Kissing Austin was never what she expected. He could take her from gentle bliss to shuddering need in a heartbeat. Tonight, he gave her something in between. He held her and made her believe, even if for only a moment, that everything was going to turn out okay.
She rested her cheek against his chest, feeling and hearing the steady ka-thud of his heartbeat. “I can’t ask you to do that.” Even if the prospect of having Austin in her corner made her soul sing.
“You don’t really have a choice.” When he chuckled, the sound reverberated beneath her ear. He was so big and hard and warm. Nothing in her life had ever felt so good, so perfect.
But the perfection was a mirage. Her heart screamed at her to proceed with caution. Austin was being kind. Honorable. He was the sort of man who did the right thing regardless of the cost.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t inadvertently break her heart.
She pulled away, needing physical distance to be strong. “I’ll talk to my parents tomorrow. If they agree to give me the inheritance, the baby and I can have a home of our own. You don’t even have to be involved.”
Austin shook his head, his smile self-mocking. “I’m involved up to my neck, Brooke. And I’m not going anywhere for the moment.”
For the moment... Those three words were ominous but truthful. She’d do well to plaster them on her heart, so she didn’t get any foolish ideas. Suddenly, her knees felt weak. She staggered two steps toward the bed and sat down hard.
His gaze sharpened. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Not really. Just a little light-headed. It will pass.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you want to stay here until morning? I can buy what we need at the convenience mart.”
From his expression, she hadn’t a clue what he wanted to do. Probably run far and fast in the opposite direction.
The prospect of spending the night with Austin, even in this unappealing motel room, was almost impossible to resist. It was easy to imagine making love to him all night long and waking up naked in his arms. Her breath caught.
Austin’s gaze narrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re all flushed.”
“I’m fine.”
If she were going to be a mother, she had to start making mature decisions. “We can’t stay here,” she said slowly. “I need to be at the club tomorrow to work on the murals. And before that, I’ll have to face my parents at breakfast and tell them the news.”
“Don’t you want to give yourself time to get used to the idea first? You’ve had a shock, Brooke.”
“I can’t have this hanging over my head. I believe in ripping off the Band-Aid.”
“Fair enough.” He nodded slowly. “And you won’t be alone. I plan on being there beside you when you break the news.”
“Oh my gosh, no,” she squeaked, already imagining the fireworks. “That’s a terrible idea. I’m not going to tell them about you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve already established that I can handle your mother. Besides, the truth will get out sooner or later. This isn’t going to be our guilty secret.”
Though she was skeptical, she nodded. “If you insist. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
* * *
Austin took Brooke home. Dropping her off at her parents’ house was more difficult than he had expected. Already he felt possessive. Even if he kept himself emotionally divested, Brooke was the mother of his child. That meant something.
The following morning, he dragged himself out of bed, wondering if she had slept any more than he had. A shower did little to offset the effects of insomnia. He shaved and dressed carefully, not wanting to give the Goodmans any overt opportunity to look down their noses at him. Not for his sake, but for Brooke’s.
Austin had already seen firsthand how her mother treated her. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that a man like Austin would not be on their list of suitable husbands for their daughter.
Brooke had insisted that she be the one to do all the talking, because she knew how to handle her mother and father. Austin had reluctantly agreed.
When he showed up at the imposing Goodman residence, the house looked even more opulent than it had the night before. As an architect, Austin knew plenty about price points and quality building materials. The Goodmans had spared no expense in building their Pine Valley mansion. He wondered if Brooke had lived here her entire life.
He rang the bell. A uniformed maid answered the summons and escorted him through the house. A full hot breakfast was in the process of being laid out on a mahogany sideboard. Sunlight flooded the room through French-paned windows. The dining table was set with china, crystal and antique silver that sparkled and gleamed.
Brooke greeted him with a smile, though he could see the strain beneath the surface. The elder Goodmans were cool but polite in their welcomes. Once everyone was seated, the grilling commenced.
Simon Goodman eyed Austin with more than a hint of suspicion. “My wife tells me you’re doing a temporary job for Gus Slade.”
No mistaking the emphasis on temporary.
“Yes, sir. Or for the Cattleman’s Club, to be more exact. I’m overseeing the outdoor addition to the facilities.”
“And you have the suitable credentials?”
Austin swallowed his ire. “An advanced degree in architecture and a number of years’ experience at a firm in Dallas.”
“But you’re no longer with that firm?”
“Daddy!”
Brooke’s indignant interruption had no discernable effect on the interrogation. For some inexplicable reason, Margaret Goodman was oddly silent. Austin sighed inwardly. “When my wife became very ill, I worked until she needed constant care, and then I quit my job. Since she passed away six years ago, I’ve chosen to be a bit of a nomad.”
“I can’t believe this.” Brooke stood up so abruptly, her chair wobbled. She glared at her father. “You’re embarrassing me. And you’re being horribly rude. Austin is my friend. He doesn’t deserve the Spanish Inquisition.”
Brooke’s mother waved a hand. “Sit down and eat, Brooke. You aren’t fooling anyone. Your father is well within his rights to ask as many questions as he sees fit. That’s why you’ve brought Austin here, isn’t it? To convince us that you’ve fallen madly in love with a handyman? And that we’re supposed to throw you a lavish wedding and hand over your inheritance?”
The silence that fell was deafening. Scrambled eggs congealed on four plates. Though every bit of the breakfast was spectacularly prepared and worthy of a five-star restaurant, Austin suspected that most of the food would end up in the trash. He had certainly lost his appetite. And poor Brooke looked much as she had yesterday when she had gotten sick behind the club.
Every instinct he possessed told him to take charge of the situation, but he had promised to let Brooke do the talking, so he held his tongue. It wasn’t easy.
She sat down slowly. Her face was the color of the skim milk Mrs. Goodman was adding to her coffee from a tiny silver pitcher. Brooke cleared her throat. “I was going to broach the subject more gently than Daddy did, but yes, Austin and I are going to get married. We haven’t talked about a ceremony yet. I don’t even know if I want a big wedding. I’m telling you because you’re my parents, not because I expect you to pay for anything.”
Poor Brooke looked frazzled. Austin swallowed a bite of biscuit that threatened to stick in his throat. “I am perfectly capable of paying for our wedding. All Brooke needs from you is your blessing and your support. She loves her family and wants to include you.”
Austin infused his words with steel. Though it might have gone over Brooke’s head given her current physical discomfort, it was clear from Margaret and Simon’s expressions that they heard his ultimatum. They could treat Brooke well, or they could lose her...their choice.
Unfortunately, Brooke’s mother re
fused to go down without a fight. “Please understand, Mr. Bradshaw. It’s a parent’s obligation to protect his or her child from fortune hunters.”
The blatant insult was almost humorous. How could sweet, openhearted Brooke have come from such a dreadful woman?
Fortunately, Austin had always relished a good battle. “In that vein, I’m sure you’ll understand it’s my job to make Brooke happy. And by God, that’s what I intend to do.”
Simon’s face turned an ugly shade of puce. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, Bradshaw.”
“I know that you’ve blackballed your daughter. That you’ve made her a prisoner in her own home. That you’ve deliberately sabotaged her search for meaningful employment. That you’ve refused to acknowledge she’s an adult and one who deserves respect and autonomy.”
Margaret slammed her fist on the table. “Get out,” she hissed, her gaze shooting fire at him as if she could incinerate him on the spot.
Austin looked across the table at Brooke. He smiled at her, trying to telegraph his unending support and compassion. “Do you want me to go, honey?”
Brooke stood up, seeming to wobble the tiniest bit. She dabbed her lips with a snowy damask napkin and rounded the table to put a hand on his shoulder. “Yes. But not yet. I’ll leave with you in a moment.”
He heard her take a quavering breath. Now he knew what was coming. Her tension was palpable. Quickly, he got to his feet and put an arm around her waist. Not speaking, just offering his silent support.
Brooke stared at her mother, then her father. She cleared her throat. Her eyes glistened with tears. Austin wanted to curse. This should be a joyful moment. He hated that it was playing out like a melodrama with Brooke’s parents as the wicked villains.
“Here’s the thing,” she said quietly. “Austin and I are getting married. Very soon. After that, I will petition the court for my inheritance. You know it’s mine. For you to interfere would be criminal, mean-spirited and petty.”
Her fathered puffed out his chest. He glared. “You’ll squander every penny in six months. Don’t think you can come crawling back for more.”
Austin’s arm tightened around Brooke. He could literally feel the blow of her father’s cruel words. “I won’t come back home, Daddy,” she said. “At least not to stay. I’m a grown woman.”
Margaret shoved back from the table and approached Brooke, using her physical presence as a threat, just as she had in the club gardens. Her smile was cold and merciless. “You’re a child. This man doesn’t love you. He’s using you. All I’ve ever wanted is what’s best for you, baby. Let’s put this awful business behind us. Start over. Turn back the clock.”
Brooke’s spine straightened a millimeter. She slid her hand into Austin’s and gripped it so hard her fingernails dug into his skin. “I can’t turn back the clock, Mama. I’m pregnant.”
Ten
Margaret’s infuriated shriek reverberated in the confines of the room. For one terrible moment, Austin thought she was going to strike her own daughter. He thrust Brooke behind him and confronted her mother. “Tread carefully, Mrs. Goodman. There are some bridges you don’t want to burn. I think it’s best if we continue this conversation at another time.”
Without giving anyone a chance to protest, he grabbed Brooke’s hand and hurried her out of the room and away from the house. After he hustled her down the front walk to where his truck was parked, he cursed beneath his breath when she leaned against the hood of the vehicle and covered her face with her hands. A pregnant woman needed sustenance. Between morning sickness and emotional trauma, Brooke had barely swallowed a bite as far as he could tell.
He tucked her into the passenger seat and ran around to the other side. Once the engine started, he sighed. Taking her hand in his once again, he lifted it and kissed her fingers. “I am so very sorry, sweetheart.”
Brooke shrugged, her gaze trained somewhere beyond the windshield. “It’s nothing new. Not really.”
“I have a proposition for you,” he said, wanting desperately to erase her sorrow.
“Isn’t that what got us into this mess?” she said wryly.
Something inside him eased. If she could joke about it, even now, all was not lost. “You can’t stay there anymore, Brooke. It’s not healthy for you or the baby. Gus has been hosting me in the bunkhouse out at the ranch, but frankly, that’s getting old. I’ve taken a look at some new rental condos on the east side of town. They’re really nice. What if we go right now and sign a twelve-month lease?”
Her eyes rounded. “Live together?”
“You already proposed to me. This seems like a logical step.”
Her face turned pink. “I’m sorry I’ve complicated your life.”
“Stop it,” he said. “And relax. Stress isn’t good for a woman who’s expecting. If nothing else, my job is to pamper you and make sure you have a healthy pregnancy. We enjoy each other’s company. What do you say?”
* * *
Half an hour later, Brooke took slow, shallow breaths and tried to convince herself she wasn’t going to barf. After escaping the uncomfortable breakfast with her parents, she and Austin had used the drive-through at a fast food restaurant and picked up sausage biscuits and coffee.
They sat in the parking lot and ate the yummy food, barely speaking. Even so, the silence was comfortable. Austin didn’t crowd her. Most men in this situation would be demanding an answer.
He finished his meal and crumpled up the paper wrapper. “How’s your stomach?”
She held out her hand and dipped it left and right. “So-so.”
“I can’t read your mind, honey. What are you thinking?”
“Honestly?” She grimaced. “As soon as you and I look at condos together, the gossip will be all over town.”
“Doesn’t change anything, does it?”
“I can’t afford to rent a condo. I don’t have any money, Austin,” she said bluntly. “And even if we were to get married today, the process to claim my inheritance would take longer than you think to work its way through the court system.”
“Forget about that,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ve lived very frugally for six years. I’ve got money in the bank. Plenty for you and me and the baby.”
She felt her face heat. “I’ve tried so hard to be independent. This feels like a step backward.”
“Not at all. This is us making a home for our baby. If you don’t leave that house, your parents will only find more ways to make your life miserable and to try and control you.”
“I want to be clear about our expectations,” Brooke said slowly. “Are you suggesting cohabitation or marriage or both?”
His expression shuttered suddenly, every nuance of his real feelings erased. That sculpted masculine jaw turned to granite. “This would be a practical marriage partnership between two consenting adults. I was considering your proposal even before we found out you were pregnant. Now, it makes sense all the way around. Once the baby comes and you’re back on your feet physically, emotionally and financially, we’ll reassess the situation.”
“You mean divorce.”
He winced visibly. “That’s what you suggested earlier, yes. But even if we separate, I’ll always be part of your life on some level. Because of the child.”
So clinical. So sensible. Why did his blunt, rational speech take all the color and sunshine out of the day?
“What will you do when the project at the club is finished?”
“Matt Galloway has talked to me about building a house for him. That would take the better part of a year. After that, I don’t know. I suppose I may want to stay in Royal because of the baby. I can’t imagine not seeing my son or daughter on a regular basis.”
And what about me? She wanted him to tell her how hard it would be to walk away from her.
Swallowing all her nausea and her misgi
vings and the pained understanding that Austin was offering so much less than forever, Brooke summoned a smile. “Okay, Cowboy. Let’s go look at these condos. Window-shopping doesn’t cost a thing.”
An hour later, she ran her hand along the windowsill of a cheery, sun-filled room overlooking a koi pond and a weeping willow. The backyard was small but adequate. And it was fenced in. Perfect for a toddler to stagger across the grass chasing a ball or laughing as soap bubbles popped.
This particular condo, the fourth one they had looked at, had three bedrooms—plenty of space for a loner, a new baby and a woman whose life was in chaos. The complex was brand-new, the paint smell still lingering in the air. The rentals were designed primarily for oil company executives who came to Royal for several months at a time and wanted all the comforts of home.
The agent had stepped outside to give them privacy.
Austin put a hand on her arm. “You like it, don’t you? I can see it on your face.”
She shot him a wry glance over her shoulder. “What’s not to like? But these places have to be far too expensive.” The units were over three thousand square feet each. They weren’t the type of starter homes young newlyweds sought out. Each condo Brooke and Austin had toured was outfitted with high-end everything, from the luxurious marble bathrooms and the fancy kitchens to the spacious family rooms wired for every possible entertainment convenience.
“I told you. Money is not a problem.”
Panic fluttered in her chest. “I’ll pay you back. Half of everything. As soon as I have my inheritance.”
He frowned. “That’s not necessary.
“Those are my terms.”
Even to her own ears she sounded petulant and ungrateful. But she was scrambling for steady ground, needing something to hold on to, some way to pretend she was in control.
“So we’ll get married?” He stood there staring at her with his hands in his pockets and a cocky attitude that said take me or leave me.
“You don’t have to do this, Austin.”
Million Dollar Baby Page 9
