The Rancher's Rescue

by Cari Lynn Webb

  “It’s past noon. I thought accountants spent their days behind their computers.” Ethan handed her a laminated menu.

  Grace never glanced at the offerings. She knew everything by heart. It was the same menu that had been in the Clearwater Café when her father had brought Grace to the diner for their first daddy-daughter breakfast. She’d been six and a morning with her dad all to herself had been the best treat. The tradition continued even now and they had a standing reservation for the corner booth on the first Saturday of every month at 9:00 a.m. They’d only missed one Saturday in all the years they’d been going there. “Cleaning up after Sarah Ashley requires a lot of time.”

  “Your sister doesn’t seem too concerned.” Ethan nodded toward the front entrance.

  Sarah Ashley strolled into the diner like she’d just returned from a morning at the spa and seated herself at the counter. Her sister wasn’t concerned. She was that prosecutor digging for the last piece of evidence. Then she’d snap shut her briefcase and shout, “Case closed!”

  If Grace shifted just right, she could catch her sister’s speculative gaze and grating smile in the reflection in the glass mirror behind the counter.

  Grace leaned the other way, pretending to give their waitress, Delia Buck, room to set down their glasses of water.

  Delia pulled a golf pencil from behind her ear and scribbled down their orders. She dropped her sleek bright pink glasses into place and looked Grace over as if checking for some rare skin disease. “You order soup so much, I’m beginning to think you’ve gone on one of those new age liquid diets. Sure you don’t want a nice juicy burger?”

  That was the problem with having a long-standing tradition in a small town. Delia served Grace and her dad breakfast each Saturday and served Grace any other day she stopped in for lunch. Delia knew Grace’s eating habits better than she did. Sarah Ashley’s grin in the mirror looked sharp enough to thin slice a steak. Grace pressed her fist into her stomach to ease the sudden cramping. “I’ll stick to the soup.”

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with good old-fashioned beef. Grew up eating it every day and the heart’s still ticking.” Delia wedged the golf pencil into her hair-sprayed updo. “I bet if you ask real sweet, your boyfriend here will share a few bites of his burger with you.”

  Ethan coughed and swallowed half of the water in his glass.

  Delia winked and hustled on to her next customer.

  Sarah Ashley swung around on the stool and arched one sleek eyebrow at Grace. Grace wanted to slide under the table and crawl out of the diner. But she was going to be a mother. Mothers needed backbones. Time to prove to herself and everyone else that she had one. She adjusted her glasses, returned her sister’s smug grin with a smile and a challenge of her own, daring her sister to come to the booth. Daring her sister to tell what she thought she knew.

  Sarah Ashley narrowed her gaze and dipped her chin before turning back to the counter.

  Grace almost believed Sarah Ashley approved of Grace’s bravado. But Sarah Ashley never liked to be challenged. Never liked to be questioned. Growing up, her sister had often told Grace that she liked Grace best because she always went along with whatever Sarah Ashley wanted. Sarah Ashley liked that it was easy to be around Grace.

  Except Grace was about to be not-so-easy to be around. Who knew what kind of scene Sarah Ashley would cause when she learned Grace was pregnant with her ex-boyfriend’s baby. Grace wrapped her hands around the glass of ice water, trying to freeze out her guilt.

  Delia arrived with Ethan’s iced tea and Grace’s ginger ale and rushed off just as quickly. Grace tucked Sarah Ashley in the worry-about-that-later category and looked at Ethan.

  “You do seem to have a penchant for soup,” he said, as he tucked the laminated menu into its holder at the end of the table and reached for the sugar jar.

  “Soup settles my stomach.” She frowned at the bite in her tone. Ethan wasn’t to blame. He was the father. Who had to be told.

  “Are you sick?” His voice was mild as if he knew it was polite to ask, but didn’t want to know the details.

  “Nothing contagious.” Grace tore at the ends of her paper napkin and decided to tear off the truth Band-Aid. There’d never be the perfect time to tell Ethan. Why not now? In the overcrowded café. With her sister watching. She’d always heard that breakups were best done in crowded places to keep the injured party from making a scene. This wasn’t a breakup, she reminded herself. She ripped off the Band-Aid anyway. “It’s only supposed to last for the first three months.”

  Ethan held the open sugar jar suspended above his iced tea glass. “That sounds like a trimester.”

  Thankfully, Ethan had never been slow. Grace stopped shredding her napkin. “It’s exactly that.”

  Ethan lowered the sugar jar with a dull thud. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Grace shifted and refocused on Ethan as if he were the only one in the diner. “I’m pregnant. It’s yours. Mine. Ours.”

  Ethan downed his entire glass of iced tea and reached for her water glass to down it as well. He waved at a different waitress, asking for a refill. “But we used...”

  His voice dropped off, the sound evaporated from his voice like water from desert sand. The waitress poured more water, and tea, ensured their orders would be up soon and backed away. Ethan downed another glass of water. “Doesn’t matter now, I suppose.”

  “I wanted to tell you sooner.” I wanted you to tell me that you were excited. That while this hadn’t been expected, everything would be okay. That they’d be okay.

  “Why didn’t you?” His frown twisted into a scowl.

  The accusation in his tone was as sharp as a scalpel. “First, I was in denial.” Like now. Maybe he just needed more time to adjust to the situation. To the idea of a baby. She’d been in shock too, but that hadn’t lasted long. “So I waited to take the test.”

  “And then?” he prodded, looking more like a caged tiger clawing the door to get out.

  “Then I wanted the baby.” Nothing wavered in her voice, her gaze remained locked on his. She wanted him to know that nothing would change her mind.

  “I can’t be a father now.” His voice came out low and rough as if that cage closed in on him.

  But his gaze. That bite in his cool blue eyes blamed her. It was there for only a blink. Only a second. But she’d seen it. They weren’t going to be okay. She hadn’t expected him to shout for joy. But she’d never expected this. “Then I’ll be twice the mother.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” He leaned forward, his voice was bleak. “I can’t be a dad right now.”

  But for one unforgettable night, he’d proven he could want Grace. Like she’d dreamed. Reality stared at her now and with cold blue eyes. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I’m having this baby. I can be a mother, and I want to be a mother. I want this child.” And she would stop wanting more from Ethan. Right now. Right this minute.

  He leaned back, ripped his baseball cap off and scrubbed his hands through his hair as if to make sure he was still the same. That nothing had changed on him. “I guess this explains the peppermint addiction and soup fetish.”

  Nothing explained the disappointment burrowing deep inside Grace’s bones. She’d always known she was the Gardner sister the boys wanted for a friend only. It was her own fault she ached now. She’d let that small kernel of hope rest in her heart. The hope that Ethan Blackwell would be different. She sipped her ginger ale, washing the last bit of hope away. “Unfortunately, my morning sickness has lasted all day.”

  “And the baby’s healthy?” He scanned her face, detached and clinical, as if she was one of his patients, not the mother of his child.

  “I have an ultrasound scheduled the week after next.” She wouldn’t ask him to join her. He’d made his position more than clear.

  Delia set their order on the table and asked if they needed anything
else. Grace needed a to-go container for her lunch. Grace needed to go.

  Ethan gaped at his hamburger as if he’d been a lifelong vegan and abhorred beef. Grace forced a smile at Delia.

  “I need some air.” Ethan slid to the edge of the booth.

  Grace grabbed her purse.

  “Eat.” Ethan set his hand on her arm, stalling her. His voice was gentle and calmer than it’d been in the last ten minutes. “You need to eat. I need five minutes. I’m not bolting. I just have to...”

  The lost look on his face tugged at Grace. Tugged at places she’d only just vowed to ignore. “Go. I’ve had my five minutes to adjust.”

  “That’s all you needed?” He squeezed her arm. The shadow of a tease passed through his gaze.

  Grace grabbed her spoon, reminding her heart to be as hard as the steel in her hand. “That’s all I’m admitting to right now.”

  Grace glanced over at the counter. Thankfully, the older couple beside Sarah Ashley seemed to have pulled her into a rather lively conversation. Outside, she watched Ethan pace up and down the sidewalk.

  Well, she’d shared her secret. Ethan knew the truth. And now Grace knew the truth: she couldn’t count on Ethan. Not that it mattered. She’d already been prepared to build her business and raise the baby herself.

  If she’d wanted an involved father, she would’ve gotten married first. This wasn’t the path others would choose, but it was her path. She was on it now and not about to step off.

  She looked out the window. Ethan remained on the sidewalk, staring at the peaks of the Rockies. Grace tugged his plate toward her and reached for a slice of his bacon. Because she wanted to. Because she chose to.

  * * *

  NOTHING MOVED MOUNTAINS. That was a lie. Grace had just dropped one on him. He felt flattened right here, standing in his hometown, on the corner of Front Street and South Street.

  If he’d outlined a timeline for his life, marriage and a family appeared in a much later section. After he’d secured a job and paid off his college debts. After he’d established himself in the equestrian world as a leading veterinarian in horse rehabilitation. After he’d built his own clinic. Once he could financially support a wife and children, then he’d consider dating, wedding vows and baby names.

  At the moment, he had enough room on his credit card for two more tanks of gas. How was he supposed to buy diapers and baby formula? How was he supposed to be a good father? Grace deserved a good father for her baby. Their child deserved a good dad.

  Grace would be an excellent mom. That he didn’t question. He only questioned himself. And the answers weren’t etched into the mountain peaks no matter how hard he stared. He could stand on the corner until sunset and be there for the sunrise, but nothing would change those facts.

  Ready or not, panicked or scared, he was going to be a father. A father.

  Ethan strode back to the café and pulled open the door. Sarah Ashley stood just inside. He could only handle one Gardner sister at a time. He lifted his hand to stop her from speaking, as if she’d ever respected his wishes. “Not now, please, Sarah Ashley.”

  “What’s the matter, Ethan?” Sarah Ashley pursed her lips and regarded him. “Grace not telling you what you want to hear about the Blackwell Ranch accounts?”

  He would’ve welcomed whatever Grace had to say about the Blackwell Ranch accounts instead of what Grace had already told him. Sarah Ashley eyed him as if she knew he’d been outside stomping his feet and ranting about the inconvenience and unfairness of life. Angry at himself, more like it. “Shouldn’t you be at Brewster’s creating another mess for Grace to clean up?”

  Sarah Ashley winced and stepped back as if he’d jabbed at her pride. Generations of Blackwell fathers would be so proud of him right now. He was supposed to be a man, not a spoiled brat. Time to act like one. Time to take responsibility. “Sorry, Sarah Ashley. I need to get back to Grace.”

  Thankfully Sarah Ashley let him pass without another word. For as long as he’d known her, Sarah Ashley had always had the last word. He’d have to wonder later why she’d kept silent now. And when she’d offer a comeback. Knowing Sarah Ashley, he wouldn’t have to wait long.

  Ethan slid into the booth, noticed the absence of most of his french fries and looked at Grace. Her soup bowl was scraped clean. The color was back in her cheeks. The calmness that usually settled around her had returned. At least, one of them wasn’t consumed by stress. That must be the reason he lost his cool and blurted, “Let’s get married.”

  “It isn’t the 1800s anymore.” Grace dipped another one of his french fries into a small dish of ranch dressing and frowned at him. Her voice matter-of-fact and reserved. “No, we’re not getting married.”

  Was it wrong that relief splashed through him like a hot shower after snowplowing in ten-below weather? Between Big E’s string of ex-wives and Jon’s disaster of a first marriage, Ethan wanted nothing to do with loveless unions. “Okay, but what are we supposed to do now?”

  “I’m going to have a child and start my own business.” Grace pointed the french fry at him as if she was making a point about her favorite TV show, not discussing their future as parents.

  Ethan eyed her. How could she be so casual? He hadn’t told her anything she’d wanted to hear. Even he’d cringed listening to himself tell her that he didn’t want to be a father. Certainly that wasn’t something a pregnant woman wanted to hear. Even if it was the truth. He had to have hurt her. That hadn’t been his intention. His thoughts were more twisted up than a tangle of barbed wire fencing.

  But Grace only bit into the french fry and chewed slowly as if her world hadn’t changed. Wouldn’t change with or without him. Finally, she swallowed and added, “You’re going to rescue the Blackwell Ranch and... Do you have plans for the future?”

  Not baby plans. The paper embossed with his veterinary degree and his free work at the ranch wouldn’t support a child. But fathers supported their families. “A baby wasn’t a part of my current goals.”

  “I have the finances already worked out.” Grace polished off another french fry and wiped a napkin across her mouth. “If money is your concern, you can let that go.”

  She maintained a cool, cavalier tone. But the Grace he thought he knew had passion, heart and compassion. Yet she had everything all prepared, even the finances. She acted like he was nothing more than a sperm donor, which he technically was. A sperm donor still signed a consent form to become a sperm donor. He’d never signed anything to become a father. To have a child. With Grace Gardner. “Why did you tell me?”

  He winced at the resentment in his voice. Everything coming out of his mouth today seemed to be wrong. Maybe he should’ve taken a longer moment earlier. Perhaps walked up and down both Front and Back Streets, not just to the corner.

  Grace’s gaze narrowed. The first crack in her reserve. “Every child should know their father.”

  And every father should be present in his child’s life. Ethan regretted every day that he’d missed with his own dad. Still felt fate had cheated him, even though he’d had more time with his dad than some of the other kids he knew. Ethan scrubbed his hands over his face. “A child should have both parents in his or her life.”

  “I agree.” She’d wrapped her reserve back around her like a shield, giving away nothing about her true feelings.

  She didn’t offer suggestions or solutions. She left him to flounder across from her in the booth. She’d also refused his marriage request without hesitation. That had to mean she wasn’t interested in a loveless union either.

  But how was their child going to have both parents in his or her life when he moved to Kentucky or back to Colorado to join an equestrian practice? Falcon Creek lacked the opportunities he needed.

  No matter what Grace claimed about the finances being settled, Ethan intended to provide for both his child and Grace. He had to send out more résumés.
That afternoon. Forget saving the ranch, he had to save his bank account. “Who else knows?” he asked.

  “Sarah Ashley suspects that I’m pregnant.” Grace glanced at the counter, where her sister was sipping from a coffee mug. “She’s made it her personal mission to figure out who the father is.”

  No wonder Sarah Ashley had been waiting for him when he came back inside. Sarah Ashley had many faults, as did he, which had made them the not-so-perfect couple, but even that hadn’t granted him permission to make love with her younger sister. Or have a baby with her younger sister.

  Grace should’ve been off-limits. But he hadn’t wanted to respect the rules. He’d wanted Grace. And if he was honest, he was still drawn to her.

  Ethan chewed on what was left of his hamburger, trying to sort through his irrational thoughts. He slid his plate with the last of his french fries closer to Grace. “We need to tell Sarah Ashley.”

  “My parents need to be told too.” Grace accepted his offering and preempted his next thought.

  Ethan both liked and respected the Gardners; he had since grade school, and Pops as well. What was he supposed to tell Frank Gardner? Surely Frank would expect Ethan to step up and be a man, which Ethan had done. Yet, Frank’s middle daughter had turned Ethan down faster than an eight-second champion bull rider. Ethan hadn’t argued. “Your parents are going to notice soon.”

  He noticed a rosy shine to her cheeks now that he looked at Grace in a new light. Or, not exactly a new light. He’d been aware of her since the moment he’d walked into that closet of an office of hers less than a week ago.

  He’d been aware of Grace Gardner, the woman, the moment he’d stepped into the crowded reception hall three months ago to wish Sarah Ashley a happy future, but couldn’t keep his gaze from tracking over to Grace again and again.

  “I’ll tell my parents.” She finished her ginger ale and stacked all the dishes into an organized pile as if that likewise straightened up their situation. “You don’t need to be there.”