No, she wasn’t ready to take even a few slow steps into a relationship. Her focus now was her baby. Nothing else.
Rousing herself from the fatigue and exhaustion that had finally caught up with her, she stood and moved to the bed—away from Grady’s hands…away from his strength…away from anything that would tempt her heart.
Shadow gazed up at her when she slipped under the covers.
Grady laid the hair dryer on the dresser. “If you need anything, I’m across the hall.”
She nodded. But she knew she wouldn’t. Not from him.
Grady exited the room and closed the door behind him. She turned on her side, placing her hand on Shadow’s warm coat, totally aware of Grady’s shirt against her skin.
Chapter Three
When Francesca awoke the following morning, she was disoriented for a few seconds. Then she realized where she was—at Grady’s ranch.
She patted Shadow on the head and he barked. Shortly after, there was a rap on the door. “Francesca—are you up?”
Hearing his master’s voice, Shadow jumped off the bed. Making sure she was covered by the sheet, as well as buttoned to the neck in Grady’s shirt, she called, “Not quite. But you can come in.”
Grady opened the door and stepped inside. He was wearing a many-times-washed T-shirt today, jeans and the ever-present boots. She didn’t think any man had ever looked sexier. Quickly she pushed that thought away as Shadow trotted into the hall.
“Do you need anything?” he asked. “Tessa’s dad and Vince are bringing the mustang over, so I’ll be heading to the barn as soon as I grab a cup of coffee.”
“I’m going to scramble myself an egg,” she said, knowing she must look a mess. “I could make more than one if you’re interested.”
His blue eyes were more than interested as they locked with hers and she felt a little tremor ripple through her. How could she be attracted to him when her life was a mess right now?
“I’ll scramble the eggs,” he offered, “as soon as I let Shadow out. You’re supposed to be resting. Remember? That’s why you’re here.”
Granted, that was the reason for her being here, but she couldn’t let him do too much for her. She couldn’t become dependent on him. She’d taken care of herself all of her life, and she wasn’t going to stop now.
Instead of keeping a bit of distance between them, he ambled into the room and loomed over her.
Her chin came up and she straightened her shoulders.
A puzzled expression crossed his face as he lowered himself to the bed, right beside her hip. “You haven’t told me yet why I spook you.”
“You don’t,” she protested quickly, as if that would answer his question.
He shook his head. “You’ve changed since the night we met.”
Sure she had. That night, he’d been an attractive man she’d met in the crowd. That night, she hadn’t been pregnant with his child. That night, she hadn’t been scared to death of feelings for him that had taken root a little deeper each time they’d talked. That night, for once in her life, she’d simply let go.
Look where that had gotten her!
“You’ve changed, too,” she answered, knowing she had to go on the offensive. “You weren’t protective and hovering. You weren’t trying to tell me what was best for my baby.”
“Do you think that’s what I’m doing now?” he asked without getting angry, and that surprised her.
“I don’t know, Grady.”
“If you were staying with Tessa, would you mind if she made you breakfast?”
She thought about that and easily knew the answer. “No, I suppose not.”
“At least you’re honest.” His tone was wry.
“I try to be.”
He nodded to her arm. “How does it feel?”
“It aches a little, but nothing I can’t handle.”
He rose to his feet. “There isn’t much you can’t handle, is there?”
“Do you want me to answer that, or was it a rhetorical question?”
“It was rhetorical. I’ll make those eggs and then get out of your hair for a while. Maybe you’ll relax if I’m in the barn.”
As Francesca watched him leave, she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she could relax if he was in the barn. But she doubted it. Because she was still carrying his child.
Francesca saw the horse trailer roll in. She heard men’s voices and recognized Vince’s and Walter McGuire’s.
She’d only met Tessa’s dad a few times, but she knew his history with Vince. When Vince fell in love with Tessa in high school, Mr. McGuire had disapproved. After Tessa had gotten pregnant and decided to marry Vince, her father had disowned her. Later in her pregnancy, she’d lost her baby and almost died. She and Vince had gone their separate ways until this past spring when he’d returned to town with his best friend’s baby and they’d fallen in love all over again. He and Tessa were married now, and as happy as could be, raising Vince’s little boy as well as adopting a little girl. Besides that, Vince and Tessa’s dad seemed to have found some common ground and were putting the past aside.
It was hard for Francesca to remain still and rest as her doctor had suggested. But she’d do anything for this baby. So she sat on the sofa, making notes for anyone who covered for her at the hospital this week.
When the door opened, she expected to see Grady. Instead, her gaze landed on Tessa’s husband.
Vince grinned at her as he came in the door. “Hey there, I told Tessa I’d stop in and see how you were doing. I think she and Emily are planning to come over tomorrow.”
She could use her best friends’ company, but was glad to see Vince, too. Since she’d gotten to know him over the summer, he was almost like a big brother.
“I’m glad you stopped in. I’m supposed to rest and…” She grimaced. “I’m not used to doing that.”
Vince sat on a chair across from the sofa and petted Shadow. “Hi there, boy. Are you keeping Francesca company?”
The dog cocked his head, gave a little bark in answer and then settled his head on his paws again.
“I can imagine resting for the sake of resting is a headache,” Vince said.
“So you brought over a mustang?”
“Yep. Grady wanted one. It’s quite an adjustment for those horses, captured from the wild, being hauled off to auction. But they make wonderful companion horses once they’re gentled. They’re good workers, too.”
“How many horses does Grady have?”
“You haven’t been to the barn?”
“I’ve never been here before, Vince.”
His face darkened a little. “I’m sorry. Tessa keeps her friends’ lives private. I thought maybe you’d spent some time here.”
“No. After I found out I was pregnant, I thought it was better if Grady and I kept our distance. It would help us both to figure things out.”
Vince’s brows arched. “When two people share a child, they’ve got to tell each other what’s going on in their heads.”
“You know why I might be reluctant to do that.”
Tessa had known Francesca’s background soon after they’d moved in together. But one night this summer, when Francesca had visited the couple, she’d felt comfortable enough with Vince to fill him in.
His eyes were gentle as he said, “I know you’ve had a rough time with men. My father was an alcoholic—thank God, not a violent one—so I understand a little bit of what you went through. And that doctor you got involved with, I know he was more of the same.”
“Darren isn’t an alcoholic.”
“No, but abuse is abuse.”
Francesca remembered her relationship with Darren all too well. She remembered the day she’d left him—for all the right reasons.
“I don’t know what happened the night I met Grady. I don’t know why—” she waved at her tummy “—this happened. It was so out of character for me.”
“Maybe you were just tired of guarding yourself so well. Maybe you sensed Grady wa
s a different kind of man.”
“Is he?” She sought her answer in Vince’s eyes.
“When I worked at his dad’s saddle shop, he was around now and then during school breaks. I’ve got to admit, I was jealous of his relationship with his dad. They worked together like a father and son should. They talked. They joked. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Grady was older than I was, but he never ordered me around. He taught me what needed to be done and he was patient.”
She thought about what Vince had said. “He and I are very different, Vince. Not only our backgrounds, but who we are. You know how much time I spend at the hospital. You know those babies mean everything to me.”
“But now your baby is going to mean the world to you.”
“Yes, he is. I’ll figure out a way to work and take care of him. I don’t know if I want to share those responsibilities. I already love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone, so when I think about handing over my baby to someone else, even for a couple of hours— What if Grady demands joint custody? What if he wants equal time?”
“Whoa! You’re getting ahead of yourself. Do you want some advice?”
Vince was a good guy and he wouldn’t steer her wrong. “Sure.”
“Watch what Grady does, rather than thinking about what he doesn’t say.”
Advice was one thing, a riddle was another. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“I think you’ll figure it out. The important thing is you can understand the measure of a man by his actions. Watch Grady—with you, with the horses, with Shadow here, with Tessa and Emily if they come to visit. Watch him until this baby is born, and then decide whether or not he’s going to make a good father.”
“That makes sense.”
“Good.” He reached out and patted Shadow’s head again. “I’ll tell Tessa you’re already on the mend.” He rose to his feet.
“Thanks, Vince.”
He reached down and squeezed her shoulder. “No thanks necessary. We’re friends. Friends look out for each other.”
Grady entered his house, not knowing where he’d find Francesca. She was supposed to be resting, but she had a mind of her own. He had to wonder just how much she wanted this baby. After all, an unexpected pregnancy could mess up a career woman’s life. His resentment of Susan’s actions still caused a bitter taste in his mouth.
He was surprised to find Francesca asleep on the sofa, curled on her side, Shadow on the floor close at hand. When he saw his master, he came running over to him.
Grady hunched down, scratched the dog behind the ears and said softly, “So you’ve been watching over her? Does she give you a hard time, too?”
Grady had checked his cell phone about every fifteen minutes to see if he’d missed her call, if she’d left a message because she needed something. But she hadn’t. He noticed the list on the coffee table, the medical terms in her pretty handwriting.
Her long, dark hair glimmered with red highlights in the afternoon sun streaming through the window. She was so beautiful. He almost felt as if he were awakening a princess.
He crouched down beside her. “Frannie.”
Her eyes opened and she stared up at him in bemusement for a moment. Then reality hit. She hiked herself up and rubbed her face with her hand. “Grady. I must have dozed off. What time is it?”
“Almost one. Did you have lunch?”
“No. I was thinking about getting up and decided to close my eyes for just a little while. I guess I fell asleep. Did Vince leave?”
“A long time ago. I’ve been doing chores in the barn, getting the new horse settled.”
He was making conversation when all he wanted to do was sit down on that sofa and take her into his arms. There was no defiance in her eyes now, or rebelliousness. This was the woman he’d seen the night he met her. This was the woman who had captivated him so. He wondered how long it would be until she brought back the emotional armor.
“What would you like for lunch?” he asked. “We have leftovers from last night. I also stopped at a deli before I picked you up, so I have sandwich fixings, too.”
“Leftovers sound good.”
Before she became that guarded woman again, he had a question that had been nudging him. Now was as good a time to ask her as any. “What does the baby feel like when he moves?”
Francesca’s green gaze locked to his. In that moment a spark of understanding flashed in her eyes—that he had a role in her pregnancy…that he was asking out of more than idle curiosity. He had no idea what she’d say or do.
Unexpectedly, she answered his question with one of her own. “Do you want to feel him when he moves?”
Before he could think better of it, he answered, “Yes.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, and then laid her hand on the right side of her tummy atop her sweatshirt. “You can feel him move here.”
He told himself he just wanted to feel the baby. There wouldn’t be anything intimate about his touch.
But when he laid his hand where hers had been, when he could feel the heat under the material and then the flutter of movement, he knew touching her this way was very intimate.
“What was it like the first time you felt him move?”
“I was brushing my teeth,” she responded with a smile that aroused him even more than touching her had. She went on, “And I felt this little wave, a little rustle, and I realized my baby was moving!”
He didn’t correct her by insisting this was his baby, too, because he suddenly realized every woman carrying a child must feel that total union. No man could ever fully understand pregnancy…carrying a life…bringing a miracle into this world.
He didn’t move his hand away. He couldn’t. He wanted to feel his child’s life again. “Have you given any thought to names?”
“I have. A doctor I worked with in Oklahoma—he was my attending and mentored me—was a member of the National Guard, and he was called up and deployed to the Middle East. He was killed there. His name was Joshua. I like the name. But…” she hesitated. “I imagine you have some suggestions, too.”
Before her accident, had she decided to share the naming process with him? Could they compromise? He was sensing that they were both strong-willed. What did that mean for the chance of them parenting successfully together?
One step at a time, he told himself. “I like the name Michael. It was my grandfather’s.”
He knew he had to stand, move away from her, make them some lunch. But his hand stayed on her stomach. He felt their baby move again. They seemed to lean a little closer to each other.
Then she leaned back and took a breath.
He took the signal for what it was—her defense mechanisms shifting into place. His had better do the same.
Withdrawing his hand, he stood. “I’m going to wash up, and then I’ll get us that lunch.”
She lowered her gaze to Shadow, slid her fingers into the ruff of fur at his neck. “I’m going to call the hospital. I need to check on one of my patients.”
“Fine,” he replied, and walked away.
He had to walk away for now…until their baby was born. Then he’d be in Francesca’s life, whether she wanted him there or not.
Francesca took the last sip of her milk and set down the glass. Conversation had lagged over lunch and she wasn’t sure how to pick it up. “How many horses do you have?”
“We’re not on a date, Frannie. You don’t have to make conversation if you don’t feel like it. I’ll go back to the barn and you’ll have your privacy again.”
“No! I mean, this is your house. You should feel comfortable in it. And I’m not just making conversation. I want to know.”
He gave her an I-don’t-really-believe-that look, but answered her. “I have four horses now—with the mustang.”
“What kind are the others?”
His gaze narrowed a bit. “I have a quarter horse, one part Arabian and one part Tennessee walker.”
“Have you had them long?”
/>
“There’s not a simple answer to that one. Dad always had horses. When I took over the ranch and the business, I kept them.”
She absorbed that, not knowing if she should ask any more personal questions.
“What?” he asked.
“You grew up here?”
“Sure did. And I couldn’t let mom and dad sell the ranch when they moved to the retirement community in Lubbock.”
“Do they like it there?”
“They do. Mom babysits a lot for my sister, Laurie, and my older brother, John. They’ve also made friends there who they can socialize with. Dad’s on the hospital board and still comes to the shop a few days a week.”
“Your mom mentioned a younger brother—Liam?”
“Yes. He moved back to Sagebrush about six months ago. He lives in town.”
She remembered the names from the stories he’d related that first night. He’d also told her he spent every Sunday with his family. She could hardly imagine what it was like to sit down with a family, have a peaceful dinner with everybody actually wanting to be together. She and her parents had lived in a vacuum in California. Her father had had his drinking buddies, true, but he had isolated her mother. Her mother had been scared to death to even go to the store without asking her dad first. And after she and her mother had fled to Oklahoma, they’d kept to themselves.
“You mentioned you lost your mom,” he prompted.
He was leaving the subject open for her if she wanted to talk about it. She didn’t, but she couldn’t go completely quiet on the subject or he’d ask more questions later. “My mother died four years ago.”
“And that was in Oklahoma.”
“Yes.”
“So what brought you to Sagebrush?”
This conversation had started because she’d asked him about his horses. She wished she could go back to that subject.
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