Mason jar. “Here you go. Let me know if you’d like anything else.”

Jillian offered her a smile. “Thanks. This will be fine for now.”

As the waitress walked away, Gram said, “I’m still uneasy about you being there all alone, Jilly.”

“Don’t be. Shane will be here soon.”

“I’m sure he will, but you really don’t know him very well.”

Oh, for Pete’s sake. It was Gram who’d helped her come to the conclusion that she needed to stop procrastinating and tell Shane he was going to be a father. And that wasn’t the kind of news to spring on him over the telephone.

“Shane’s a nice guy, Gram. You’d like him if you met him. He used to be a police officer, remember?”

“Yes, you mentioned that. But why did he decide to give that job up and go to work on a ranch?”

It probably had something to do with him getting into trouble and being suspended from duty, although Jillian couldn’t be sure about that. Last night, on a whim, she’d done a Google search on Shane Hollister and uncovered an online newspaper article about him. From what she’d read, he’d gotten too rough with a man he’d arrested.

Her heart had dropped to the pit of her stomach upon that discovery, especially when she spotted a photograph that convinced her that the men were one and the same.

Just the thought that Shane Hollister, the man who’d loved her with a gentle and expert hand, might harbor a temper or a violent side, set off a wave of nausea. On several occasions, after having too much to drink, Thomas had twisted her arm or given her a shove. So Jillian had kicked herself for not conducting an internet search on Shane sooner.

She’d wanted more details, of course, but short of breaking into police headquarters and hunting for his personnel file, she didn’t know how or where to look. But she certainly knew someone who did.

Katie Harris, a journalist who’d been Jillian’s college roommate, now worked for a Dallas newspaper. So Jillian had called her and asked her if she could uncover any more information about the incident that had gotten Shane into trouble with the police department.

Katie had been on her way into the office and had called back within an hour. She hadn’t found out too much more, other than the fact that Shane had been reinstated to his position with the HPD. But then, a few months later, he’d resigned for no apparent reason.

While tossing and turning in bed last night, Jillian had vacillated on whether to go through with the plan to meet Shane and tell him about the baby, but she’d finally decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Of course, she wasn’t going to share any of that with her grandmother.

“Well, if you’re sure you’re okay…” Gram said doubtfully.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but call me once you’re locked into the motel room for the night.”

“I’ll do that.” Jillian glanced toward the entrance, just in time to see Shane saunter through the door, looking more handsome than a cowboy had a right to. “But I’ve got to go, Gram. He’s here now.”

And he’d just spotted her.

When Shane walked into the Stagecoach Inn, he was nearly twenty minutes early. Still, the place was already hopping, even for a Saturday night that was just getting under way. Yet he hadn’t gotten two steps inside before he’d spotted Jillian seated at a table for two, looking just as attractive as ever. She was talking on the phone, but as soon as she noticed him, she hung up.

He crossed the scarred oak flooring and made his way to her table. “I see you found the place.”

She smiled. “You’re right. It was pretty easy, but I have to admit I’ve never been anywhere like this before.”

He figured she meant the honky-tonk, but she could have just as easily been talking about Brighton Valley, as well. “Consider it an adventure.”

“I don’t know about that. I haven’t felt very adventurous lately.”

He wondered what she meant by that as he quietly observed her. She wore her platinum-blond hair pulled back today, and a white cotton blouse and black slacks. She’d come looking more casual, more down-to-earth.

More approachable than before, even when he’d found her at home.

As he pulled out the chair next to hers, he asked, “So what are you having? A screwdriver?”

She glanced at her glass, then back at him. “No, it’s just orange juice.”

The waitress, Trina Shepherd, stopped by the table to ask what he’d like to drink.

After his first visit to the Stagecoach Inn, she’d become a friend of sorts when he’d closed the place down on a slow night. But unlike most guys who’d stayed too long at the bar, he’d been drinking coffee, not throwing back shots.

As a result, Trina knew more about Shane than anyone else in Brighton Valley. But he knew more about her, too.

At one time, before heartache and a few bad choices had left her weathered and worn, she’d been pretty. If a man looked close enough, he could still see hints of it in her eyes.

“Hey,” she said, brightening when she spotted Shane. “I haven’t seen you in here for a while. How’s it going?”

“All right.” He tossed her a friendly smile. “How are the kids? Any more broken windows?”

Trina laughed. “There’d better not be. I told them I was going to quit buying groceries if they played dodgeball in the living room again.”

Last week, when Shane had stopped by for some hot wings and a beer on his way home, she’d had to leave work to run one of the boys to the E.R. at the Brighton Valley Medical Center. The kid had nearly cut off his finger trying to clean broken glass off the floor.

Shane introduced the women, calling Jillian a friend of his.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Trina said to Jillian, before asking Shane, “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a Corona—with lime.” He looked at Jillian. “Would you like something stronger than that?”

“No, thanks. I’ll stick with juice.”

Was she worried that alcohol might lower her inhibitions? She didn’t need to be. He’d never take advantage of her, although he supposed she really had no way of knowing that. At least, not yet.

He wouldn’t be opposed to taking her back to his place, though. And if she still insisted upon taking things slow, he’d let her have his bed, and he’d sleep on the sofa.

Of course, the night was still young. So who knew how things would end up?

As he cast a glance her way, he saw that she was pulling at the nail on one of her fingers. He couldn’t help thinking that she was more nervous than he’d ever seen her.

Why? Was she apprehensive about seeing him again?

If so, was it the honky-tonk setting that was bothering her? Or was it confronting the sexual attraction they’d both found so impossible to ignore?

She stopped messing with her fingernail, then leaned forward and rested her forearms on top of the table. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

That’s what she’d said when she’d called yesterday. Yet whatever she had to say still seemed to weigh on her mind.

Wanting to make it easier on her, he tossed her a smile. “I hope it’s to say that you missed me.”

She returned his smile, although hers was laden with whatever had been holding her back. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

Apparently so. But her nervousness set him on edge, too.

Finally, she said, “I want you to know that the night we spent in Houston was the first time I’d ever done anything like that.”

He’d suspected as much, and a slow grin stretched across his face. “I’m glad to hear it.”

So maybe she did have more in mind than a glass of OJ and a chat. He sure hoped so, but he was going to need a little more to go on than that.

Jillian ran her fingertip along the moisture that had gathered on the Mason jar, clearly holding back her announcement.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Something tells me that it might be easier for you to say what you came to say if you asked Trina to put a little vodka in that glass.”

“That wouldn’t help.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “There’s no easy way to say this, Shane. I’m pregnant.”

Her statement slammed into him like barrage of bullets, making it impossible to speak, let alone react.

Was she suggesting the baby was his? Or had she met someone else in the past few months?

“I thought you should know,” she added.

Why? Because the baby was his?

They’d used protection… Had they gotten careless that night? Was the condom outdated?

Or had she gotten pregnant by some other guy? Her ex-husband maybe?

Was that why she hadn’t contacted him? Was she afraid he wouldn’t like the idea of her having some other man’s baby?

“How far along are you?” he asked, hoping to do the math and clarify things without asking outright if the baby was his.

“Four and a half months,” she said.

That would make it about right.

He supposed there was no way around being direct. “Is it mine?”

She shot him a wounded expression. “Of course it’s yours. I told you that I’d never done anything like that before.”

Well, how the hell was he supposed to have known that it had to be his? She’d been married up until the time they’d met…?. And maybe she’d done it a second or third time—with someone else.

“I know we used a condom,” she added, “so I’m not sure how it happened, but it did.”

Shane lifted his hat, raked a hand through his hair, then set the Stetson on the table. “I’m sorry, Jillian. I’m just a little…stunned. That’s all.”

God, he was going to be a father again…

Just the thought caused voice-stealing emotion to rise in his chest and ball up in his throat—fear and panic, pride…

“I’m not asking for anything,” she said. “Like I said before, I plan to raise the baby on my own. And other than the fact that it will probably be a little inconvenient because of school and all, I’m actually looking forward to being a mom. It’s just that I thought you should know.”

He would have been furious with her if he’d ever found out on his own and learned that she’d kept it from him. But right now, he didn’t know quite what to say. His emotions were flying around like stray bullets at a shoot-out—each spinning toward separate targets.

For some reason, thoughts of Marcia came back to taunt him, memories of her taking their toddler and moving out of town. The reminder served to blindside him, making it even more difficult to deal with Jillian’s news—and making it way more personal.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Dumping all of this on you, I guess. You must be worried about what this all means, but it doesn’t have to mean anything to you. I just thought you should know.” She bit down on her bottom lip, her mind undoubtedly going a mile a minute, just as his was doing.

He tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he was going to be a father again, but as he did, thoughts of Joey swept over him: the sight of the newborn coming into the world; that first flutter of a smile; the sight of the chubby baby pulling himself to a stand at the coffee table.

While he should look forward to the idea of having a second chance at fatherhood, the horrendous image of his eighteen-month-old son lying in a small, white, satin-lined casket chased away the sweet memories, and he feared what this might lead to…the anger, the pain, the grief.

After Shane and Marcia had split up, she’d moved out of state, taking Joey with her. Not only had Shane lost out on seeing his son from day to day, he’d been more than five-hundred miles away when he’d received word that he’d…lost him for good.

There was no way Shane wanted to go through that again. And while he had no idea how he would remedy that this time around, he knew he’d have to do something.

He glanced at Jillian, saw her pulling at her fingernail again—clearly worried, nervous and stressed about the situation.

It probably hadn’t been easy for her to deliver the news, and he was sorry that his initial reaction had been a little harsh.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said, his mind still reeling.

She smiled, then glanced away. “I understand.”

But she didn’t; she couldn’t.

He probably should tell her about Joey, about how he’d lost his son, about how he still ached with grief. But he didn’t think he could open his heart like that without choking up and falling apart.

Besides, the baby news had slammed into him like a runaway train, and it was too soon for him to have a rational reaction to it.

Even if he’d been happy to learn that he was going to be a father again, he wasn’t sure if he could trust her. What if Jillian took his baby away and never let him see it again?

He studied her for a moment, watched her slip her hand between the table and her belly, stroking her rounded womb as if caressing the child that grew there.

His child.

Her child.

Fear of repeating the past—the pain, the grief—threatened to suck the breath right out of him, but he couldn’t let it. He had to face the truth. He was going to be a father again.

And there was no reason history had to repeat itself.

“When’s the baby due?” he asked.

“December third.” Her gaze wrapped around his, and she smiled, a whisper of relief chasing away all signs of her nervousness.

How had he missed seeing it before—the obvious pregnancy, the maternal glow?

Jillian might have waited too damn long to tell him about the baby, but he sensed she was happy about the situation.

“Are you planning to drive back to Houston tonight?” he asked.

She caught his gaze. “Actually, I didn’t like the idea of being on the road after dark, so I got a room at the Night Owl.”

“You could have stayed with me.”

“I… Well, I suppose I could have, but I wasn’t sure how you’d take the news. And I figured things might be a little awkward between us.”

“Maybe so, but we’ll need to deal with the situation anyway.” And some of it was going to be tough.

Shane scanned the honky-tonk, and when he spotted Trina, he motioned for her to come to the table.

“Are you hungry?” he asked Jillian.

“A little.”

When Trina reached the table, Shane said, “We’d like to place an order to go.”

“All right. I’ll get you a couple of menus.” When she returned, she handed each of them the new, one-sided laminated sheet of cardstock that offered a few appetizers and various sandwiches. “I’ll give you a chance to look this over, then I’ll be back.”

“Where are we going?” Jillian asked him.

“When I thought we were just tiptoeing around our attraction and a possible romance, I figured the Stagecoach Inn would be good place to kick up our heels and forget all the reasons why a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work out. But now that things have taken an unexpected turn, we need to find a quieter spot so we can talk.”

Jillian didn’t respond.

Moments later, Trina returned for their orders.

“I’ll have the soup and salad combo,” Jillian said.

Shane chose the bacon cheeseburger and fries.

“You got it.” Trina scratched out their requests on her pad before taking the order to the kitchen.

While Shane and Jillian waited for their food, they made small talk about the music on the jukebox and some of the more interesting characters who had begun to fill the honky-tonk. Yet the tension stretched between them like a worn-out bungee cord ready to snap.

Before long, Trina returned with a take-home bag, as well as the bill. Shane paid the tab, leaving her a generous tip.

“Are you ready?” he asked Jillian, as he scooted back his chair and got to his feet.

Jillian stood and reached for her purse. “So where did you decide to eat?”

“You said you had a room at the Night Owl. Let’s go there.”

If she had any reservations about taking him back to the motel with her, she didn’t say. And Shane was glad. It was important that they take some time to really get to know each other.

And the sooner they got started doing that, the better.