“Please. Thanks. Since the Realtor should be along any minute.”
The old guy tromped out on bowed legs that attested to his many years as a ranch hand before opting for inside duty, and Deanna felt a rush of affection for the man who’d done his fair share of mothering her, too, once her own was gone. Another, much sharper rush of feelings followed, as it occurred to her once she left she’d probably never see him again.
Then, as she came out of the powder room she caught Josh in the entryway, brushing fresh, light snow off his shoulders, and she realized she’d probably never see him again, either. Which logically shouldn’t’ve bothered her, considering how little she’d seen him, anyway, in the last several years. Hadn’t even thought about him all that much, to be truthful. But in the past few days...
Deanna released another breath. Just another hyperemotional preggo, nothing to see here, move along. Sure, being back had stirred a lot of memories—how could it not? And she was vulnerable and shaky and more grief-stricken than she probably even realized, and not only about losing Dad, although that would’ve been enough by itself. And dammit, Josh was about to sacrifice something for her that obviously meant the world to him—
“Dee?” he said, frowning. “You okay?”
“You bet,” she said, girding her achy loins. And back. Lord, if the kid would move, already, that would be good—
The doorbell rang. Josh let the Realtor in, shaking his hand, polite as hell. Even when the man’s cold blue eyes swept over the great room with the practiced ease of a lion checking out the savannah for prey. Honestly, the dude was practically licking his chops.
The designer—a dark-haired beauty swimming in suede and turquoise—stood as they entered, grinning for the Realtor, who’d actually recommended her. “Toby!” she said, opening her arms for the much taller man to walk into. “So nice to see you!” Then, still smiling, she turned to Deanna, and something in her deep brown eyes put Deanna immediately at ease. Unlike her sidekick whose presence sent chills down her spine.
“Ohmigoodness,” the other woman said after introductions were made, her gaze landing on Deanna’s middle before lifting again. “We don’t have much time, do we? Before the baby comes?”
“Oh. No. I mean, yes, she’s due soon. But I’ll be home long before that happens—”
“And I don’t mean to rush you folks,” Toby said, making Deanna blink in the glare of his too-white teeth. “But unfortunately I’ve got a showing at eleven in Taos, so if you don’t mind...?”
The smile lit on Josh, standing off to one side with a scowl so deeply etched it took a full two seconds to let go of Josh’s face. At which point he smiled—not as brightly, thank God—and gave a little nod. “Of course. Right this way...”
* * *
An hour later, his head spinning with words like comparables and resale value and vintage charm, Josh sank onto the sofa in the office, his arms tightly folded over his chest and his mood the darkest since the day he watched Jordan walk out to her truck without even looking back.
On a sigh, he leaned into the cushions to glare up at the hand-forged chandelier, half wishing it would drop on his head and put him out of his misery. Out in the hall he could hear Deanna and Tessa the designer softly laughing. The gal seemed nice enough, and at least she hadn’t wanted to “update” every damn thing in the place, although she did have some valid suggestions to make things look a little less like you might find Billy the Kid’s bones behind one of the doors. Even if he was gonna stay, he’d probably go along with most of her suggestions.
The Realtor dude, though...jeebus. Like a villain right out of a Disney cartoon, complete with dollar signs in his eyes. Said he’d have an appraiser come give them an accurate number, but the ballpark figure he’d suggested was even more than Josh had figured on. No wonder the man was practically drooling. Hell, maybe Josh should ditch the horse business and take up selling real estate. At least houses didn’t kick if they got pissed at you.
Finally he heard the front door close; a moment later Deanna joined him in the room, carefully lowering herself into a wingback chair a few feet away.
“That went pretty well, don’t you think?”
Josh grunted.
Deanna tapped her fingers on the arms of the chair for a moment, then said, very gently, “At least they didn’t think we needed to change much.”
“Not sure what difference that makes if we’re selling it, anyway.”
“True, I suppose. And why are you looking at me like that?”
“You really have no attachment to the place? None at all?”
A long moment passed before she said, “No. I don’t. But even if I did, I’m in no position to let the past bog me down about decisions I need to make now. For the future.” She smoothed an oversize plaid flannel shirt over her belly for several seconds before looking over at him again. “For her future.”
“And I still say her father—”
“He’s married,” she said softly, and the rest of his sentence logjammed in his throat.
“Oh, jeez, Dee—”
“I didn’t know. Obviously. He was—is—French. Older. A diplomat. And yes, that much was true. Why he was in the States, I mean. I sold him a painting, he asked me out...” She blew a short laugh through her nose. “We even talked about marriage at one point. Or maybe it was only me talking about marriage and he didn’t have the guts or whatever to stop me. In any case, it was all fun and games until the diaphragm failed.”
“And don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”
Her gaze slammed into his. “He didn’t seduce me, Josh.”
“No, he just lied. Same thing. So if you think I’m gonna judge you, you are definitely barking up the wrong tree. Seriously. Like I’ve got room to talk?”
She almost smiled at that. “Austin?”
“Yep. And Jordan and I were being careful, too. Or at least thought we were. Having a kid had definitely not been on the agenda. But at least I wasn’t involved with someone else. Let alone married. And when she told me she was pregnant...let’s just say I grew up real fast.”
“And she took advantage of your big heart.”
He felt his brows shove together. “What else would I have done?”
She almost laughed. “Really? After what I just said?” Then her eyes watered. “I’m so sorry, Josh. You deserve so much better than that.”
Her sincerity, her kindness, stole his breath. Not to mention a good chunk of his earlier irritation, if not his disappointment.
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious. You’re a prince, dude. Own it.”
Clearing his throat, Josh leaned forward, linking his hands between his knees. “Hardly a prince. In fact, looking back, it was probably stupid, her and me hooking up to begin with—okay, so no maybe about it, I knew better and I did it anyway—but at least I acknowledged my kid. Took responsibility for him. What that jerk did to you...” He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence.
“Oh, it gets worse.”
From her tone alone, he knew what she meant. “He asked you to get rid of it.”
“Demanded, actually.”
“Before or after he told you he was married?”
“After. But before he admitted he already had three kids. Yep,” Dee said to Josh’s softly uttered obscenity. “However, no matter how much I might wish I hadn’t let myself get caught up in the fairy tale, that I’d been more alert to the signs I now realize were there all along, the fact is I still made my own decisions. And now I have to deal with the consequences of those decisions. Same as you did...crap,” she said, her breath suddenly catching.
Josh jerked to attention. “What?”
“Nothing. Well, not nothing, my back’s killing me. But it’ll pass.” Then she frowned when he dug out his phone. “What’re you doing?
”
“Calling Mom. Because I’ve heard way too many going into labor stories not to know a hurting back’s not a good sign—”
“Then I’ve been in labor for the past two weeks. So put your phone away—”
“Hey, Mom,” he said when she picked up. “Deanna says her back’s hurting pretty bad.”
“Oh?” Mom said, her voice kind of echoey. “How bad?”
“Bad enough she’s making faces—”
“I’m not in labor, Billie! Your son’s overreacting!”
Mom laughed in his ear. “You probably are. But if it makes you feel better, I’m on my way back into town—I had clinic this morning—so I’ll swing by, no problem. If that’s okay with Dee?”
“You’re on the phone while you’re driving?”
“Hands-free, not an idiot. And no other cars for probably ten miles. Well?”
He looked up from the phone. “Mom’s gonna come check you out, if that’s okay.”
She glared at him. “If it gets you to shut up, sure. But I’m not. In. Labor.”
Mom chuckled again. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she said, then disconnected the call.
* * *
Billie stuffed her stethoscope back in her bag, then straightened, her hands on her hips. “You’re not in labor,” she said, and Deanna released a half relieved, half annoyed sigh.
“Thank you—”
“You are, however, about fifty percent effaced and a couple centimeters dilated. Not to mention that baby’s sitting real low. As in, engaged already. Probably why your back’s been giving you grief.”
Deanna felt her forehead crunch. “I thought none of that happened with first babies until much closer to the due date.”
“So either your date’s wrong—”
“Two ultrasounds. Not wrong.”
“Or this child has a mind of her own. In which case, steel yourself, because that’s not gonna get better once she’s out. Which might happen sooner rather than later,” she said to Deanna’s undoubtedly horrified expression. “In any case—and you’re really not going to like this—you might want to rethink getting on a plane right now.”
The horrified expression instantly morphed into panic. “I can’t stay here, Billie.”
“You might not have a choice. Unless you want to risk giving birth at thirty thousand feet with a couple hundred strangers as witnesses.”
Struggling to her feet, she shook her head. “Nonononono... I have an installation to oversee, and I haven’t finished setting up the baby’s space—” Such as it would be, a corner in her dinky little bedroom. “And...” Deanna sagged back onto her bed, defeated. “Really?” she said in a small voice.
Billie sat beside her, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders and tugging her close, like she used to after Deanna’s mom died. “I know, sweetie,” she whispered into Deanna’s hair. “Like you didn’t already have enough on your plate. And it’s not like we know you’d go into labor—could be you’d make the trip just fine. But it’s not a chance I’d want to take. Or want you to take. And if you do give birth early, at least you’ll be back home by Christmas, right? Maybe even Thanksgiving, who knows?”
Deanna felt the blood drain from her face. Thanksgiving was less than three weeks away. Suddenly this all seemed very real. As in, in less than a month she could be holding a baby in her arms.
No—her daughter in her arms.
Billie rubbed her shoulder, giving her a little squeeze. “It’s up to you, sweetie. It’s not like I’m saying you can’t fly, I’m only saying you probably shouldn’t. So let’s get a second opinion, and you can think about it.” She gave Deanna another quick hug, then stood and collected her things. “But if you do decide to stay, at least there’s people here to look after you, right?”
Not as great a selling point as you might think.
Chapter Four
On the other end of the line, a long, aggrieved breath preceded, “You’re absolutely sure you can’t fly back?”
No sympathy, then. Not that this was a surprise. Her boss was stingier with her compassion than she was with her salaries. But at least Alita—grudgingly—shared commissions. And Deanna was damned good at matching up potential buyers with exactly what they were looking for. Even if they didn’t know it when they first walked into the gallery.
“The general consensus—” as in, from the ob-gyn backup at the clinic Billie worked with “—is that it wouldn’t be a good idea. I can email you my notes if that’d help—”
“Don’t bother—I’m sure somebody else here can get up to speed. However, if you’re not back by the beginning of December, you do realize I’ll have to replace you?”
Because clearly the woman had never heard of the Family and Medical Leave Act. Or specialized temp agencies. “I was planning on going on maternity leave by then, anyway. I’m only adding a few weeks to it.” Not that it was paid. Although at least the cash part of her inheritance would see her through for a while. “You can’t fire me for being pregnant, Alita.”
“More’s the pity,” the woman muttered, then disconnected the call.
Yeah, that really cheered her up.
And she’d yet to call Emily, let her know what was going on. Or not.
“But we’re supposed to go bridesmaid dress shopping next week!” were the first words out of her cousin’s mouth...followed by a sucked-in breath. “Oh, God, Dee—I’m so sorry! It’s just I was counting on you to keep the other girls on track when we went to the salon. You know how they can get.”
She did, indeed. Although she wondered if it ever occurred to Emily that perhaps the slew of sorority sisters and fellow debutantes that made up her cousin’s entourage weren’t really the “besties” she wanted to believe they were. Or how they’d react to Emily’s heavily pregnant—and unringed—maid of honor. A moot point now, she supposed.
“You’ll be fine,” she said, and Emily sighed. Then chuckled.
“Which I assume is Deespeak for grow a pair?”
“It is. And no, I don’t give two figs what you choose. I totally trust your taste.” In fashion, anyway, if not in friends.
“Thanks. But...crap. This means I won’t be with you when the baby comes. And that sucks. And ohmigod, I haven’t even thrown you a shower yet! Okay, seriously, the instant you get back, you are so getting showered. Like no new mother has ever been showered, ever. I swear.”
Deanna had to laugh. What her cousin sometimes lacked in focus, she more than made up for with generosity. Not to mention enthusiasm. And she’d never forget how the younger woman had instantly become Deanna’s champion after Phillippe’s betrayal, not only insisting she come stay with her in her tiny Georgetown one bedroom so she wouldn’t eat her weight in Häagen-Dazs, but also standing up to her mother. Who hadn’t exactly gotten behind her daughter’s public support of her cousin.
And Emily, bless her sweet heart, hadn’t wavered even in the threat of her mama’s yanking closed the purse strings on the wedding. “No,” she’d said with a knowing smile, “It’s Mom who’d be mortified if this wedding doesn’t come off. Trust me.” And sure enough, Aunt Margaret apparently decided a pregnant niece was far less of a social faux pas than letting her daughter get married at city hall. In rags.
“Dee? Did I lose you?”
“No, no... I was just thinking...” She smiled, listening to little snow BBs clicking against the window. Perfect baking weather, she thought, her mood lifting at the thought. “Okay. You’re on. For the shower.”
“As if you have any choice?” Emily said, giggling. Then she said, very gently, “I love you, you know,” and something twinged inside Deanna.
“I love you, too, goof,” she said, holding the phone to her chest a moment before shoving herself off her bed, then tucking the phone into her back pocket. A mira
culous feat in itself, considering how tightly even maternity denim stretched across her prodigious butt these days—
From down the hall she heard Gus’s deep laugh, then Austin giggling, the infectious sound banishing the normally suffocating silence to the dark corners tucked behind the rafters, and she smiled, momentarily content. She knew Austin was in the Baptist Church’s preschool program three mornings a week for now, meaning Josh had to cobble together day care however he could manage. Although Gus said these days Josh let the kid hang out with him more and more as he went about his chores. Which was how it was with ranchers’ kids, many of whom were homeschooled, working their education around the needs of the ranch.
Not in Deanna’s case, however, since her mother, clearly worried about Deanna becoming completely cut off from any social life whatsoever, insisted she attend school in town.
Thank God.
“Dee!” Bellowing her name, Austin scrambled off the chair where he was presumably having lunch and ran to her, arms outstretched. Because bonding happened whether it made sense or not. Laughing over the twist to her heart, Deanna lugged him into her arms and kissed the top of his head, earning her a scowl from the housekeeper.
“You really think you should be doin’ that?”
“Billie didn’t say I couldn’t.” Grinning, she tickled the child’s tummy, breathing in the scents of little boy and burning logs, the fire’s crackling glow banishing the late fall gloom. “So we’re fine. Aren’t we, hotshot?”
His baby-toothed grin warmed her far more than the fire. “Uh-huh. Daddy went somewhere, so I’m stayin’ with Gus. And you!”
Chuckling, Deanna looked over to Gus. “Somewhere?”
“To check out a potential buyer. Josh don’ sell his stock to jus’ anybody. Jus’ like your daddy. You want somethin’? Tea, maybe?”
“I’m good, thanks. And I remember. Hey,” she said, giving the little boy a squeeze. “Whaddya say we bake something, you and me?”
The Rancher's Expectant Christmas Page 5