“I’m just being emotional.”
He didn’t doubt that, but he was also certain he’d disappointed her. He would have preferred to talk further, but just then the nurse whipped the curtain aside. “Are you ready to go home?” the young woman in scrubs asked brightly.
Vi left the hospital with a thick stack of papers Cole had every intention of reading when they reached her house. She was seated in a wheelchair and taken by the nurse from her room to the front entrance, where Cole waited, his truck idling. This time, she didn’t refuse his help, and he assisted her into the passenger seat.
“There’s a futon bed in my spare room,” she said as they left the parking lot and merged with traffic.
“I can bunk on the couch.”
“Wherever you’re more comfortable.”
He thought he might be more comfortable in her bed, but didn’t comment. “I’ll pick up something for dinner.”
“I have food in the house.”
“That’s great. Except I can’t cook.”
“No problem. I have a ton of frozen dinners in the freezer.” At his wry look, she added, “I’m busy and too tired when I get home to fix a big meal.”
“Can you? Fix a meal?” They’d talked about many things, but cooking had never come up. Not once.
“If you’re curious about whether I’m any good at it, I’m not.”
“Then I guess we’ll be eating out a lot, because I can barely boil an egg.”
She smiled. Really smiled, and her twin dimples appeared. Cole swore he sank a little further under her spell. He hoped, should they have a girl, that she’d take after Vi and inherit those same stunning dimples.
“Have you thought about what you want?” he asked.
“For dinner?” Vi glanced his way.
He laughed. “A boy or a girl.”
“Oh, I don’t care. Not to be unoriginal, but I just want a healthy baby.” She hesitated, her demeanor suddenly shy. “What about you? Do you have a preference?”
“None.”
“Really?”
“Vi.” He stopped at the streetlight, reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. “Really.”
Sensing the tension coursing through her—or was it anticipation?—he let go, regretful when she returned her hand to her lap. Maybe he’d rushed her. He vowed to go slower the next time.
Several miles passed with Cole concentrating on the road while Vi reclined and appeared to be resting. At the outskirts of Mustang Valley, he offered a suggestion.
“I’ll drop you off, get you situated in bed, then head to the ranch for some clothes and a toothbrush.”
“What about the cows? You haven’t finished checking them.”
“It can wait until tomorrow. Besides, there’s not enough daylight left.” Their trip to the emergency room had taken the better part of the afternoon.
“You are going to work tomorrow,” she stated. “We can’t both be off.”
“I’ll go. After I make sure you’re fine and have everything you need.”
“You surprise me sometimes, you know.”
“Good.” He grinned. “I like keeping you on your toes.”
She gave a small, indifferent shrug, but he sensed she was far from indifferent. Vi was a person who liked the unexpected and the thrill that came with it. If Cole let himself, he could become completely enamored with her.
At her house, he gave her some alone time to change into lounging clothes. After twenty minutes, he knocked on her bedroom door.
“How goes it?”
“Come in.”
She stood beside the bed, pointing the remote at the small TV atop the dresser and flipping through channels. A magazine, bottled water and her cell phone occupied the nightstand, and extra pillows were stacked at the head of the bed.
“You aren’t lying down,” he scolded.
“I will. I just gave Gabe a call to update him.”
Cole had assumed he’d be the one to break the news about her scare to the family. Well, she had worked for Gabe much longer than for Cole or Josh. Old habits were hard to break.
“What are you hungry for?” he asked. “Figured I’d stop at the café for takeout. It’s chicken-fried steak night.”
“Sounds perfect. With a side salad, please. I’ll pay you back.”
“I am not taking your money, and I’m not arguing with you about it.”
“I feel guilty enough as it is, accepting a paycheck when I’m home...sick.”
“We’ve been through this already,” he insisted.
“I know. Doesn’t change my feelings.”
“Can they be changed?”
“Not about money and accepting charity.”
He moved closer to her. “I was thinking of me. What are your feelings on that subject?”
Her gaze locked with his. “It depends.”
“I’m counting on them changing.”
“Why?” she asked earnestly.
“Because I’m not the guy you think I am, Vi. Make that the guy you thought I was.”
“And what kind of guy are you, Cole? I really want to know.”
“My word is sacred. I keep my promises. My moral compass mostly points north. I make mistakes, but not the same one twice.”
She smiled, showing off those amazing dimples.
He leaned in. How could he not? Her green eyes widened, then softened. Her lips parted ever so slightly. It would be easy to kiss her, and for a second he considered doing precisely that.
Instead, he took her by the arm and eased her onto the mattress, first sitting and then lying down. He picked up one of the extra pillows and positioned it beneath her feet, elevating her legs as per Dr. Medina’s orders.
When Vi was comfortably prone, TV remote in her hand, he bent, brushed her hair off her face and delivered a chaste peck to her forehead. “See you soon. No getting up. I mean it, Vi.”
She nodded. He thought that maybe, once again, he’d taken her by surprise, and grinned. This was getting to be fun.
At the door, she called his name, halting him. “I’m glad you’re staying. For the next few days,” she added, as if he might have misunderstood.
Pleasure coursed through him. She was glad, and it was enough, for now.
* * *
VIOLET WOKE EARLY, which wasn’t unusual. She rose by five o’clock most days. Before then, if necessary.
Having overnight guests...now that was different and unsettling. No one, not even Raquel or Cara, had slept at her house in all the years since her divorce—other than Cole, and he’d done so twice in the past two-and-a-half months. One big difference. Last night he’d slept on the living room couch and not in her bed.
She stood in the doorway that connected the kitchen to the living room, watching him slumber. With a start, she realized she’d missed him. Missed his body lying next to her during the night and wrapped around her when they woke. Most of all, she’d missed the low, seductive rumble of his voice in her ear as he wished her good morning.
How was that possible? They’d been together only one night. A total of twelve hours from the time he’d walked into the bar to when he’d left the next morning. They’d been intimate a mere eight. Yet it felt much longer. Days. Weeks. Months. Their connection had been instant and powerful, once they’d stopped denying their mutual attraction and yielded to it.
Just enough light filtered in through the slit in the drapes for her to discern his form on the couch in the gray of early dawn. His blanket lay on the floor beside him. He’d slept in his underwear—boxer briefs. They were dark in color and smoking hot. During their night together, he’d slept in the nude, as had Violet.
Resisting the sudden rush of memories, she pulled her bathrobe tighter, annoyed at her erratically bea
ting heart.
What nonsense. She was hardly some love-struck teenager crushing on a boy in her class. And she certainly wasn’t falling for Cole Dempsey. It was one thing to like him. Even lust after him in secret. But love?
Violet hated being vulnerable, which was exactly what being in love did to a person. Her baby came first. Having feelings for Cole, loving him, would only be setting herself up for pain and sorrow. He’d eventually leave, returning to the rodeo circuit, and possibly not come back. She’d been through that before with Denny; he’d left for different reasons, but still, he’d left. She didn’t care for a second go-round, thank you very much.
She might have stood there indefinitely if not for Diamond Girl. The small, buff colored Siamese sauntered in from the living room, meowing loudly.
“Shh.”
The cat rubbed lovingly against her leg, purring loudly. Violet bent to pet her, catching sight of Stripes, her tabby, maintaining a safe distance. He was a reformed feral she’d found living behind a convenience store, and brought home. He adored her. Everyone else, not so much, as evidenced by the way he glared at Cole.
Diamond Girl resumed meowing.
“All right already,” Violet whispered. “I’ll feed you.”
She’d started to retreat to the kitchen when Cole suddenly stirred. Ignoring the demands of her feline charges, she sneaked another peek at him.
Sweet heavens, he was beautiful. Tanned, smooth skin, abundantly muscled limbs, a toned torso that stretched long and lean. One arm was draped casually behind his head, and his feet hung over the edge of the couch. Really, he was much too big for it.
How could he have gotten any decent rest like that? She’d hardly slept herself, her mind racing a mile a minute and refusing to shut down. He’d been mere feet away, down the hall and around the corner. Had he struggled like her, tossing and turning while obsessing about the other person in the house?
Looking at him, peacefully asleep, she doubted it and, to her annoyance, she felt a sharp stab of disappointment. Why should she be the only one to suffer?
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
His voice startled her, and she involuntarily jerked. He sat up, taking his sweet time and not bothering to cover himself. Hair the color of tarnished gold stuck out at funny angles, somehow making him look sexy rather than silly.
Damn, there went her heart again. Bump, skip, bump.
“I needed coffee.” She held up the mug in her hand.
“Caffeine’s bad for the baby.”
“It’s decaf.” He’d been listening to Dr. Medina. Violet went from being disappointed to being pleased. He did care. “Can I fix you a cup?”
“Have any regular? Decaf’s not enough to start my motor revving in the morning.”
After looking at him for a full ten minutes, her motor was purring louder than Diamond Girl’s. “Sure. Coming right up.”
“I’ll make it. You go back to bed.”
“Cole.” She crossed her arms over her middle. “I’m allowed to be on my feet an hour a day.”
“How long have you been awake?”
“Are you timing me?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
His concern was...adorable. Oh, God. How could she continue resisting him? Especially in such close proximity.
Afraid her voice might betray her, she cleared her throat. “Are you hungry? I have oatmeal muffins to go along with the coffee. Packaged, not homemade.”
“My favorite kind.” He stood.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of his boxer briefs riding low on his hips, and her fingers resumed clutching the fabric of her bathrobe collar. He obviously didn’t have a self-conscious bone in his body.
“I’ll get your coffee.” She spun on her heels to avoid giving herself away, if she hadn’t done so already. The next two nights with him promised to be just as long and restless as the last one.
When Cole joined her in the kitchen, she was relieved to see he’d slipped on his jeans and a T-shirt. With clothes on, she had a much better chance of being able to face him, to sit across from him at the table, without losing her thinly held composure.
She placed a mug in front of him, coffee black, the way he liked it. They’d shared enough breakfasts at the ranch house for her to be familiar with his tastes. The morning after their night together, she’d been in such a hurry to get him out of the house, she hadn’t offered him so much as a glass of water.
The muffins, three of them, fit nicely on a paper plate. They went onto the table, along with a tub of butter, two glasses of orange juice, Violet’s prenatal vitamin and a couple bananas. She didn’t care much for the fruit, but she’d been bothered by nightly leg cramps lately and read somewhere that the potassium in bananas helped.
“You’re too good to me,” he said, helping himself to a muffin and the knife. He broke the muffin in two and slathered a huge glob of butter onto each half.
Thankfully, conversation flowed easily over breakfast, perhaps because it centered on work and not on the two of them. She almost wished they weren’t getting along. Her choices would be easier then and she could insist on Raquel or Cara staying with her rather than Cole.
They were just finishing when Violet’s cell phone went off, playing a familiar ring tone. She groaned, scrubbing a cheek with her hand.
“Someone you’d rather avoid?” Cole dusted off the crumbs that clung to his shirt. He’d wolfed down a banana and two of the muffins like a starving man.
“It’s my mother.” For a moment, Violet considered not answering, but at the last second, she got up and went to the counter where she’d left her phone. She swiped the screen and put the phone to her ear. “Morning, Mom.”
“Honey, tell me,” her mother blurted in a rush. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Are you sure? Some woman just called to confirm your doctor’s appointment. When I told her you didn’t live here, she apologized and hung up. Are you sick?”
Violet shook her head in confusion. She’d listed her mother’s number in the event of an emergency, not as a primary contact. Someone at the doctor’s office must have made a mistake.
“I’m not sick, Mom. I’m—” Violet’s phone beeped, signaling she had another call. Checking the screen, she saw it was Dr. Medina’s office. “Let me phone you right back. It’s the doctor on the other line.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Don’t you dare hang up on me.”
“Fine.” Violet placed her mother on hold, then took the call from the doctor. After confirming her follow-up appointment and correcting the phone number mix-up, she returned to her mother. “Sorry about that.”
“You still haven’t told me what’s wrong.”
Violet caught Cole’s eye. He remained seated at the table. In fact, he appeared permanently rooted in the chair. Didn’t he have to be at the ranch soon? She supposed, as one of the owners, he could set his own hours. But there were a hundred pregnant cows left to check, and that would take most of the day, even with help.
“Don’t you have work?” she mouthed.
“It’ll wait,” he mouthed back.
Drat. She either ended this call with her mother, asked Cole to give her some privacy, left the kitchen and sought refuge in her bedroom, or bit the bullet and leveled with her mother in front of him. Well, at least he’d see firsthand how persistent her parents could be.
“It’s a follow-up exam, Mom.”
“Follow up to what?”
In the background, she heard her mother drawing on an electronic cigarette. Violet wasn’t sure she approved of the practice, but quitting smoking was hard for her mom, who’d tried countless times in the past. The electronic cigarette seemed to be helping with her efforts.
“I wasn’t sure if and when I was going
to tell you.”
“Violet!” her mother practically screeched.
She hesitated, bolstered her courage and said, “I’m pregnant.”
Her mother audibly gasped. “Is it Denny’s?”
“No! Why would you think that?”
“You haven’t mentioned seeing anyone.”
“Because I’m not.”
“You must be. That’s how these things usually work. Unless... Violet! Don’t tell me you went to one of those sperm clinics.” She all but choked on the last two words. “You’re young, your biological clock can’t possibly be ticking.”
“I didn’t go to a clinic, Mom.”
“Who is he, then?”
No inquiries about the baby or about Violet’s health. How far along she was. How she felt. If she was happy. Then again, what did she expect? Her parents, both of them, had always been completely and totally self-absorbed. All that mattered to her mother was whether or not the father was someone she considered acceptable.
Violet held the phone to her chest. “She wants to know who the father is. Should I tell her?”
“That’s your business.” A twinkle lit Cole’s blue eyes. “But if you’re asking do I mind, the answer’s no.”
She returned to the phone. “It’s Cole Dempsey.”
Her mother sucked in a breath. Or perhaps she’d taken another drag on her electronic cigarette. It was hard to tell. “August Dempsey’s son?”
“Yes.”
“The one you don’t like?”
“That’s not true.”
Violet proceeded to fill her mother in on a few of the details, during which Cole wore a none-too-subtle smile. If she didn’t find him so damn sexy, he’d irritate her no end.
“You will keep me posted,” her mother said when Violet finished describing yesterday’s scare and the doctor’s cautiously optimistic prognosis.
“I will.”
“I’ll tell your father tonight when he calls. He got a suite at Manor House, in case you’re interested.” She took another drag. “He’ll want to come see you. Probably this weekend. Make certain you’re doing all right.”
Violet bit back a groan. “That’s not necessary, Mom. In fact, I insist.”
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