by Jane Porter
“Good.”
“But am I allowed to know how I once factored into your plans?”
“You’re better off not knowing, and I’m better off not discussing them because it just makes me realize how ridiculous I was. Happily, all that is in the past.”
Rory didn’t understand why his gut burned, or his chest tightened. How could he be angry? He didn’t even know her, and yet there was a small part of him that was offended that she’d moved on. Quickly, too, apparently.
Sadie drew another quick breath and smiled brightly. “Just consider yourself off the hook.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be off the hook.”
“You don’t even know what I wanted from you.”
“Hoping it had something to do with you.”
“It did. In a big way. But it wasn’t realistic, and that’s why I can’t spend time with you. I can’t risk getting close to you. I’m still in recovery.” Her smile shone even brighter now if such a thing was possible. “I might always be in recovery.”
“Recovery from what?”
“You.” Her laugh wasn’t quite steady. “I’m sure you figured this part out. I fell for you years ago and spent far too many years harboring this secret crush. Carrying a torch for you. It was childish and impossible, and instead of outgrowing the infatuation, the way most young girls eventually do, I just kept... caring... and hoping.”
“You make it sound like a crime.”
“It kind of is.” She reached up and tugged on her cap, drawing it lower. Her voice dropped as well. “I’ve spent my adult life waiting for you, and it wasn’t until my mom died that I realized I was wasting my life, losing out on opportunities I might not ever have again. So I let the dream of you go so I could move forward. And I have. I’m going through my first round of ART right now and with any luck, should be pregnant in the new year.”
“What did you just say?”
“I’m using a donor and doing ART. Artificial reproductive technology—”
“I know what ART is. It’s frequently used for breeding bulls.”
“Oh, good. A lot of people don’t know—”
“But why?”
“I want to be a mom.”
“On your own?”
“My mom raised me on her own and we did fine.”
He felt as if he’d just gotten a good kick to the head because nothing she was saying made sense. “Who is going to be the dad?”
“I’ve found some good donors through the Bozeman fertility clinic.”
“Donors.”
“I’ve narrowed it down to three men. I just need to pick which one, but I’ve time. The procedure isn’t scheduled for a couple of weeks.”
He stared at her, dumbfounded. “What about men? You’ve just written them off? No more dating? No more relationships? No more sex?”
“I’m dating,” she answered.
“Does he—or they—know you’re trying to get pregnant?”
“I’m dating just one man right now and he does know. I’ve told him.”
“And?”
“He understands that if we get serious, he’s getting a package deal.”
“That’s crazy.”
“No more crazy than me chasing you all over the country because I wanted your baby.” She gave him a pointed look. “Because that was my brilliant, nonsensical plan. I wanted you to get me pregnant.”
For a split second he couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and then he exhaled. “Let me try to get this straight. You were coming to see me because you wanted my... sperm?”
Her jaw flexed, expression almost flinty. “Go ahead, laugh. Everyone else has.”
“I’m not laughing.” Rory was struggling to wrap his head around everything she’d told him. It was strange, and beyond unsettling. It also didn’t make sense. If she’d really wanted him to knock her up, she would have just slept with him right away. But she’d never tried to seduce him. She’d always kept her distance. “Why me?”
“I-I just thought you’d be the perfect... donor.”
His brow creased. “Darlin’, I didn’t even know your name.”
“I’m sure you bedded some of your buckle bunnies without knowing their names.”
“My buckle bunnies,” he repeated almost savagely, increasingly pissed off.
Color flooded her cheeks. “But I didn’t want a hookup. I didn’t want to be a one-night stand. That’s why I kept losing my courage, and why I couldn’t approach you. You were on this reckless path, determined to make an early exit, while all I wanted was to try to keep a piece of you alive.”
He didn’t know if he wanted to punch something or grab her and hold her close. He was angry and frustrated and confused, too. She had the strangest way of making him feel things he didn’t want to feel. “How would having my kid help anything?”
“Because I’d have a part of you. You wouldn’t be totally gone. You’d still exist—”
“This is nonsense, Sadie.”
“Maybe to you, because you have no idea how wonderful you are. You place no value on your life, and can’t seem to care that people really, truly love you and if something happens to you, hearts will be broken. My heart will be broken. Yes, you’re tough, and you’ve survived a lot, but you’re not immortal, and you’re not replaceable, and when you’re gone my life will never be the same. That’s why I wanted your baby.” Her tears were falling so fast she couldn’t catch them all. “I wanted something of you to love and cherish when you’re no longer here—”
He grabbed her and pulled her to him, kissing her to stop the stream of furious words. Her lips were cool, and yet her breath was warm, and he wrapped an arm low around her waist, anchoring her to him so that he could more fully explore her soft, warm mouth. She tasted sweet and fresh with a hint of mint, making him think of a candy cane.
He deepened the kiss, wanting more of her sweetness and warmth and softness. She felt right in his arms, achingly familiar, and it crossed his mind that she felt like home, whatever that meant.
But then she pushed against his chest, not hard, but just enough for him to know he had to let her go. Reluctantly he released her, and even more reluctantly stepped away.
“Not fair,” she choked, looking up at him with bright dark eyes, soft pink lips, and flushed cheeks. “You can’t kiss me like that when I’ve given you up!”
“Well, maybe I haven’t given you up.”
“You never had me—”
“Oh, darlin’ I’ve had you for years.”
Her eyes widened with outrage, and she turned away, but he wasn’t having it. He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again, and the moment his lips covered hers, he felt a jolt of pure energy race through him. She must have felt it too, because she shivered and leaned into him, pressing herself close, her arms wrapping around his neck, holding him tightly.
He urged her even closer, using his hand in the small of her back to bring her hip to hip, chest to chest. Sadie felt so right in his arms—fierce and fragile and impossibly alive.
“Somehow we’re doing this all backward,” he murmured against her mouth.
She murmured a protest, and he took advantage of her parted lips to taste and explore the sweet heat of her mouth. Her full lips quivered, and his tongue stroked her lips and tongue. She shivered against him, and he grew hard, hungry with desire and need.
He wanted her, and he wasn’t going to share her at all. He’d fight any man who wanted to try to take her from him.
“Ahem,” a sharp, pinched voice sounded behind them. “Do you think that’s really appropriate here?”
He knew that voice but couldn’t place it. Lifting his head, he eased his hold on Sadie, but he wasn’t about to let her go. And then he spotted Mrs. Bingley, practically vibrating with disapproval, and he smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Bingley,” he said. “How nice to see you.”
Apparently, it wasn’t the greeting she’d expected, and for a moment the older woman was too flustered to speak, and then she ma
naged to string a few words together. “Is that you, Rory Douglas?”
“It is, ma’am. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Mrs. Bingley again could find nothing to say, and instead, she focused her attention on Sadie, giving her a contemptuous glare. “Sadie Mann. I’m shocked. I thought your mother raised you better!”
Rory expected Sadie to wilt. Instead, her jaw firmed, and her dark eyes blazed. “She did,” Sadie answered. “But now that she’s gone, I’m just doing what I want.”
Carol Bingley’s jaw dropped. “Well, I never! Your mother must be turning in her grave.”
“Not that you’d know where that is. You didn’t go to her funeral. And she only worked for you for what, twenty-two years?”
For a moment there was just shocked, uncomfortable silence, and Rory knew he’d better take action before this turned into something truly ugly.
He squeezed Sadie’s waist, pulling her even closer to his hip. “Happy holidays, Mrs. Bingley. Do give my best to Mr. Bingley. And I hope he enjoyed the tickets to the show in Billings.” And then he began walking, dragging Sadie with him, wanting to put as much distance as he could between his volatile redhead and Marietta’s biggest gossip.
Chapter Four
Sadie’s heart was racing and her body was trembling. She didn’t know if she was more upset about Mrs. Bingley’s rudeness, or Rory’s bone-melting kiss.
The problem was, his arm was still around her, and his body was so warm, and yet hard, and yet perfect, and she couldn’t seem to get her brain back, or her strength.
The man could kiss, and that kiss...
So good. So hot. And exactly how she’d imagined Rory would kiss. It made her furious, though. How unfair of him to kiss her now when she’d decided to only pursue solid, dependable, manageable men. And maybe Rory was solid and dependable, but he certainly wasn’t manageable.
“Now that is just playing dirty,” she gritted, pulling away from him after they’d walked a good block. But the moment she pulled away she missed his warmth and the hard, muscular contours of his body. He might need a cane, but he was built like a high-performance machine.
“How so?”
She began walking again, needing to move to somehow escape all the emotions swirling inside of her.
Of course, he fell into step next to her. “You’re such a coward.”
“How so?”
“You won’t talk, you can’t face me, you just want to run.”
“Maybe that’s because I’m in survivor mode.”
“Well, toughen up, darlin’. Life’s hard and you need to be just as strong.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know you’re hurt, angry because you lost your nerve. Instead of coming to the arena and introducing yourself, you’d watch and run away. You’re upset because you never gave me a chance to get to know you, and now that I’m here, and want to know you, you’ve decided it’s too late.”
She stopped abruptly, hands balling. “It is too late!”
“You’re upset,” he continued calmly, “not with me, but with yourself. You wish you had the cajones to go out with me, but you are still afraid to actually live. Far better to fantasize your way through life—”
“I don’t have any grand fantasies about you! For your information, you’re not on a pedestal, and I don’t think of you as a superhero.”
“Maybe not a superhero, but I must have been some kind of wonderful for you to want my baby.”
Sadie had no answer for this. She glanced away, jaw grinding, temper stirred.
“Maybe it’s time to stop running,” he said quietly.
“Not running anywhere,” she answered tightly, staring at the courthouse with its dome glimmering in the sun. “If anything, I stopped running. I gave up flying. I’m staying put so that I can have the life I wanted—”
“This isn’t the life you wanted. Let’s at least be honest about that. You had feelings for me long before you got it in your head to have my kid. Being a single mom was never your dream.”
“Stop acting like you know what I want.”
“I do. Because I was there at those arenas, and I saw how you looked at me. Darlin’, I wasn’t a sperm donor. I was a man, your man—”
“You have such an ego.”
“So it was all a game? Showing up at stadiums and arenas, making me feel as if you were there for me—”
“It wasn’t a game. I was there for you! I went to see you.”
“Then why write me off without even giving me a chance?”
“That’s not how it is,” she protested, heart hammering, hot tears stinging the back of her eyes. “I’d never write you off. I couldn’t.”
“But you won’t even talk to me, or have lunch with me.”
“It’s called self-preservation, Rory.” She looked at him now, pain splintering her heart. “I made you such a big part of my life, and it was too big. You took over my life, and it wasn’t healthy.”
“Is that why we can’t even be friends? According to this new leaf you’ve turned, you can’t even talk to me.”
“I’m talking to you now.”
“It’s like pulling teeth.”
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I don’t know how to be friends with you.”
For a long moment, there was just silence. Rory’s gaze narrowed and he glanced at the ornate façade of the old Bank of Marietta, one of the first brick buildings constructed on Main Street in the 1880s. “Have you even tried?” he asked, his deep voice pitched low. “Or am I really going to be dead to you?”
Pain rolled through her, making her ache all over because he knew far too well what dead was, and loss felt like, and it hurt her to think that she might be hurting him. “Please don’t say it like that.”
“Maybe you discovered I’m not who you thought I was. If that’s the case, just tell me. I’m man enough to handle the truth.”
Sadie felt as if she’d swallowed something sharp. Her insides hurt. Her stomach cramped. How could she lie to him? It was impossible.
“There’s nothing about you I don’t like, Rory,” she said hoarsely. “But I just don’t know how to be friends with you. We’ve only seen each other from afar. We’ve projected all sorts of things and who knows what’s real or true?”
“But isn’t that what we should find out?”
“I’m not sure how.”
“Talking is a good start.”
“I didn’t think men liked talking all that much.”
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly. “We can talk when we have to.”
“Is this a have-to-situation?”
“It’s more of a want-to-situation. I want to know you, Sadie.”
She drew a careful breath, trying to slow her wildly beating heart. It had been a hard four months. She’d lost her mom. She’d lost him. Or at least the dream of him. But now he was here, and he wasn’t a dream. He was tough and demanding and completely overwhelming. “Where do we start?”
“We’ve already started. We just keep going.”
“You’re kind of intimidating in real life, Rory Douglas.”
“Take it in baby steps,” he said.
“And what is a baby step?”
“Lunch. I’m starving.”
Some of the tension in her chest eased. “Actually, I’m hungry, too. All those tears and confessions.”
His lips quirked. “Emotions can be draining.”
“Spoken like an expert.”
“Now you’re just being sassy.”
“Maybe a little bit.” She smiled and glanced around. They were almost at the end of Main Street. “What about Main Street Diner? They specialize in comfort food.”
“I don’t know if I need comfort, but I am craving some of their homemade corn bread.”
“If I ate that I’d have no room for pie.”
“Are you planning on having pie?”
“Of course. Why else go to the diner?”
“Well, there’s t
he meatloaf, and pot roast, and chicken pot pie and—”
“And apple pie, cherry pie, peach pie, chocolate cream, banana custard, lemon meringue...” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “I’ve never been able to deny myself a slice of good pie.”
“Why should you? Life’s too short not to enjoy the good stuff.”
The diner was half empty, and a waitress seated them in the big corner booth with a view out both windows. “I always wanted to sit at this table,” Sadie said with a sigh, leaning back and relishing the space. “We could have a party here.”
“Who would you invite?”
“Well, McKenna, of course, because she’s a lot of fun, and Taylor, the librarian who’s married to Trey’s twin, Troy. And you, obviously, because you were the Extreme Bull Rider Tour’s Mr. July four years ago.”
“I was never Mr. July.”
“But you were a centerfold.”
“I was a photo on a calendar. That is all.”
“Mmm.”
“What about Natalie? Are you two close?”
“No, but I like her. She’s a good boss. She works really hard. It was her dad’s business, you know. She used to work for him, and then when he wanted to retire, she took it over. She’s trying to make a go of it, but her dad made a lot of poor decisions, and so it hasn’t been easy trying to turn it around.”
“What do you do there?”
“Just administrative stuff. I’m only supposed to be part-time, but when she’s slammed, it can turn into full-time.”
“I hope you get paid for those extra hours.”
“I get health insurance, and that’s huge. I’ll need it when I’m pregnant, for maternity care and everything.”
His smile faded, and he regarded her with a rather brooding intensity. “How will you manage when you have the baby?”
“I have my business. I can do it from home.” She reached for her phone and scrolled through her photos. “This is what I love to do.” She turned the phone around to show him, quickly clicking through a series of photos of tables, chairs, dressers, headboards. “I buy salvaged pieces and then make them into something new.” She then scrolled further. “And this is my new thing. I’ve started to make pillows out of vintage fabric, and it’s been really successful. The Christmas ones sold out within a week.”
