She’d stared at the ceiling and told Mitch, “Baby doesn’t like needles.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her pregnant women got stuck with all different kinds of needles. Things were about to get real.
“Mitch.” She squeezed his hand. “Did you hear me?”
He nodded. “The last thing either of us wants is for me to be present during your physical exam.”
The door opened and a woman in a lab coat rushed in. She had shoulder-length blond hair that seemed tousled by the wind, black-rimmed glasses and a slightly distracted air about her as she flipped through a file. “Mrs...Monroe.” Her gaze flicked in the direction of Mitch. “And Mr. Monroe.” She shook their hands quickly, still talking, leaving no opening for correcting assumptions about who Mitch was. “I’m Dr. Carlisle. I’ve got a few questions before the exam.”
She had more than a few questions, and she probed Laurel carefully on her answers.
Finally, she closed her file. “Okay, Mrs. Monroe. I’d like you to change into a robe and then the nurse and I will return for your exam. Mr. Monroe can wait outside until I’m through and then we’ll bring him back to discuss things.”
Mitch didn’t have to be told twice. He hightailed it toward the door and would’ve kept on going if not for the nurse ordering him to sit in a nearby chair.
“First baby?” she asked. Her scrubs were decorated with laughing cartoon rabbits.
“No.”
“First baby with your wife?” She nodded toward the room where Laurel was undressing.
“Uh...yes.” At this point, why should he explain they weren’t a couple? That didn’t mean he was going to stay around to hear the doctor’s prognosis. Laurel deserved some privacy. He’d slip out to the lobby as soon as the nurse turned away.
“When I take you back in, hold her hand again,” the nurse said in a voice that accepted no argument. “She needs you.”
She needs you.
Three words and Mitch couldn’t get out of the chair. Laurel had acknowledged the chemistry between them when they’d stopped on the summit. He could acknowledge it again. Here. Where she couldn’t see. And continue to do nothing about it. But she could use his help. Even a stranger could spot that.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, trying to decide what was best for the both of them.
At a nearby counter Dr. Carlisle yawned as she signed everything her staff put in front of her. When she finished she came to stand near Mitch, checking her cell phone.
“Your staff is efficient,” Mitch noted.
“Almost too efficient.” The doctor rubbed her eyes. “Your wife is my twentieth patient today.”
“That’s a lot of patients.” And the day wasn’t over.
“I love the miracle and beauty of pregnancy, but sometimes I long for a return to a general practice.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I had a hard time choosing a specialty.”
“If you’re speaking about a change of career in more than passing, I could help you with that,” Mitch said, not one to miss an opportunity. “I’m the mayor of Second Chance and we’re looking for a new town doctor. We offer a generous retainer, plus a slow pace. Most mornings you’d get to sleep in. And the views are spectacular.”
“Don’t give her any ideas.” The nurse with the cartoon bunny scrubs reappeared, wheeling what looked like a sonogram machine. She knocked on Laurel’s door.
At Laurel’s word, the doctor, nurse and machine disappeared into Laurel’s room. It was the perfect opportunity to make his exit.
And he would have if not for the haunted look in Laurel’s eyes when they’d pulled up. And the noticeably absent hardy-har-har of her laughter during the trip down. And the way she’d clung to his hand in the exam room.
She needs you.
Mitch sighed.
The regular beat of the sonogram machine drifted beneath the doorway. Laughter erupted, including a familiar hardy-har-har. Laurel was fine. He wouldn’t be needed after all.
Mitch stood, intending to wait for her in the lobby.
Before he’d taken one step, the door was flung open and the nurse dragged him into the dimly lit room. “This, you have to see.” She closed the door behind him, grabbed his arm and positioned him bedside, near enough to take Laurel’s hand again.
Which he did.
Laurel smiled up at him as if they’d been holding hands and sharing secrets for years.
“Well, Mr. Monroe,” Dr. Carlisle said grandly. “According to your wife, you’ve been through a lot the past few weeks. But it seems as if you’ve passed a hurdle. She’s feeling better and the babies are healthy.”
“Babies?” Mitch squinted at the sonogram screen. Sure enough, there were two beings outlined there. Big heads. Fragile-looking arms. Hearts beating in tandem.
Two babies.
His knees felt weak.
Two babies who might not have a daddy.
His gut clenched.
“We’re predicting baby girls.” Dr. Carlisle moved the sonogram wand. “But it’s early.”
Twin girls.
Something in his chest softened. The same something that softened sometimes toward Laurel.
Mitch remembered the long nights walking Gabby up and down the hall while he crooned “Itsy Bitsy Spider.” The long days when Gabby didn’t nap and was fussy. He remembered his baby girl’s first smile. Her first words. Her first steps. Her first eye roll.
If Laurel didn’t tell the father, some schlub was going to miss out on a lot of great times with Laurel’s babies.
“I suspected twins, but...” Laurel glanced apologetically toward Mitch as if he was indeed her husband. “Multiples run in my family. Does this mean more bed rest?”
The doctor handed the sonogram wand to the nurse and then wiped the clear jelly from Laurel’s bare belly. “As long as you take care of yourself and listen to your body, you can do almost everything you normally do.”
Mitch cleared his throat. “Can she fly?”
“Yes. For the next few months.”
Disappointment stabbed him in the gut, which was ridiculous. He wanted Laurel to leave.
Dr. Carlisle drew the paper drape over Laurel’s legs higher and then the hospital gown lower over her stomach. “Nowadays, we encourage pregnant women to live normal lives. That said, at your elevation no aerobic exercise beyond walking. Certainly, no high-impact activity or heavy lifting.” The doctor flipped on the room’s light but lingered. “Has anyone ever pointed out the resemblance you have to that actress who played a princess in a television movie recently? I’m sure you know who I’m thinking of. The woman with the red hair.”
Laurel’s mouth formed a little O.
“She gets that all the time.” Mitch came to Laurel’s rescue. “But my wife’s nose is bigger, and her teeth are crooked.”
Laurel stared at Mitch as if he’d lost his mind.
He had. Or he wouldn’t be in an exam room with her, saddened by her upcoming departure.
“And I had such high hopes for you.” The nurse shook her head.
“Hey,” Mitch said. “My wife may not be glamorous or famous, but she’s beautiful and she’s mine.” In that moment Mitch believed it. His comment had put a fire in Laurel’s eyes, one aimed at him. “Look how she glows.”
Laurel pressed her lips together and turned her stare toward the ceiling, but her cheeks blossomed with color.
“Nice recovery, Mr. Monroe.” Dr. Carlisle turned to leave.
“We’re all nice up in Second Chance.” Mitch couldn’t resist one more plug. “Come up for a visit on your next day off and you’ll see.”
“I sleep on my day off,” Dr. Carlisle said briskly. “But thanks for the offer.”
CHAPTER TEN
“I APPRECIATE YOU playing chauffeur,” Laurel said when Mitch pulled into his narrow g
arage in Second Chance. And holding her hand during her office visit. Not that she was going to bring that up. “I would’ve been a nervous wreck driving on that road.” Or sitting in the exam room alone.
They hadn’t spoken much on the ride back. Laurel had a bag of information at her feet and a ball of anxiety near those babies she was carrying.
What did she know about motherhood? She’d had years to perfect a sewing stitch, who knew how long to master knitting, but only a few months to learn how to be a good mom. To twins!
“It wasn’t like I was tricked into driving.” Mitch, the man who’d been her rock all day, sounded as if he was teasing her.
“There was that,” she said weakly. “I’m sorry about Shane.”
He waved her apology aside. “And then there’s the issue of dressing up my daughter.”
“I know I apologized for that.” Multiple times.
Mitch nodded. “Which leads us to the end of the road.” He pressed the remote to close the garage door, plunging them into near darkness. The snow covered half the windows on either side.
“The end of the road?”
“You got your medical clearance.” He turned to face her. “You’re leaving Second Chance.”
The ball in Laurel’s stomach dropped. “Yes.” She had to go back to Hollywood.
“The roads will remain open the next few days.” He rested his head against the glass, casting his face in shadow. “You have time to help Sophie look for that da Vinci she’s hoping for in the trading post and time to be honest with yourself.”
She was honest with herself, all right. He had no idea the number of truths she kept inside.
“Laurel, the truth is you didn’t call anyone to gush over your happy news,” he said simply, surprising her. “And now you’re going to drag yourself upstairs as if this pregnancy is the end of the world because you’re worried about every little thing in everyone else’s life.”
She scoffed. “I wasn’t—”
“Oh, you were. Don’t forget who you’re talking to.” He tapped his chest. “You’ve got your husband here.”
She smirked, but the fact remained. He was right. “I was going to mope around my room. But not forever. People won’t like me much when the truth comes out about my pregnancy.” And that included the conservative single dad sitting next to her.
Mitch tsk-tsked. “You need to set aside the family drama you’re dealing with and think about how you’d feel if things were different. What if you had a caring dad for your baby?”
Laurel’s breath hitched.
Him, the babies whispered. We want him.
“What if you had a better relationship with your mother and sister? In an ideal world, wouldn’t you be ecstatic to know you were going to be a mom?” Mitch didn’t sugarcoat her situation. He simply challenged Laurel to set everything other than the babies aside.
And then he took her hand and waited.
Truth pressed down on Laurel, on her shoulders and her tear ducts. “Yes, I’m happy.” Yes, that gave her a twinge of guilt for her responsibilities back in Hollywood. “But I’m also a realist. What am I going to do for money when my savings run out? Where am I going to go? I’m not sure I could get another job as a costume designer in Hollywood, but even if I did the cost of living is huge and the hours are brutal.”
“You’ll figure it out. The same way you figured out that pink dress.” He squeezed her hand, barely smiling. “Go inside and make some calls. Have the hard discussions. And then find the joy your babies deserve. Find that joy and hold on tight.”
Mitch Kincaid was unlike other men she’d met. He didn’t have a charming facade. He didn’t have eyes that lit with calculation the moment she walked into a room. He didn’t rely on smooth words and expensive automobiles to impress. He just showed up, said his piece and then left you to it.
Silence wrapped around them. Silence drew them close. Although neither one of them had moved.
Silence waited patiently. Expectantly. And yet without demands.
If Laurel chose not to speak, there’d be no judgment. No disappointment.
There would just be Mitch and his strong hand circling hers.
And in that hush, something warm circled her chest. Something safe and comforting and unfamiliar.
“It sounds like you’ve always put Ashley first, ahead of what you want and need. It’s time to be Laurel Monroe, to embrace being a mother, to be proud of what you’ve done so far and to take the time to dream about what you want in the future.”
The babies swooned, making the world tilt.
I could lean on those sturdy shoulders.
“You missed your calling, Counselor. You should have been a support nurse for pregnant women.” Laurel leaned across the console and kissed his cheek, drawing back when she wouldn’t have minded moving her lips to his. “Not that you’d see many pregnant women in need of advice living in an oversize log cabin.” He might want her gone, but at least they’d found common ground.
Mitch smiled. “I like the inn. It has history and character and substance.”
Like him.
She should get inside. She had calls to make. And yet she lingered. “I can’t say the inn is perfect. It has closet rods that are several inches too short.”
“No one’s perfect.” That smile. It was contagious. It didn’t make fun—how could it with those kind eyes?
No. That smile said, Life doesn’t always go as planned, but it can still be a good thing.
It said, There’s more to life than careers and name making.
It said, I see you, Laurel Monroe. You’re a good person.
That smile. It made her feel...special.
But that smile. It’d disappear the moment he learned the truth about her.
* * *
LAUREL MONROE WAS a surprise.
That, in itself, was surprising.
Mitch prided himself on being a good judge of character. He’d misjudged Laurel.
Despite her high-heeled boots, shiny black leggings and thin, sparkly sweaters, she wasn’t a style chaser, more concerned with appearances than substance. She wasn’t a spoiled little rich girl. If he looked beyond her outward features he’d find an intelligent, interesting, vulnerable woman. He wanted to take her to dinner and talk until the wee hours of the morning. He wanted to hold her in his arms, learn more of her secrets and perhaps share some deep, soul-baring kisses.
If only she wasn’t a Monroe. Because he couldn’t tell her anything. He’d signed a legally binding document. He’d given Harlan his word.
He followed Laurel toward the inn, walking at a much slower pace, letting the frigid wind cool him down. She’d received the medical all clear to leave town. There would be no more intimate discussions. No more riding together in companionable silence. No more featherlight kisses pressed to his cheek.
“Mitch!” Roy darted out of the Bent Nickel, scarecrow limbs pumping in his haste to reach him. “Hey! Hey, Mitch!”
“What’s up, Roy?” Mitch asked, watching Laurel disappear inside the inn.
“We got big trouble.” Panting, Roy pressed a hand to his breastbone as if he had heartburn. He needed to stay away from Ivy’s chili. “It’s Shane. He had a Realtor up here today. Or maybe an appraiser.” He waved a hand between them. “Somebody was here.”
Mitch’s blood pressure spiked. Somehow, he kept from howling. In addition to not hearing so well, Roy didn’t see too well, either. Details. Mitch needed details. “Which was it? A Realtor or an appraiser?”
Roy shrugged. “He parked over there on the other side of Shane’s Humdinger.”
Mitch glared at the offending Hummer. “Did anyone ask his name? Or get his card?”
“I was inside the diner and couldn’t see what the sign said on his truck. Ivy was upstairs with her kids and by the time she came back down he was gone.”
Roy shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “What does it mean?”
Mitch was afraid to guess. But he knew where the answers were—with Shane. “It’s okay, Roy. I’ll take care of this.”
Mitch marched to the inn, feet crunching the thin layer of snow on the ground.
“You,” he said when he found Shane in the common room talking to Laurel and Zeke. He pinned the cowboy with a significant look as he tossed his jacket aside. “This could get ugly. No one’s going to fault you if you retreat to your room.”
“Free entertainment?” Zeke grinned, repositioning his wheelchair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Shane sat in the corner of the couch nearest Zeke, looking the part of the sinister corporate man in his khakis and expensive leather shoes. His gaze hardened, but he said nothing.
Mitch came to stand opposite him, back to the hearth and a small fire that did little to warm him. “You succeeded in getting me out of town. And now you can tell me why.”
A smile flirted on Shane’s lips. “Kincaid, you lack finesse.”
Mitch’s hands fisted. “I’m not asking you to talk about whatever grand master plan you have regarding Second Chance.” Although that would be nice. “I’m asking you, the owner of this town, to tell me, the mayor of this town, who you met with today. I was under the impression you couldn’t drive your cousin to her doctor’s appointment because you had a job interview.”
“Let’s try to keep things civil.” Laurel moved to stand next to Mitch.
“I take full responsibility for misleading you.” Shane was serious, for once. “But Kincaid, lighten up. You see conspiracy in everything.”
“And you don’t see the value of transparency and teamwork.” Anger spit out of Mitch in short, sharp syllables. “You think you alone can decide what’s good for this town? You couldn’t run this inn, much less Second Chance. It’d be a ghost town under your watch.”
“Is that a dare?” Shane’s gaze narrowed. “Would you like to place a bet?”
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