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The Doctor's Cowboy

Page 19

by Trish Milburn


  “Gladly.” Karen angled her slender shape around the narrow bend that led to the storage area. “Just black olives, or green ones, too?”

  “Both.” Zora lowered herself onto a chair, grateful she could still reach the table around her abdomen. A railing underneath allowed her to prop up her swollen ankles, but nothing alleviated the strain on her lower back. It ached more each day.

  She hid her discomforts, determined to continue working as long as possible. Being an ultrasound tech meant standing on her feet all day and angling her midsection so she could scan the patients, but she was saving her paid maternity leave for after the twins’ birth. Two months left—if they didn’t arrive early.

  After retrieving the requested items, Karen spread out her sandwich fixings on the counter. Through the kitchen’s far door, Zora heard the scrape of folding chairs being opened and placed around the front room. She respected Lucky’s work ethic; he always pitched in with an upbeat attitude. If he could only master the art of minding his own business, he’d be...well, tolerable.

  Footsteps thudded on the carpet, announcing Lucky’s return. His short, military-style haircut emphasized the strong planes of his face, which reflected his Hispanic heritage. “Where are the chair covers hidden? Someone else stored them after Anya and Jack’s wedding.”

  “Upstairs in the linen closet,” Karen said.

  “Can I ride the stair lift or is that only for mommies?” Lucky teased. Both women narrowed their eyes at him, and he lifted his hands in a yielding gesture. “Just asking.”

  “Go play somewhere else,” Zora muttered.

  “Alone? That’s no fun.” With a rakish grin, he dodged out.

  “You two should swap rooms so you could be downstairs,” Karen observed from the counter. “Let him ride the stair lift if it gives him a thrill.”

  “I can’t afford the extra rent.” Lucky’s large room commanded a correspondingly larger price. While Zora didn’t care about having a personal patio exit, she did envy him the private bath. Karen had one, too, upstairs in the master suite, while Zora shared a bathroom with Rod and Melissa. Or, rather, with Rod and whoever moved into the room Melissa had vacated when she’d remarried her ex-husband.

  Some people have all the luck. A sigh escaped Zora. Too late, she tried to cover with a cough.

  “A pickle chip for your thoughts,” Karen said.

  “No, thanks.” Zora popped a black olive into her mouth.

  “You really are entitled to support,” Karen observed. “I wonder whether you’d have faced your ex by now if Lucky weren’t such a nag.”

  “He has nothing to do with it.”

  “You’re stubborn,” was the reply. “Seriously, Zora, how long can you keep this secret? I’m amazed Andrew’s mother hasn’t spilled the beans.”

  “Betsy doesn’t know.” Zora’s former mother-in-law was the nursing supervisor at the hospital. The kindhearted lady had suffered through the loss of two beloved daughters-in-law, thanks to her son’s faithlessness.

  Zora wondered whether Betsy was being more cautious about bonding with Andrew’s third wife, a Hong Kong native he’d met on a business trip while he was married to Zora. Unexpectedly, tears blurred her vision. How could he cheat on me? And then, just when I was ready to let him go, trick me into believing he still loved me?

  “Betsy sees you in the cafeteria every day,” Karen reminded her.

  “She’s aware that I’m pregnant,” Zora agreed. “But she has no idea who the father is.”

  Karen stuck a hank of black hair behind her ear. “She isn’t stupid.”

  “But I doubt she believes Andrew is capable of...of being such a grade-A jerk.” Damn those tears stinging her eyes again. “Aside from my closest friends, most people accept my explanation that I made a mistake after my divorce. I let them assume I picked up a guy in a bar.”

  “And that’s better than admitting you slept with Andrew?”

  “It’s better than admitting I’m a complete chump.”

  More footsteps, and Lucky reappeared. “They aren’t there. Let’s skip the seat covers.”

  “I refuse to have guests in my house sitting on ugly folding chairs,” Karen said.

  The man tilted his head skeptically. “What’s the big deal? People have been sitting on folding chairs without covers since the dawn of time.”

  “No, they haven’t.” Hastily, Zora shielded the relish tray from his attempt to grab a carrot. “Hands off!”

  “Evidence found in caves throughout northern Europe indicates that Neanderthals shunned folding chair covers as a sign of weakness,” Lucky said. “And why so stingy with the veggies?”

  “I’m still arranging these. Go eat a corn chip.” Zora indicated a bag set out to be transferred into a large bowl.

  “I’m a vegetarian.”

  “Corn is a vegetable.”

  “Corn chips do not occur in nature,” he responded. “Just one carrot. Pretty please.”

  She flipped it toward him. He caught it in midair.

  “Try the closet in my bathroom for the covers,” Karen suggested to Lucky. “Top shelf.”

  “I have permission to enter the inner sanctum?” he asked.

  “It expires in sixty seconds.”

  “Okay, okay.” He paused. “Before I run off, there’s one little thing I should mention about today’s guest list.”

  Zora released an impatient breath. “What?”

  “I invited Betsy.”

  “You didn’t!” Keeping her ex-mother-in-law in the dark at work was one thing, but around here the babies’ paternity was no secret.

  Karen turned toward Lucky, knife in hand. “Tell me you’re joking.”

  He grimaced. “Sorry. Spur-of-the-moment thing. But your motto is the more the merrier, and besides, Betsy’s a widow. If she’s interested in renting a room, that would solve all our problems.” With a carroty crunch, off he went.

  “Unbelievable,” Karen said.

  If she hadn’t been so huge, Zora might have given chase. She could easily have strangled Lucky at that moment. But then they’d have to find two new housemates.

  “I’d say the cat’s about to claw its way out of the bag,” Karen observed. “Might as well seize the bull by the horns, or is that too many animal metaphors?”

  “Considering the size of the rat we live with, I guess not,” Zora growled.

  Karen smiled. “Speaking of rats, if you’d rather not confront Andrew-the-rodent yourself, don’t forget you can hire Edmond to do it.” Edmond Everhart, their former roommate, Melissa’s husband, had been Zora’s divorce attorney.

  “That’ll only create more trouble.” Zora scraped the onion dip from the mixing bowl into a container on the relish tray. “Andrew’ll put me through the wringer.”

  “If that’s your only reason for not telling him about the babies, I’d rate its validity at about a three on a scale of ten.” Karen trimmed the crust from a sandwich.

  Zora dropped the spoon into the mixing bowl with a clunk. “He’s the only man I ever loved. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Zora, what benefit of what doubt?” Karen retorted. “He dumped you in high school, married someone else, then cheated on her with you after he ran into you at your class reunion. Let’s not forget that he then cheated on you with what’s-her-name from Hong Kong. Why on earth would you entertain the fantastical notion that Andrew will ever transform into a loving husband and father?”

  With a pang, Zora conceded that that was exactly what she did wish for. While her rational mind sided with Karen, the infants stirring inside her with a series of kicks and squirms obviously missed their father. So did Zora.

  “It can happen,” she said. “Look at Melissa and Edmond. Three years after their divorce, they fell in love again.”
r />   “They’d quarreled about having children. Neither of them cheated on the other,” Karen persisted. “Andrew can’t be trusted, ever.”

  She spoke with the ferocity of a divorcée who’d survived an abusive marriage. It had taken more than a decade for Karen to trust a man again. She and their housemate, Rod, were still easing into their relationship.

  “People can change.” Despite a reluctance to bring up her family, Zora wanted Karen to understand. “Did I mention I have a twin?”

  “Really?” Leaning against the counter, Karen folded her arms. “Identical or fraternal?”

  “Identical.” Zora wasn’t about to reveal the whole story, just the important part. “But we quarreled, and we aren’t in touch anymore. All I know of her is what Mom passes along.” Their mother, who lived in Oregon, loved sharing news.

  “Go on.” After a glance at the clock, Karen resumed her food preparation.

  “Nearly ten years ago, Zady ran off with a married man.” Zora inhaled as deeply as she could, considering the pressure on her lungs from the pregnancy. “They live in Santa Barbara. He split with his wife and now he’s devoted to Zady. They have a beautiful house and a couple of kids.”

  “Was there a wedding in there?” Karen asked dubiously.

  “I’m sure there was, although she didn’t invite me.” The rift had been bitter, and there’d been no move toward reconciliation on either side. In fact, her mother said Zady had chuckled when she’d learned about Zora’s divorce.

  “So the guy married her, and you believe that if lightning struck your twin, it can strike you, too?” Karen murmured.

  Zora’s throat tightened. “Why not?”

  “Because Betsy’s about to arrive with her antennae on high alert. If I’m any judge, that woman’s dying to be a grandmother.”

  “And she’ll be a terrific one.” The elder Mrs. Raditch did all the right grandmotherly things, such as baking and crocheting, a skill she’d taught Zora. “But...”

  “You’re running out of buts,” Karen warned. “Unless you count Lucky’s.”

  “I don’t!”

  “The way you guys battle, you’re almost like an old married couple.”

  “We’re nothing like a married couple, old or otherwise.” Zora could never be interested in a man with so little class. Outside work, he flaunted his muscles in sleeveless T-shirts and cutoffs. While she didn’t object if someone had a small tattoo, his body resembled a billboard for video games. On the right arm, a colorful dragon snaked and writhed, while on the left, he displayed a buxom babe wearing skimpy armor and wielding a sword.

  Whenever she pictured Andrew, she saw him in the suit and tie he always wore as an international business consultant. He had tousled blond hair, a laser-sharp mind, sky-blue eyes, and when he trained his headlight smile on her, Zora understood why some poor fools became addicted to drugs, because the euphoria was irresistible.

  At the image, vague intentions coalesced into a firm decision. “Andrew’s the man I married. This...this liaison with what’s-her-name is an aberration. Once the kids are born and he holds them in his arms, what man wouldn’t love his own son and daughter?” And their mother.

  Even Zora’s own father, a troubled man who’d cheated on her mom, had stuck around while his kids had grown up. Well, mostly—there’d been separations and emotional outbursts that left painful memories. But there’d been tender times, too, including a laughter-filled fishing trip, and one Christmas when her father had dressed up as Santa Claus and showered them with gifts.

  She longed for her children to experience a father like that. With Andrew’s charm, he could easily provide such unforgettable moments.

  For a minute, the only sound was the chopping of a knife against a cutting board as Karen trimmed crusts. Finally she said, “So you plan to hold it together until then, alone?”

  “I have you guys, my friends.” Zora struggled for a light tone. “All I have to do is stay on an even keel.”

  “Like a juggler tossing hand grenades on the deck of a sinking ship?” On a platter, Karen positioned sandwiches in a pyramid. “Well, it’s your decision.”

  “Yes, and I’ve made it.” Zora studied the relish tray through a sheen of moisture. Andrew would come around eventually. He had a good heart, despite his weak will.

  “I’m happy to report that I found the chair covers and they look fine.” Lucky’s deep voice sounded almost in her ear, making her jump. “What do Neanderthals know, anyway?”

  “Speaking of Neanderthals, how dare you sneak up on me?” she snapped. “I could go into labor.”

  “No, you won’t.” The corners of his mouth quirked.

  “How would you know?”

  “I’m a nurse, remember?” he said.

  “Not that kind of nurse.” He worked with a urologist.

  “Pregnancy care is part of every nurse’s basic medical training.” His expression sobered. “Speaking of medicine, you’re sure Cole’s coming today?”

  Dr. Cole Rattigan, the renowned men’s fertility expert Lucky assisted, had been away this past week, speaking at a conference in New York.

  “He and his wife RSVP’d,” Karen assured him. “What’s the big deal?”

  “I can’t discuss it. It concerns a patient.”

  “Why would you confer about a patient on your day off?” Zora asked.

  “That’s confidential, too.” Grabbing the tray of sandwiches, Lucky whisked out of the room so fast it was a miracle the sandwich pyramid didn’t topple.

  “That’s odd,” Karen said. “I wonder what’s going on.”

  As did Zora, but Cole, and in particular his wife, a popular nurse, were a touchy subject for her. As the first Mrs. Andrew Raditch, Stacy hadn’t hidden her resentment toward Zora-the-husband-stealer, and most staffers had sided with her.

  Among them, no one had been more hostile than Lucky. He’d eased up since he and Zora had started sharing this house, but in a showdown there was no question that his loyalty lay with Cole and his spouse.

  Zora wished that didn’t bother her. Well, she had more important things to deal with, anyway...such as facing the grandmother of her children in less than two hours.

  Copyright © 2015 by Jackie Hyman

  ISBN-13: 9781460378755

  The Doctor’s Cowboy

  Copyright © 2015 by Trish Milburn.

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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