The Maverick's Baby-In-Waiting

by Melissa Senate

  “Maybe someday, though,” he said, something different in his tone. As though he was testing out the words on his tongue, in his head, in his heart. “I mean, these are extraordinary circumstances we’re in. More you than me.”

  “Right. Which is why I don’t have the luxury of time. In a few weeks, I’m going to be a mother. The baby will change everything and need all the love I have to give.”

  “But we have one final week together, Mik. Why take that from each other?”

  She shook her head. Why didn’t he understand? She’d felt so close to him before Vegas; she just assumed he’d get it, know how she felt without her having to say it. But he obviously didn’t. “Because I’ve already been rejected by my child’s father. I refuse to set myself up for more of that.” She tried to take a deep breath, but she could barely get any air. “Just go, Jensen.”

  “But, Mik—”

  She waited for him to say something that would change her mind. She waited for him to say, I love you, too. I want a commitment with you, too.

  But he said nothing.

  “Just go,” she said again. “It’s over between us. We had some fun, but it’s only fun till someone gets hurt, right?”

  The look he gave her almost undid her. “I’m sorry, Mikayla. I wish I could be the man you need.”

  With that, he turned and walked out.

  A sudden pain gripped Mikayla’s abdomen. She bent over, a strangled scream coming from her throat.

  “Jensen!” she called, hoping he’d hear. “Jensen!”

  He rushed back into the room. “Mikayla, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” she said on a moan, doubling over in pain again. “My belly feels like it’s tightening. Ow!” she yelped. What was this?

  She felt his arms around her, walking her toward the door, then he scooped her up in his arms like she weighed next to nothing and carried her down the stairs and out the door.

  As he settled her in the passenger side of his truck, she closed her eyes against the pain and said, “Please, God, please, please, please. Don’t let anything be wrong with my baby.”

  “That goes double for me, God,” he said, lifting his eyes toward the roof of the truck.

  The pain was so intense that she gripped both the center console and the door handle.

  “Hold on, Mik. I’ll take you to the clinic and I’ll call your doctor and have him or her meet us there.”

  “Drew Strickland,” she said, handing him her phone, her eyes squeezed shut. “He’s in my contacts.”

  She barely heard him make the call. The pain was so severe that her entire abdomen felt like it was twisting in some kind of charley horse. She was sure she’d pass out.

  She tried to remember what she’d read about preterm labor. She was barely thirty-two weeks along. This couldn’t be labor. But the pains were so intense and felt like the descriptions that had scared her half to death. Contractions. Tightening. The worst cramps you’d ever feel.

  I can’t be in labor! It’s too early!

  She tried to breathe hard, forcibly expelling air out, and it helped a bit. She was aware of Jensen talking on the phone, then placing it in the console holder.

  “Okay, you’re all set, Mik. Dr. Strickland will meet us at the clinic. He said if need be, he’ll have an ambulance transport you to the hospital in Kalispell.”

  That was the last thing she heard before her moans of pain drowned out anything else he said.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Braxton-Hicks contractions,” Dr. Strickland said. “The baby is fine. You’re fine. You’re not in labor. But the contractions get pretty intense and mimic labor.”

  Relief overwhelmed Mikayla to the point that she felt woozy. In a moment, it passed, and gratitude replaced every emotion. Her baby was okay. That meant everything was okay.

  “Whoa, so it’s gonna be that painful,” Mikayla said with a grimace. “The real thing, I mean.”

  Dr. Strickland smiled. “Sorry, but yes.” He spent some time talking to Mikayla about what to expect when she was in actual labor and how to know when to come to the clinic. “Is Mr. Jones your birth partner?” he asked.

  Jensen’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “Her what?”

  “Birth partner,” Dr. Strickland repeated. “Coaching her along through the delivery process, reminding her to breathe, having a hand that gets squeezed very hard.”

  Poor Jensen looked like he might pass out before he even got to the labor and delivery room.

  “Jensen and I are just friends,” Mikayla said as lightly as she could. Though she’d bet he’d make a great birth partner.

  Besides, Amy had generously offered to be her Lamaze coach. Then again, even though they were good friends and Amy made her feel like she’d do anything for her, being her birth partner was going a step too far and would be taking advantage of her friend’s kindness and generosity.

  Would she give birth alone, though? Just her and the doctor and a nurse?

  Yes, idiot, she chastised herself. And you’ll be fine. Just fine. You’re going to be a single mother. You might as well start by giving birth alone.

  I’ll be fine, she silently said to herself again.

  Once Dr. Strickland left, Mikayla turned to Jensen, who was sitting beside her, clutching her hand. He looked white as a ghost.

  He hadn’t left her side since they’d arrived. When they’d come in, Jensen carrying her, a staffer had rushed over with a wheelchair and Jensen had gotten a break. She couldn’t be easy to carry and run with, and he’d done it twice. Then he’d sat beside her, holding her hand while a nurse took her vitals and they waited for the doctor to examine her.

  Damn, it felt good to have him there. A prebirth partner. It felt so good, in fact, that Mikayla knew, without a shred of doubt, that she couldn’t accept less from a man she loved than the full monty. Full love in return. Not fancy trips and beds that did everything but feed her a midnight snack. If she was going to let a man into her life, he would have to be available, emotionally and mentally, for the long haul.

  That wasn’t Jensen Jones.

  It really was time to say goodbye. She appreciated him and everything he’d done today—but it was wrong. He wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t part of her future. He wasn’t going to stick around, and he had to stop making her think he cared when he didn’t.

  Cared in the long-haul sense.

  Heck, if Amy or Eva or Luke had been with her when she’d doubled over, they’d have been here instead of Jensen. He was really just her friend. With temporary benefits.

  But no more.

  She sucked in a breath and sat up, slapping her hands on her thighs. It was also time to tell Jensen how she felt. The truth. “I’d appreciate a ride home, but then, as I’ve been saying, it’s time for us to go our separate ways, Jensen.”

  “Mik—”

  She held up a hand. “Getting the behoosus scared out of me made me realize that if I’m going to have a man I’m sleeping with beside me at such a time, he’d better be fully invested in our relationship. Otherwise, it just makes no sense. And it’s really kind of sad.”

  “I make you sad?” he asked, frowning, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt.

  “What’s not happening between us makes me sad, Jensen. The possibilities. But you’ve told me all along you’re here temporarily. That I’m your temporary lady. And now I know for sure, surer than I was in Vegas, that the end has come. A bit earlier than you wanted, maybe. But for my sake, I can’t see you anymore.”

  He dropped his head back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. “I just want to be clear on something, Mikayla. I do care. A lot. So much so that I’m not walking away from you today—sorry. Probably not for the next few days. I won’t lay a finger on you, except to carry you if need be. I won’t tell you how beautiful you are, how sexy, h
ow much I want you. I won’t do anything I really want. But I do care, and I’m going to make sure you’re okay for the next few days.”

  Oh, hell. Now what? “I’m a grown woman, Jensen.” She got off the examination table, clutching the open back of her goofy cotton clinic gown. “I know you’ve already seen me completely naked, but...”

  He stood. “I’ll give you your privacy,” he said, heading toward the door. “And I know you’re a grown woman, Mik. But you just had a scare and could use someone with time on his hands to be around just in case. So you’re stuck with me. Sorry. I’ll be waiting right outside.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “A little too used to getting your way, Jones.”

  And she was a little too used to his showing her, time and again, how much he really did care. Why couldn’t he understand how the dichotomy, the discrepancy, between what was clearly in his heart and the old tapes on repeat in his head didn’t serve him? Or them.

  “Look, Luke and his hands are out working the ranch. Eva has her job at Daisy’s. If you need help, Mikayla, someone should be close at hand. Someone just visiting their brothers.”

  “Like you,” she said. He was right, though. She had a cell phone, of course, and could call for help if need be, but having someone there for her, literally and figuratively, did allay some residual anxiety from today. “Oh, fine, since you’re so annoyingly honest all the time, I’ll be, too. I’m kind of relieved you’re sticking around—but in a strictly platonic sense. That I can deal with. Nothing confusing going on. We’re just friends.”

  “Friends,” he said, extending his hand.

  She could see very clearly in his eyes that friendship was just the first layer of what he wanted from her. There was desire there, an aching desire. And she knew he was battling with himself about walking away when it was time for him to go back to Tulsa. But these days, Mikayla could barely hold in her pee. Jensen had to flip his heart on his own. She couldn’t do it for him. And she wasn’t going to hold her breath, either.

  He opened the door to leave so she could get dressed.

  “Jensen, just one question. I want you to answer it honestly. Do you want to leave me? Not this minute, I mean. When it’s time for you to return to Tulsa.”

  He stared at her. “What? That’s not—”

  “It is. It’s the entire point of our conversation. Do you want to leave me and go back to Tulsa and live your life with me as part of your past?”

  He let out a sigh. “Mikayla, that’s pretty darn complicated a question.”

  “Is it?”

  “I was always planning on going home. We both know that. That was never up for discussion.”

  “Then this is over, Jensen. I know what I need to know, right?”

  He closed his eyes for a second but didn’t respond and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

  Tears poked her eyes, but she blinked them back. Perspective, Mik. Repeat your mantra five times fast. Your baby is okay and that means everything is okay.

  “It’s you and me, kid,” she whispered to her belly as she pulled on her maternity sundress and slipped her feet into her sandals.

  But we always knew that.

  * * *

  The trip back to Sunshine Farm was quiet. Dead silent, really. Jensen almost wanted to make a wrong turn and prolong bringing her home, but the ranch wasn’t all that far from the clinic, and even a newcomer to town couldn’t get lost in Rust Creek Falls.

  I know what I need to know, right? Her words echoed in his head.

  No, Mikayla, You don’t. You don’t know the half of it. It isn’t as simple, as black-and-white, as you make it seem. Davison’s favorite phrase had been “Things aren’t always what they seem.” Surely Mikayla knew he’d stay if he could, if he was cut out for commitment and parenthood. He wasn’t.

  There, he’d just proved her point. That was what she needed to know—that he wasn’t husband and father material. He wasn’t even birth partner material.

  When her doctor had rubbed that weird jelly stuff on her belly for the ultrasound and the image of Mikayla’s baby appeared on the monitor, Jensen’s knees had almost buckled—and he’d been sitting down. He’d had to grip the side of his chair. It had been one thing to feel the baby kick and understand that there was actually a little human growing inside her. It was another to see the baby on the screen. Hear its heartbeat.

  That amazing baby deserved the world. And he’d never be the kind of father a child deserved. Business first. Work first. The office first. Deals first. He’d been raised that way. And getting his heart handed to him by Adrienne, that betrayal, had told him if it happened once, it would happen again.

  There would not be a next time.

  He almost chuckled bitterly as he recalled Dr. Strickland asking if he was Mikayla’s birth partner. First total strangers in Vegas mistook him for an impending dad. Then the doctor had pegged him for a birth partner. How weird was that? That night in Las Vegas, he’d tried to imagine himself answering those nosey parkers with Yes, we’re expecting a boy. Or, Freedom? I’ve had my freedom. I can’t wait to give it up for the baby my wife and I will raise with love and joy.

  For a minute, after he’d gotten a little scotch in him, Jensen Jones had wanted to be that guy. That family man. But he wasn’t that guy; he’d never be that guy. That was just the way it was.

  So let her go, Jensen. Do the right thing.

  “We’re still friends, though, right?” he asked as he pulled up in front of the farmhouse. The catch in his voice annoyed him. Black-and-white, he reminded himself. No gray. No voice catching, no wanting more but not much more. “The ‘we’ discussion is over, like you said, but the friendship still stands. Right? Because I can’t let you get out of this car until you say yes.”

  She smiled. That was good.

  “The friendship stands.”

  Phew. “Very glad to hear you say that. Oh, and since it does, tough noogies on the bed. You’re keeping it. Friends help friends, and given what you’ve been through today, you need that bed. So that’s final.”

  She held out her arm. “No twisting required. I love that bed. That bed is a friend.”

  He laughed. “Well, let’s get you upstairs and in it. Did you know you can listen to music via Bluetooth on the remote?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if that bed made smoothies and pancakes,” she said. “Did I say thank you, by the way? It might be the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me. Well, besides the little yellow canoe cradle.” Her expression changed for a moment, and because he knew her well now, he could read the shift in her features—bittersweet longing for what wasn’t, what she wished could be.

  Dammit.

  He wanted so badly to reach out and hug her. But he stayed put and restricted himself to a quick hand squeeze. “That’s my job. Being thoughtful where you’re concerned. Friends do that. I just happen to be a friend with money.”

  “Understatement of the year,” she said with a grin as he came around to help her out.

  “Shall I carry you?” he asked, positioning himself to pick her up.

  “I can walk. But it was nice to be carried. I think that was a first, too.”

  “Lots of firsts with us,” he said, his voice cracking a bit again. Why did that have to keep happening?

  She nodded and led the way into the house and up the stairs. She closed her bedroom door and sent him a smile. “I’ll just change and be right out.”

  She disappeared into the bathroom, then came back in striped pink-and-red yoga pants and a long white T-shirt that read Baby on Board. “Ahh,” she said, getting into the bed. “Heavenly.” She picked up the remote and pressed some buttons. “Ahhh. Ahhhhh.”

  Jensen watched her enjoy the bed’s massage features, his own smile at her happiness and comfort warring with something else pushing at him, some heavyhearted fee
ling he didn’t want to allow in. He sat down in the rocking chair by the window. “I’ll just stay until you fall asleep,” he said.

  Unfortunately, she fell asleep way too soon. Now he had no reason to stay. Unless she woke up and needed something. But he heard Eva come in downstairs. If anything happened, he knew Mikayla would be in good hands.

  And he needed to think. He felt like he was being yanked in five directions. He needed air and space.

  He wanted to kiss her goodbye, even on her forehead, and whisper “Sweet dreams,” but when he got up, he went straight for the door and left, the evening breeze just what he needed.

  In his truck, he turned the ignition but then left the gear in Park, pulled out his phone and texted her: Going back to Walker’s for the night. If you need anything, text or call and I’ll be right over.

  Then he added, Let me know how you’re feeling when you wake up so I won’t worry all night.

  He wanted to also add I miss you already. But friends didn’t get that gushy.

  Gushy. If he felt gushy in the first place, did that mean he felt more than he was willing to admit to himself?

  En route to Walker’s house, his phone rang, thankfully distracting himself from his thoughts. He answered via the Bluetooth system.

  Ugh. His father.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “I expected you home by now, Jensen. Just what in hell is keeping you in that town? And don’t say it’s a woman.”

  All the fight went out of Jensen, and the truth came tumbling out of his mouth. “It’s a woman. She’s eight months pregnant and I’m crazy about her, but things are complicated.”

  Silence.

  “Dad?” he prompted. “Still there?”

  More silence. Walker Jones the Second was rarely at a loss for words.

  His father cleared his throat. “Well, that does sound complicated. Anyhoo,” he said, using one of his favorite subject shifters, “the real reason I called is that your mother and I are planning a trip to visit you, Hudson and Walker this weekend. We plan to arrive around five on Saturday. I suppose we’ll stay at Walker’s log cabin.”