The Texan's Baby Bombshell

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  She was fairly certain he wouldn’t have answered even if Jen hadn’t returned at that moment with her dog-eared notepad and chewed-up pencil.

  “What’ll it be?” the girl asked wearily. “Meatloaf special’s gone.”

  “Cheeseburger and side salad, please,” Laurel told her.

  “Cheeseburger,” Adam echoed. “Double meat. Medium.”

  “It all comes out well done here, handsome.”

  “Fair enough. Fries any good?”

  She lifted her shoulder. “They get the job done.”

  “Fries, then. Who’s Ed?”

  “Ed Maxwell? He’s the guy who brewed that porter.” She swept up the menu.

  “Tell him thanks. It’s good.”

  She cracked the faintest of smiles. “Tell him yourself. You had to have passed him on your way in here. Big guy. Flaming red hair.” She headed away once more.

  “You do that,” Laurel realized slowly.

  “What?”

  “Reach through the—” She waved her hand, searching for the word she wanted. “I don’t know. The fog surrounding people. They respond to you.”

  He grimaced slightly. “I obviously kept you in the car too long today. You’re imagining things.” He pushed out of his chair. “You going to be okay if I leave you alone for a minute?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I think I can manage to sit here by myself while you go to the little boys’ room.”

  His lips kicked up. “While you wait,” he said as he pulled out his phone and handed it to her, “find out if there’s any Wi-Fi.”

  She took the phone. “Because?”

  “Once we find a place to crash for the night, we need to figure out how far we can get tomorrow without you getting delusional. Password’s zero-nine-two-nine.”

  She watched him make his way through the close-set tables. Then she sighed faintly and picked up his beer to take another sip.

  “You want one of your own?” The waitress returned with a basket of rolls that she set on the table.

  Laurel started to refuse but then nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Food’ll be up in a few. Hope your sex-on-a-stick boyfriend hasn’t taken a powder.”

  It wasn’t worth correcting Jen that Adam wasn’t her boyfriend. The rest of her description was all too accurate. “He’ll be back.”

  Jen set two sets of flatware wrapped in paper napkins on the table. “Heard that before.” Evidently, the good humor she’d exhibited for Adam was reserved strictly for him.

  Laurel held up the phone. “Do you have Wi-Fi here?”

  “Edsplace. No spaces. Password is GUEST. All caps.” She moved to the table behind Adam’s chair, where she began scooping up plates.

  Laurel swiped her thumb across the phone screen and entered the password. The navigation app he’d used earlier that day leaped to life. She’d barely entered the Wi-Fi information before notifications started popping up on the screen.

  All of them from Ashley. All of them accompanied by a tiny image of an obviously pretty blonde.

  Laurel quickly set the phone back on the table and grabbed one of the rolls from the basket.

  Of course it was too much to think that Adam wouldn’t have an Ashley in his life. For all she knew, he had a half dozen Ashleys in his life.

  Shoving half the roll in her mouth did nothing at all to take away the bitter taste of that thought.

  “What’re you frowning about?” Adam asked as he angled himself back into his chair.

  She flushed and forced down the wad of bread with a gulp of water. “Nothing,” she managed.

  But he was already looking at his phone and the messages there. Whatever he read had him frowning, though he set the phone aside when the waitress delivered their food.

  Then his lips twitched when he saw the second mug that she also set on the table in front of Laurel.

  “Just...hush,” she told him severely.

  He lifted his broad hands peaceably. “Didn’t say a word, sweetheart. Not one word.”

  Chapter Seven

  The town of Buckingham, they learned when Adam paid the bill after they’d consumed the unexpectedly delicious burgers, possessed three different places to rest one’s head for the night.

  Buckingham Palace—pun intended—was located only a block down from Ed’s. Since it was the first one they came to, it was the first one Adam pulled into.

  The small parking lot that sat in the center of the U-shaped building was filled with motorcycles. “Doesn’t look promising.” He left her sitting in the car while he went inside to check for available rooms.

  He was back in seconds and they trolled slowly down the street again until they came to the second motel—Buckingham Suites.

  “I see a theme going.” He parked again in front of the entrance and quickly went inside.

  She yawned and rested her head against the window beside her.

  It felt like days since Adam had showed up at Fresh Pine with a maple donut for her, when it had really been just that morning.

  The car door opened again. “Clerk inside says the veterans bike rally has taken up every room in town. She even called the Buckingham B&B for me to double-check.” He pulled on his seat belt, looking annoyed. “I should have stopped in Pendleton even though you were sleeping.”

  “Sorry.”

  He gave her a look that felt close despite the fact that it was dark and the only illumination came from the gauges on the dashboard and the moth-besieged fixture over the motel office door. “For what? Dozing off in a car on a boring drive?”

  She hadn’t found it particularly boring. She kept that thought to herself. She closed her eyes again, resting against the window once more. “So we’ll sleep in the car on the side of the road.”

  “Hell we will. We’re not sleeping in this tin can.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time we slept in a car,” she murmured. “The rain that time in the Adirondacks?”

  “Flooded the tent.” His voice was quiet, nearly drowned out by the music on the radio even though it, too, was soft.

  She felt his gaze on her even though her eyes were closed. His hand brushed over her sleeve, so lightly she wondered if she imagined it.

  Then she jerked hard when someone knocked on the window next to her. Startled, she straightened and looked out to see the red-haired biker-brewer Ed hunched over like a great curious bear.

  She looked toward Adam. “Did you forget to tip the waitress or something?”

  He leaned right across her and pressed the button for the window and the evening air rushed in.

  Even though she hollowed herself against the seat behind her, she couldn’t get away from the press of Adam’s shoulder against hers. She didn’t know whether to attribute the adrenaline suddenly pumping through her veins to him or to Ed’s unexpected appearance.

  “Evenin’.” Ed propped a hairy-knuckled paw over the edge of the window as soon as it had lowered a few inches. “Saw your car sitting here. ’Spect you folks are looking for a place to bed down. Not much available with the ride going on this weekend.”

  “So we’ve discovered,” Adam said. “How far is it to the next town?”

  “Forty-seven miles if you keep on this road. Sixty if you head back to the highway. But if you’re not real picky, my sister’s got a couple rooms she rents out when everything’s booked up in town. The Captain’s Quarters. Ain’t nothing fancy, but she’s got the essentials. The beds are small but good.”

  He jerked his head toward the motel behind him. “They won’t tell you none about it in there. Both motels’re owned by her ex-husband and the B&B’s owned by his ma. No pressure or nothing. Just wanted to let you know.”

  His paw moved away from the window to gesture toward the road. “Turn right here. Another mile there’s a railroad crossing. Turn left at the s
treet after—it’s called Six-Mile but there’s no sign anyways—and the only place you’ll come to is Sis’s. Take a look at the room. If it suits, good deal. If it doesn’t, you keep going on Six-Mile another forty miles to Buford. Got a chain motel there. Imagine they can set you and your missus up fine if you don’t mind another hour driving on a winding road.”

  Adam’s eyes skated over Laurel’s face, then turned back toward Ed. “Thanks for the information.” His arm brushed against her breasts when he stuck his hand out through the window. “That was a great porter at your restaurant. You supply any other places besides your own?”

  Ed chuckled as he shook Adam’s hand. “Nah. Too much work.”

  “If you change your mind, I manage a new restaurant in Texas.” Adam’s arm brushed against Laurel again when he took a business card from his wallet that he’d tossed on top of the dashboard. “Have a few rotating taps,” he told the other man, passing him the card. “Might be interested in adding one of yours.”

  Looking genuinely surprised, Ed angled the card up to the light over the motel door. “Provisions,” he read. “Where’s Rambling Rose?”

  “Midpoint between Austin and Houston.”

  “Huh. Well, that’s real flattering, but I dunno. Lotta paperwork involved.”

  “Just keep it in mind,” Adam said easily. “Have you been brewing long?”

  Ed barked out a loud guffaw. “Son, I been brewing one thing ’r another since I discovered matches.” He tucked the card away in his pocket and his eyes skated over Laurel. “Held you up enough now. Whatever you decide to do about bedding down, drive careful. Had us a real bad collision by the tracks a couple nights ago. Neither driver made it. Mighty shame.” With a wave, he stepped away from the car and headed for a gigantic lowrider.

  Adam straightened, taking that warmth and that weight away from her.

  She shivered.

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m okay with anything you decide.” She fingered the edge of her sleeve.

  “Bother you hearing about that accident?”

  She shook her head. Though the truth was, she was bothered by so many things at the moment she wasn’t sure what took precedence. The reminder of her own accident—which she couldn’t recall herself; the startlingly vivid image she had of a pouring rainstorm, a leaking tent, and a car with the windows steamed; or the knowledge that Adam’s weight against her was achingly, desperately familiar.

  “The Captain’s Quarters, then.” He put the car in gear. “If it’s a fleabag, we’ll drive to Buford.”

  She cleared her throat. “Fine.”

  He turned right out of the parking lot and left the town behind them before they reached the train tracks. Ed had been accurate with his description. If there was any sign marking the intersection that followed the tracks, it was too dark to tell.

  It was so dark, in fact, that it felt like they were driving into a void when he turned again. No oncoming cars headed toward them. No flickering light came from houses or farms off in the distance. The headlights swept over the curving road. Not even a white line bisected the center. “Do you get the feeling we’re heading into our own horror movie?”

  “I get the feeling if the Captain’s Quarters doesn’t have the lights turned on, we’re never going to see it.”

  She reached into the back seat to retrieve her cardigan and pulled it on.

  “You’re not actually scared, are you?”

  Not of the Captain’s Quarter’s. “You told me yourself I get cold at the drop of a hat.”

  “Could be ninety degrees but if a breeze blew, you’d get goose bumps. How you ever survived competing at Oozefest, I’ll never know. First year we did it, it was pouring rain on top of it.”

  “Three layers of everything. Thermals. Socks.” And duct tape to keep from losing anything critical—like pants or shirts—along the way. She’d seen both happen. And after the first time she’d participated in the muddy event, she’d learned it was easiest for her outer layer to be something she could dispose of entirely.

  The road curved again and a brightly lit two-story house came into view. “Suppose that’s it?” She tried not to draw comparisons between it and the Amityville Horror house.

  “Ed said it was the first place we’d come to.”

  “There’s the turnoff.” She pointed. He was already slowing and turned onto the paved drive.

  The house was further away than it had seemed at first but when Adam finally rolled to a stop beside it, they could see a separate building situated several yards behind it.

  “You coming in or you want to wait?”

  She pushed open her car door in answer and climbed out. He joined her and they headed toward the door on the side of the house.

  Laurel shivered and stepped closer to Adam, sliding her arm through his. “I know. Evidently on top of everything else, I’m a ninny.”

  He chuckled softly and pulled his arm away but only to close his hand around hers. Then he knocked on the door.

  It opened a second later to a face that looked just like Ed’s set atop an equally sturdy woman. “I’m Sis,” she greeted in a booming voice. Even her wiry red hair seemed to rattle. “Ed warned me someone might stop by. You’re here about my Captain’s Quarters, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She beamed and stepped out of the door. “Where you folks headin’ to?”

  “Texas.”

  “Got a long way to go. I’ll show you the room. Only have the one available tonight ’cause of the veterans ride.” She walked fast, her long stride eating up the distance to the building behind the house.

  It was a long, narrow single story. “Advantage for you, though,” she said over her shoulder, “is that the room’s at the end of the block so to speak. When all the bikers start rolling in tonight, the noise shouldn’t disturb you too much.”

  They passed four windows. Four doors that each had a plain light fixture hanging atop the sill. Presumably that meant four rooms. At the end of the building, Sis rounded the corner and stopped at the lone door there. It opened without a key and she reached in to turn on a light switch before moving out of their way. “Go on in and take a look. Price for all my rooms is the same. Thirty-nine dollars.”

  Both Laurel and Adam stopped midstep, giving her a surprised look.

  “I know.” Sis gave an apologetic shrug. “Had to raise it five bucks last year ’cause of the new roof I needed.” Then she gave them a bright smile. “But I got a little buffet breakfast I throw in now, too, to help make up for it. Served on the covered patio at the back of the house starting at 6:00 a.m.”

  Gone were the Amityville Horror notions. There was something too engaging about the rawboned woman. “Sounds perfect,” Laurel said before she could stop herself. She hadn’t even looked inside the room yet.

  Adam, on the other hand, had one foot in the room and one foot out. “There’s only one—”

  “I’m tired.” She cut him off knowing that he’d been going to say bed. But it was time to be practical and she knew instinctively that he’d choose protective over practical. As if they couldn’t occupy a single mattress at the same time.

  During dinner he’d planned the route for the next day and she knew it would be a long one. The sooner he could get a decent night of sleep, the sooner they could be on their way in the morning. “And I know you’re tired, too. But our choices are here, the car or another hour’s drive.” And she would have bet her right arm that they wouldn’t find anywhere else down the road for such a bargain.

  He didn’t look quite as convinced as she felt but he gave a capitulating shrug and looked at Sis. “We’ll take it. Cash okay?”

  “Better ’n okay. Just need to take a picture of your driver’s license.” She waited while he pulled out his wallet. “I sure do miss the days when I could just have folks sign the register. B
ut a person’s gotta protect their interests, you know?” She took his license when he extracted it and snapped a picture of it with her cell phone, then handed it back. The two twenty-dollar bills that Adam gave her were folded in half and tucked down the front of her blouse. “I’ll be back with your receipt and change.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Sis frowned. “Dollar’s a dollar in this day and age, hon.” She handed him a key hanging from a large plastic diamond-shaped ring. “Don’t you forget breakfast, either. My brother might be the best brewmaster around these parts, but this ol’ gal makes the best cranberry muffins this side of Portland.”

  With a little wave, she strode off around the corner and disappeared from sight.

  Feeling vaguely winded, Laurel looked at Adam. “Did she exhaust you, too?”

  His low chuckle rumbled tantalizingly over her nerve endings. He handed her the room key. “Go inside. I’ll get the car.” A small gravel area clearly meant for parking was on the other side of the cracked cement walkway. What lay beyond the gravel was anyone’s guess. The night absorbed the light like a sponge before the gravel ended.

  She went inside and pushed the door closed. For $39 a night, she wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d have needed to shove a chair under the knob. But in addition to the dead bolt there was a very sturdy-looking safety latch.

  The room wasn’t large. In fact, it was smaller than small. The entirety of it was visible in one glance, which was probably the reason for the Captain’s Quarters moniker.

  The giant in the Lilliputian space was definitely the bed.

  One side was pushed all the way against the wall. At the foot, there was just enough room to walk between the mattress and the wooden desk topped by a tiny fridge. Above that was an even smaller microwave and a one-cup coffee maker. When she slid out the single desk drawer, it contained a Bible and a bottle opener.

  She pushed the drawer closed to continue the exploration.

  On the side of the bed not pushed against the wall, there was slightly more room to reach the recess, which possessed a closet rod on one side and a sink basin on the other. A second recess, separated from the first by the small flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, had a similar footprint. A toilet behind one folding door and across from it, a tub-shower combination behind another folding door. White towels hung from pegs on the bit of wall straight ahead of her. Maybe a foot and a half separated the folding door on the right from the one on the left.