“Of course I don’t doubt it.” She jabbed a button so hard it stuck and the unit vibrated more loudly than ever.
“Is that thing going to take flight?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She thumped the side of it with her palm but gave up.
“Megan, whether you love Nick or you don’t, you have to tell him.”
“I know.” She clasped her hands behind her neck and squeezed. “It’s the right thing to do. I know.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
Her eyes suddenly filled again. How could she explain that it was easier to stand on her own when standing on her own was all she’d ever known? “That he’s not going to forgive me?”
“For not telling him sooner?”
“Yes. No. Maybe. For getting pregnant in the first place! I don’t know.”
“First of all, you didn’t get pregnant on your own. And maybe he will be shocked. Or freaked out or angry. How’d you feel when you realized you were pregnant?”
“Shocked. Upset.” She slid her jaw back and forth. “Freaked out.”
“Then you should have some sympathy for the guy.”
Megan heaved out a sigh. “I don’t know anything about being in a relationship!”
“You don’t know much about being a mommy, either,” Rory said dryly, “but nature’s going to take care of that pretty darn quick. Just like it did with me when I had Killy.”
Megan went over to the sink and dried her face on the hand towel. In the mirror, her eyes were red. Her cheeks blotchy. She started to turn away but snatched up the little jar of face cream. “You know this stuff doesn’t work for diddly-squat.” She tossed it toward Rory, who caught it. “These lines?” She touched her face beside her eyes. “Still there.”
“You have no idea, do you?” Rory set aside the jar and joined Megan. “You—” she pushed Megan around until she was facing the mirror again “—are every woman’s worst fear. A tall, beautiful blonde with legs up to here who doesn’t have a clue about how gorgeous she is and who doesn’t even know what it’s like to have to count calories so you can fit into your jeans. You’re like Gisele Bündchen in cowboy boots!”
“I can’t fit into my jeans,” Megan groused. “I had to buy a bigger pair. Not to mention this foofy blouse.”
“Because you’re pregnant, doofus! If you don’t like the foofy blouse, buy a dress! They’re more comfortable, anyway. And the lines?” Rory stretched up on her toes to peer into Megan’s face. “Only ones I see are in your mind!”
Megan leaned closer to the mirror. “I see crow’s-feet,” she muttered.
“I see stress,” Rory countered bluntly. “Which happens when you’re sleeping with a guy you just might be in love with but haven’t told you’re pregnant with his baby!”
“Well, jeez,” Megan said sarcastically. “When you put it like that...”
Rory threw her arms around her in a tight hug. “Oh, Megan. Just be honest with the guy. If he’s worthy of you—and I have the feeling he could be if he’s managed to get past your defenses—things might just work out beyond your wildest dreams. Look at me. Cake and icing.”
Megan sniffed and propped her chin on Rory’s head. “I’ve really missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, you giant nitwit.” Rory straightened and swiped her own cheek. “Now, go. Find Nick and make this right.”
“Now?”
“I’m going to say to you the same thing my dad said to me before I went after Gage. You think the world is going to wait on you?” She patted Megan’s belly. “Especially now?”
* * *
Regardless of Rory’s encouragement, Megan felt like a wreck as she drove through town trying to find Nick. She didn’t know if the steady stream of traffic made things better or worse for her state of mind.
She went to his condo. His office.
Both empty.
She went to the library.
Also empty except for the festively decorated chairs and tables prepped and waiting for the following day.
The parking lot at Colbys Bar & Grill was full of vehicles jammed every which way. But she didn’t see Nick’s SUV.
Eventually she pulled into the lot behind Ruby’s Diner, which was only empty because the place was closed. She took out her phone and dialed. No doubt Nick would have plenty to say about her finally using it as it was meant to be used.
But he didn’t answer when she called. And when the beep sounded to leave a message, she ended the call and threw down the phone, chickening out.
Worrying is a waste of good energy.
“Birdie, get out of my head.”
She picked the phone back up. Dialed again. And when the beep sounded, she gritted her teeth. “It’s Megan.” Brilliant. “I’m, uh—” She jerked when someone knocked on her passenger window and looked over to see Bubba staring in at her. “I need to talk to you,” she said hurriedly. “It’s—it’s important,” she said and hung up again. She pressed the button to lower the window.
“You all right?” Bubba’s eyes swept over her. He looked more like a beefy bouncer from a biker bar than he did a hometown diner cook. “We closed up more ’n an hour ago.”
“I know. I just—” She held up her phone. “Trying to find Nick.”
“Oh.” He nodded sagely. “Yeah. He’s out at Miz Templeton’s place.”
Megan stiffened. “Delia—”
“Her granny. Vivian.”
Megan felt some of the tension leave her. Nick had driven her past Vivian Templeton’s oddly palatial estate during one of their afternoons spent at Lambert Lake. She peered at Bubba. “Are you sure? How do you know?”
“After you skedaddled outta the diner earlier, I heard him saying he had a meeting with her this afternoon.”
Of course. Bubba of the bat ears.
“Anyway, I was s’posed to take her some of my quiche she likes, and I asked him if he could drop it off for me ’cause there was no way we were gonna be able to close the diner on time. Too many customers.”
Would Nick have gone to his meeting after their argument at the Cozy Night?
Of course. The guy never missed an appointment.
“Thanks, Bubba. You have a good holiday tomorrow.”
“Will do. Nothing like Independence Day in Weaver.”
Megan waited while he crossed in front of her to dump the garbage bags he was carrying in the trash, and then drove out of the lot.
She was glad she only had to make a right turn into the slow stream of bumper-to-bumper traffic. If she’d needed to go in the other direction, she wasn’t sure how long it would have taken.
If this was what Weaver had to look forward to until the excitement over the new state park died down, the town definitely needed to get another traffic light or two put up.
It took nearly thirty minutes just to travel the few miles to the town limits, where the single-lane road widened into the two-lane highway again.
But she wasn’t worried about missing the turnoff to Vivian Templeton’s place. The multistoried mansion stood out like a sore thumb in a community dominated by simple cattle ranches.
The driveway up to the house was paved in bricks and something inside her lurched when she saw Nick’s SUV parked near one of the wings.
She blew out a long breath and climbed from her vehicle, running her hands nervously down the front of her blouse. It had been weeks now since she’d had any bouts with morning sickness and now was not a good time for it to start up again.
Squaring her shoulders, she marched to the massive front door, grasped the enormous door knocker and let it fall a couple times against the wood. She had some serious doubts that it would even be heard, but only a half-dozen heartbeats pounded in her head before the door slowly opened on a tall, bald guy in a suit and weird scarf.
Megan smiled nervously. �
��Hi. I’m Megan Forrester. I was looking for Nick. Nick Ventura.”
The man inclined his head slightly, looking bored. “Come in,” he said and turned on his heel. “This way.”
She felt seriously underdressed as she followed him through the fancy house. He led her into a two-storied atrium filled with plants. Two staircases on opposite sides of the room ran up to the second level.
He touched the filigreed handrail of the nearest one. “Mr. Ventura is in Mrs. Templeton’s office. At the top of the stairs,” he intoned.
Megan had the strangest feeling she ought to curtsy and wondered a little hysterically how the guy would react if Killy had been here running up and down the stairs. Her godson was Vivian Templeton’s step-great-grandson. Not that the woman knew that, yet. “Thank you.”
He tilted his head slightly, and Megan swallowed as she started up the stairs. She was already having misgivings. She could have waited for Nick outside and not interrupted a meeting with—from the looks of it—his wealthiest client.
She stopped on the third step and turned around. “I think I’ll wait,” she said to the...whatever he was. Butler? She started back down the stairs but heard a distinctive trill of laughter from above.
She looked up. And saw Delia Templeton standing there alongside Nick and a silver-haired woman who could only be Vivian.
Megan grimaced and darted down the stairs unnoticed by the trio above, hurrying past the butler as she retraced her steps back to the massive door.
She slid around it and made a beeline for her truck. But she hesitated when she went to turn the key in the ignition. Was she a coward or was she a Forrester?
She got out of the truck and leaned against the hood to wait. Sooner or later, Nick would come out.
She wished she’d done more than brush her hair and wash her face before she’d left her motel room.
Like what? Slather on the face cream?
If only she could turn off her brain. She closed her eyes, hauling in a long, deep breath. Find a little Zen, Megan.
She exhaled a long, slow breath. Opened her eyes. Lifted her head.
The massive door was open.
Nick was standing on the doorstep.
His mouth was plastered to Delia’s.
Megan stared and the world seemed to halt. No birds sang. No insects buzzed. The clouds in the sky stopped drifting and the stupid hope she’d let bloom inside her shriveled.
When something seems too good to be true, it usually is.
Jerking from her stupor, she got behind the wheel and slammed the truck door. She turned the key so hard, she ground the engine before she got it in gear and sped away from the house, her tires vibrating on the herringbone bricks.
She made it back to the motel without even remembering the drive. But the sight of the beds made her stomach churn. Even though she knew it was futile, she went to the office to ask if she could change rooms.
The teenage clerk shook his head. “Sorry. No vacancies. The holiday’s got every place in town booked.”
She got back in the truck and started driving. She had no clear plan where, but just knew that if she didn’t keep moving, she was going to close her eyes and see the image of Delia’s hands clenched in Nick’s hair. Of his hands on her shapely hips.
She supposed it wasn’t surprising that she ended up at Crossing West. With no desire to run into anyone, she drove beyond the big house and parked near the med wing. The place was quiet as a tomb.
Everybody was off for the holiday weekend.
Which suited Megan just fine.
She got a carrot from the fridge in the feed room and went out to find Burrito. The pony was in one of the grassy turnouts. She gave Megan her usual disinterested look before she kicked her back foot.
Maybe it was Megan’s wishful thinking that the kick was less fierce than usual.
At least it didn’t connect with anything but air.
She sat down on the grass and extended the carrot through the fence. The pony turned her back and swished her tail. “Maybe you and I are alike.” She leaned her head against the metal pipe. It was warm from the late-afternoon sun. “Too prickly to stand a chance.” She waggled the carrot. “What am I going to do now, Burrito? Have any ideas? No?” She let the carrot droop. “Me, either.”
She set the carrot in the grass and withdrew her hand. Then she lay down, cradling her arm on her head as she studied the animal. “If you’d just give a little bit, you could have a nice place up on the mountain. One day there will be a lot of kids there. Families who come to spend a week at a guest ranch. Kids love ponies like you. And you don’t have to worry about getting too attached to anyone. You’ll know better because guests always leave.”
Her phone vibrated annoyingly in her pocket and she pulled it out. Stared at the number on the display. Nick’s number.
She waited until it stopped ringing. Then she dialed.
Her grandmother answered on the second ring.
“Two calls in one day,” she said. “Quite the birthday present.”
“Well, here’s another present, Birdie. I’m pregnant.”
Her grandmother was silent.
“Well? Don’t you have any comment at all?”
“Only been wondering how long it’d take you to tell me.”
Megan sat up. “What?”
“Missy, you think you can go to the clinic here in this tiny town and the news won’t get back to me? Known all along you got yourself in the family way. But I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. Didn’t expect it’d take quite this long, though. Roberta told me after three months.”
Megan paced along the fencing. “Well, you don’t have to worry that I’ll be like my mother. I’m not dumping my baby off on anyone else the way she did.”
Birdie snorted then. “Know that, too. You’ve never been like your mama. Have I ever told you that you were?”
“No, but—”
“You’ve always been like me,” Birdie went on. “You’re honest.”
Megan flinched.
“And a hard worker. And with the right man, you’ll love even harder.”
She pinched her eyes, but opened them wide again, trying to banish the images there. “How is that like you, Birdie? Who’ve you ever loved?”
“Your grandfather.” Birdie sounded irritated. “Or did you think Roberta just hatched outta nowhere?”
“No, but you never talked about him. Everybody in Wymon knows you never got married.”
“’Cause he went off to war and got himself killed first,” she snapped. “Maybe your mama would’ve grown up stronger if she’d have had a proper daddy. Instead Robert never knew about her, and she never knew about him.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in marriage! All of my life, whenever someone mentioned you being all alone and raising me and needing a husband, you said you wanted nothing of the kind!”
“And I didn’t. What’s the point in marrying anyone aside from the only boy I ever loved? Spent years when your mama was little having people who figured they knew better ’n me telling me I should get married.” She hooted. “Told ’em all what they could do with their notions.”
Megan paced back the other way. “Why haven’t I heard any of this before?”
Birdie huffed. “For what? Robert was dead long before you were born. Now, are you going back to Angel River soon or what? I got a cradle I’m thinking about refinishing and I need to know when you’re gonna be wanting it.”
Megan’s eyes moistened. Apparently, it had just taken a little case of pregnancy to make up for a lifetime of never crying. “The baby is due in December,” she said huskily. “You have plenty of time to finish the cradle.”
“Then you’ll be back.”
She looked down at herself and smoothed her hand over her bump. “I told you I would be.” She wasn’t s
ure how Sean would take to his head wrangler having a baby, but when it came time for childcare, she’d figure out some solution. “There’s no reason for me to stay here.”
“Hmm. Figure that’s where your baby daddy is.”
Megan choked back a soggy giggle after hearing the term on her grandmother’s lips. But then again, she didn’t know her grandmother half as well as she thought she did. “He’s here.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll be a Forrester woman just like you, Birdie. Bringing up my baby on my own.” And hope that if she had a daughter, she’d be nothing like Roberta.
She heard the distinctive crunch of carrot and looked around, expecting to see that Burrito had picked it up off the ground.
But Nick was standing there holding half of it while the pony stood a foot away from him on the other side of the fence, chewing.
“Baby?” His voice was quiet. His eyes were not.
Her grandmother said something in her ear and Megan managed a sound that must’ve satisfied Birdie, because she hung up.
Megan slowly pocketed her phone, watching Nick warily. “Did you know I was here?”
“My grandfather saw you drive past the house and called me because he figured I was with you.”
Nick had way too many relatives in this town. “Surprised you could tear yourself away from Delia.”
“She was kissing me, Megan.”
“Didn’t look that way to me.”
“Didn’t look to me like you were pregnant, either,” he said flatly. “Is it mine?”
Her fist curled. She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
“Were you ever going to tell me? Or just keep laughing behind my back over how oblivious I was?”
“I wasn’t laughing!” She curled her hand tightly over the fence rail. “And I knew I needed to tell you, but—”
“But you’re a Forrester,” he said, his voice still flat. He didn’t look at her as the pony stretched out her neck and snatched the rest of the carrot from his fingers. “And you don’t need anything or anyone.” He wiped his hands together and glanced at her. “Don’t worry, Megan. I finally got the message.”
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