April wrinkled her nose. “Very good question. I told Gage the other day we’re going to end up pulling a random name from a hat at this rate.”
“Rambling Mountain Resort doesn’t do it for you?” Axel looked like he wanted to laugh. “Just go with the obvious, I say.”
“Like Clay Horse Farms?”
“It says who and what we are, doesn’t it?” He led the way to a tidy office half the size of the foaling stall where Megan happily spent the rest of the afternoon looking through the records of all the horses already entered in the sale they’d be having in August.
Megan didn’t plan to still be there by the time of the sale, but that didn’t preclude her from choosing from the offerings beforehand, and she felt like they’d come up with a solid place to start by the time April dropped her off at her truck, still parked outside of the now-closed Ruby’s Diner. It would necessitate a few trips out of town to see some of the animals Axel thought she would like, but that was fine with Megan.
Maybe with a little breathing space, she would be able to get her senses back under control where Nick was concerned. Maybe she’d be able to figure out how she was going to tell him about the baby without causing him to cut and run the way her father and her grandfather had done.
It was raining by the time she let herself into her motel room. She shrugged out of her jacket and kicked off her boots before turning the knob on the unit beneath the window from cool to heat. She hoped it would actually produce some warmth after all the shuddering and groaning, because the room was barely any warmer than outside.
Despite the Reuben at Ruby’s earlier that day, her stomach was growling in a way that no instant ramen cup would satisfy, so she ordered a pizza before dealing with her voice mail.
She listened to Kimmie’s latest message, which was really more of a lecture delivered in her high-pitched chipmunk tone regarding the importance of proper prenatal care.
Megan returned the call but only reached the voice mail because the women’s clinic had already closed for the day. She left a message for Kimmie that she was seeing a doctor elsewhere and hung up.
And then, because her conscience nagged her, she yanked out the inch-thick phone book from the nightstand drawer, found a listing for a doctor in Braden who did not share the Templeton name and left a message to make an appointment. There was no way she’d see a doctor in Weaver.
With her luck the doctor would turn out to be yet another one of Nick’s “cousins.”
The window unit was still huffing and wheezing but producing no measurable heat yet, so she took a hot shower that steamed up not only the minuscule bathroom, but also a good portion of the room.
She wrapped her hair in a towel and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a thermal long-sleeved undershirt. Then she propped herself up on the pillows and got under the blanket she dragged from the extra bed before picking up her phone again.
Feeling annoyingly nervous, she dialed Rory’s number.
What would she say to her friend?
You found a husband when you weren’t looking. But I did you one better—I’m pregnant.
She swallowed hard when the ringing stopped, and Rory answered. “Hello!”
Megan steeled herself. Just blurt it out. “Hey, you’re never—”
“Sorry that I’ve missed your call, but you know the drill. Leave a message!”
The beep sounded.
“Hey,” Megan repeated, trying to force some cheer into her tone. “Just...just calling you back. Finally.” She cleared her throat. There was no way she could tell Rory she was pregnant in a voice mail. “Tell the gorgeous Gage that his equestrian facilities here are going to be amazing. Like the angels from Angel River took flight up here or something.” She thumped herself on the forehead. Attempts at poetic imagery were as unlikely from her as pointless phone calls. “Anyway...” Her throat felt a little tight. “Give Killy a kiss for me and, um...” She cleared her throat. “I miss you guys, too.”
She hung up and thumped her head against the pillow behind her, then nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a knock on her door.
“Pizza Bella,” the muffled voice called through the door.
Oh, the pizza. Duh. She shoved aside the blanket to grab some cash from her wallet for the driver’s tip before yanking open the door.
Only it was Nick who was standing there.
Nick, wearing a tan all-weather coat with the collar flipped up over a dark sweater and black jeans, looking like an ad from some highfalutin outdoor-gear place. Water streamed down from the edge of his umbrella. He was holding the pizza box.
Megan looked past him. “Where’s the delivery guy?”
“On his way to his next delivery.” He pushed the box into her hand. “You gonna let a guy in out of the rain or what?”
She stepped back, feeling unsettled.
He entered, collapsing the umbrella and leaving it propped against the door after he closed it. “How’d it go out at Axel’s?”
“Fine.” She ran her fingers along the edge of the cardboard box. “What’re you doing here? And don’t say you’ve picked up a new side hustle because you need the delivery tips.” She was glad she’d paid for the pizza over the phone when she’d ordered it, at least. Otherwise, she’d be beholden to Nick for another meal.
Despite the umbrella, his hair glimmered with drops of rain, which made the dark strands look even richer. “I wanted to drop these off.” He pulled several catalogs from inside his jacket, where he’d obviously been protecting them from the rain. “Cabinetry.” He tossed them on the extra bed. “If you want to take a look and see if anything strikes your fancy.”
She lifted an eyebrow and the towel wrapped around her hair began slipping down her forehead. “For the horse barn?”
“What else? You wanted an office. And the feed needs to be stored in something.”
She slid the pizza box onto the dresser and readjusted the towel on her head. She felt as if he’d caught her wearing only a towel. As it stood, he was dressed in a coat that probably cost an arm and a leg and she was wearing faded sweats that she’d owned for ten years. “I had something more utilitarian in mind than cabinetry.”
“Steel shelves and five-gallon buckets, I suppose.”
“Something wrong with that?”
“Form follows function. Doesn’t mean it shouldn’t look good in the proc—” He broke off and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Sorry.” He frowned slightly. “I’d better—” He didn’t finish, but just held the phone to his ear. “Hey, Delia. What’s up?”
Megan leaned against the dresser, deciding abruptly that if he wanted privacy for his call, he could go right back out into the rain.
He looked up at the ceiling, then around at the window unit, which sounded like it was suffocating. “Tell Vivian everything’s on track and I’ll call her back when I have a chance. Yeah. I’ll see you later.” He pocketed the phone again. “Sorry about that. It’s cold in here.”
“How can you tell?” She gestured at his coat.
His gaze slid over her. “I can tell.”
Beneath the ancient, soft waffle-weave shirt, her nipples tightened even more. She crossed her arms, but he’d turned away to poke at the buttons of the heating unit.
“That’s not gonna help,” she told him. “Already tried.”
“Have you told the office?”
“I’m not complaining about that thing. They’d probably want me to move to a different room and—in case you haven’t noticed—it’s raining.”
“Admit it.” He shot her a wicked grin. “You’d miss our memories from room number twenty-two.”
The thought was alarming.
What if he was right?
“Get over yourself.” She carried the pizza box over to her pillow-mounded bed and arranged herself once more with the extra blanket. Then
she flipped open the box and removed a slice of the heart-attack special.
The first bite was as divine as she’d anticipated. “Oh, yes,” she said around her mouthful.
He swore at the asthmatic window unit and straightened.
“Told you.” She considered offering him a piece of the pizza but decided that it was probably safer all around if she didn’t. “So what’re you all dressed up for,” she asked. “Hot date with Delia?”
“Yeah, right. I’m heading to Gillette.” He raked back his hair, and the glimmering specks of rainwater disappeared.
She was itching to run her fingers through his hair, too, but shoved another bite of pizza in her mouth instead.
A woman needed to satisfy at least some of her cravings.
“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to drop off the catalogs. I’ll be gone for a few days.”
“What were the other reasons?”
His eyebrows came down. “What?”
“Never mind.”
He paced around the bed—the bed—as if he didn’t want to get too close to it.
She knew the feeling. So why hadn’t she requested another room by now? The only days the Cozy Night didn’t have any vacancies were weekends.
“You could stay at my place. At least it’s got a freaking thermostat that works.”
Her legs came down off the bed and the pizza box slid alarmingly close to the edge of the mattress. She rescued it and placed it safely on the middle of the bed. “No thanks.”
“I’m not even going to be there!”
“And when you’re back? What then?”
He sighed noisily and yanked his cuff, glancing at the sturdy watch on his wrist. “I need to get going.”
“Late for that date?”
“Keep bringing that up and I’ll start thinking you’re jealous.”
She gave him a look and took an enormous bite of pizza. Better to keep her mouth too full to talk.
Only problem with that was not choking when he stepped between the beds and leaned over her, arms braced on the mattress next to her hip.
Then, she didn’t dare move.
Chew. Breathe.
“You could pretend that you’ll miss me a little bit.” His voice was low. Deep.
He leaned even closer.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, and heat rushed through her veins. It pulsed in her breasts and pooled between her thighs.
He lifted his hand.
She was weak. If he so much as touched her, she was going to pull him down with her, and then she’d have two damn beds in this room where she didn’t have a hope in Hades of getting a peaceful night’s rest.
His hand passed through the air two inches above her aching breasts.
He reached into the pizza box and pulled out a slice.
Then he straightened and she couldn’t help wondering whether she was imagining the devil in his eyes or not.
He toasted her with the slice and devoured it in a few bites, right up to the crispy edge of the delectable crust.
A crust that—he leaned over her again—he tossed back in the box.
Definitely with the devil in his eyes.
Which set off a fresh conflagration inside her.
By some grace, he turned away, and missed the hand she’d stretched out toward him.
Her fingers curled and she shoved her hand down next to her thigh.
Bad fingers.
He tucked his umbrella under his arm. “Try to stay out of trouble until I get back.”
She gave a derisive sniff. “Right.”
His teeth flashed, then he pulled open the door and a fresh stream of wet air rushed into the room before he left.
With the door closed once more, her room felt cold all over again. Cold and empty.
Trouble?
Megan sank back against her pillows and shivered. She flattened her hand against her heart.
That horse has already escaped the barn.
Chapter Eleven
“All right.” Dr. Natalie Ambrose snapped off her gloves as she pulled down the paper that was draped over Megan’s legs and rolled away on her low stool. “Everything’s looking great, Megan.” She disposed of her gloves and washed her hands in a small sink. “Any questions?”
Other than how did I get myself into this?
Megan shook her head. She was still feeling choked up from hearing the baby’s heartbeat.
It had sounded like galloping hooves.
Everything else the doctor had done during the exam had been entirely mundane in comparison.
“You can get dressed and I’ll meet you in my office when you’re ready.”
Megan waited for the doctor to leave the examining room before she pushed herself up from the table. She yanked off the paper robe and pitched it in the trash, then put on her jeans and sweatshirt.
It had been three weeks since she’d left the message to get an appointment with the ob-gyn. Three weeks since Nick had shown up at her motel room to let her know he’d be gone for a “few” days.
Oh, he’d called her a few times from Gillette, where he’d said one of his jobs had hit a serious snag.
Once to let her know that the building plans for the stables were officially a “go.”
Once to ask if she’d enjoyed the town’s Memorial Day celebration and meeting the governor at the state-park dedication. April and Jed must have told him about that.
After those first two calls, Megan had faced up to the horrifying fact that she missed him.
Not just the way she’d missed seeing Rory and Killy after they’d moved to Denver with Gage.
The way Megan missed Nick was keener. With a far sharper edge that wasn’t familiar—or welcome—at all.
And before Nick’s third call—just two days ago—Megan had learned that someone else was also out of town.
Delia Templeton.
Megan learned that thanks to the chatter at Ruby’s Diner, where she’d fallen into the habit of lunching after her daily visit to the construction site.
“She off with Vivian?” Bubba, the tatted-up cook, had poked his head like a turtle out the kitchen’s pass-through to ask the question.
The waitress who’d delivered the news had shaken her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Off chasing after Nick Ventura again, I’ll bet. That’s a girl on the hunt,” said the woman sitting next to Megan at the counter. Dori worked at the bank down the street.
“Like Howard Grimes has been on the hunt after you?” Bubba had guffawed and pulled his head back into his shell while Dori blushed.
Three weeks of nearly nonstop noontime lunches at Ruby’s had not only made Megan’s jeans fit more snugly, but they’d also taught her that gossip in Ruby’s was a pastime treasured by the locals as much as, or more than, the food.
Telling herself that she didn’t give a flying fig whom Nick spent his time with was fine and dandy as long as she didn’t give herself a moment to acknowledge what a big fat lie it was.
So when Nick had called for the third time that very same evening, Megan turned off her cell phone unanswered and shoved it into the nightstand drawer.
She had to admit that her mood had been pretty bad ever since.
This was why she knew better than to get emotional where a man was concerned. She was a Forrester. And Forrester women didn’t do relationships.
When she reached Dr. Ambrose’s office, the middle-aged woman wasn’t there.
Megan sat in one of the two chairs facing the desk and crossed her legs. Uncrossed them. Recrossed them.
She pushed to her feet and restlessly prowled out to the hallway. She could hear the murmur of voices but no sign of the doctor.
She returned to perch on the chair again. The doctor had a large anatomy model of a pregnant torso sit
ting on the corner of her desk. Megan touched the model baby curled inside the uterus and it tumbled out. She tried to catch it, but it squirted out of her hand onto the carpet just as Dr. Ambrose walked into the office.
Megan smiled weakly when the doctor picked up the plastic baby. “Sorry.”
“Happens all the time,” Dr. Ambrose assured her. She popped the model baby back where it belonged. “Fortunately, the real thing doesn’t usually tumble out of place so readily.” She sat behind her desk and adjusted her eyeglasses as she studied the medical file she opened. “Before you leave today, my nurse will get you set up for your next prenatal check in four weeks. She’ll also get you scheduled for your sonogram, which will be—” she glanced at a little chart “—the last week of July.” She closed the manila folder and smiled. “Even if your partner can’t join you for your regular checks, I really encourage him to attend the ultrasound appointment. It’s an exciting moment seeing your baby for the first time. Have you been giving some thought to whether you want to know the baby’s sex?”
Megan shifted uncomfortably. “I actually live up near Wymon,” she said. “I’m not sure if I’ll still be down here by then or not.”
The doctor nodded, not seeming surprised. “Schedule the sonogram, anyway,” she advised. “It’s a lot easier to cancel the appointment than it would be to fit one in on short notice when there’s no emergency.” She made a note on the file. “Do you have any questions? Concerns?”
Megan’s gaze snuck to the baby in the model. “Shouldn’t I start showing soon? My waistband is barely getting tight.”
Dr. Ambrose’s smile widened. “I know some moms who would envy you. You’re taller than average, Megan. And frankly, a little underweight. We’ll watch that, of course, but right now there’s no reason to worry about your baby’s development. Your pregnancy is exactly where it should be. And one morning soon, you’ll wake up and you suddenly won’t be able to zip your jeans. Just have patience.”
Naturally, the doctor thought Megan was anxious to begin looking the part of pregnant mom.
“Here’s a prescription for your prenatal vitamins. The over-the-counter brand you’ve been taking is adequate, but these are still my recommendation.” Dr. Ambrose passed Megan a slip of paper. “Occasional dizziness. Mood swings. Headaches. Appetite fluctuations. Decreased sex drive. Increased sex drive. All of these things are very normal right now.”
The Horse Trainer's Secret Page 14
