by Amy Lillard
He rapped lightly on her door and let himself in at her summons. Then he shut the door behind him and sprawled on the couch.
“Sit up straight,” his mother commanded.
He didn’t move.
“What are you going to do about this, Jake?”
He hoisted himself upright, but his legs were still sprawled out in front of him. “I don’t think there’s a lot I can do. Maybe convert her room into a nursery. That way the baby will have someplace to stay.”
His mother pushed her reading glasses down on her nose and glared at him. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“It means that I’m not the only one making decisions here.”
“So because she doesn’t think you should get married, you aren’t?”
“I’ll be the first to admit that this is not the optimum situation. But I can’t make her marry me.”
“Nor do you want to.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“You can’t make a different outcome by not marrying her.”
And for that he had no response. He was willing to make anything—anything—different this time in order to keep her safe. “But I can’t make it different by marrying her either.”
“Jake, it’s best—”
He cut her off with a quick shake of his head. “Mother, as much as I appreciate your concern and input, we are both grown and can handle it.”
“But—” she protested.
“No buts. If Bryn doesn’t want to get married, then we won’t. And there’s nothing that will change that.”
But if she did . . . damn. This day was definitely not turning out as planned.
• • •
Hesitantly, Bryn stepped out onto the verandah. It was only seven o’clock and the sun wasn’t ready to go down, but the sky held the orange promise of a beautiful West Texas sunset.
Was she ready to face Jake and his family? She took a steadying breath and ran a hand down the front of her lilac smock top. She had paired it with white skinny-legged capris and tan-colored cork wedge heels. By far it was the dressiest thing she had brought with her on this trip, but that wasn’t saying much. Yet it seemed the occasion was more casual than she had anticipated.
Jake was standing next to a man who could have been his twin. His doppelganger was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, a gun belt and badge strapped around his narrow hips. That must be Seth.
The two of them were talking to a slim woman with curly red hair. Undoubtedly Jessie, though Bryn didn’t see Evelyn, Esther, or Wesley anywhere.
Jake saw her first, looking up and catching her eye as she came near. “Hi,” he said. He seemed in some sort of trance as if he too was having trouble believing that this was all real. But he looked handsome. Oh, did he look handsome. He had changed since she had seen him last. Now he wore a shirt much like his brother’s except where Seth’s had some sort of crest, Jake’s held what looked to be a brand. Jeans were expertly pressed and dark brown boots shined to perfection.
“Hi,” she greeted. Somehow keeping her voice steady when all she really wanted to do was drool.
“Bryn, I’d like you to meet my brother Seth and his wonderful wife, Jessie.”
Seth shook her hand and Jessie gave her a hug, both working overtime to put her at ease. And for that she was grateful. She was a stranger in a strange land and she had no idea how to proceed.
“Does everyone in these parts carry a gun or are you studying to be an outlaw?”
Jessie chuckled.
“Seth here is the sheriff of Page County,” Jake explained.
“A lawman in the family. That’s always a plus.” Bryn smiled.
“Don’t count on it,” Jessie said. “He arrested me twice!”
“That sounds like quite a story.”
Jake nodded. “It is at that.”
Jessie looped her arm through Bryn’s and turned her toward the house. “Sit by me at dinner, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
• • •
Bryn looked out over the pool to the ranch beyond. The buildings and other fenced areas created an L around the property, and she wondered what they were all used for. She had no idea the ranch would be this . . . sprawling. But it seemed as if that was the measure of Texas. Sprawling.
Even the table they had eaten at was a huge entity that seemed to go on for miles.
But it had been fun. She had worried about sitting at a table with a bunch of strangers. That was what they were to her, strangers. Even Jake.
And that was the weirdest part of all. They were having a baby and they didn’t know the first thing about each other. But come tomorrow, that was one thing they were going to have to work on. Just how did one go about getting to know the father of her child?
She moved a little further out onto the patio, staring up at the billion stars in the sky. Maybe it was because the land was so flat or maybe things really were bigger in Texas, but it seemed that there were twice the number of stars here than in Georgia.
She heard a clicking noise and looked to see Kota padding across the patio. She didn’t know a lot about dogs, but he seemed friendly enough. What was it Jake had said? As long as she didn’t break from the herd. She wasn’t exactly sure what that meant but she could guess.
“Come here, doggy.” She lowered her voice and stooped over a bit, holding her hand out toward the pooch. He really was the craziest-colored dog she had ever seen. Mostly black, white, and gray with rusty patches thrown in for good measure. Kind of like a German shepherd that had been liberally flecked with bleach. She supposed he was some sort of herding dog, though she had no idea of the exact breed. Wait, weren’t they just called cow dogs?
Kota came closer, slowing and finally coming to a stop right in front of her. He sat on his haunches and stared up at her expectantly.
“You’re a good dog, right?” She hesitantly scratched him behind one ear.
He tilted his head to the side and she took that as a good sign.
“Yes, you are,” she said, gaining more confidence where he was concerned.
“Nice night.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Dog forgotten, she whirled around, hand pressed to her pounding heart. “Jake! You scared me!”
“I didn’t mean to.”
She lurched to the side and apparently Kota considered her breaking from the herd. He nipped at her heel, effectively keeping her in place.
“Ow,” she exclaimed more from surprise than pain.
Concern immediately took over Jake’s expression. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
She shook her head. “He just scared me a bit.”
Jake nodded, though he let out a high-pitched whistle. Kota immediately left Bryn to stand at his side, though she could tell Kota really wanted to make sure she behaved. Well, according to a cow dog’s standards anyway.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“Same thing as you, I guess. Enjoying the evening.”
“Wesley in bed?”
“Finally.” He chuckled. “She was pretty wound up at supper.”
“She’s a wonderful little girl.”
A silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of the night. There were no cars or horns. No sirens out here, just the low of the cows and the occasional bark as one of the other dogs heard something it didn’t like.
Kota’s ears stood up and he let out a small whine, but he never left Jake’s side.
“Go on,” Jake commanded.
The dog took off into the night.
She could hear the dogs barking, then things grew quiet once more.
“What are we going to do?” she quietly asked.
“Get married.”
She shook her head. “I can’t marry you.” Though her heart leapt at the prospect. Down, girl. He mi
ght be one of the most handsome men she had ever met and the fifteenth most eligible bachelor in the entire state, but she didn’t belong here. And he surely wouldn’t pick up and move to Georgia. So where did that leave them? “I guess we should talk about visitation and that sort of thing.” It sounded cold, like they were talking about something other than a living, breathing child. Something less.
“Why not? I have a good job, enough money to take care of you and the baby, and all my own teeth.”
“This is not why I told you about the baby.”
He took a step toward her. A menacing step, or was that a trick of the shadows where he stood? “Then why did you tell me, Bryn? You obviously don’t want money or a ring. So why come here and tell me when you have no intention of letting me be a major part of the child’s life?”
“Maybe this was a mistake.”
“You think?” He took another step, this one bringing him close enough that she had to crane her head back to meet his cold green gaze.
“Not the baby.” She waved a hand around as if to dismiss that idea. “Coming here.”
“That’s what I’m talking about as well.”
She swallowed hard as he continued to tower over her.
“So why did you?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered in return.
Something changed between them, shifted, until the night seemed to hold something each one had been searching for but had never managed to find.
“Could it be you want to know if what we shared that night was real?”
“Of—of course it was real,” she sputtered. Deliberately obtuse was not her best look.
“You know what I mean.” He reached up a hand and brushed her hair back from her face. “I don’t remember the purple,” he murmured.
“Rick—my friend I was with that night—he thought it would be fun.”
“Does he always advise you?”
“Sometimes.” When had he gotten this close to her, and why had she only noticed now? It would take only a breath and he could swoop in and capture her lips with his own. Or maybe she should raise up on her toes and see if his kisses were as hot and sweet as she remembered.
And if they were? What then?
She wrenched herself from his embrace, only then realizing that somehow his arms had gotten wrapped around her.
“No.” The one word was breathless with anticipation and disappointment. “You can’t manipulate me this way. It’s not fair.” She backed away from him and fled to her room.
She could not fall under his spell again.
Chapter Four
Bryn opened her eyes, blinking a couple of times until she remembered where she was, Jake’s house.
She rolled over and glanced around the room, unable to see a clock. She had no idea what time it was. She had stopped wearing a watch long ago. Once they knew that Emery’s time was limited, they stopped measuring it in minutes, simply living each day in events. Trips to the zoo, the movies, out to sidewalk cafes for lunch, or simply a hot chocolate. There had been no need to tell time then, while it was ticking away faster than she cared to acknowledge.
With a sigh, she stretched and stood, then stretched again. Lord, she felt like her belly had grown twice as big overnight. It seemed no matter how closely she watched what she ate, she gained weight. It wasn’t that she minded the extra girth, but she knew the doctor would fuss at her for health reasons. At her next appointment they would do the glucose tolerance test, and she was a little apprehensive that they would tell her that she had gestational diabetes.
But until then . . .
She made her way to the bathroom and took a quick shower, brushed her teeth and dressed, then headed out of her room to find the rest of the household.
It couldn’t be too late. She never slept past eight in her life, but she suspected that for the Langstons, eight a.m. was more like mid-morning.
“You’re still here!” At least Wesley’s unusual greeting sounded happy.
“I’m still here,” Bryn said, taking quick note that only Grandma Esther was around to take care of the young girl. They were making pancakes dubiously shaped like Mickey Mouse. Or maybe they were supposed to be caterpillars. Hard to say.
The pair looked much the same as they had the day before. Esther wore pull-on jeans, a novelty T-shirt, and her black walking shoes. Wesley looked as if she had been through a windstorm with her hair in a haphazard ponytail that looked like she had slept in it. Her clothes appeared clean, even though the denim shorts had red gingham trim that clashed a bit with her purple Cowgirl Princess T-shirt. Once again she wore cowboy boots, but that was to be expected.
“Are you hungry?” Esther asked. “I can make you some pancakes too.”
“Starving,” Bryn admitted with a quirk of a smile.
“Would you like three or four?” she asked.
“One.”
“What’s wrong?” Wesley asked. “You like pancakes, don’t ya? Everybody likes pancakes, right, Grandma Esther?”
“Well, I’d say most folks do, but there are some I suppose . . .”
Maybe she was hypersensitive, but that sounded suspiciously like a challenge to fit in.
Bryn waited until Wesley’s attention was centered on the pancake shaped like half the Olympic symbol before patting her growing belly. “I seem to be getting bigger by the minute.”
That was one more thing she and Jake hadn’t gotten around to talking about. What they were going to tell Wesley. And when. Far be it for Bryn to come in spouting off secrets and trying to explain why she wasn’t there to cook but she was giving Wesley a baby brother or sister.
“You’re growing a baby in there. You need more than a single little puny pancake.” It seemed Grandma Esther wasn’t opposed to spilling a family secret to the little ears in the house.
“I was hoping for maybe some fruit or yogurt. Maybe some nuts.”
Esther nodded her head toward the large stainless steel refrigerator. “Should be some oranges in the icebox. Maybe an apple. Not sure about yogurt.” She winked. “Not much call around here for it.”
Bryn smiled her thanks and headed to the fridge. She was going to have to take a trip into town to buy a couple of things to eat. Not that the Langstons hadn’t provided good food up until this point, but at the rate she was putting on the pounds, she wouldn’t be able to fit through the door come the end of the week.
“Anyone else want an orange?” She grabbed a couple out of the fridge just in case.
“I only like my oranges cut in pieces,” Wesley informed her.
“You only eat them that way so you can make an orange peel smiley face.”
“That’s exactly the way I like them too,” Bryn said. “Would you like me to cut one for you?”
“Yes, please.” Wesley smiled and looked so much like her father it took Bryn’s breath away. She may not favor him in hair color or eye color, but she certainly had his mannerisms.
“Chopping board is over the oven,” Esther told her. “Knives are next to the microwave.”
Bryn retrieved the items and set out to slice the oranges.
“You said you weren’t here to cook,” Wesley said after a minute.
“You think this is cooking?”
Wesley shrugged, that one-shoulder motion just like her father. “It’s kitchen work.”
“As opposed to?” She shook her head and rephrased her question. “What other kind of work is there?”
“Barn work, of course. Riding fences. Daddy says there’s horse work and cow work.” She wrinkled up her nose. “But he won’t teach me much of it yet. He says I’m too little.” Her expression told exactly what she thought of that.
Bryn hid her smile. “I’m sure what he meant was he loves you and doesn’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I guess so.”
“Wesle
y.” Esther’s voice was soft yet full of reprimand.
“I mean, yes, ma’am.”
Esther gave a small nod of approval. “Come on and sit down with us.” She motioned Bryn over to the kitchen table.
Unlike the dinner table where they had eaten last night, this one sat off to one side in the kitchen. And though it would have easily seated eight, the backless benches made it seem a little less formal.
She slid onto the bench across from the two of them and bowed her head so Wesley could say grace. Just like Emery had at that age, she recited the children’s blessing. “God is great. God is good. Let us thank Him for our food. By His hand we must be fed, give us, Lord, our daily bread. Ah-men.”
“Amen,” Esther repeated, but Bryn couldn’t get anything past the lump in her throat. Stupid pregnancy hormones had her tearing up at the worst times.
“Are you all right, sweetie?” Esther quietly asked.
Bryn nodded and managed to blink them back. “Fine,” she lied. But fine was a relative term. She could be fine. She would be fine. And she had it better than most.
“Jake didn’t mean what he said, you know . . . about the . . . you know.” Esther shot a pointed look at Bryn’s belly.
There was one thing about this family that was undeniable: they were sure protective of each other. And it made her miss her own family so much more.
“I know,” she said. She had forgiven him long ago, but it was touching how everyone rallied behind him in support.
“Look.” Wesley stuck her orange slice in her mouth and grinned, showing nothing but the peel as she giggled and did her best to hold it in place.
Bryn ate her slice, then did the same. Together the two of them looked to Grandma Esther, but she had already stuck her orange across her teeth and was grinning back at them like a Cheshire cat. Well, one with an orange plastered across his teeth.
They all started laughing like it was the funniest thing, sitting at the table eating orange slices and lopsided pancakes.
• • •
Let’s go out to the barn and look at the kittens.” Wesley made a face. “Well, they’re not little kittens now, but they’re not cats either. You want to go see them?”
