by Meg Maxwell
The strong, determined woman sitting beside him wasn’t sixteen. But Emma was alone and Jake didn’t like it. Part of him wished Emma didn’t want to go at parenthood alone so that he could turn this engagement into the real thing—well, the real thing to a point. He would be there for her and the baby, stand by her, and be the baby’s father.
But Emma didn’t want that. And he had to stop thinking of her as alone in the world when she wasn’t. She had him, after all. She had all the cowboys at the Full Circle. She had the Hurleys. And she had her father, again to a point.
The teen’s sister appeared, full of smiles and holding an ultrasound, and the doctor called in Emma. After introductions and hand shaking and a brief explanation of what would happen, the doc squirted a jellylike substance on Emma’s belly, the curve of which was getting more pronounced, and they all focused their eyes on the monitor.
Emma gasped.
Jake gasped.
“Would you like to know the baby’s sex?” the doctor asked.
Emma bit her lip. “Yes, darn it. I kept thinking I didn’t, that I wanted it to be a surprise, but now I want to know.”
“It’s a girl!” Dr. Morgan said.
Emma burst into tears. She alternated between crying and laughing. Jake squeezed her hand, unable to stop smiling like a lunatic. And unable to take his eyes off the images of Emma’s daughter. That was a baby. A real, live baby. A girl.
“The heartbeat is strong,” the doctor said, and the sound filled the room.
“Wow,” Emma said.
“Wow,” Jake repeated, taking her hand again.
But he noticed Emma looking at their entwined hands. She took a deep breath, then removed her hand from his. Jake stepped back. She was pulling away.
You’re not the baby’s father, he reminded himself. You’re not Emma’s fiancé. Careful how pulled in you get by the situation. The situation being the way his heart seemed to respond to Emma Hurley. And now her baby.
“My nurse runs a free Lamaze and baby-rearing class for first-time parents,” Dr. Morgan said. “If you’re interested, the first class starts next week—Wednesday night.”
“We’ll be there,” Jake said with a firm nod.
But he felt Emma glaring at him.
* * *
As they exited Dr. Morgan’s office, a few people on the sidewalk nodded and smiled. Oh, look at the nice couple coming from their ob-gyn’s office. How was it that a piece of Emma relished how good it felt to be a couple, a team, especially when she was facing something so...monumental, when another piece of her was determined to be her own woman and raise her baby herself? Why did she keep forgetting, even for a moment, that Jake being beside her was solely for show? Yes, he was a good man and seemed to care about her, and she was sure that was also why he was here. But those things didn’t add up to love.
“I think I’m holding the images upside down,” Jake said, turning over the pictures. “Considering your name is right there on the left, the photo goes like this. Yup, I had it upside down. Now I see the nose. Aww.”
Was Jake Morrow awwing over her baby’s nose?
Violet’s nose. She was having a girl. Violet Hurley. Emma put her hand on her belly and looked up at the sky, the fluffy white clouds, sure her mother was with her and watching and liked that there would be a little Violet coming along in just a few months.
Lauren Harwood, a CPA in the office next door, was heading into her building and glanced at what he was looking at, then made her own aww smile at Jake and Emma.
Okay, Jake was a little too good at this. Too great at being a fake fiancé doing the things fiancés did for their pregnant brides-to-be.
And the question was: Was he even trying? Or did this come naturally? Emma didn’t think Jake had to try very hard at all. He was gold. He was the kind of man that checklists were made from. Would attend baby birth and child-rearing classes: check.
“Jake,” Emma said once the woman headed inside. “I don’t expect you to be my Lamaze coach. I’m sure the teacher is used to a single mom-to-be. She can be my partner. Or maybe there’ll be another solo student.”
His dark hair was lit in copper in the sun, and he put on his Stetson to shield his eyes. “You need a Lamaze class and don’t you need a partner for that? Plus it’s a combined class on child rearing—why pass that up?”
But. I’ll be doing it with you. And I’ll feel like we’re in this together. That you’re my baby’s father. That we’re a team.
And they weren’t.
“This morning I called BabyCenter and opened an account for you,” Jake said as they headed toward his car. “You can pick out whatever you need—car seat, diapers by the truckload, clothing.”
She stopped walking. “Jake, I’m perfectly capable of supporting my child. I can buy my own bassinet.”
“Emma, I’m just—”
“Just trying to help. Just trying to be a good fiancé. Just trying to do what’s expected,” she finished for him. “But when all is said and done, I’m going to be on my own. I have savings, I have a salary. I can pay for whatever I’ll need for the baby.”
“The—” he began.
“Oh, thank God,” a familiar voice interrupted.
Emma turned to see Hank carrying a brown-and-white puppy with floppy ears. Whatever Jake had been about to say—to argue—was lost as they admired the adorable little dog.
“How cute!” Emma said, taking a step back. “I’m allergic, but I know adorable when I see it.”
“CJ and Golden are both allergic too,” Jake said. “So we can’t have dogs at the ranch, Hank. You know that.”
“It’s not mine!” Hank said. “It’s Fern’s! The little squirmer ran off from the box she was bringing into the shelter. She found the pups abandoned on her farm.”
“Well, it’s good that she’s talking to you again,” Jake said.
Hank frowned, giving the pup’s brown-and-white head a nuzzle. “Actually, I just overheard the conversation. So what do I say when I bring the pup over to her? I want to make things right.”
“I thought you were tired of working so hard to say the right thing,” Jake said, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“I am, but look at her—she’s beautiful,” Hank said, his entire body drooping with love as he stared over at Fern, who had run out of the shelter, clearly looking for the missing pup. Fern, in her late thirties, had curly long auburn hair just a bit darker than Hank’s, her pretty face covered in freckles. She was as petite as Hank was tall, and both were partial to tan Stetsons.
“Just go over there with the puppy before she starts hyperventilating,” Jake said, giving the puppy a pat under the chin. “Be yourself.”
Hank narrowed his eyes at Jake. “What? Now I’m supposed to be myself?”
“Let your feelings guide you, Hank,” Emma said, hiding her smile. It wasn’t easy.
“Humph,” Hank complained and jogged over to where Fern was knelt down in front of the bushes by the shelter.
Emma watched Fern shoot up, relief crossing her face. She took the puppy and nuzzled him, then wrapped her arms around Hank in what looked like a thank-you hug.
And then she kissed him on the cheek.
Hank touched his fingers to the spot. Aww. You couldn’t fake that reaction.
They spoke for a minute, and then Fern went back inside and Hank jogged back over.
“We have a date tomorrow night at Hurley’s!” Hank said. “It worked!”
“What did you say?” Jake asked.
“I told her I found the little runaway and that I was kinda glad he ran off so that I could catch him and do her a favor because I like her so darn much but always say the wrong thing. And she said, that was just the right thing. So I risked asking her out and she said yes.”
Emma grinned. �
�I’m very happy for you, Hank.”
“Good work,” Jake agreed, and then Hank sauntered off to his truck, whistling a country tune.
“Speaking of saying the wrong thing,” Jake said. “By opening the account at BabyCenter, I just want you to have everything you want.”
“I appreciate that, Jake. But I earn a salary. You know that. I can pay my own way.”
“I know but—”
“I don’t need to be rescued,” she said. “Why can’t you understand that?”
“Emma, helping isn’t rescuing. It’s helping. Did Hank rescue Fern by helping catch that puppy? Come on.”
“You’re infuriating!” she said. “You don’t understand.”
“I’m not your father, Emma. I’m not trying to control you. I just care.”
“Then let me be who I am.”
“Who you are is very stubborn, though,” he said, his expression softening. “You have to admit that’s true.”
“Stubborn, or determined to live on my own terms? Given how we’re trying to help the cowboys change who they are for their own good, you seem to think I’m acting like my own worst enemy here. That’s not fair.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m just saying you don’t have to go it alone. You’re not alone. Yes, some people in your life need boundaries. I don’t dispute that. But don’t push everyone else away because you think accepting help means weakness or that you’re lying to yourself.”
“I need to run an errand,” Emma said, eyeing the supermarket down the street. What she really needed was to escape Jake’s presence for a good fifteen minutes and let all this sink in. Suddenly, it was too much—that he’d come to the appointment. That he’d found out with her that she was having a baby girl. That he seemed to know her so darned well.
“Me too,” he said. “Why don’t we meet at the car in a half hour.”
She nodded and hurried across the street, sure he was watching her. When she turned to see if he was, he was, and he held up a hand in a wave, then finally turned himself and walked up Main Street.
Why was he so damned...dependable? Trustworthy. There.
She went into the supermarket, the air-conditioning refreshing. She stopped in the produce section and grabbed a basket, loading it up with fruit and vegetables.
“Oh, ma’am, let me!” a clerk said, taking the basket from her. “I’m happy to get you a cart so you don’t have to carry this in your condition.”
What about me says I can’t carry my own basket of apples and kale! Emma wanted to shout, but then she glanced at the kind, smiling teenage clerk hurrying for her basket. People were just nice. And she should appreciate it. Jeez.
Emma smiled. “Thank you. That would be nice. I didn’t realize I’d be buying so much.”
Humph. Maybe Jake was right. A little. Maybe she had to chill out a little.
But if she accepted too much from Jake, she’d want it all. His love. His heart. His arm around her forever. And that was going too far for him.
Chapter Nine
As Emma set the five perfectly cooked steaks on the platter and turned off the grill, she was struck by the thought of herself doing exactly this not very long ago on the day she’d come to the Full Circle Ranch. That day, Jake had been a total stranger, a hot man in an apron and holding tongs, chasing after a goat. And Emma had come to find her baby’s father to finally tell him he was going to be a father.
Now that stranger had become not only her faux fiancé, but a man who seemed to want to live up to that title of father. The ultrasound appointment. The joy in looking at the image. The need or want—whatever it was—to outfit a nursery for her. Jake Morrow had hired her when she’d been unmoored, given her a job she loved at a place she loved with people she was beginning to care deeply about. He was making himself indispensable to her, and Emma couldn’t afford to need or rely on anyone.
When she brought the steaks to the table, the cowboys were sitting down. She felt Jake watching her, trying to assess whether she was still prickly about their discussion earlier. They’d agreed to shelve it on the drive back home from town, then had gone their separate ways for the next couple of hours.
“Mmm, mmm!” Grizzle said, sniffing the air. Those steaks smell amazing. And I love these roast potatoes you make with that spicy spice.”
“It’s called garlic,” CJ said, rolling his eyes.
“Well, la-di-da.” Grizzle shot back. “Whatever, I like ’em.” He served himself a heap of the potatoes.
“Thanks, Grizzle,” Emma said, sitting down. She was craving steak like crazy and filled her plate. The potatoes were delicious, if she did say so herself.
“Um, Emma?” Golden whispered, spearing two stalks of asparagus from the serving dish onto his plate. “Can I ask you something?
Emma looked across the table at the blond cowboy. “Sure, Golden.”
“Tonight the rancher’s association is holding a special extra Ladies’ Choice fund-raising dance,” Golden said. “I think Katie might ask me to dance.”
“Jeez, Golden, she’s probably married with a kid by now,” Hank said with a snort.
Golden gave Hank something of an eye roll but smiled, then turned back to Emma. “I ran into her in the bookstore. She asked me if I was going and I said yes, well, I nodded it, and she said it was ladies’ choice so I should expect to be on my feet.”
“God, why doesn’t she just propose,” Grizzle said, laughing. “Save the both of you from this torment.”
Golden’s cheeks turned pink. “I guess I don’t even get why she seems to like me.”
“I know why,” Hank said, slicing his steak and raising a forkful in the air. “Inexplicable chemistry.”
“Say what?” Grizzle said. “Inexpawha?”
“Chemistry,” Emma said with a nod. “That you can’t necessarily explain or that doesn’t necessarily make sense to anyone, including yourself. You just feel it. That special something. That zing whenever you see or even just think about the other person.”
Emma glanced at Jake, sitting at the head of the table looking so impossibly sexy in his dark blue shirt. All the things I feel when I think and look at you, that’s chemistry. Though hardly inexplicable chemistry. Emma could come up with a list pages long of why she was drawn to Jake Morrow.
“So she likes me even though she doesn’t know me?” Golden said. “What if she gets to know me and doesn’t like me then?”
Hank pointed his fork, stabbed with asparagus, at Golden. “Forget the what-ifs! You can what-if yourself to kingdom come. Katie likes you, man. Go with it.”
“Golden, I actually have to agree with these old-timers,” CJ said. “You have nothing to worry about. Trust me.”
Grizzle snorted. “You wish you knew half of what I know about life, CJ.”
“Will someone pass the salt?” Hank said, holding out his hand. Jake shot the saltshaker down toward Hank, who caught it. “Hey, Grizzle, you still being a stubborn old coot or are you gonna let Emma fix you up again for the dance?”
“I’m sticking with stubborn old coot,” Grizzle said, his hair poking up every which way. “Either Michelle takes me as I am or I guess it’s over between us.”
“Grizzle, you’re cutting off your nose,” Hank said.
“What?” Grizzle looked at Hank as though he had two heads. “Why would I cut my own nose off?”
“It’s a saying,” CJ said. “Cutting off your nose to spite your face. Meaning you’re just hurting yourself to hurt yourself. You won’t spiff up for the dance, even though you should because it’s a dance. So Michelle will think you’re saying she’s not worth it, which means she’ll dump you.”
“I ain’t saying that!” Grizzle said, frowning. “She’s worth it. I just like how I am just fine.”
Hank shrugged. “Well, I�
��m not taking any chances on messing things up with Fern. I’ve been practicing lines. Like if Fern asks how she looks tonight, instead of just saying, ‘you look normal’ or ‘you don’t have anything in your teeth,’ I’m going to say, ‘Fern, you look very nice.’”
Emma smiled. “That sounds perfect.”
“Grizzle, maybe you’re just not ready for a relationship,” Hank said.
“Oh, suddenly you’re Dr. Phil?” Grizzle snapped.
“It has been five years,” Golden said quietly. “I hope you don’t mind my saying that, Grizzle. But five years is a long time. Man, I wish I was like you guys and could just ask out the woman I can’t stop thinking about. You don’t know how lucky you are.”
“Wise words,” Jake said, nodding at Golden.
Grizzle grimaced and crossed his arms over his chest, but he didn’t dispute what Golden had said.
“Still, not ready is not ready,” CJ pointed out. “You have to respect that.”
“Or sometimes not ready is unwilling,” Jake said.
CJ glanced at Jake and spooned some potatoes on his plate.
Unwilling. Emma thought back to her argument with Jake in front of the doctor’s office. Another sign they were a happy couple. Happy couples argued sometimes. But was she as stubborn as Jake said she was? Was she unwilling to let people help? Or did she simply want to pay her own way, be her own woman, take care of her responsibilities?
She’d accepted his help with one huge obstacle: her father. And now he was her fake fiancé, acting like a real fiancé.
Where all this was going to lead was what had Emma worried. Heartbreak.
* * *
Two slow songs had come and gone. Emma stood beside Jake, at first so relieved that no one would ask her to dance, that she held all the asking power and would not use it. But because Jake Morrow was six foot two and muscular and two inches from her side and smelled like masculine soap, she was losing the battle to keep her mouth closed. Just one simple “Dance?” and she’d be in those strong arms, her head against his rock-hard chest, his hand at her waist. She would close her eyes and lose herself in fantasy. But the more she let herself actually have the fantasy, the more real she’d wish it was. That this man was hers for real, for keeps, forever. And then she’d fall into this conversation with herself about how Jake Morrow was a good man and if she was going to let herself lean on someone, against someone, accept what was being offered, he was her guy.