HER SECRET, HIS BABY

by Tanya Michaels

In his peripheral vision, he saw Arden flinch.

  “Does it bother you, when I talk about having the baby with me? I’m not trying to separate you from Peanut, you know. I just want to be a father.” His throat tightened. “Do you know how many milestones I’ll miss? It’s unlikely I’ll be there for the first step or the first word. At best, they’ll probably be blurry videos I get to see weeks later on your phone.” If she’d had her way, he wouldn’t have even experienced those.

  “Garrett...”

  There wasn’t a damn thing she could say to change the circumstances or take back what she’d done. Shaking his head, he strode toward the house.

  He unlocked the door and held it open for her, letting her step into the living room first.

  The look she gave him over her shoulder was wry. “So this place is like mine, huh?”

  Granted, she didn’t own a big-screen television or a leather sectional sofa, but the analogy wasn’t completely off-base. “Maybe without some of the homier details,” he admitted.

  On the mantel he had a framed picture of himself with his parents and grandparents and a much smaller photo of his favorite horse. They were the only photographs displayed anywhere in his home. He suddenly felt self-conscious about that, given Arden’s profession. But mountains and spectacular sunsets and countless stars winking down at his porch were part of his daily existence. Why miniaturize them for capture in insignificant pewter frames when he could experience them firsthand?

  “The good news is, I have plenty of room for baby paraphernalia,” he joked.

  The furniture was sparse, but that helped keep the modest-size house uncluttered. His philosophy was that he didn’t need much, so for the belongings he did purchase, why not buy the best? He’d spent most of his budget on the high-end sectional sofa but skipped over a kitchen table. Between bar stools at the counter, folding TV trays and meals at the main house, he figured he was covered. Did Arden see an indulgent bachelor pad? He had to admit, his style of living wasn’t necessarily compatible with having an infant or toddler in the house.

  He scratched his jaw. “Guess I need to change more than just the outlet covers, huh?”

  She hesitated as if there were something she wanted to say but thought better of it.

  “Arden?”

  “I actually am tired. Is there a place I can lay down for a while?”

  “Right this way.” He took her to the master suite. Something potent jolted through him. He’d always been sexually drawn to Arden, but having her here by his bed made the desire more primal. More possessive.

  She took in her surroundings. “This isn’t a guest room.”

  “Don’t have one anymore. This house was over seventy years old. I did a complete remodel, including knocking out the wall between two small bedrooms. Figured less was more. Literally. You’ll sleep in here, I’ve got the living room. The middle section of the sofa pulls out into a surprisingly comfortable double bed. Bathroom’s right this way.”

  “Whoa.” She gaped at the spacious tub. Its hot-water jets were perfect for easing sore muscles after days of sunup to sundown labor. “That’s big enough for two people, easily.”

  The mental image was vivid and instantaneous. He tried not to groan at the thought of slicking soap over her dewy skin. The morning they’d woken up together in that Cielo Peak hotel, he’d hoped she’d join him in the shower. Instead, she’d stolen away without a backward glance.

  He cleared his throat. “Unless you need anything else, I’m headed to the barn to help my dad.” Putting much-needed space between himself and his alluring houseguest. “I’ve got my cell phone with me.”

  Although Garrett truly loved the ranch, he didn’t think he’d ever been this eager to tackle menial chores. There was a specific calm that came with the familiar tasks—cowboy Zen his dad had called it once.

  He found Brandon starting the tractor.

  “About to haul hay,” the older man called. “Wanna lend a hand?”

  “Sure.” Garrett stepped up onto the platform step and held on. The tractor chugged toward the round bales they would use to stock feeders. Sometimes the two men rode in companionable silence. Garrett knew today would not be one of those days.

  Brandon came out swinging, raising his voice to be heard over the engine. “You gonna do the right thing and marry that purty gal?”

  “Dad, I told you, it’s not like that between us. We aren’t dating.” Relationships required trust. These days, Garrett was feeling pretty cynical about the institution of marriage in general. But that wasn’t something he could discuss.

  “I don’t know what you mean by dating, but whatever you did was enough to get her pregnant.” Brandon made a derisive noise. “You were brought up in a good home, with parents who loved each other. Didn’t think you were one of those men with dumb-ass priorities, the ones too afraid to grow up and settle down.”

  “That’s not it at all,” Garrett said, defending himself. “And you’re making an awfully big assumption that even if I asked her, she’d say yes. Arden...has been through a lot. She told you she lost her parents. About a year ago, she also lost her best friend and young nephew in a car crash. She’s...in a delicate place emotionally, picking up the pieces.”

  A wholly unexpected stab of guilt twisted Garrett’s insides. Whether he’d known it or not, Arden had been emotionally vulnerable the night he’d slept with her. He hadn’t meant to take advantage of her loss. All he’d known was that the beautiful stranger made his blood boil with need. Hell, she still did.

  Arden had said she wanted them to be friends. Did she have any feelings for him beyond that? She’d kissed him at her house but had been quick to blame pregnancy hormones. Had she been trying to tell them that her body might want him, but, aside from the ungoverned chemical reaction, she wasn’t interested?

  “Caught your momma and me off-guard,” Brandon chided, “springing Arden on us like that. Don’t get me wrong. We’re happy to meet her. She seems like good people. But your momma... Long before we had you, there were miscarriages. Caro’s tough enough to hold her own against a coyote or a snake, but she wasn’t emotionally prepared to spend the afternoon with a pregnant woman.”

  Garrett didn’t know what to say. “How come neither of you mentioned any of this before?”

  His dad shrugged. “Never saw the need. Why dredge up old pain when it’s in the past?”

  They reached the bales and began the process of lifting them for transportation to the feeders. For now, conversation was over. But his dad’s words kept replaying through Garrett’s mind. Did Brandon truly believe it was better for the past to lay undisturbed? Caroline Frost insisted that telling her husband about her long-ago indiscretion would cause him pointless grief, that it was a fleeting mistake with no consequence on the present.

  Except that wasn’t true. Garrett was the consequence. Brandon always talked about the Double F as if it were the family legacy. But right now it felt as if their legacy was comprised of unintentional pregnancies and women who kept secrets.

  Striving to push aside the doubt and questions—at least for one afternoon—Garrett threw himself into the familiar rhythm of feeding the cows. He envied the herd their simple existence. As far as his own life was concerned, it felt as if no decision would ever be simple again.

  Chapter Nine

  Arden suppressed a yawn, staring out the window at hundreds of twinkling stars. “I may have to spend the night in the truck. I’m too stuffed to move. Not that I’m complaining.”

  “I have to say, my mother went all out. She must really like you.”

  Was he really that blind? Arden wasn’t the one Caroline was trying so hard to win over. “I would’ve said it was more a case of slaughtering the fatted calf to welcome home the prodigal son. In this case, literally.” The Frosts’ freezer was full of prime beef they themse
lves had raised. Had it been strange for him as a boy, eating a steak that might have had a name only a few months ago?

  “I’m not that prodigal. I was only gone for a week.”

  “Nonetheless, she’s happy to have you home. Happy and scared. She’s afraid you won’t forgive her.”

  “You think I want to be angry with her? I didn’t ask for any of this. Waffling between all these emotions sucks. It’s confusing. And exhausting.” As they walked toward the house, a motion-sensor light flooded the yard.

  She took the opportunity to steal a better look at his expression. Did he classify her in the “any of this” he hadn’t asked for, one of the factors currently screwing up his life? She would never, ever wish away the baby, but for the first time, it occurred to her to wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t been pregnant when she’d encountered Garrett in the grocery store. Would they have met for a drink, maybe? Reexplored their physical connection? Would there have been a chance for them to develop something more?

  “I know what you mean about the emotional exhaustion,” she said. “When Natalie and Danny died, I was livid. But maintaining that level of outrage over the unfairness of it all left me depleted. Listless. It was a long, slow climb up out of that pit.” Her night with Garrett had been a major catalyst in that process. She only wished there was more she could do to help him with his own personal crisis.

  Inside, he asked, “Ready to turn in?”

  “No. I slept too long this afternoon,” she said ruefully. His bed was impossibly comfortable. “But if you’re tired, I can read or something.”

  He didn’t answer at first, and she wondered what he was thinking. Would he prefer the solitude of his own company? Or was he as reluctant to say good-night as she was? “How about we look into that online registry idea?” he suggested finally. “My computer’s in the bedroom.”

  Fifteen minutes later, as Arden wiggled her bare toes and sipped from a steaming mug of generously honeyed chamomile tea, she decided that Caroline Frost was a genius for having thought of this. Arden had changed into a pair of pajamas, and Garrett was stretched out next to her in a pair of plaid flannel pants and a well-worn charcoal T-shirt, his muscles delineated beneath the thin cotton. This was so much better than rolling alongside him at a retail warehouse like his fat cyborg friend.

  They hadn’t gotten to any of the fun stuff yet—the actual scrolling through products and clicking on anything and everything that looked useful. Garrett was still inputting their basic information, listing her as the main contact and her address for shipping. She thought about what he’d said earlier, that his wanting to spend time with the baby was nonmalicious and that she was welcome to spend time here, too. After tonight, she could almost imagine doing so. Caroline and Brandon had entertained her with stories of Garrett’s childhood and ranch life; they’d coaxed her to talk about herself and said her brothers sounded like absolute princes—which had earned a sarcastic guffaw from Garrett.

  She nudged his ankle with her foot. “You have a strange surname.”

  “Frost? That’s not weird.”

  “It is for a family this warm. Thank you for bringing me here. Your parents are wonderful people. You’re wonderful.” When the time came that her child was spending weekends and holidays and summers here without her, she would always know that the kid was in good hands.

  But now was not the time for such bittersweet thoughts. She wanted to distract herself with cute onesies and colorful board books, not dwell on the challenges to come. “Maybe I should’ve typed,” she mocked him. “Even with swollen hands, I could go faster than you.”

  “Not my fault,” he grumbled, moving his fingers in an inefficient, hunt-and-peck fashion. “Your pajamas are distracting me.”

  She blinked. “My pajamas?”

  “They’re sexy.”

  The sky-blue drawstring shorts printed with bright yellow rubber duckies and the voluminous matching top? “Are you on crack?” A walking lingerie ad, she was not.

  “Rubber ducks are for the bathtub,” he said, as though this made something resembling sense. “Ever since what you said earlier...I might have pictured you in the tub once or twice.”

  A sweet, piercing heat flooded her. “Oh.” He’d pictured her there? She was surprised by the intensity in his tone, how much he wanted her. True, they’d had incredible sex together, but that had been months ago. Before she’d damaged his trust. Before her body had morphed to its current shape. “Did you, um, picture yourself in the tub with me?”

  He jerked his head up, looking startled by the question. Then he set the laptop on the comforter and leaned very close. “Yes.” His breath fanned over her skin. “Would you like to hear the details?”

  “I... No, I...” Frankly, she’d rather have a demonstration. But no matter how loudly the reckless words echoed in her head, she couldn’t bring herself to voice them.

  “I understand.” He picked up the laptop again as if nothing had happened. She tried not to hate him for that. Her breathing was shallow, her palms were clammy, her nipples were hard points. He resumed the uneven staccato of his typing.

  Arden gulped her tea as if it were a miracle cure for lust, and immediately cursed.

  “Whoa. Some language.” Garrett looked impressed at her imaginative vulgarity.

  “I was raised by older brothers,” she said by way of explanation. But since she’d burned her tongue, it came out as I wath raithed by older brotherth. Very sexy. No wonder a gorgeous cowboy who could probably have his pick of any woman in the state spent time fantasizing about her. Sheesh.

  “Okay, all done filling out the online form,” Garrett declared. “Do you have a checklist of everything we need?”

  “At home. I didn’t pack it this weekend. But we can get started and always add items in later.” She scooted closer so she could see the screen better and directed him to consumer reviews and safety reports on the car seats that interested her the most. It took them over forty minutes of research and debate to decide on a seat, a crib and a high chair.

  He hesitated, his hand hovering over the mouse. “Should we register for two cribs?”

  It was a fair question, and she tried not to balk. “How about this? We register for a playpen. It’s basically a portable crib that you can fold up and throw in the back of the truck. Not only would it work well here at your place, you could easily schlep it over to your parents’ for a few hours in case you wanted to visit with them or they offered to babysit.”

  After a number of big items had been selected, they began surfing the site just for fun. “Why are there no baby cowboy hats?” Garrett demanded. “That’s a travesty!”

  She had a sudden mental image of a little boy with Garrett’s shimmering gray eyes, a too-big cowboy hat dipping comically low over his forehead.

  “Oh, dear Lord.” His befuddled tone snapped her out of her reverie. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

  “What is it?”

  “Baby Booty Balm. Then there’s another brand called Butt Spackle. Can’t these people just call it diaper rash ointment? Leave the poor kids some dignity.”

  A succession of memories drifted through her mind—mental snapshots of Danny dressed like a bunny at Easter when he’d only been four months old, him covered in mud after he’d discovered a puddle in the yard, and streaking bare-assed through a dinner party once when he’d emphatically decided his father was not going to change his diaper.

  “Hate to burst your bubble,” she said, “but I’m not sure infancy and toddlerhood come with a lot of dignity.”

  “You never know,” he quipped. “Our kid could be special.”

  Of that, she had no doubt. They made a few more selections, and she realized that the soothing chamomile had done its job. A peaceful lassitude was seeping through her bones. With Garrett next to her, making jokes about their son or da
ughter, she felt more tranquil and lighthearted than she had in weeks. Not wanting the moment to end, she tried to smother her yawn, but he noticed.

  “Why don’t we shut this off for now?” He clicked on an icon to bookmark the page, and she noticed some of the other sites in the “favorites” library. Most of them were about kidney transplants and living donors.

  “Interesting reading,” she remarked. She didn’t want to pry, but she hoped that by giving him an opening, he’d know she was available to listen.

  “Kidneys are among the most common organ transplants,” he said. “And, if I read this one article right, doctors don’t actually remove the bad kidney to replace it. They leave it in there and do some kind of...I don’t know, arterial rerouting? Like when someone used to hack their neighbor’s cable. So whenever Will gets a new kidney, he’ll be walking around with three of them inside.” Garrett frowned. “Three’s an awkward number.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “What was your impression of my parents together?” he asked. “As a couple?”

  The question surprised her, but it meant a lot to her that he valued her opinion. “From my perspective as an outsider, it looks as if they’re crazy about each other. I can’t imagine why your mother was ever with someone else, but if she says it ended years ago, I’d believe her.”

  Garrett jammed a hand through his hair. “You may be right. I mean, I certainly never saw anything when I was younger to make me suspicious. I always thought my parents were devoted to each other, a shining example. I wanted, someday, to find what they had.”

  Was he angry not just that Caroline had betrayed her husband but that she’d betrayed Garrett’s long-held ideal? Parents were human beings, too. Yes, his mom was flawed, but he was still lucky to have her.

  “I think the affair bothers me more because Will Harlow never married,” he said. “He’d bring an occasional date to dinner, but I’ve been racking my brain and can’t remember his ever having a serious girlfriend. It makes me wonder if his feelings for my mother were as platonic as she’d like to claim. Did he ever really move on? And does it matter? Even if he’s been pining for my mother her entire marriage, is that a reason to deny him a kidney?”