HER SECRET, HIS BABY

by Tanya Michaels

  “Rough night, or is hunger sapping your mental energy? You don’t seem yourself,” her friend observed.

  “It’s been a...challenging morning.” She’d love to vent about her earlier photo session from hell, but not with other townspeople in earshot. It was bad for business to publicly bash the clientele.

  “You snag us a table,” Layla directed. “I’ll fill our cups.”

  Arden took the plastic tent marker with their number on it and sank into one of the only empty booths, right next to the window. The sunshine streaming through the glass made it seem like a much warmer day than it was. Unfortunately, the brightness only added to the discomfort in Arden’s throbbing head. She massaged her temple with her thumb, hoping her afternoon clients weren’t as difficult as this morning’s.

  She’d met with Mrs. Merriweather, a woman who wanted to surprise her husband with framed pictures of herself for his birthday. Normally, Arden tried several different backgrounds and cameras along with a variety of poses, so that the customer ultimately had plenty of options for purchase. But Mrs. Merriweather had argued about everything from the “unflattering” light to the way she was positioned. Early on in the process, she’d asked about Arden’s own husband and when Arden answered that she was single, Mrs. Merriweather had glanced pointedly at Arden’s stomach and sniffed in disdain.

  By the time Arden left the studio for lunch, she was feeling a lot of pity for the unseen Mr. Merriweather.

  “Here you go.” Layla set a drink in front of her. “Food should be out soon. Sometimes getting a bite to eat helps when I have a headache.”

  “Thanks. I guess dealing with an opinionated client all morning was too much to take on top of not being able to sleep last night.”

  “Does it make you feel better to know you weren’t alone?” Layla’s smile was impish. “I couldn’t sleep, either. The curiosity about how your dinner went was eating me alive!”

  “Dinner was a fiasco. My brothers were complete asses.” Annoyance flared again, but it was tempered with worry. “Colin’s leaving town. I knew he was selling his place, but I thought he’d find something smaller, without so many memories. He’s talking about looking for ranch work. It doesn’t sound like he has a real plan, just some haphazard idea of jumping on his motorcycle and seeing where he ends up.”

  “Maybe that’s what he needs,” Layla said cautiously. “Grieving is a process everyone goes through differently.”

  “He told me he’ll stick around ’til the baby’s born. Garrett wants to be here for the birth, too. He’s going with me to a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

  “So you two are on friendly terms?”

  Did wanting to tear his clothes off in her kitchen count as friendly? That had been the high point of the night, but there had been a lot of turmoil after that. “I’ve damaged his trust,” she said somberly. “I don’t know if it will be possible for us to ever be close. And the sexual awareness is confusing.”

  “Confusing? He’s a hot cowboy. From where I sit, the sexual awareness makes total sense.”

  “That’s not—” She paused when the waitress came over with a tray of food.

  “Here you are, ladies. One pulled pork spud with a side salad, one sandwich plate. Enjoy!” Her smile dimmed suddenly, and Arden followed her gaze. Justin was walking toward their table.

  After the waitress beat a speedy retreat, Arden rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me,” she said to her approaching brother. “You dated her briefly.”

  He squirmed, not meeting her gaze. “It didn’t end as amicably as I’d hoped. Hi, Layla. Mind if I take a seat?”

  “Don’t you dare!” Arden interrupted before her friend could reply. “I shouldn’t even be speaking to you after that ridiculous, chest-beating macho display last night.”

  “I did not beat my chest,” he countered. “The rest of it...may be accurate.”

  “Go find your own table. Better yet, find Garrett. And apologize.”

  “Returning to my classroom to conjugate verbs with sophomores is going to be really dull after this,” Layla said to no one in particular.

  “Sounds dull no matter when you do it.” Justin hitched his thumbs in his front pockets, adopting a contrite expression. “Look, Arden, I’m not about to apologize to Frost. But if I did anything to upset you—”

  “If?” she squeaked.

  “I’ll, uh, just let you two continue your lunch,” he backtracked. “We’ll talk later, sis.”

  As he shuffled off in search of a seat, Layla chortled. “It always cracks me up to see you put your brothers in their place. It’s like watching a kitten scold a rottweiler.”

  “Kitten?” Arden echoed dubiously. “More like a hippo. I’ve never felt so ungainly.” Part of the magic in Garrett’s kiss last night was that, even while she hadn’t been able to get as close as she’d wanted, with the baby wedged between them, he’d made her feel sexy as hell. She hadn’t felt bulky or undesirable in the slightest.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  “Nope.” Arden doubted a penny was the going rate for adult pay-per-view, and that seemed to be the direction her mind was headed. Lusting after him was futile. She wasn’t sure they could achieve friendship, much less anything more. But with her body chemistry all out of whack and the knowledge of just how good she and Garrett were together, it was difficult to keep her longing in check.

  She rubbed her temple again, glad her afternoon was booked solid. It would keep her too busy to dwell on this unwise attraction or to worry about her oldest brother.

  But, several hours later, as Arden’s headache was evolving into a full-blown migraine, she felt less grateful for her afternoon lineup, especially Mrs. Tucker’s twins. The three-year-old girls were...well, monsters. No other word was adequate.

  When they were asleep, they were probably adorable.

  Seeing them through the front window in their matching houndstooth dresses with brightly colored pockets, collars and belts, Arden had experienced a misguided instant when she thought they were cute. A fleeting notion. Before they were fully inside the studio, problems erupted. Odette, who didn’t want to have her picture taken, had gone limp. Mrs. Tucker literally had to drag the child through the door. Meanwhile, the other twin, Georgette, was screaming that Odette had taken her purple crayon. The accusations were delivered at the highest possible decibel level and punctuated with flying fists. She pulsed with rage. Arden wondered if three-year-olds could have strokes.

  “Could you watch her for just a moment?” the beleaguered Mrs. Tucker asked with a nod to Odette. “I’m going to take Georgie into the restroom to wipe her face and fix her hair before we get started.” The little girl’s red-and-yellow bow had been no match for her hurricane of temper.

  As soon as Mrs. Tucker was out of sight, Odette lodged herself beneath a heavy train table Arden kept in the lobby for children. “No pick-sures!” the girl shrieked.

  Arden’s skull felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise. Her chest hurt, and the self-doubt that welled up within her was suffocating. What if her child was exactly like this? Would Arden know how to correct the situation lovingly, or would she overreact and set a bad example? Would she become like Mrs. Tucker, with her glazed eyes and resigned air of defeat?

  By the time Mrs. Tucker wrestled both of her daughters in front of the backdrop, their dresses were askew, neither of them had hair bows anymore and Georgie’s nose was running steadily.

  “Um...” Arden peered through the camera and absently adjusted some settings, but nothing she did was going to make this a picture worth purchasing. “Would you rather do this on another day Mrs. Tucker? I’m flexible.”

  The woman gaped. “Are you crazy? Do you know what I had to go through just to get them here in the first place? I am not going through that again.” She jabbed a finger at Arden’s protruding abdomen,
as implacable as the Ghost of Christmas Future pointing to the grave. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

  Chapter Seven

  “You don’t look so good.” Garrett regretted the words even as they were leaving his mouth. Why would he say something so stupid? He blamed a late night of researching organ donation until his eyes had crossed. Giving Arden a sheepish smile, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward the lobby. “How about I step out, then come back in and start over?”

  Her chuckle was wan. “Not necessary. I don’t kick people out of my office for telling the truth.”

  His offer to pick her up for the OB appointment had been twofold—he was serious about them getting to know each other better, and it seemed silly to take more than one vehicle. But it also seemed lucky that he was here since she looked too tired to drive herself. He wouldn’t be surprised if she fell asleep on the way to the doctor’s office.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “No more fainting spells?”

  “Nothing like that,” she assured him, rising from her desk chair. “I just had a rough day at work yesterday, followed by the headache that wouldn’t die. My medicinal options are limited now that I’m pregnant, and I was too uncomfortable to sleep.”

  “I wish you’d called me,” he said, not sure why he made the rash statement. What would have been accomplished by her calling? Chatting on the phone wouldn’t have been fun for someone with a killer headache, and it wasn’t as if he could have lullabied her to sleep. Garrett did not sing. The world was a better place for it.

  Her expression mirrored his own incredulity. “You do?”

  “Dumb, huh? I’d just like to feel useful. While I’m in town, feel free to phone day or night. If your heart starts racing too fast again or if you want someone to bring you pickles and ice cream.” When she made a face at the silly cliché, he added, “Not literally. I meant, any craving you have that I could help satisfy.”

  Her eyes widened, and he reconsidered his words.

  “Food cravings.” Although, now that his mind had started down that path... Arden had confessed that one of her recent pregnancy symptoms was amplified desire. How would he respond if she called him in the middle of the night, her voice husky with need, and—

  “W-we have to go.” Her face was a brighter red than the scarlet mallow wildflowers that blossomed near the ranch every summer. “I already drank that sugar solution, and I need to reach the office at a certain time for the test to be valid.”

  “Right. After you.” He almost felt guilty about his undisciplined lust, but he knew it was mutual. The way she’d kissed him a couple of days ago... Dammit, Frost, pull yourself together. This was a medical appointment, not a third date.

  While they walked to his truck, he apologized for being distracted, hoping he could play it off as sleep deprivation rather than ill-timed sexual fantasizing. “As it happens, I didn’t get much rest last night, either. I read living donor FAQs and articles about Colorado transplant centers into the wee hours.” When he’d finally hit the pillow, terms like laparoscopic and antigen match had continued to swirl behind his eyelids.

  “It must be daunting, the idea of going through such a physical ordeal.”

  He opened her door, shaking his head wryly. “Says the woman soon to have a baby?” A kidney was a lot smaller than an infant. And, if he went through with it, he’d get to be unconscious for the whole thing.

  He was fastening his seat belt when he noticed Arden nibbling at her bottom lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. A man could get lost there.

  “Something on your mind?” he prompted.

  “Sort of. It’s none of my business, though.”

  “We’re becoming better acquainted, remember? I’m interested in your opinion.”

  “After I found out I was pregnant, I went on this information binge. I marked a bunch of sites on the internet, bought a stack of books, started DVRing this documentary-style show that follows expectant mothers. But none of those resources could give me what I really needed. Deep down, I wasn’t looking for stats on fetal development and the most popular baby names, I was looking for peace of mind. Acceptance of the situation. It’s commendable that you’re doing your homework, preparing yourself with facts, but I don’t think sites on renal transplants will give you the answers you’re looking for.”

  He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Could anything give him the peace of mind she mentioned? He knew he had to talk to his mother, but whenever he mentally rehearsed the conversation, it spiraled into disjointed recriminations. They’d only communicated through texts since he’d arrived in Cielo Peak.

  “You want to know the horrible truth?” he asked quietly. “A big part of me hopes I’m not a good match, because then the decision’s out of my hands. I don’t want to deal with these mixed emotions about my dad or Mom or Will. Cowardly, isn’t it?”

  “Human,” she amended, blessing him with unconditional compassion. “You’ve had so much dumped on you in the past, what, week and a half? It’s mind-boggling. Don’t beat yourself up over needing time to process it. I’ve watched people deal with bad shocks before, and it can involve anything from going catatonic to drinking too much and picking bar fights. The way you’re handling everything is...amazing.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for listening. I tried to tell Hugh about some of this, but couldn’t quite put it all into words.” Despite Wednesday’s awkward silences, maybe Garrett’s initial impression of her had been right, after all. “You’re very easy to talk to.”

  She sniffled, diverting his gaze from the road as he checked on her.

  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked in alarm.

  “No. You made me think of Natalie. Her willingness to listen was one of my favorite things about her. There was nothing you couldn’t tell her, and I miss that so much. It was major praise, hearing that someone saw a bit of that same quality in me.” She fluttered her fingers in front of her eyes, as if that might stop her from getting weepy. He wasn’t sure he followed the logic behind the action. “This is ridiculous. I’m crying at everything lately. I sobbed over a banner ad on a recipe site the other day.”

  He laughed, hoping she wasn’t offended. It wasn’t mocking laughter. The truth was, he found her sentimentality kind of adorable.

  “Turn left up here,” she instructed.

  “So is the crying strictly a pregnancy thing?” he asked. “I mean, are you someone who normally needs a box of tissues during a sad movie, or is this just a hormone-based anomaly?”

  “I’d love to say I’m usually tough, but I’m not. Pregnancy is magnifying everything about me. I’ve been known to cry at soup commercials. At least those are thirty seconds of actual story, with endearing characters. Banner ads are a new low! The sad-movie question is moot, though. I try to avoid them. What the heck’s wrong with happy endings? We could use more of those in film and in real life.”

  Her wistful tone pierced him, making him want to shield her from any more sadness. She’d said he was amazing for coping? Honestly, this was the first time in his life he’d been tested. He’d always been healthy, had lived in a home with loving parents and had done perfectly well in school. He’d never loved anyone enough to propose, but he’d never been lonely or suffered through a traumatic breakup, either. Arden, on the other hand... She was only twenty-five, and she’d had to survive enough upheaval for two lifetimes.

  “You need to get in the right lane before the next light,” she said.

  “Got it.” He flipped on his blinker. “So, no sad movies. Comedies, then?”

  “Actually, I’m a sucker for action movies. Possibly because I grew up in a house full of guys. I’ll take the original Die Hard over the majority of chick flicks. And I like the action stuff with a science-fiction angle.”

  Arden kept navigating, but between directions, they excha
nged DVD recommendations and got into a spirited debate over which sequel in a futuristic spy franchise was the worst. By the time he parked in front of the medical building, she was in much higher spirits than when he’d first arrived at her office. Her eyes sparkled with humor as she facetiously tried to convince him the hilariously bad ’90s flop Vengeance Before Breakfast was the best movie of all time. Did she know how beautiful she was when she smiled liked that?

  She stopped abruptly in the middle of her animated grenade-scene reenactment. “You’re staring. You know I was kidding about it being a great movie, right?”

  “Didn’t mean to stare. I’m just glad to see you’re feeling better. No more pinched look around your eyes, and you got your color back.” Leaning toward her, he traced his finger up the slope of her cheek. Her skin was silky beneath his touch. What are you doing? He dropped his hand. “We should get inside.”

  A long interior hallway led them to her doctor’s practice. Garrett opened the door for her, then hesitated, feeling unexpectedly like an invader in a foreign land. Surely it was normal for fathers-to-be to attend some of these appointments, but today, he was the only guy. Women of all ages, shapes and sizes sat beneath huge framed black-and-white photos. Some of the poster-size shots focused on a pregnant belly, others were of mommies cuddling newborns. The carpet was pale pink, and the chairs were cushioned in an assortment of pastel colors.

  He was overwhelmed with a clawing need to run out and buy power tools. Or work on his truck.

  Instead, he followed Arden to the check-in window, where she let the woman behind the counter know the exact time she’d ingested her test solution. The receptionist said someone would take her back momentarily to draw her blood, but then she’d have to return to the waiting room until an exam room was available.

  “We’re pretty busy today,” the woman added unnecessarily.

  They weren’t able to find two unoccupied chairs next to each other, but a woman in her mid-fifties scooted over to make room for Garrett. He gave her a grateful smile.