by Em Petrova
Lane sidled up alongside West. When he pounded the door a second time, they heard some stumbling inside. West turned to his brother and cocked a brow at the bat. “May I?”
Lane shrugged. “Might as well. You’ve got the reputation anyway. Gotta keep my nose clean so I can get that spinoff.”
West shot him a look but didn’t speak. At that moment, the door swung inward.
Jack stood there in jeans and no shirt, barefoot. His hair was mussed, and his beard looked wet with something West didn’t want to know anything about.
“Howdy, Jack. Since we were in town, we thought we’d pay ya a visit,” West drawled.
The Calhouns poured into the room. A glance around told the story of exactly what the maggot was doing. Video equipment was set up and a light on the camera blinked. A half-naked woman lying on the bed, tied at the wrists and ankles, pushed onto her knees and bleeding from her lip. Black mascara tears streaked her cheeks.
Her eyes were wild as they settled on West.
“Take care of him,” West said to Lane.
Jack tried to struggle, but four pissed-off cowboys was no match for the weasel. Ryder leaped forward to untie the woman.
And West swung the bat.
Connecting with the camera felt good. It flew against the opposite wall and burst into pieces. The tripod was next, warped into an odd configuration that he would happily like to see shoved up Jack’s ass.
Ryder led the weeping woman from the room, while Lane tied Jack to a chair. Buck and Ridge leaned in.
And West slowly approached with the bat.
I won’t lose my cool. I won’t kill this man.
He wobbled the Louisville Slugger in his loose grip and glared into the man’s eyes. “You’re gonna wish you’d never spoken a word to our sister.”
Jack struggled against the rope, but Lane tied a helluva knot. “I never touched your sister. She’s a fucking prude! Couldn’t get more than vanilla sex from her.”
Identical growls sounded from the brothers. West swung the bat and delivered a tap to Jack’s ankle. Light enough not to break the bone but delivering the message with a nice contusion.
“Oww! Fuck. You Calhouns are fucking nuts. And you’re the worst, West. You go around beating up anybody in your way.” He tried to use his thigh muscles to pick up the whole chair with himself in it and bounce out the door.
But he wasn’t going anywhere. Not with Lane standing sentry, arms folded like he’d take on an angry prison mob singlehandedly.
West tapped Jack’s other ankle. The howl of pain came before the wood even connected with his body. A crooked smile formed on West’s face. “I don’t beat up anybody in my way. Just anybody who fucks with my family.”
“What about that guy who got his ribs broken for dancing with that doctor slut?”
Red lights flashed before West’s vision.
Buck put a restraining hand on his forearm, which tensed with the urge to swing for Jack’s head. “He’s not worth life in prison, bro. Let it go.”
Not only had he called Malou a slut but he’d questioned her role in West’s life. To him, she was family.
He just hadn’t told her yet.
Jack gave a slimy grin. His gaze shot to the right past West.
Gripping the bat with both hands, West swung with all his might. The air off the bat ruffled Jack’s hair as it whipped by his face, around to slam into a camera set up on the heating register that West hadn’t noticed before.
Plastic exploded.
Several minutes later when West got into the truck, Lane handed him a fistful of busted plastic. “SD cards. He won’t have any footage of you threatening to break his ankles.”
West accepted the handful and shoved it into his pocket. “Fucking asshole. I wanted to crack his balls like eggs. Think he’s gotten out of those ropes yet?”
Lane gave him an offended look. “Hell no. I thought you were calling the cops for that woman he was beating up and basically raping on film,” he said to Ryder.
“She made the call from my phone. They’ll be here any minute. Stomp on it, Buck.”
Their brother did, his face as grim as it had been before the meeting. “One thing’s certain—that motherfucker won’t be bothering Wynonna again.”
West heard a disjointed story then, of how Jack had been harassing their sister to come to this address and make amends. The asshole had the balls to tell her he missed her.
West looked out the window. He only listened to the conversation with half an ear. His mind was spinning from what he’d realized back in that seedy motel room.
That he’d protected Malou from harm because he considered her family. In his heart, she’d belonged to him from the start.
Now he had to figure out how to break it to her. And he hoped to hell his brothers didn’t tell her what had just gone down. He didn’t need any more strikes against him.
Chapter Nine
As Malou moved from counter to stove to refrigerator, gathering all the items she’d need for a traditional Hopi meal to celebrate the spring, West’s gaze followed her.
The weight gave her tingles down her spine, and she couldn’t bring herself to fully meet his gaze for fear she’d leap at him. She could guess what would happen—they’d end up on the Calhouns’ kitchen table.
When all the food items were laid out, she looked to Mrs. Calhoun. “Cutting board?”
“Yes, dear. One for each of us.”
“Oh, you don’t need to help. I’m preparing this meal for your family so you can have a day off.” Malou smiled at the older woman. Among her people, she would be revered and all her children would do the cooking for her.
“This is a big family, and it will take you a long time to do the chopping by yourself. I’ll do the onions and potatoes. You do the carrots and peppers.”
The colorful vegetables on the counter made Malou smile. Memories of learning to make Hopi corn stew from the older women in their tribe flooded her with happiness. She wished her sister was here to share in this with her. It had been a long time since they’d eaten anything but restaurant food together. And eating was spiritual—a celebration.
Malou inclined her head. “Thank you.”
When Mrs. Calhoun bustled to the knife block, West swooped in to gather Malou in his arms. With her cheek pressed to the worn chambray of his shirt and his arms around her, she felt more at home than she had in a very long time.
“Don’t you have chores, boy?” Mrs. Calhoun swatted at him. “You know the rules.”
He pulled away from Malou with a smile. He tipped his hat to his momma. “Yes’m, I do. No boys in the kitchen unless you’ve got a mop in your hands.”
She arched a brow at her son, making Malou giggle. She would have liked to see this clan growing up together, bantering and playing and working.
“All right, I’ll go.” He dropped Malou a wink and a kiss to his mom’s cheek before turning for the front of the house. A second later, the screen door slammed.
Mrs. Calhoun shook her head. “That man. Always was underfoot even as a boy.”
“Really?” Malou accepted the knife from her and set into a rhythm of chopping. She didn’t remove the skins from the carrots or potatoes, just scrubbed them well. And the peppers made her eyes tear even as the onions had West’s mother crying.
Together, they sniffled and talked.
“West has a wild streak in him. I blame it on his siblings. As a kid, he’d always take the challenges the older boys set. And Wynonna pushed him to be naughty. As you can probably see, she has a wild streak too.” Mrs. Calhoun nodded. “Yes, my last three children were the entertainers of the family. Even if they did something bad, the older boys often covered it up or egged them on because they were entertaining.”
“In our family, my brother was the risk-taker.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“He passed away many years ago.”
Warm brown eyes met Malou’s. “I’m sorry to hear that. The wo
rld works in ways we don’t understand.”
“Yes, his death spurred me to become a doctor.”
“And here you are, showing my son that he can take risks in ways besides using his fists or taking off with strange women to Cabo over Christmastime.”
Malou bit her lip on a smile, not because of the mention of West’s indiscretion. But because it was clear Mrs. Calhoun wasn’t going to let her son live down not being home for Christmas.
She reached out and placed a hand on Malou’s arm. “I’m sorry I brought that up.”
“It’s okay. It’s in the past.” As she said it, she knew it to be true. West hadn’t shown a hint of interest in any other woman since being with her.
“You’re good for him,” Mrs. Calhoun said with a smile.
“Thank you.” Her heart warmed with the praise, but it wasn’t her doing that West was a good man. He’d been that from the start.
After preparing the stew and cornbread, she and Mrs. Calhoun took iced teas onto the porch to sit in the cooler air. In the distance, cattle grazed and Buck’s and Ryder’s homes were visible. The peak of Ridge’s was farther off.
Malou couldn’t help but wonder if West would build on the ranch too. And who he’d find to share his home with.
“Malou!” Merry scampered across the porch floor, her arms out-flung. Malou stood in time to catch the child. Then she cuddled her onto her lap and she and Merry’s grandmother heard all about the child’s day in her toddler’s babble.
Then she spotted her father crossing the yard and ran to be scooped up and borne away on his shoulders.
Mrs. Calhoun’s smile was soft. “It’s good to see my children with their own offspring. Warms my heart.”
“You have enough children that they should keep you busy with grandkids for a long time.” Malou took a sip of the tea. Minutes ago, it had tasted refreshing but now it left a sour taste in her mouth. She set it aside on a low wooden table.
“Yes, that’s my hope. Ridge and Kashley are stressed about not having a little one of their own yet. But I keep telling them God will do His will in time. They’re probably putting too much pressure on themselves.”
Malou nodded. “I’ve seen it and studied it. You’re right. As soon as a couple gives up, the pressure lessens and they’re pregnant.” She got up. “I’d better check the cornbread. I don’t want it burning around the edges.”
Mrs. Calhoun followed her inside, and soon everyone else flooded in for lunch too. Sitting next to West with her hand cradled in his big one beneath the table while sharing a meal she’d prepared for them all gave her a feeling of extreme peace.
The cornbread platter was passed along with butter. Then the rich stew was dumped into each bowl. As soon as the fragrant steam hit Malou, her stomach heaved.
She shoved away from the table and ran for it.
“What the—”
“Malou, you okay?”
She ignored them and hit her knees in front of the toilet in time to empty her stomach. Sweat broke out on her brow, and it wasn’t from the nausea. No, it was fear, pure and simple.
Twice she’d been sick.
A footstep behind her alerted her that West had come to her aid. She leaned forward and let loose again. Her mind in turmoil as it rifled through the calendar dates. She didn’t get a regular period—she skipped the placebo birth control pills and just had a period every three months or so. Her period was no guide.
But her breasts were more tender. And she was throwing up.
Tears filled her eyes, and she backhanded them away. West’s touch on her hair and shoulders should give her calm, but it did the opposite. She needed to get out of here and think.
“I-I’m going to go home.”
“What?” he asked. “No. I’ll take you to my room and you can lie down.”
She pushed upright and pressed a hand to the back of her mouth as the room spun again. “I’ll be fine. I’ll roll the windows down in the truck and the breeze will make me feel better.”
West’s features were pinched as he searched her face. “Lou, I don’t want you to leave yet. I know you don’t want any more lunch, but at least stay the afternoon.”
She shook her head. Steeling herself. She hadn’t earned her degree being soft-hearted. She’d needed to dig deep into her most ruthless self and go. But the part who adored West’s kisses and had let herself fall in love with him yelled for her to stay and tell him what she suspected.
That she was carrying his baby.
Her mind reeled again, and she must have moved too, because he steadied her. “Please, Lou. Stay until you feel better.”
“I’ll feel better at home.” Where I can take a pregnancy test.
When had it happened? She’d never skipped a pill. Sure, they’d had that heated time without a condom, but the birth control should have prevented it.
Tears filled her eyes, and West gave a low groan. He pulled her into his arms. “Baby, c’mere. Damn. I hate seeing you feel this bad. Can I at least drive you?”
She shook her head against his chest, unsure what to do with all the emotions roiling through her system, and probably compounded from pregnancy. She pushed back. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”
He gave her an uncertain look and opened his mouth to speak but just nodded. She flushed the sickness away and washed her hands. Then he led her out. They had to pass through the kitchen to reach the front door. All eyes fell upon her, but she only saw one set of mismatched eyes, one bright blue, one warm brown. Kashley staring at her through her tears. The woman who wanted a child and hadn’t yet conceived.
And the look on her face said she suspected exactly what Malou did.
“Thank you all. Enjoy your meal.” She scurried out with West on her heels. She got into her truck and allowed him to drop a kiss to her forehead before speeding away.
What was she going to do?
* * * * *
Dr. Rory was the go-to gal for maternity care at the clinic. And she was also discreet enough that Malou trusted her not to blurt it to the world that she was pregnant.
“I don’t have to tell you that sometimes all birth controls can fail.”
Malou nodded, lying stiffly against the bed. The ultrasound machine hummed, but the monitor was black. In moments she’d see the little blip on the screen of a heart. Her baby.
West’s baby.
“You weren’t taking any antibiotics to lessen the effects of the pill?” Rory asked, her big brown eyes expressive.
“No. And we used condoms every time except once.”
“Well, that might be it or it might not. Let’s have a look.” She raised the ultrasound wand. With the other hand she squeezed a liberal amount of warmed gel onto Malou’s still-flat stomach.
As soon as the screen lit up with an image, Malou’s heart raced.
“Just relax. Your heart rate is high. It will be okay. I’ll tell you how far along you are, and then we can discuss your options.” The words ran off her tongue like water flowed through a valley. But Malou was Hopi, and new life was revered. She couldn’t ever abort her baby.
“Okay, here’s the uterus.” Rory moved the wand around. “And here… is your baby.” She paused for a long minute, staring at the screen.
“It looks big,” Malou said.
“Yes, it does. Let me take some measurements.” She clicked a few buttons and some numbers rolled across the bottom of the screen. “This gives your gestation as fourteen weeks and three days.”
Malou jerked. Her mouth fell open but she had no words.
“That surprises you.”
“Y-yes. That means I got pregnant the first time we’d been together.”
Rory smiled. “So the condom didn’t matter anyway. It seems this baby definitely wanted to be created.”
Tears tumbled down Malou’s face as they got a closer look at the child growing inside her. Each body part came into view—tiny fingers and toes. A profile, and a clear image of its nose, which gave her
a sharp pang. Was she imagining it, or did it have West’s nose?
“Do you want to know the sex?”
“You can tell now?”
“Not one hundred percent. And we’ll still have you come back for a scan in a month. But I can take a look if you’d like.”
Malou thought about it. If she knew the gender, the baby would be real in a way it hadn’t been since she’d seen those two lines on her test. But to her, it was real anyway. She was having this baby.
Whether or not West was involved was another story.
She pushed out a shaky breath and nodded. “Yes, let’s see.”
Rory moved the wand around. Malou’s eyes were too blurry to see the screen clearly. “What is it?” she asked.
“Are you sure you don’t want a surprise?”
Suddenly, she wondered if that would be best. Telling her boyfriend that he was going to be a father was one thing. Telling him congrats, you’re having a boy/girl was entirely another.
“Let’s wait.”
“I’ll write the answer and put it into an envelope. You can open it later if you’d like.” She wiped off the ultrasound wand and sat back to look at Malou with concern. “Do you want to talk about options?”
“No,” she answered firmly.
“Well, you know what can be done at this stage of pregnancy. But if you’d like to talk things over with me, I’m always here.”
“I know. Thank you, Rory.” She rested her hand on her friend’s.
“Here’s a towel to clean yourself up. I’ll give you a minute, okay?” Rory handed her a towel and then left the room.
Malou stared at her stomach, which suddenly didn’t look as flat at it had minutes ago. Inside was a little baby swimming around, one bearing West’s nose.
How was she going to tell him? Did she even want to? It would be easy enough to run—leave her job here at the clinic and as the rodeo doc. Go back to the reservation and have her baby.
But they’d always leave things unfinished. She’d never get over West, and she knew him well enough to understand he’d never leave her alone until he had a reason why she’d gone.
