Sadness crawled through her, strumming all of her maternal drives. Once upon a time, she’d thought she could balance a career in music and a family. How could she think of having children when she couldn’t even make a relationship work?
Bringing the generic baby against her chest, she closed her eyes, imaging just for a minute that she was holding her own baby.
Knock! Knock!
The door swung open.
She jerked and the fake baby flew out of her hands as she made a clumsy effort to catch it. The model landed with a loud thud at her feet. Shit! Embarrassment engulfed her as she lifted her chin and met a wide-eyed expression. “Sorry, Dr. Jones.”
The doctor came over, picked up the model and placed it safely back into the box. “Good thing he’s not real.” His green gaze twinkled with humor, which eased some of her mortification.
“There’s probably a good reason why I don’t have kids,” she quipped, but his expression went blank. She inwardly cringed.
“Why don’t you have a seat on the table and we’ll go over the test results.”
The normally jubilant doctor looked serious. Her chest tightened and she had an immediate case of heartburn. She took a seat on the cold table and clutched her hands in her lap.
“We got the results of your blood work and, before I physically exam you, I’d like to ask a couple of questions. You haven’t been to see me in years, which is usually a good sign that you’re healthy. We had you fill out the patient information sheet to catch up on any changes. However, you left several areas incomplete, like, when was your last menstrual period?”
She blinked as she searched her mind. “I can’t remember.” In between shows, she’d lost count. “I think—wow, it’s been a while.”
He nodded and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “You also left your sexual history blank.” His curious gaze met hers.
Feeling heat rise up her neck and settle in her cheeks, she cleared her throat. She typically wasn’t uncomfortable in talking to her doctor about personal things, but the night of passionate lovemaking she’d shared with Dante was her own little secret. “Is that necessary? All I did was faint.”
“I understand it can be difficult to discuss things, but it’s vital information.” He closed the file.
“I haven’t had sex in—” Her usual answer of “a long time” no longer held truth. “Well, I did several months ago.” Her mind started racing. Did she catch something down below? Her eyes dropped to her lap. “We used a condom every time.”
“Can you be more specific in the timeframe?” He opened her chart again.
“Eight weeks, two days and, uhmm,” she glanced up at the clock, “two hours. You’re starting to scare me, doc.” Heat spread through her limbs as a sour taste erupted into her mouth. She swallowed back vomit. “Do I have a disease? Am I ill? Do I have something terminal?” She had been feeling more tired than usual.
He shook his head. “Relax, no illnesses.”
“Phew!” She blew out a long breath. “You had me worried. So then being nauseous, cranky and passing out is from exhaustion?”
“Not entirely, although I wouldn’t rule out that your hectic schedule can cause those symptoms. But you’ll have to change some things now. Less work and more sleep and rest.”
“Huh? Why?” She wasn’t following along. “I thought you said I didn’t have anything serious?”
“But you are pregnant.”
She laughed. “You are a prankster, doc, but that can’t be possible. You see, I’d have to be having sex to get pregnant, which I’m not.”
“You did say you had sex two months ago—eight weeks, two days and two hours.” He pulled off his glasses.
“Yes, true, but we used protection.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, waiting for the doctor to admit he was only teasing. The thin set of his lips made her heart beat faster.
“Condoms aren’t one-hundred percent safe proof.”
“Yes, I know that, but wouldn’t I—uhh—realize if one didn’t work?” She thought over her words. “You know, left over stuff…”
“Ejaculation? It only takes one sperm and one egg to make a baby. Using condoms lowers the risk of pregnancy and the spread of disease, but statistics show there’s still a five percent risk of conception.”
“So you’re saying I’m a rare statistic?”
“No, I’m saying congratulations.” He patted her knee, his eyes filling with kindness.
Her stomach fluttered. “Pregnant? Not possible. Really, just not possible. Maybe we should take another test.”
His seasoned features softened. “April, I assure you, the blood test is accurate. If you don’t see this as being a positive in your life, you’re still early enough in your pregnancy with many options available.”
“Options?” She attempted to wrap her brain around his words.
With another pat and a nod, he said, “Take some time and think over your expectations. I’m sure this is a shock and you need time to absorb. If you decide to move forward, you need to start on vitamins. In the meantime, rest and take care of yourself.”
Chapter Five
APRIL TURNED UP the radio and rolled the window down. She loved sunny afternoons in Texas. And at this point in her life, she could use a whopping dose of blue skies and cowboys—the real ones. She’d gotten enough of the men who plopped on a Stetson, clipped on a belt buckle, slid into new leather boots and sang a country tune—like her ex-husband JJ. It took more than a dress code to make a man a cowboy.
The last time she came to town, she’d come to pay final respects to her Gramps at his funeral. Wow, things sure had changed since she’d said goodbye. Back in those days, she had an album climbing the charts and they were flying off the shelves like bottles of water during a drought.
Her popularity hadn’t slipped to embarrassment stages, yet, but she certainly had kissed her number one music days farewell. She guessed she could blame country music sweetheart Jessica James with her innocent blue eyes, ear-to-ear grin and cellulite-free-nineteen-year-old ass for knocking April off the charts. But that’d only be denying the truth. Every career had an expiration date, and at thirty-four, although still young, she’d hit the proverbial glass ceiling.
She sighed and swallowed the thick lump in her throat. There was more to her leaving Nashville and she would need to reckon with her plight.
Thankfully, no one would find her out here in nowhere land, at least for a while. Kiefer had thrown a mountain-sized fit when she told him she was taking a break, but he agreed he’d help keep the wolves at bay. She’d get the break she needed from the stress of her career and the media.
Turning left onto the familiar gravel road, her heart sped up. The narrow lane led to two places—to Gramps’s homestead and to Brooke Creek Ranch. She wasn’t sure which way she’d go once she reached the fork. Left would take her home and right would take her to a cowboy who’d lived in the recesses of her mind.
Talking to Dante would eventually take priority, but she wasn’t sure if now was the right time to open a can of worms.
Pulling down her visor, she checked her reflection in the small mirror. The dark circles and rosy complexion was a reminder she hadn’t slept in weeks. Maybe some good country air would have her hormones whipped back into shape, at least as much as possible.
The sound of an exhaust pipe brought her attention back on the road. A bright flash blinded her and she squinted, bringing one hand up to guard her eyes. In the next second, a motorcycle came out of nowhere followed by a cloud of dust kicked up in the gravel, making it more difficult to see. Instinct made her swerve the Lexus, and as she attempted to gain control, the tires skidded in the dirt alongside the road. She drove into the grass and the front of the car landed in the ditch. The driver’s tire sank sideways into the mud.
Dazed and holding her breath, April processed the fact that she was still alive.
Then anger sliced through her. The jerk on the motorcycle had forced her off the
road!
Forcing her door open, it took all of her strength to push against the weight of being on the slant, and she finally managed to climb out. Her boots slid and she almost lost her footing in the wet grass. Gaining her balance while holding onto the door, she wished she’d went for sneakers. Finally steady on her feet, she carefully pushed her way up the side of the ditch and stomped toward the gravel.
“Need some help?”
Hearing the masculine voice, she prepared herself for giving him a good tongue-lashing. “You must be the maniac who forced me off the side of the road! My rental car is stuck! I hope you have insurance because you’re going to need it.” Lifting her chin, she lost all logical thought as magic wound its way through her veins.
“Jesus, woman. You about killed us both.” As he looked at her, his crisp blue eyes glittered. He blinked and his lips thinned. “April?”
Her stomach twisted into more knots than a Boy Scout could tie. “Dante? What are you doing here?”
“I live here. Remember? Question is, what the hell are you doing here?” The Texas twang was edged with anger, but warmth still oozed through her body.
Gathering what little rationality remained, she moistened her lips. “I’m here to visit Gramps’s place. I—I’m stuck. It’s your fault.”
****
Dante couldn’t believe what he was looking at. April Rayne, in flesh and blood. He swept a quick glance over her and every place on his body jerked alive. He scrubbed his jaw, wishing he’d left the house fifteen minutes earlier instead of drinking another cup of coffee. A reunion with her was the last thing he needed, although the now solid part behind his zipper begged to differ.
Why did she show up? These weren’t her roaming parts of the country.
“Too bad about your car, but we don’t drive like that in these parts,” he snapped. “If you were watching the road you would have seen me coming.” He wasn’t sure why he was so angry. Neither was hurt, except he sure did feel an ache building in the pit of his stomach.
A stitch in his groin made him shift in his boots. He didn’t like how his body betrayed his mind, not one bit.
“I was watching the road, thank you! The sun reflected off your hunk of metal and blinded me!” Her fists plopped onto her hips as her chin came up in a defiant angle.
Her attitude and searing tone was lost on him. There was no way he’d let her get a rise…in his mood or his jeans. She couldn’t slip back into town and act like everyone would cater to her, especially not him. “My hunk of metal? Maybe you need to learn how to drive a fancy car on a gravel road. You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself, and me.” He marched back toward his bike, ready to hop on and hit the pavement. “By the way, why choose something like a luxury car out here on these back roads? I guess you have a reputation to withhold, but the closest neighbor is ten miles up and they wouldn’t care about your celebrity status anyway.” He shook his head in frustration.
“Then what’s your excuse for the expensive ride? Aren’t you a little too old to have a toy?” She was right on his heels.
He stopped and turned. “This is a vintage Harley.”
“Oh, did I offend your toy’s feelings? Or did I hit upon the truth?”
He glared at her. “What are you doing here, April? Last I knew, no one died.”
Her lips thinned and her green eyes glinted murder. “What are you? Visitor patrol? Get off my ass.” She turned and stomped toward her car.
“I’d slow down if I were you,” he yelled across the lane.
Once her cowboy boots hit the muddy grass, her feet went opposite directions. With flapping arms and a loud squeal, she attempted to gain control of her footing, but it wasn’t happening. She fell to her bottom and slid down the slippery slope.
He hurried back to the ditch and stared down at her red face. Once he realized she was okay, he said, “Let me help.” He held out a hand.
Her icy glare could have frozen lava. “Get away from me!”
“Fine.” Stepping back, he watched her stand up, slowly. She finally made it to the driver’s side and reached in, pulling out a purse. He half wondered if she planned to smack him over the head with it until she dug deep, searching and finally pulled out a cell phone. She fiddled with the device as her jaw tightened. “Oh no. This can’t be possible.” She held the phone high above her head, twisted it in several different angles and then carefully made her way back up the ditch. “How is this possible? We’re living in modern times. Every nook and cranny of this entire world should have service.”
“Welcome to the backwoods of Texas, darlin’,” he growled.
Letting out a disgruntled groan, she tossed her phone back into the oversized bag. “Do you have a phone I can use?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Good.” Her jaw relaxed some.
“But it’s not with me.”
The tapered expression returned…this time with a vengeance.
“How can you not have a cellphone with you?”
“I have no use for one. If anyone wants to speak to me they know where to find me.” He bit back laughter when she huffed and rolled her eyes. He couldn’t help himself. She was damn cute angry—always was.
“I’m glad you find this funny. I bet you wouldn’t be laughing if your toy was in the ditch!”
“It’s a Harley, for the second time.” He wanted this confrontation to end as quickly as possible before he started feeling sorry for her. “Lock your car up and I’ll take you wherever you need to go.” Once he offered, he wanted to kick himself in the ass. He didn’t owe her anything, but he couldn’t leave her stranded here on the side of the road either. Although, she was close enough to the farm that she could walk.
“What makes you think I’d allow you to help me?” She cocked a hip. In other thought, maybe he could leave her. He moved to his bike and slid on. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“Getting away from here.” He shook his head to clear it. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. He brought his chin around and looked. Why couldn’t he listen to his inner voice? He never did. Damn. Her wide eyes and pouty bottom lip scraped his courteous side. He grabbed the helmet from the back and stuck it out. She stared as if he was offering her an illegal drug. “You can come or stay. Up to you.” He didn’t have all day.
He watched her return to her car and got a view of her heart-shaped ass covered in mud. His mind conjured up an image of a time when they’d played in a puddle. He’d then helped her undress and they’d explored each other. He whistled through his teeth as he focused on her closing the door and clicking the key pad. With a shake of his head, he gritted his teeth, figuring he’d be doing a lot of that until he dropped Miss Fancypants off.
“I’m dirty,” she said.
He swallowed. Some words sounded too good coming from her mouth. “It’ll wash.”
She took the helmet, put it on and climbed onto the back.
Warmth and vanilla assaulted him. He needed to get this over.
What man should complain about having a beautiful woman on the back of his bike, but his clothes became too small and he couldn’t breathe. When her arms snaked around his waist and her firm breasts pressed his back, he was reminded just how good she’d felt naked.
Stay away from that memory.
He’d tried so hard to wipe April from his mind. Last weekend, he’d thought another woman could clear his mind of useless thoughts, but once he’d gotten on the dance floor with the redhead and she’d draped her arms around his neck, he’d lost all interest. He didn’t like her scent, her clothes, the way she smiled…nothing seemed right.
He’d excused himself, walked out of Starkey’s and swore he’d get April out of his mind, one way or another. Now she was here and all his effort went down the tubes. She’d leave eventually. In the meantime, he’d steer clear.
Starting the bike, she immediately held him tighter, her inner thighs squeezed his backside. Shit! He knew without a sliver of doubt he was being punished f
or all of the naughty things he’d done over the past years. Torment, pure torment. He hoped his cock would deflate soon.
“Where am I taking you?” he yelled.
“To the farm.”
The farm she referred to was her grandpa’s place. The homestead had been empty since the old man died. Thankfully, it wasn’t far, and then he could scrape her off his body and head back out of her life.
He turned the motorcycle around and headed her direction.
Once they were off the bike and standing in front of the old house, Dante hesitated leaving her. He looked around at the unkempt yard, broken fences, dilapidated out buildings, and shook his head. He guessed Old Man Liam would roll over in his grave if he saw the mess of his home.
He watched April climb the rickety steps to the porch as her slender shoulders slumped. What had she expected? A home takes a lot of work. “It’s not the Ritz, is it?” he said.
She whirled on him, resentment in her gaze. “I could do without your cocky attitude at the moment,” she snapped.
His attention naturally fell to her pearl pink lips until his balls ached. He’d liked to kiss the irritation right out of her deep green eyes.
Her scent lingered in his nostrils, her touch in his skin, deep within his bones. At times he didn’t think he’d ever rid himself of the grasp she had on his soul. Do I even want to?
Of course he did.
“Just speaking the obvious.” He scratched his jaw and leaned against the banister leading to the steps, hooking his thumbs in his front pockets.
She shrugged, as close to an agreement he figured they’d get. “It’ll do me just fine. After a good cleaning and some hard work, this place will shine like a new penny.” Some of the glitter came back to her eyes and he found himself smiling. “Gramps and his father built this place with their own two hands. The foundation is strong.” As if to drive home her words, she lightly kicked a spindle on the railing. It splintered into several pieces. Brushing her hands together, she sighed. “That’s easily fixed.
Second Song Cowboy (Second Chance) Page 5
