by Caro Carson
But it was Sunday.
Travis was coming back, and at eight in the evening, he’d pick her up to take her back to his house for dinner. There, she was going to tell him that she was pregnant with another man’s child, that she’d been pregnant all along but too stubborn and willful to admit it to herself, and because of that, she’d sucked him into a hopeless situation.
It was the end of the world.
Black seemed like the appropriate color. Sophia dressed in black yoga clothes, tied on her sneakers, and went to visit the horses.
As always, Samson liked her best. She leaned on his great, warm neck and wished someone would yell cut.
The barn door slid open. After five days back in the public eye in Austin, that old reflex to keep her appearance together had returned. She stood properly, shoulders back and down, ankles together, hand on hip—but with her other hand, she tickled Samson under his chin. She hoped it was only Clay coming back for something he’d forgotten. No matter what Travis said, she didn’t want more people knowing she was hiding on the ranch.
“Now, this is a fantasy.”
“Travis.” She drank in the sight of him as he stood just inside the barn door. He looked so achingly good, as if she hadn’t seen him for a year instead of a week. Less than that, since he’d surprised her at her sister’s wedding.
“To see a woman as beautiful as you are hanging out in cute shorts, talking to my horses, well, you just know that’s some rancher’s fantasy. Luckily, I’m a rancher.”
She wanted to run and throw herself in his arms the way she always did, spinning him halfway around with the impact.
But she was pregnant. She held still.
Travis had no hesitation. He strode toward her, single-minded, confident. He scooped her up and spun her around, bringing enough momentum for the two of them.
His arms felt so strong. He smelled so good. Somehow, she’d been so focused on how they were going to be apart, it was startling to have him here—and still so happy with her.
Because he didn’t know. Not yet.
“I didn’t think I’d see you until dinner.” How could her voice sound so normal when she was dying inside?
“I missed you,” he said.
“I missed you, too.” It was true. Surely she was allowed to say that.
He linked his arms around her waist, the way they did when they settled in to catch up on how their days had gone. Had he missed just talking to her? She thought her heart might burst.
“I watched a couple of your movies because I missed you so much.”
She was grateful to talk about anything except what she needed to talk about. “Which ones?”
He named the crime drama, the one with the smoking-hot sex scene.
“Oh. That one.” She felt her cheeks warm as she looked toward the tack room. She couldn’t hold his gaze.
“I want credit for keeping my eyes on yours and not letting them drop lower, but if you don’t look at me, how will you know how good I am at pretending I’m not thinking about your body?”
He sounded amused.
She looked at him then. “That scene doesn’t bother you? I mean, knowing anyone could watch it?” She knew so many fellow actors whose significant others were bothered greatly by those kinds of scenes, even when carefully arranged bedsheets protected privacy. Her costar’s girlfriend had been standing by as they filmed that one, anxious and jealous and making the role ten times harder to play. She’d been far more of a diva than any actress Sophia had worked with.
Travis kept his arms locked around her waist. “I’ve seen rated R movies my entire adult life without thinking twice about it, but it is strange when you know one of the actors. It took a few scenes for me to adjust to hearing you speak with a Boston accent. If you’re worried about the sex scene, don’t be. I could tell it wasn’t real.”
“Oh, it’s not. It’s really not. There are a dozen people working, and you have to hold yourself in the most unnatural way, and there was this awful bubblegum smell, and I remember being thirsty and worried about how to deliver this line that I didn’t think my character would really say, and they put makeup on everything. I mean everything.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
In the moment of silence that followed, she forgot they had no future. She could only think how lucky she’d be to have such an even-tempered man as her partner in life.
“How?” she asked, holding her breath.
“It didn’t look real to me. Not the look on your face, which was sexy as hell, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t what you really look like with me.”
“Oh.”
He kissed her lightly. “You look sexier with me.”
“Oh.”
“I could guess about the makeup because your freckle was missing. The one that’s right here.” Without taking his eyes from hers, he placed his finger precisely on a spot just above the edge of her bra, on her left breast, exactly where she knew she had a little black dot.
“Oh. They hide that all the time, even if I’m just wearing a low cut gown or a bathing suit.”
His grin slowly grew into a smile. “Good. I love it. I’ll keep it to myself. The audience doesn’t get the same you that I get.”
She wanted to smile back, but she was dying inside. We have no future. We have no future.
“The movie I’ll never watch again was the pioneer one,” he said.
“That was my best. Everyone says so.” The words came out by rote despite her frantic thoughts.
“You died. I don’t ever want to know if that looked realistic. I can’t watch that one again.”
He kissed her as if he couldn’t bear to lose her, and she kissed him back the same way. No future, no future.
She would lose him, soon, but she wasn’t ready to say the words. She was supposed to have had until eight o’clock to prepare herself to say the words.
“Why are you here? I mean, why did you leave your family so early for me?”
“That was why—for you. I couldn’t wait until tonight to see you. I just gave Clay the rest of the day off. I realize your fantasy includes a very traditional dinner that might end in a peck on the cheek, but I was going to try to persuade you to try a different fantasy now.”
Her body was her traitor in every way. She knew she couldn’t sleep with Travis again, but her body didn’t care, pregnant or not. Just being near him was enough to make her come awake and alive once more.
Patch saved the day. With outstanding timing, she ran into the barn to greet Travis as if he’d been gone ten years.
Sophia stepped back to give the dog room. She pretended she didn’t see the quizzical look Travis threw her.
“How’re you doing, Patch?” He bent down to pet her with both hands. There was something odd about the way he did it, almost like he was checking something, deliberately feeling his way from the dog’s shoulders to her tail. “Still feeling good, girl?”
Sophia grasped at the distraction. “Is there something wrong with her?”
Travis stood again. “I wouldn’t say it’s wrong. She’s going to have puppies. Judging from the amount of time she’s been spending in Samson’s stall, she’s planning on having them there. I’ll have to move Samson when she gets a little closer. They’re best friends, but I wouldn’t want him to step on a puppy.”
Sophia felt her stomach tying itself into knots. “I can’t take another abandoned animal crying from starvation. Is there replacer milk for puppies? Do you have any? We should get some right away. Right away.”
She must have overreacted. Travis’s quizzical look deepened into concern. “Patch is a good mother. This is her second litter, so I don’t anticipate any problems, but sure, we’ll keep some replacer milk here. I won’t leave you with a starving newborn again, I pr
omise.”
He kissed her again, not on the lips, but on the forehead.
She told herself that was for the best. It was already starting, this transition from lovers to friends that she was going to rely on. She’d had time, too much time, to think about her options, and no matter what Grace had said, there weren’t many.
Sophia had nowhere else to hide. She was going to have to stay on this ranch for the duration of her pregnancy, and that meant she was going to see Travis. Staying on good terms with him was essential, because frankly, she was scared to death to be without him.
She had a good speech she needed to be ready to deliver tonight that talked about how they’d be able to coexist quite nicely together despite their history. It left out the part about being scared.
Until tonight’s dinner, she needed to not freak out. She smiled brightly at Travis. “First the cat, now the dog. Is everything on this ranch pregnant?”
Travis kept looking at her, but she told herself he was smiling indulgently. “We try to keep it that way.”
She tossed her hair, praying for normalcy. “You know that sounds terrible, right?”
“That’s the ranching business. We had a ninety-seven-percent pregnancy rate in the cattle last year. That’s a very good year. But I don’t breed cats. She did that on her own. And I suspect Patch here found herself a boyfriend over at the James Hill.”
“If she’d been neutered, then you wouldn’t have this problem.” She couldn’t quite keep her tone light. She’d said the same thing after the cat. She’d thought the same thing about herself.
“I wouldn’t say Patch having puppies is a problem. She’s the fourth or fifth generation of River Mack cow dogs. She’s got real good instincts, passed down through her line. People in these parts are glad to have one of her puppies. This will be her second litter, though, so we’ll have her fixed. I don’t want her to get worn out. I need her working the herd this fall.”
“What happens this fall?”
He was silent for a long time. Then he walked up close to her and, as if she were some kind of precious treasure, held her head gently in his hands and rested his forehead on hers.
“The last time we were together before the wedding we talked just like this. You weren’t sure if you’d still be on the ranch this week. You said you’d have a better idea of what the future holds when I came back. I’m back. Do you know? Are you going to be here this fall?”
It was hard, so hard, not to dive into the safety of his arms. He’d hold her close and she’d feel safe and everything would be all right.
Those days were over. Those days never should have been, so she stayed on her own two feet and answered him honestly. “Yes, I’ll be here all the way until January.”
As close as they were, she could feel the relief pass through his body, but she could see his frown of worry as well. She wasn’t a good enough actor to fool him. He knew she was holding something back, but being Travis, he didn’t push.
“Well, then,” he said. “Would you like to see what the ranch looks like beyond the house and barn? It’s a Sunday in July. There won’t be a soul for miles around. I’ll drive you around and tell you what you can expect from now until Christmas.”
And tonight, I’ll tell you what to expect.
But she was being offered a reprieve, a stay of execution, and she loved him too much to deny herself his company, just one more time.
Chapter Eighteen
“I didn’t realize there were so many flowers.”
Sophia looked out the window of the white pickup truck. She was all buckled in, huddled by the door, and sad. The ranch had so much beauty, and she’d missed it all when she’d first arrived.
“What did you think it was if it wasn’t flowers?”
“Brown. I just thought I was coming to live in exile on some ugly brown planet. But it’s flowers. Yellow, purple and orange.” She felt a little defensive. The old Sophia was just so pitiful. “You put those colors together, and you get brown.”
“Until you take a closer look. Which you are.”
She closed her eyes against his kindness. Of course she was in love with this man. How could she not be in love with this man? And he was going to hate her so very soon.
“Stop being so nice to me.”
He drove in silence for another little while. “Why are you finding it so hard to be nice to yourself?”
She didn’t answer him. Out the window, there were babies everywhere. Quite literally, every single cow had a calf suckling or sleeping underfoot. She could see the satisfaction and pride in Travis’s expression—or she had seen it, before her misery had spilled into the pickup.
Travis slowed down the truck and squinted at a distant tree. “There she is. It’s about time.”
He parked the truck a little distance from the tree and got out. There was a cow under the tree, sleeping peacefully on her side. “You can come out if you want. Just be quiet about slamming the door.”
Travis walked a little closer to the cow, not too close, and then crouched down. He checked his watch. And he waited.
And waited.
The minutes ticked by, until Sophia couldn’t stand it anymore. She got out of the truck and practically tiptoed up to Travis before dropping down beside him.
“What’s going on?”
“She’s the last heifer of the season, and by season, I mean she’s so far out of season, she’s in a class by herself.”
“I don’t understand.”
Travis checked his watch again as the cow huffed and made a halfhearted attempt to get up. The cow fell still again.
“We have our calving season in April and early May on the River Mack. That’s when we want the herd giving birth.”
“All at the same time?”
“More or less. You have to ride the herd several times a day, looking for new babies to doctor, making sure the mamas are on their feet and nursing, and sometimes—” he stood up with a sigh “—you have to pull a calf.”
He walked back to the truck, dug around the back, and returned with some blue nylon straps and a pair of long, skinny plastic bags. “This little lady tricked us pretty well. We thought she was pregnant during breeding, but turns out she wasn’t. Then a bull jumped a fence, and here she is, totally out of sync with the rest of the herd. Accidents happen, though.”
The cow moaned again. Travis shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” Sophia stayed crouched on the ground, her fingertips on the grass for balance.
“She’s a first-time mother. She isn’t doing too well. She must have been at this awhile. See how tired she is?”
And then Travis walked right up to the laboring cow. Sophia stood to see better. There were two front legs poking out of the mother’s...body. Legs with hooves and everything. Sophia cringed.
The mother seemed to get agitated as Travis stood there, but then the hooves poked out a little farther and the nose of a cow came out, too. Travis came back and crouched beside Sophia.
Nothing else happened for an eternity. He checked his watch and picked up the blue straps again, but then the cow made a pitiful sound of pain and the whole head of a tiny cow came out with its front legs.
“There you go,” Travis said under his breath.
Sophia sat on her butt. “I’m gonna be sick.”
He turned his head to look at her. “You’ve never seen anything being born?”
“No.” She couldn’t look. “What are the blue straps for?”
He seemed amused, which, given that he was in full cowboy mode, meant one corner of his mouth lifted in barely-a-grin. “You can wrap ’em around the calf’s legs and help the mama out. It’s called pulling a calf.”
“You’re kidding me. This is what you do all day? I thought you rode around on a horse and sho
t rattlesnakes or something.”
He turned back to the laboring cow. “I do that, too. These mamas go to a lot of trouble to have their babies. It’s the least I can do to make sure the babies don’t get bit by something poisonous.”
He would be the best father in the world.
The thought hit her hard, followed equally hard by sorrow at the memory of Deezee. She’d been so unwise, so very unwise.
But then the cow moaned and the entire calf came out in a rush of blood and liquid. It just lay there, covered with gunk, and Sophia’s heart started to pound. The world got a little tilted. She grabbed Travis’s arm, digging her fingers into his muscle to keep herself vertical.
“Come on, Mama,” he said quietly.
The mother wasn’t moving. The baby wasn’t moving.
Then Travis was moving, on his feet and heading toward them as he pulled the plastic bags over his hands and arms—they were gloves. He grabbed the baby’s nose, its lifeless head bobbling as he jerked some kind of membrane from around it. Then he grabbed the hooves in his hands and simply dragged the calf out of the puddle of grossness and across the grass to plop it right in front of the mother’s face.
This was birth. This horrible, frightening death and membranes and pain—oh, my God. Sophia rolled to her hands and knees and tried desperately not to vomit.
What had she been thinking? That she’d do yoga and eat well and sport a small baby bump? Maybe toward the end, around Christmas, she’d be a little bit roly-poly for a few weeks, but then the baby would be born and go off to some wonderful adoptive family and everything would be clean and neat and tidy. She’d move on with her life.
That wasn’t how it was. She had to give birth, she had to labor, there was just no way out of it. There would be gushing yuck and pain and exhaustion. And if, at the end of it all, the poor little baby didn’t move...
What if the poor little baby didn’t move?
She dug her fingers into the dirt and panted.
“Sophia.”
She was dimly aware that Travis had come back. She heard him cursing, saw bloody plastic gloves being dumped on the grass. His clean arm was strong around her waist as he picked her up and set her on her feet, but he kept her back to his chest, which was smart because she was about to throw up.
