Maverick (Star Valley Book 3)

by Dahlia West

  “He won’t be mad. I promise.” Leah was aware that by all rights she could make no such promise but she smiled wide anyway. Apparently, she was living dangerously now in many, many ways.

  “Room 430,” the girl whispered. She said it so quietly Leah had to ask her to repeat it.

  “You won’t get in trouble,” Leah promised again and hurried off toward the elevators. In just minutes she was standing in front of his door, feeling strange about listening for any signs of life. The last time she’d done this, he hadn’t been in the room. He hadn’t answered the phone earlier. It was possible he was out.

  If that was the case, Leah didn’t want to think about where.

  She took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and knocked. Immediately she heard his voice on the other side of the door.

  “One minute!”

  She barely had enough time to second guess herself before the door swung wide and Austin greeted her in jeans, no shirt, and barefoot. A few drops of water from his damp hair beaded onto his chest and shoulders.

  Suddenly it was very warm indoors.

  He rocked back on his feet, mouth open. “I thought it was housekeeping.”

  “Oh, um, no,” she said rather lamely. Suddenly, she felt ridiculous standing in the hall.

  “I’m not sure I would have recognized you if I’d bothered to look through the peephole. I’m not used to seeing you like this. So, I guess this is the real you.”

  All her fragile hopes came crashing down and she glared at him. “Sorry to disappoint you.” She turned on her heel, disgusted with him, herself, the whole situation.

  “Hey,” he said, hot on her heels. When she didn’t slow down, he moved around her to block her path to the elevator. “Damn it, Leah. Don’t do that. Don’t put words in my mouth, okay? God knows the ones I choose on my own haven’t been all that great. I just…I was just commenting that we don’t know each other very well. Maybe our perceptions of each other are all wrong.”

  She hesitated, glancing over his shoulder to the bank of elevators just a few feet away. Somewhere, around a corner, someone was vacuuming. It all seemed so mundane. Her life was, once again, spinning out of control but everything around her seemed to go marching on, undisturbed.

  “Do you want to come in?” he asked, gesturing toward the closed door. “Rather than stand in the hall?”

  She was about to say no when a door opened farther down. A middle aged man came out, glanced their way, then shut his room door tightly. The sharp click echoed in the hallway. She definitely didn’t want to talk out here and she was probably kidding herself that there was nothing left to say. She sighed and nodded, following him cautiously back to his room.

  With the door once more shut behind them, Austin leaned against the dresser, hands in his pockets. “Can I interest you in a vending machine beverage? Or some peanuts from the mini fridge?” He smiled, making it seem like a joke.

  Leah didn’t laugh, though.

  “I’m not an ogre, Leah,” he said, running a hand over his freshly shaven chin. “Despite all evidence to the contrary.”

  “And I’m not a whore.” It still stung that he’d thought it about her.

  He looked pained, standing there. And also tired. “I’m so damn sorry I ever implied it.” He chuckled glumly. “Guess I’ve spent too much time on the Folly.”

  “The Folly?”

  “The mine,” he replied with a wan smile. “It’s high up on a ridge. And it’s tapped out, sure, but I’ve been working on other things up there. It takes up all my time. And apparently all my manners and charm.”

  She couldn’t stop the tug at the corners of her own mouth. “Not all your charm,” she told him quietly.

  He paused for a moment and that same heated look she’d seen in the elevator (and at the bar and in his room) that night flashed in his eyes. They both looked away from each other at the same time.

  “I go to the dam,” she said, to defuse the awkwardness.

  “The dam?”

  Leah nodded. “The Buffalo Bill Dam, at the city limits. You have the Folly and I have the Cody dam. I spend a lot of time there. Probably too much time.” She tucked her chin to her chest. “I don’t know why.”

  It wasn’t quite true. Leah knew exactly why she went, but it seemed like a secret, too personal, to tell to the man standing in front of her. She didn’t know him very well and despite his apology, she still didn’t trust him. Plus, she knew she’d sound silly trying to explain its appeal.

  “I made an appointment,” she told him, steering the conversation away. “At the doctor. This afternoon.”

  Austin’s face was strange and unreadable. But then again she didn’t even know him.

  Leah was surprised. Did he want the baby? Did he even care? “To confirm it,” she added quickly and watched, curiously, as he merely nodded.

  “Okay,” he said, running a large hand through his thick, dark hair. “Let me, ah, let me come with you.”

  “You don’t have to. I can borrow Candace’s. Or take the bus.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’m already in town and I’m obviously free. I can take you. Let me help, Leah.”

  She nodded, slowly, convincing herself. She didn’t really want to go alone, anyway, and Candace had to work. “Okay. I guess…I guess that’d be all right.” She waited for him to grab his keys and his phone and he walked with her to the bank of elevators down the hall.

  This hotel wasn’t nearly as nice as the one where they’d stayed in Jackson and she wondered if despite his huge family home and enormous ranch, Austin Barlow might be much more down to earth than she’d imagined.

  They waited for the car and he paused for her to step inside before following her in. He reached for the button at the same time she did. Their hands touched, he hesitated, then drew his back.

  “I’ll get it,” she told him. Around them it felt as though the air had become electrified. Leah thought back to him asking her to lift her dress and she shivered in the heavily air conditioned enclosure.

  He must’ve been thinking of the same moment because when she glanced at him, he gave her a sheepish grin. “What is it with us and elevators?”

  She smiled, unable to help herself.

  “You were pretty that day,” he declared.

  Leah wrinkled her nose. “Push up bra and fake hair.”

  “It wasn’t that. Because you’re still pretty.”

  She turned to look at him, even as all the air seemed to be sucked out of the tiny space.

  Austin looked at her as well, and for a moment she thought he was going to move closer. And then, surprisingly—shockingly—he did! He took one step just before the bell above them dinged. The door slid open and an older woman with a rolling suitcase hustled her way inside. Austin stepped away, shaking his head, putting the woman between them. “What is it with us and elevators?” he repeated quietly.

  “A tight fit,” the woman replied.

  Austin snorted and looked away.

  Leah groaned.

  Thankfully the trip was short and the tell tale bump at the end of the ride had Leah sighing in relief. The woman trundled out with her baggage leaving Austin and Leah to deal with their own.

  A moment passed between them before he reached out and held the door for her. His hand fell to the small of her back as she passed him, maybe he couldn’t help himself. Leah couldn’t suppress the shiver that thrilled up her spine.

  As the door slid shut behind them, she couldn’t help but think it might be more than elevators that had them acting this way.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‡

  Austin didn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable or guilty about laughing at the private joke. They needed some comic relief at this point. If his younger brother Sawyer wasn’t here to provide it, Austin saw nothing wrong with taking on the job himself. They were on shaky ground, he and Leah (and anyone else who might come along), and as tough as it was on him, he knew it couldn’t be any easier for her.

&nb
sp; In the doctor’s office, the spur of the moment comic relief had worn off entirely and Leah looked nervous again being led, along with him, to an exam room down a short, stark white hallway.

  “Just go on in there, dear, and put this on,” said the tech pointing to a curtain in the corner.

  Leah disappeared behind the curtain and emerged from the alcove clad in a cotton gown that didn’t look very attractive or comfortable. Austin gave her a reassuring smile as she sat down on the exam table. The sum total of his experience with reproduction came from cows and horses. They’d even brought in a portable ultrasound once when one of Dakota’s mares was having some difficulty with her first foal. It didn’t look anything like the machine the technician now was wheeling across the floor and this room was cold and sterile and smelled like disinfectant instead of the warm, familiar scent of hay and grain back home. He was definitely out of his depth.

  The tech seemed nice, though. A plump, middle aged woman who offered them both an easy smile as she snapped on a pair of gloves. He appreciated her efforts but it didn’t help much. When Austin turned to Leah, she looked upset, with lips pressed together, nostrils flaring. He took her hand because she looked like she might cry and because he’d made her cry, before—and hell, who knew—he probably would again, idiot that he was. She squeezed his hand but didn’t look relieved.

  “It might be early yet, for the heartbeat,” the tech told them.

  “So does that mean you don’t know…you don’t know if it’s okay?” Leah asked quietly.

  The tech glanced up for a moment. “Well, everything looks—whoops, there it is!” she announced and held the wand with one hand so she could twist a dial on the machine beside her.

  The sound of a whirring thump, a little like the wings of a hummingbird—Austin thought maybe, if you could hear them—filled the small room.

  Leah gripped his hand so hard it shocked him. He could never have imagined the strength in her small hand before this moment. There was so much about her he didn’t know.

  So there they were, two strangers who’d made a third.

  While she dressed in a small, curtained alcove minutes later, the technician handed him a strip of glossy black and white photos printed from the monitor’s screen before she left. Now alone in the larger exam room, he gazed at them in wonder. It was a lot to take in, a huge challenge, and he hoped to God he was up to the task.

  She emerged from behind the curtain looking as bewildered as he felt. Unsure what to say at this point, he simply handed her the photo strip. They both made it down the hallway and spilled out into the glaringly bright parking lot. Leah suddenly doubled over in front of him and Austin dashed forward toward her.

  “Leah!” he cried as he grabbed her by the arms. It wasn’t until she threw her head back that he saw her smiling through her tears.

  “It’s really a baby!” she breathed, clutching his shirt with one hand and the strip of photos with the other. “I wasn’t even sure I really believed it! It never felt real.”

  Austin’s heart pounded in his chest, his hands were nearly shaking from assuming something had been terribly wrong. He’d barely had time to adjust to all this baby stuff himself, but seeing her wide smile went a long way to calm his jangling nerves.

  “Do you feel well enough to eat?” he asked, concerned that she was so thin. He nodded at the row of shops across the street, one of which was a small cafe with a few outdoor tables and chairs.

  “I…” she glanced over her shoulder at the direction he had indicated. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

  It was good enough for him, as far as answers went. Austin guided her across the intersection and they took a table on the sidewalk, covered by an umbrella to shield them from the scorching sun.

  He leaned back in the rickety chair and ran his fingertip once more over the glossy photo strip lying on the table between them. A baby, his baby. He didn’t doubt it now, thinking back to how tight she’d felt when he’d been inside her. Leah hadn’t had anyone before him in a very long time and looking at her now, he doubted she’d had anyone since.

  His baby.

  And now…his woman.

  Or at least…his responsibility.

  He was a Barlow and he couldn’t walk away. “What are we going to do about this, Leah?” he asked quietly.

  She shook her head at him. “We…don’t have to do anything. You can go.”

  “That’s not going to happen. What do you need?” he asked, eyeing her closely. “Seems like you need a lot.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Medical bills,” she declared.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll help you with those, obviously. I can—”

  “No. I mean, I have medical bills. Already. From…before.”

  Austin watched as she swallowed hard and finally met his gaze.

  “It’s why my apartment looks the way it does. Why I look the way I do, I guess. I was on my parents’ insurance until two years ago. When Dad lost his job at the quarry, we lost the coverage. They can’t pay for me, too. I mean, they tried. They wanted to. But I wouldn’t let them.” She sighed. “I had to have one last round of treatment. And that’s all on me. They’ve been through enough.”

  From where he was sitting, Leah Pierce had perhaps been through more than enough herself. “How long have you been…sick?” She cast a dour look at him and he knew better than to ask at this point but he still wanted to know. “Will the baby be okay?” he added, thinking she might be more forthcoming if she thought he was asking for the sake of their child.

  Their child.

  It hit him again how much his life was about to change. It hardly felt real, yet nothing had felt so pressing, so urgent, so overwhelming, either.

  She paled at his question and he felt sorry he’d even asked. “I don’t know,” she whispered, blinking rapidly.

  God damn, Austin did not want to see her cry even one more time. He’d had enough. He fumbled for a napkin on the table and tried to hand it to her.

  She waved him away. “I don’t know,” she repeated.

  “Leah, I have to ask. If we need help, if there’s something we can do…”

  “There’s nothing we can do. There’s nothing. I just have to hope…”

  He had to hope, as well, and she seemed to have left him out of the equation. It might not have been on purpose, though. God knew she had enough on her mind. It seemed petty to remind her of his stake in this. It was a lot to take in. She hadn’t exactly signed on for this, either, he reminded himself.

  “I had leukemia,” she said grudgingly. “I guess I have to tell you. For the baby’s sake. I was diagnosed when I was little. I…there were a lot of treatments. It went into remission and we thought it was over. But it came back and there were more treatments.”

  “I know how it is,” he confided to her.

  Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

  “My mother died when I was younger. Breast cancer. We thought we’d beat it once, but…” He shook his head. “There was nothing we could do.”

  “I…I’m sorry.”

  The horrible weight of his words hung between them because there were obviously no guarantees for Leah, either.

  “The treatments destroyed my body,” she said. “I didn’t lie to you, when I said it was okay, at the hotel, the night we…” She waved her hand at him again. He realized it was because her eyes were welling up with tears. “Whatever.”

  Austin saw her cheeks pinken all the way to her ears. If things weren’t so difficult right now, he might’ve thought she looked adorable, embarrassed to be talking about sex. She’d been wild that night, though, a caged animal turned loose. It made sense now.

  “I thought it was okay,” she told him. “They said I’d…” She paused, gripped the edge of the table, and blew out a long breath.

  Austin could tell she was fighting back tears. That was a thing he was finding surprising, and admirable.

  This girl was a fighter through and through. She was so young, though. F
ourteen years his junior. He could kick himself for ever buying her a drink in the first place. He should’ve known better. She’d been through so much in such a short time. She seemed so much older sometimes.

  “They said I’d probably never have children. They thought all my eggs were damaged. From the chemo.” She sniffed and looked away. “I was alive but couldn’t have a life. Or give one. But…” Her hand fluttered to her belly. “I guess they were wrong.”

  “Okay,” he said numbly, though none of it was okay, not one single bit of it. How awful to survive something like that only to be told you were permanently scarred by it. “So…you’re keeping the ba—”

  Her head snapped back forcefully and she pinned him with a look so intense he nearly shrank away instinctively. “This is my baby!” she hissed, leaning forward in her chair. “My baby! And I am not getting rid of it! Not for you, not for anyone.”

  “Leah, no one’s asking you to—”

  “Maybe you should go,” she said, her voice getting louder now. “Go back to Star Valley. Forget about me, about us. We’ll be fine.”

  “Leah, you came to me.”

  “You’re not who I thought you were,” she said. “Or…you’re not who I wanted you to be. But I did what was right. I told you. You know. So, I did my part. Let’s not pretend like this is normal or fixable. You should go. I won’t ever ask you for anything.”

  “Leah—”

  “That’s what you want, anyway. You told me to leave. So, I did. Now I’m telling you to leave. Go ahead and go. And we never have to think about each other again. I’ve got this, Austin. I never knew how much I wanted it back when I thought it could never, ever happen. But now that it has…”

  Austin saw a look of fierce determination cross her face. It was admirable, if not a little disheartening, to know she was making plans to do this all alone.

  “I’ve got this,” she repeated. “I can do this. I want this.”

  He passed her a napkin since it looked like she was going to cry again and then he kicked himself for not being more helpful, for not knowing what to say. Table manners were no substitute for actual human kindness and Austin realized that so far, since he’d met her, he hadn’t shown Leah any kindness, not at all. He’d used her to have himself a good time without giving her even a second thought. And when she needed him after, he’d abused her again.