“Officer, just issue the ticket.”
The officer removed his sunglasses. “Ma’am, I have to tell you that you don’t look as though you’re all right.”
She swiped at her tears. “I just had some disappointing news, but I’ll be fine.”
And she would be. She’d faced harder moments in her life. She’d get through this, be the stronger for it. Learn from it, because for a heartbeat, for a single heartbeat, she’d actually contemplated that if Hunter asked, she might consider marrying him. Although she didn’t know him well, she’d felt that connection from the beginning.
Only the connection had turned out to be lust or horniness or hormones gone wild. But there had certainly been nothing substantial there.
“Ma’am, is there someone I should contact?”
She shook her head. “I’ll sit here until I’ve calmed down and I promise not to go over the speed limit again.”
“I’m going to let you off with a warning this time, ma’am.”
Oh, God, the damn tears were starting up again, because of his kindness. “Thank you.”
He handed the information back to her. “Whatever it is, ma’am, it’s probably not as bad as it seems right now. Things usually aren’t.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Officer.”
“You take care, now, hear?”
She bobbed her head, threw everything into the glove compartment, and took several deep breaths. She placed her hand on her stomach. He was right. Things weren’t that bad. She was going to be an unmarried mother, but then again she was an unmarried mother now.
Gossip would no doubt run rampant through her father’s church congregation and among his friends. It would be tossed about in Hopeful. But eventually her notoriety would diminish. If she lived in a larger town, no one would care. It was only in small towns that people still raised eyebrows over unwed mothers. So she’d raise a few eyebrows. She also intended to raise this child.
She eased the van onto the road, checked in the rearview mirror, and wished she wasn’t disappointed to discover no jeep raising a cloud of dust behind her. How many times was she going to let his reticence disappoint her?
She decided to take a detour before returning to her father’s house. She turned onto the lane that led into the cemetery where her mother had been laid to rest. She came to a stop, got out, and walked to the grave where the earth was still raw, where the grass had not yet reclaimed the dirt. There wasn’t a head-stone, just a small little temporary marker.
Wishing she’d brought some fresh flowers, she knelt on the ground. “Oh, Mom, you were so understanding when I got pregnant with Riker. I don’t know what you’d feel now. I’m not even sure what I feel. Disappointment in Hunter. Disappointment in myself. Embarrassment for getting caught. And a sort of gladness, because I wanted more children. I thought I’d have three or four by now. It’ll be hard, I know that. I wish you were here, Mom. I wish you were here to tell me that everything will be all right.”
She felt so alone. Her father, bless him, was a good man, but some things a daughter could only share with her mother or with the man she loved. Some things she should be able to say to a man she’d slept with.
“I’ve never been so angry in my whole life. I should have expected his reaction. He was honest from the beginning. He didn’t want a relationship.
“But there was just something about him, Mom. I wanted to spend time with him, get to know him. And it wasn’t simply because he was sexy as sin. You would have called him eye candy.
“I liked the way I felt when I was with him. I stopped feeling old. I started feeling attractive. I liked the way he treated Riker and Riker sure took a shine to him.
“He’s a good man, Mom. He just has this irrational prejudice against relationships. I guess I can’t blame him. He didn’t have it easy growing up.
“I was lucky. I had you and Dad. I’m hoping this one is a girl. I know you always wanted a granddaughter.”
She released a slow, calming sigh and felt contentment ease through her. She suddenly felt stronger than she had in a long time. “I can do this, Mom. I’m going to be fine. I’m too much like you. You were so strong fighting the cancer. I’m going to be strong now. I’m facing a battle. I’m going to bring a new little life into the world. I want this baby, Mom. I really do.
“We’re going to be just fine.”
Chapter 14
She was going to have his kid. Hunter stood at the edge of the lake, wondering how the water could look so calm when his life had gone to hell.
He was going to be a father. And he’d never been so terrified in his entire life. What if he turned out to be like his old man? Bitter and abusive. Then what?
Serena would kick his butt.
She wouldn’t be like his mother. Cowering, believing she deserved what his old man had dished out. Just as he’d always wondered what he’d done wrong to anger his father. He’d always thought if he could have just figured out what he did that made his father angry—he’d stop doing it. He hadn’t wanted to be bad. He’d just never understood why being an “accident” had meant that he couldn’t be loved.
Only now did he realize that being an “accident” had nothing to do with his old man’s treatment of him. Hunter wasn’t angry because Serena was pregnant. He didn’t hate the kid growing inside of her. He didn’t hate her.
What he felt—to his utter astonishment—was joy.
He was going to have a kid. And it didn’t matter that he didn’t know the first thing about raising a kid. He could learn. Serena could teach him. He could figure out how to coach baseball. He could adapt his life.
He could be a father. He’d be nothing like his old man. He’d never strike his kid—no matter how angry he got. He knew that. Deep within himself. He’d never lash out at an innocent person. He’d never shut his kid in a dark closet.
His old man hadn’t been mean because of anything Hunter had done. His old man had simply been rotten—to the core. Drugs and violence. He’d blamed his kid because he hadn’t been man enough to shoulder the burden for his actions.
Well, Hunter had never had a problem with shouldering responsibility. Although he doubted that Serena would believe that after his reaction this morning.
Serena. He released a deep sigh. She was having his kid. He wondered if she knew yet if it was going to be a boy or a girl.
Of course, she didn’t know. Pregnancy tests didn’t reveal that—did they? No, of course they didn’t.
He dropped his head back and stared at the blue sky until the sunlight almost blinded him. Her news changed everything. He’d offered to pay for an abortion because he’d assumed she’d want one, and he hadn’t wanted her to know that the very thought of her not wanting his child was tearing his guts out.
He should have known her better than that. He knew what she wanted—and he’d been afraid to offer it, afraid of hurting her. And in the not offering, he’d caused her more pain.
He’d handled the situation poorly. For someone who was quick thinking on his feet in dangerous situations, he certainly hadn’t used his skills this afternoon. He’d been in shock. Stunned.
He knew condoms weren’t a hundred percent, but they’d never let him down before. He supposed if they were going to fail, he was grateful that they’d failed with Serena Hamilton.
She was one tough lady and sexy as hell.
The woman had left here ready to spit nails. Not that he blamed her. He’d seen that she was protective and sensitive where Riker was concerned. It seemed she was going to grant the same feelings to his child. A warm knot of contentment settled into his chest. He couldn’t have asked for a better mother for his child if he’d gone out searching for one.
Or a better woman to be his wife. She wasn’t afraid of him. She challenged him—in bed and out. He wanted her. Not just for a night—but for every night.
Of course, he didn’t think he’d given her the impression that those were his feelings. He wasn’t even sure that he’d realize
d those were his feelings until this moment. Or if they’d been hovering near the surface, he’d refused to acknowledge them.
But now that he had, he planned to do something about it. He wanted her as his wife. He wanted her kids in his life. He was going to have to do some bridge mending. And pretty damned quick.
The sun had set by the time he pulled his jeep to a stop in front of her father’s house. After showering and shaving, he’d put on a pair of dress slacks and a shirt that was dressy enough without a tie that he thought it would make a statement that he cared. He’d contemplated a tie, but didn’t want to give her something she could strangle him with if her mood hadn’t improved since she’d barreled off his property—and he had no reason to believe anything had happened to improve it.
Taking a deep breath, he reached across to the passenger side and grabbed the bouquet of assorted flowers and the box of Whitman’s Sampler he’d picked up at a grocery store he’d passed on the way here. He climbed out of his jeep and walked up the steps to the porch. He could see faint, flickering light reflected through the windows and figured everyone was watching something on the television.
He rapped on the door, waited a couple of heartbeats, and rapped again. He couldn’t recall being this nervous when he was on a mission. Perhaps because the only thing he stood to lose then was his life, and until this moment, he hadn’t placed much value on that.
The door swung open, and Larry Barnett stood there, an imposing sentinel with his graying hair and his suspicious glare. “Well, son, haven’t seen you in a while.”
His voice was sharp-edged enough to slice through a tough steak.
“I was out of town.”
“This place you went to…out in the boonies was it? No telephones to speak of?”
“I was preoccupied.”
“Uh-huh. I get the impression that you weren’t the only one.”
Hunter was losing patience fast. “Are you going to invite me in?”
“I was given orders not to.”
Hunter grimaced. He’d known getting back on her good side wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d thought she’d at least offer him the opportunity to try. He held up the flowers, hoping he appeared to be what he was: remorseful and hopeful.
“Rena, he brought flowers,” her father called out over his shoulder.
“I don’t care. I don’t want to see him.”
Barnett shrugged. “She’s like her mother that way. Get on her bad side and it’s hard to get back on her good. Know what I mean?”
Not really, but the hints were stacking up. Based on the fact that her father hadn’t greeted him at the door with a shotgun, Hunter was beginning to also realize that she hadn’t broken the news to Barnett. The old man no doubt thought they’d simply had a little misunderstanding. Instead it was one hell of a whopper.
“I really need to talk to your daughter,” Hunter said.
“Rena, he really needs to talk to you,” Barnett called over his shoulder.
“I don’t want to talk to him. He did his talking this afternoon.”
Barnett furrowed his brow as though some bit of information was new to him. “She says—”
“I heard what she said.”
Barnett’s brow furrowed more deeply. “You spoke this afternoon?”
“Yeah.”
“Not here.”
“No, she came to my place.”
“This is more than her being in a tiff because you haven’t called in nearly a month.”
“I think so, yeah.”
“You know, son, I gotta tell you that I’m confused as all get-out. You’ve been here a couple of times, seem like a pleasant enough fella. Now it seems to me that you’ve done something to hurt my little girl, and I’m beginning to think it’s about more than simply not phoning.”
Barnett stood there as though he expected Hunter to reveal what the problem was.
“I take it she’s watching TV,” Hunter said instead.
“TV’s on. I don’t know that she’s watching it.”
Hunter thrust the flowers and chocolates toward the old man. “Will you at least give these to her?”
Barnett took them. “The flowers are kind of pitiful looking, aren’t they?”
“They were the best that the grocery store had this time of evening.”
Barnett grinned. “Bought a couple of grocery store bouquets myself through the years. You can always tell which fellas are in trouble with their ladies. It’s always the ones holding a bouquet of flowers at the check-out line.”
“Glad you find the situation humorous.”
“Oh, I don’t find it humorous at all. Not if you’ve made my Rena unhappy.”
At his age, Hunter hadn’t expected to be dealing with fathers at the door if he had more than a casual interest in a woman. When had he decided his interest was more than casual? The answer hit him smack in the face. The night he’d returned to the bar.
“Will you just give her the flowers?”
“Sure thing. You might try again tomorrow. Give her a chance to cool down.”
Hunter nodded. “I’ll consider it.”
He turned on his heel, strode off the porch, and jerked open the door to his jeep. He was halfway inside when his gaze fell on the towering trees on either side of the house. Her bedroom was on the second floor.
An old turn-of-century farmhouse. With the skills he possessed, breaking in undetected would be child’s play.
The flowers looked like rejects from the florist, a few of the leaves crushed, a couple of the stems broken as though someone had been clutching them too hard. Still, Serena put them into a vase of water because she couldn’t simply let them die without giving them a fighting chance.
She added a little sugar to the water because she thought that was a secret her mother had used to revitalize flowers. Or was that something she’d done at Christmas to keep the tree from drying out too quickly?
Fighting back the tears that she’d been holding at bay for most of the evening, she placed the vase on the table and returned to the living room where her father and Riker were watching a Harry Potter movie for the umpteenth time. Her emotions were already on a roller-coaster thrill ride, and she was less than six weeks pregnant.
She was certain that it was hormones that had her weeping over silly flowers and not the brutal rejection she and her unborn child had received that afternoon. What had it taken Hunter? Five whole hours to get out here with an apology?
Well to hell with him. He could rot for all she cared.
Her father’s leather recliner squeaked as he shifted around and leaned toward where she was sitting on the couch. “I felt a little sorry for the fella.”
“You shouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve you feeling sorry for him.”
“He looked like he’d been put through the wringer.”
She held up a hand. “Don’t get involved, Dad. There are things here that you don’t understand.”
“Do I need to be getting out my shotgun?”
More like his hunting knife. Castrate the fella because she sure didn’t want to marry him. Not that the thought hadn’t danced through her head a time or two since she’d taken the home pregnancy test.
“No, Dad, you don’t need to get out your gun.”
She watched the images on the television change, but if asked, she couldn’t have revealed the plot or the characters’ names—other than Harry. She wished she felt like reading—but she didn’t.
Everything seemed as though it required more energy than she had to give at the moment. Not a good sign when she knew the next several months—the next several years—were going to require an inordinate amount of energy.
When the movie was over, she said good night to her father and went up the stairs with Riker. She tucked him into bed.
She sat on the edge of the bed and feathered her fingers through Riker’s blond hair, wondering if this child she was now carrying would be fair or dark. Dark probably. People might not even realize that Riker an
d this child were siblings.
What would people in Hopeful think? She’d gone away for a few weeks during the summer and returned pregnant. Perhaps she should come up with some sort of exciting story when the beautician at Shear Pleasures who usually cut her hair asked what was new in her life.
Although in a few months, everyone would know what was new in her life without asking. She’d been a blimp when she’d carried Riker, waddling around, constantly searching for balance.
She couldn’t decide whether to tell her father about her condition before she left for Hopeful or spare him a few months’ worry and tell him when she could not longer hide the fact.
“Why are you sad, Mom?”
She shook her head. “I’m not. I’m just tired.”
“When are we going home?”
“I think it’s about time. I’m going to talk to Grandpa about it tomorrow.”
“Good. I love Grandpa, but I miss Jason and my other friends.”
“I know you do. You’ve been really good about staying on to help Grandpa. I’m proud of you and I love you.”
“Are you sure you’re not sad?”
She forced herself to smile. “I’m sure. Good night, sweetie.”
She kissed the top of his head before rising to her feet and heading to the door. She switched off the light and walked down the hallway to her own bedroom.
She turned on the light, closed the door, and suddenly found herself pressed up against a hard body, a hand held firmly over her mouth, and her breath backing up into her lungs with such force that it was painful.
“Don’t scream,” he whispered near her ear. “It’s me.”
She brought her heel down hard on his instep.
“Damn it!” He released her and stepped back. “What did you do that for?”
She spun on him. “How did you get in here?”
“The kitchen.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“The door to the kitchen was unlocked. I walked right in. I even watched you watching television for a while.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling equally violated and incensed. “You did not.”
“You were watching that movie where the kid flies around on a broom.”
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