by Judy Duarte
“You mean you’re not fine?” He set down his fork, unable to eat in spite of his hunger, and merely stared at her. “What did the doctor say?”
“No, I’m okay. It’s just that...” She worried her bottom lip. “I guess there’s no easy way to say it. I’m pregnant, Ian.”
He pushed his plate aside, no longer able to eat. “I asked you that an hour ago, and you said—”
“I know. I implied that it wasn’t likely. But that’s what I was told a couple years ago. Apparently, it wasn’t impossible. Dr. Connor confirmed it today. I somehow got pregnant in spite of the odds. And I misread the symptoms, thinking that there was no way I could be.”
Ian and Carly hadn’t made love in ages—four or five months, to be precise. So he asked the logical question. “Who’s the father?”
She stiffened. “You are, you big jerk.”
He hadn’t meant to offend her. “I’m sorry, Carly. It’s just that you’d have to be pretty far along.”
“According to Dr. Connor, I’m about four months.”
He fought the urge to look at her belly, to see if he could detect a bump. Wouldn’t she be showing?
Finally he said, “I’m at a loss for words.”
“Imagine how I felt when the doctor confirmed it.”
Had she been upset by the news? Shocked to learn she was confronting the same crisis Felicia had once faced?
When Felicia had announced that she was expecting Ian’s child, he’d taken it in stride. In fact, he hadn’t minded the idea of becoming a father. But it hadn’t panned out that way. And he’d been left to grieve for the child he would never meet. But this was different.
Carly was different. And there was something about knowing they’d conceived a baby together that...delighted him.
But what if she decided that a child wasn’t in her future, just as Felicia had done?
“So what do you plan to do?” he asked.
She tugged on a strand of hair, then twirled a curl around her finger. “I’m not sure.”
He felt compelled to offer to marry her, to promise to be there for her and the baby for the rest of his life. It was, after all, the right thing to do. But, knowing Carly and the big dreams she had, he didn’t think it was a good idea to put too much pressure on her when she was just getting used to the idea of expecting their child.
It was too late for an abortion, wasn’t it? He hoped he didn’t have to go through that again—the pleading, the bargaining...and then the eventual grief at not being able to stop Felicia from what she’d been so damned determined to do.
Yet, if Carly decided to have the baby, to keep it, she might want to take it on the road with her. And he’d hate that.
A baby needed regular hours, a loving home, a mom who was always there for it, a dad who—
Hey, now that was an idea. Maybe Carly would consider joint custody. Or maybe Ian could raise the baby himself.
He’d have to hire a housekeeper and a qualified nanny, though.
“What are you thinking?” Carly asked, drawing him from his thoughts and the plans he’d yet to think through.
The fact that his feelings, his choices, mattered to her eased his mind considerably and gave him... What? Hope?
“I’m actually okay with it,” he said.
“I suspected you would be.”
Then why wasn’t her expression softening? Why wasn’t she pleased by his support?
Hell, he’d marry her—if that would help, if it would make her feel better. And if he were to be honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind having her live with him. He could see himself coming home to her each night, holding her in his arms, making love until they were both sated and smiling. But something told him she’d been so scarred by her parents’ dysfunctional relationship and ultimate divorce that she would be opposed to the idea.
Of course, he could always try to convince her that some couples actually did make a go of it, that they could be happy together for fifty years or more. Take his grandparents, for example.
Yet maybe Ian had been scarred, too. His unhealthy relationship with Felicia had made him leery of trusting a woman to love him more than she loved her career. So now probably wasn’t the time to make any serious decisions.
“Why don’t we sleep on it?” he said.
Her brow arched as if he’d suggested they do so together—and in the same bed. He wouldn’t be opposed to that. In fact, he’d like it. But that would take some courting, too—no matter how sexually compatible they’d been.
He told himself to exercise caution. After all, he had let his hormones convince him that he’d loved Felicia when they’d been in lust. Their relationship had ended badly, and he wasn’t about to make that same mistake twice, especially when he and Carly had even more chemistry.
“We both have a lot to think about before we make any decisions,” he added. “But I’m glad you told me.”
“I figured you’d say that.”
He wanted to add that he’d support her decision—no matter what it was—but that wasn’t true. He wanted their baby. And he’d do whatever he could to be a big part of its life, even if he had to hire an attorney and fight Carly every step of the way.
* * *
Ian had taken the news well, Carly decided, although he’d remained quiet and introspective during dinner. He’d offered to help her with the dishes, but she’d sent him on his way, saying she needed time to think and would rather talk more in the morning.
He’d seemed relieved to have some time alone, too. He might have said that he was okay with the news, but it still must have taken him aback. Heck, she was okay with it, too, but that didn’t mean the diagnosis hadn’t thrown her for a loop.
After moving numbly through the kitchen, washing the dishes, putting the leftovers in the fridge and wiping down the countertops, Carly retreated to the guest room, where she’d left her purse and the paperwork the doctor’s nurse had given her about pregnancy and what she could expect. She planned to look it over tonight.
But as she approached the doorway to her great-grandmother’s bedroom, her steps slowed to a stop. She suddenly missed Granny more than ever and took a moment to walk inside, to surround herself with loving, comforting memories.
There was still a familiar hint of lavender lingering in the bedding, as well as in the Irish lace curtains. Other than the kitchen, it was the one place in the house in which Carly felt her great-grandmother’s presence. But then again, maybe that had something to do with the dear old woman’s portrait, which hung on the wall.
Camilla Cruz had painted it and captured something special in her expression—a knowing look that had put a twinkle in her eye, a warm smile. There was even the appearance of wisdom on her brow. She almost looked alive and ready to listen to Carly’s hopes, joys and sorrows.
“Granny, I miss you so. And I wish you were really here.” Carly took a seat in the antique rocker that rested near the bed, a hand-crocheted afghan draped over the wooden spindles in the back. She placed her hands on the slight swell of her stomach, where her baby grew, and looked at the portrait. “I’m pregnant. Imagine that.”
She’d known about it for more than twenty-four hours now, yet it still seemed so surreal. The baby was real, though, and already its own person, yet Carly hadn’t even been 100 percent sure of its existence until this afternoon.
As she set the rocker in motion, she envisioned holding her little one, rocking it. Singing lullabies.
She wasn’t sure if it was a boy or girl, but that really didn’t matter. Still, she wasn’t sure how a baby would fit into her dream of performing. She’d planned to pursue her career for ten years or so, then retire and adopt children, creating a family of her own. Yet now, the timing had gone wrong, and her dreams had crisscrossed.
Did she care?
No, she already loved the life that grew inside of her. She’d just have to hire a nanny and take them both on tour. Somehow, she’d make it work. She just hoped Ian didn’t make a fuss. For being an easygoing cowboy, he could sure get stubborn at times.
She just hoped this wasn’t one of them.
Chapter Six
The next morning, Ian left Cheyenne outside with one of the teenage hands who’d come to help out. Then he let himself into the ranch house through the back door, put on a pot of coffee and waited in the kitchen for Carly to wake up.
Last night, after eating dinner with her and then returning to his place, he’d called Todd Adams, a cowhand who’d been looking for work, and asked him to help out on the Leaning R. Carly’s brother Jason hadn’t authorized him to do any hiring, but Ian planned to buy the ranch himself as soon as it went on the market, so he would pay the man out of his own pocket.
He’d already lined up Todd for the day, so he was free to talk to Carly. He had no idea how long he’d have to wait, but he was determined to talk to her first thing.
Carly didn’t usually get up before nine, so he figured he’d just keep himself busy doing one of several fix-it projects Jason’s new wife had told him about. One of those was to check out a leaky valve under the sink.
Ian was just getting started on that when Carly entered the kitchen wearing a pair of white shorts and an oversize green T-shirt. Her feet were bare, and her hair was damp. She’d taken a morning shower, but she hadn’t put on any makeup. She didn’t need to fuss with any of that, though. Anytime of the day or night, she was just about the prettiest woman he’d ever met.
She paused in the doorway and blinked when she spotted him kneeling near the open cupboard below the sink, a wrench in hand. Apparently she was surprised that he’d let himself in, something he’d done often when they’d been lovers.
“Good morning,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to greet her like this. “I’m going to fix a leak under the sink before it gets any worse.”
Her brow furrowed, and she cocked her head slightly, as if not buying his explanation.
He pointed toward the electric percolator on the counter. “Want some coffee? It’s fresh.”
“No, thanks. I’m...avoiding caffeine.”
“Then how about a glass of milk?” He didn’t mention that it would be good for the baby, but she must have known what he was getting at.
“No, I’ve never been a big milk drinker. But I’ll have some in my cereal.”
She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip. “You could have fixed the leak yesterday—or the day before. What’s going on, Ian?”
He set down the wrench, then stood and tucked his thumbs into his front pockets. “I slept on it, Carly. Did you?”
She unwrapped her arms and made her way into the kitchen. “Well, I did go to sleep. But I’m still not sure what I’m going to do. I’d like to keep this between us right now.”
There went the phone call to his grandparents, but he couldn’t very well make an announcement like that until he could tell them what his plans were—like an upcoming marriage, raising a child on his own or even the possibility that he was heading into a custody battle, although he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
“I won’t say anything,” he said. “I take it you don’t want to tell your brothers.”
“No, not yet.” She glanced at the far wall, where a couple of cardboard boxes were stacked. “For the time being, I have work to do. After breakfast, I plan to take up where Juliana left off on the inventory. I hope to have it done by the time she and Jason get back from Mexico.”
“But it’s almost finished.” He hoped she wasn’t planning to pack up the bedroom and the kitchen, then skedaddle. “You shouldn’t pack up the rooms you’ll be living out of.”
“I won’t do that, but the basement is full of stuff. And the attic is, too.”
“I’ll help you,” he said.
Her lips parted, and her brow crinkled. “That’s not necessary.”
He pulled his hands from his pockets. “You shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting. So I’ll do it for you. Just let me know where you want to start.”
“Seriously?” She waited a beat before adding, “Who’s going to work on the ranch? You haven’t had enough help as it is.”
“Actually, I just hired a new hand who’s experienced and knows what to do before I even point it out.”
She didn’t ask whether he’d gotten permission from her brother, which was just as well. Ian didn’t want her thinking he’d done anything out of line, but the last time he talked to Jason about the sale of the ranch, Jason gave him every reason to believe that both Carly and Braden were close to agreeing to list it. If Carly was planning to help with the inventory, then she’d obviously made up her mind.
“I’m not so sure about this.” She paused, then bit down on her lower lip. “I mean, working in close quarters and all.”
So it wasn’t his offer to help with the heavy work that bothered her. She was worried about being tempted by him.
A slow smile spread across his lips. “Aw. I get it. But I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you.”
She seemed to shake it off—her attraction or whatever had her perplexed. “I’m not worried about that.”
When she bit down on her bottom lip, he realized she wasn’t being entirely truthful. She might be more concerned about fighting off her own desire.
“Oh, what the heck,” she said, brightening. “I’ll accept your offer to help. Besides, I really didn’t feel like lugging around those boxes anyway, even though it has to be done.”
If they were going to sell the ranch, it did. Although Ian wouldn’t mind buying some of the stuff they didn’t plan to keep. He was going to need furniture, dishes and other odds and ends. And since the ranch house had always felt cozy and welcoming to him, he wouldn’t mind buying it furnished.
Carly crossed the kitchen, opened the pantry and pulled out a box of cereal. He watched her fill her bowl, then add milk and sugar. When she finished, she turned to him. “Want some?”
“I already ate. Back at my place.”
She nodded, then took a seat at the table. For some reason, he felt as though he’d made a major stride today. She was going to let him help her inventory the rest of the house. Maybe they could reach other compromises along the way, and he wouldn’t have to take her to court after all.
Still, they had a long way to go before they could coparent—or whatever they decided to call their new relationship.
* * *
If Ian thought that helping Carly pack and stack boxes would make her job any easier, he was wrong.
Well, physically speaking, she was glad to have him handle the heavy stuff, but the job of inventorying Granny’s belongings was beginning to take a toll on her emotionally.
She doubted he knew it, though. Not based on the way he kept whistling.
What was the name of that song anyway? She didn’t recognize it, but she liked the snappy tune.
Apparently, he was in a good mood, although she wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was just glad to be indoors instead of outside, although she suspected he might be happy about being a daddy. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? He could have been upset by the news, which would only make things more difficult for her.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Is the dust getting to you? Your eyes are watery.”
Carly swiped at her tears. “Being surrounded by all these things, by the memories, is making me a little weepy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She pushed aside the doll buggy Granny had given her, which had been one of her favorite playthings.
“Did that little stroller make you feel sentimental?” he asked.
She gav
e a little shrug. “On my sixth birthday, both of my parents were out of town and completely forgot what day it was. So Granny took me into town, purchased that little buggy, a new doll and several other gifts she let me pick out for myself. Afterward, we went to Caroline’s Diner for a slice of German chocolate cake and a bowl of vanilla ice cream.”
“Sounds like Granny did her best to make it up to you.”
“She used to pick up the slack and do things like that all the time, but I hadn’t realized what she was doing when I was a kid.” Carly sniffled, then smiled. “Do you know what else she did that day? She had everyone in the restaurant sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me.”
Ian eased close and slipped his arm around her in a gesture meant to be comforting. But as his alluring scent, a manly mixture of soap and musk, enveloped her, her thoughts turned to more recent memories, more recent emotions.
In spite of her resolve to keep her distance from the handsome cowboy, she leaned into him. “I’ll be okay. Really.”
She sniffed again, then turned away from him. But if she thought she could escape the warmth of his touch, it didn’t work out that way. His scent seemed to cling to her as she returned to her work, tempting her, taunting her.
“What are you going to do with the toys?” he asked.
She had no idea. She could save them for her baby—their baby—but since she was between homes as well as jobs, she had no place to store them. “I suppose we should donate them to charity.”
“All right. I’ll stack them with the other things you plan to give away.”
Carly scanned the basement, spotting the old Singer sewing machine, a vintage treadle model that had belonged to Granny’s mother-in-law as well as an antique settee covered with a sheet. Next to it was a card table stacked with books and a slew of odds and ends.
It was going to take a long time to go through all of this and inventory it. She glanced at the old Saratoga trunk in the corner and blew out a heavy sigh. “What do you suppose is in there?”
“That’s anyone’s guess,” Ian said. “Want me to open it?”
“Sure.”
