She worked with Oscar on sight words and phonetics. While he practiced writing the letters of the alphabet, she took the opportunity to get her first good look at Ryan.
He hadn’t changed much. The same light brown hair. The eyeglasses were new, though, since she’d last seen him. He’d switched to contact lenses their senior year. But apparently he’d gone back to wearing frames, which suited him.
A tie hung askew at the open collar of his blue Oxford dress shirt. In a pair of belted jeans and brown suede shoes, he looked very much like what he was—a schoolteacher. Except far too handsome compared to any schoolteacher she’d ever known.
Placing the textbook in Zander’s backpack, Ryan’s chest rippled with muscles beneath the brown blazer. No longer the endearing, if goofy, boy she remembered with such fondness.
She flushed when Ryan caught her staring. The awkward moment ended as another volunteer arrived to take the children to the transportation bus.
Ryan jumped to his feet. “Great work today, kids.” Lanky as ever, he high-fived Maria and Oscar. Zander moved out of reach.
She straightened the books. “Have a great weekend, everyone.”
Mrs. Parks gathered her handbag. “See you on Monday.” The media center slowly emptied until only Anna and Ryan remained.
“It’s good to see you, Anna. Welcome home.”
Renewing her friendship with Ryan had factored in her decision to finally return home. And because of their friendship, she couldn’t delay revealing the truth any longer. Scraping the chair across the carpet, she rose heavily to her feet.
His smile froze. Behind the brownish-black frames of his glasses, bewilderment dotted his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. If her dearest friend in the world couldn’t understand, how would her parents react?
Almost without intending to, she placed her palm over her abdomen. And his eyes—the blue-green of so many in seaside Kiptohanock—flickered at the movement of her hand.
His features had become carved of stone, all chiseled bone and rugged angles. “I didn’t realize you’d remarried.”
She took a quick, indrawn breath. “I haven’t.” And with those simple words, it began.
His jaw tightened. “I see.” The stubble was new since high school. Giving him an attractive maturity. He looked away toward the window overlooking the playground.
She’d expected better from him. “What is it you think you see, Ryan?”
“I see a woman nine months preg—”
“Seven months.” Heat mounted above her collar. All too aware she resembled a beached whale.
A muscle ticked in that strong, square-cut jaw of his. “A woman seven months pregnant. A widow for the last two—”
“Mateo died nearly three years ago from cancer.”
“Who...?” Ryan cleared his throat. “Whose child is this?”
A child posthumously conceived from her late husband’s stored sperm before Mateo began chemotherapy. But Anna was tired of explaining herself.
“Mine.” She raised her chin. “The child is mine, Ryan.”
He scrubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to say to you, Anna.”
“Say that you’re my friend.” Her mouth trembled. “Say that you understand.”
“But I don’t understand, Anna. Why are you— What did your dad say when you got home?”
Her eyes dropped to the floor. But because of her protruding belly, she could no longer see her black flats. “Dad and Mom are still at the army base with Jaxon in Europe. They don’t know yet.”
“You haven’t told them?” He gestured at her stomach. “Not exactly something you can hide.”
“I’m not hiding.” She bit her lip. Not anymore.
His broad shoulders slumped. “I was sorry to hear about Jax’s wife.”
“Exactly why I haven’t told my parents. They’ll be home after New Year’s.”
Who could’ve foreseen that she and her older brother, Jaxon, would both be widowed? This first Christmas without his wife, Jax needed their parents’ support. Their undivided attention.
She wasn’t eager to face the disappointment in her beloved father’s eyes. A disappointment not unlike the look on Ryan’s face.
“How did Charlie take the news?”
Charlie was Anna’s youngest brother, a deputy sheriff in town.
She pursed her lips. “I haven’t told him yet. I drove straight across the Bay Bridge Tunnel to school this morning from Virginia Beach.”
“Did you stay overnight with Will?” Ryan’s brow creased. “What did he say?”
A year younger than Anna, her firefighter brother lived on the other side of the bay.
“I made him promise to let me tell the rest of the family in my own time.”
Ryan shook his head. “So you drove all the way from Texas? You must be exhausted, Anna.”
In more ways than he could possibly know. Yet she was compelled by an inexplicable need to come home and mend fences with her family.
She took a breath. “I called Charlie this morning to let him know I was driving straight to work.”
Ryan frowned. “As I recall, your ex–deputy sheriff father doesn’t like surprises. Are you sure springing the baby on them is the best way to handle the situation?”
She tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “I wish you’d trust I’ve made the best decision for me and my baby.”
His eyes locked onto hers. “I wish...”
Something fluttered inside her chest. What did he wish?
He pinched his lips together. “Never mind.” Pivoting, he exited the media center as suddenly as he’d reappeared in her life.
She blinked away tears. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Why had she believed it would be different here? Brushing aside every obstacle, she’d left everything behind to be home for Christmas. She’d so needed a new start.
If this was any indication of the reception she’d get from her hometown... Her gut wrenched. She’d hoped the people who knew her best and loved her the most would also love this child.
Had she made a mistake in coming home?
Copyright © 2017 by Lisa Carter
ISBN-13: 9781488078927
The Rancher’s Christmas Bride
Copyright © 2017 by Brenda Minton
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
0%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
The Rancher's Christmas Bride Page 20