by Brenda Novak
At first they said nothing. They sat staring at each other as though the silence was too profound to break.
“You’re still not gaining any weight,” Conner finally said.
“Not yet,” she responded. “But I will.”
“When?”
She shrugged. “Soon.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
“I could miscarry. Then all your problems would be solved, right?”
He slung one arm over the steering wheel and squinted into the distance, toward the mountains. “I’m not hoping you’ll miscarry,” he said gruffly.
“Then, what are you hoping for? We can’t go back in time.”
He didn’t answer her question, but he asked one of his own. “Why did you go to Boise in the first place? What happened to falling in love before making a baby? You’re a beautiful woman with a—” he hesitated “—great body. You’re well-liked around here. What were you thinking?”
Uncomfortable with his scrutiny, she turned back to the window, which overlooked green, waving grass and, farther off, a stand of shady trees. “I’m thirty years old and I haven’t met anyone special. I wanted a baby before it was too late, and I was afraid it would never happen.” She looked at him again. “Haven’t you ever done anything wrong, not out of some diabolical urge to hurt and destroy, but simply because you wanted something so badly?”
He sighed. “Actually, I’ve done plenty of things wrong, but I’ve always erred on the side of giving up too soon. I’ve never really fought for anything—until now.”
“Until now? What does that mean?”
He studied her. “I’m going to fight for this, Delaney.”
“This?”
“The ranch. The baby.”
Fear trickled down Delaney’s spine, but she couldn’t bear to ask him, just yet, how he meant to fight for the baby. “I thought your grandfather was putting the ranch up for sale.”
“I’m going to buy it. Then I’m going to turn the ranch around, make it work.”
“So that means you’re staying here in Dundee.”
“Exactly.”
She digested this information, unsure whether she was happy about it or not. “And the baby? Are you willing to settle for joint custody?”
“No. I want you to marry me.”
Marry him…They were back to that. “Marriage is more than having a baby together,” she said. “What about love?”
“A lot of people who are in love get married, and their marriages end in divorce. Love is no safety net.”
“But we wouldn’t even start with that much. What happens if—” she ran a hand through her hair “—if one of us has an obnoxious habit the other can’t tolerate? Or what if one of us meets Mr. or Ms. Right and regrets our…our arrangement?”
“We’ll agree now, that if it ever comes to that, we’ll split amicably and settle for equal custody of our child. As far as assets go, we’re starting with practically nothing, so whatever we accumulate together we’ll split. The baby will have my name, you’ll have whatever financial support I can provide, and I won’t shame my grandfather in front of the people he most respects, people he’s known his whole life.”
So that was it. He was doing it for his grandfather. “Will he cut you out of his will if you don’t make good?” she asked.
“It’s not about money.”
Then, it was something deeper. She’d put Conner in a bad position, and he was doing his best to rectify things. How could she stand in his way?
Fidgeting with the strap of her purse, Delaney thought about being married to him, taking his name, making love with him, living with him on a full-time basis—and felt her heart beat faster. Part of her wanted nothing more. The other part showed her a picture of a miserable future with a husband who resented her. Could she live with a man who didn’t love her, for anyone’s sake? “If either one of us is miserable, we just agree to split amicably. Isn’t that the gist of what you said?”
He nodded.
“And a traditional upbringing would definitely be better for the baby. I know that.”
“Definitely.”
She took a deep breath to ease the tension knotting her stomach. “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Let’s get married.”
He almost smiled, then seemed to catch himself. “When do you want to do it?”
“As soon as possible.”
“You want a church wedding?”
“I’m sure that’s what Aunt Millie would prefer.”
“What would you like?”
“That’s what I want, too.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Conner checked his watch to make sure it wasn’t still too early, then called his mother from the office.
“We’ve set a date,” he said as soon as she answered.
“When?”
“In three weeks. Can you come?”
“Of course. I’ll book my flight right away.”
He could hear the smile in her voice, but it didn’t bring him the pleasure it normally would have.
“I can’t believe some lucky girl has finally stolen your heart,” she said.
Delaney had actually stolen something a little farther south than his heart, but saying so would only prejudice his family against her, and Conner was approaching this marriage the way he was approaching the ranch—with the intention of making it work. So he changed the subject.
“Do you think Grandfather will be up to the trip by then?”
“He’s out of the hospital and already trying to work. It’s all I can do to slow him down. I’m sure he’ll be able to come.”
“Good.”
“You do love this woman, right, Conner?” she asked. “You’re positive you’re doing the right thing?”
Conner dodged her first question by answering her second. “I don’t think there’s any way to be a hundred percent positive, is there, Mom?”
“No, I guess when we get married, we all take a risk. But love is worth the risk. And if you’ve chosen her, I’m sure I’ll love her, too.”
Conner shifted uncomfortably. “I hope so.”
“That real estate offer you asked me to look for came in, by the way,” she said. “I was planning to call you, but I was waiting to see how Dad’s going to respond.”
“Is it a good offer?”
“Stephen didn’t seem too excited about it. I think they’ll submit a counteroffer.”
“Well, mine’s on its way,” Conner said.
“Your what?”
“My offer.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I want to purchase the ranch.”
“Conner, I’m not sure I know you anymore,” she said after a silence.
Conner couldn’t help chuckling. “You want me to go back to my old ways?”
“Definitely not. But I do want you to explain a few things to me. How are you going to buy the ranch? You don’t have that kind of money.”
“People buy property without money all the time. That’s how Grandfather bought this place to begin with. He borrowed every dime.”
“But you have to have a down payment to get a loan—”
“I’m asking Grandfather to carry the paper for five years. But I’m giving him his purchase price, which is more than fair, and I’m paying a good rate of interest.”
“What about operating expenses?” she asked.
“I think I’ve got that covered.”
“How?”
The Hill brothers were his ace in the hole, but Conner wasn’t willing to reveal that information yet. He knew his mother meant well, but he couldn’t afford to have anything slip out in front of Stephen, Dwight or Jonathan. Not when his uncles’ opposition would increase with his chances of success.
“You’ll see,” he said. “Just make sure Grandfather looks at my offer before Stephen can deep-six it.”
WHERE WAS DELANEY?
Conner s
at at the kitchen table, eating the chicken and polenta salad she’d made them for dinner, pretending to be completely absorbed by the simple act of lifting his fork to his mouth. But he kept listening for movement elsewhere in the house, kept expecting Delaney to return to the kitchen and start cleaning up while they ate, like she usually did. When she didn’t come, he wondered if she’d gotten sick again. She seemed to be doing so much better, but—
“What’s on your mind?” Roy asked.
Conner shook his head.
“Come on, what is it?”
“It’s nothing,” Conner said to stop Roy from jumping to the conclusion that the Hills had backed out of the deal or something. Though they still had a lot to do before the resort became a reality, everything was on track.
What was bothering Conner had nothing to do with business. This was personal. He’d asked Delaney to marry him, and she’d agreed, but they’d barely spoken in the past week. He couldn’t help looking for some indication that she wasn’t actually dreading the prospect of becoming Mrs. Conner Armstrong.
He continued eating, trying to wait long enough that no one would connect his question with Roy’s expression of concern. Then he asked, “Anyone know where Delaney went? Is she sick?”
“No, she’s gone.” It was Isaiah, her not-so-secret admirer.
“Where?” Conner asked.
“Millie and Rebecca are giving her a bridal shower.”
“They are?”
Isaiah glanced up from his plate. “Yeah. Didn’t you know?”
Conner didn’t answer. He hadn’t known. And it irritated him that Isaiah did. “She’s engaged,” he said, suddenly losing his appetite.
“That’s why I thought you’d know.”
There was something challenging in Isaiah’s words, and his stare accused Conner of not treating Delaney right, which bothered him, too. Maybe because he felt a little guilty. He hadn’t done anything unkind to Delaney; that was how he’d justified his behavior. But he certainly hadn’t gone out of his way to speak to her, either.
“Mind your own business,” he growled, and headed back to his office. But even as he worked, he kept one ear trained for the sound of a car pulling into the drive. When he didn’t hear anything for over an hour, he returned to the kitchen to find Isaiah wiping off the kitchen table.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Cleaning up so Delaney won’t have to come home to dishes,” he said. “I guess that never occurred to you.”
It hadn’t. Conner had been too preoccupied with listening for her car and wondering if a bridal shower resembled a bachelor party—or whether Delaney’s shower might include a finale at the Honky Tonk. But Isaiah didn’t know anything. Conner opened his mouth to tell him so, to tell him that Delaney had wronged Conner, not the other way around. But then he realized Isaiah was probably smarter than he’d thought, which didn’t make him feel any better, so he trudged back to his office and slouched behind his desk. If he’d been nicer to Delaney, she might’ve told him that her friends were giving her a bridal shower….
An hour later, the crunch of gravel on the drive told him she was home. Dropping the pencil he’d been twirling in agitation, he hurried to the front door, but she barely looked up when she came in. Buried beneath the boxes and gift bags she carried in her arms, she brushed right by him and started down the hall.
“How was it?” he asked, rushing to catch up with her.
“Great,” she muttered. “Everyone’s excited but us.”
Her words felt amazingly like a left hook. “Nice one,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
“What?”
“Never mind. Want some help?” he asked, trying again.
“No, thanks.”
“What’d you ladies do?”
She cast him a glance over her shoulder. “Nothing much.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing much.” They’d reached her bedroom, and he flipped on the light. “What’d you get?”
“Stuff.”
He needed to ask her a question she had to answer with more than one or two words, he thought as she dropped everything on her dresser.
“I’ll get to the dishes in a minute,” she said, obviously misunderstanding his reason for bothering her.
Conner felt a twinge of guilt. “Uh, they’re done.”
“They are?”
“Yeah.”
“Who…Oh, Isaiah! Did he do them for me?”
She’d known immediately that it wasn’t him. Conner frowned. “Yeah. Isn’t he sweet?”
She ignored his sarcasm.
“If you see him on your way out, would you tell him I brought him a piece of cake? It’s still in the car.”
Her words sounded a lot like a dismissal, but Conner wasn’t ready to leave. “Is there a piece of cake in the car for me?” he asked.
She blinked up at him. “You want cake?”
“Yeah, I like cake. Everybody likes cake.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I figured you’d be busy—working in your office.”
He’d spent a lot of time there lately. But he had big plans. She knew that.
The telephone rang. She waited for a minute, as though she wanted to shoo him out before she answered it, but there wasn’t time to do it politely, and one thing he’d learned about Delaney was that she was almost always polite. Turning at the last second, she grabbed the receiver.
“Hi, Beck,” she said, facing away from him.
That left him free to poke through the presents. If they were bridal shower gifts, they were ultimately for him, too, right?
Massage cream…bath soaps…edible underwear—edible underwear? Who gave her that? Probably Rebecca…
“I did?” she was saying. “Okay, I’ll pick it up this weekend. Yeah, it was fun and I got a lot of great stuff, but what I really wanted was one of those bunnies Hal over at the feed store has leftover from Easter…. So? I could get Isaiah to build me a cage out by the chicken coop…”
Conner frowned. Isaiah again.
“Maybe I should buy one myself.” She gave a quick shrug. “Nah, there’s too much going on right now. Maybe next year…What?…I think so, too. Wasn’t that awkward with Aunt Millie there? Who thought of the…the you-know.”
She turned and saw him going through her gifts and her eyes widened meaningfully as she waved him away.
“The what?” he asked. Ignoring her unspoken directive to leave the presents alone, he rifled through some red tissue paper to get to the perfume beneath.
She covered the phone. “This is a private conversation. And that belongs to me.”
She whipped the bottle from his grasp before he could even open it.
“It’s not as though these things belong exclusively to you,” he said. “You only got them because you’re getting married. And you’re marrying me.” He pulled out a black bustier, imagined Delaney in it and grinned. Maybe this marriage stuff wasn’t so bad, after all.
“Rebecca, I gotta go,” Delaney said. “No, nothing’s wrong…What?”
Conner’s fingers encountered something voluminous and soft, fabric that felt as sheer as the bustier but much more flowing. Removing it from its box, he held up a diaphanous ivory negligee that was probably the most elegant piece of lingerie he’d ever seen. What struck him as even more significant was that it looked exactly like something Delaney might choose.
“This is beautiful,” he started to say, but she slammed the phone down, ripped the nightgown from his hands and shoved it back in the box.
“Don’t,” she said. “I’m returning it.”
“Why?” he asked, but he already knew the answer. She didn’t want to wear it for him. It wasn’t that kind of wedding.
“There’s no need to pretend.”
“Pretend. Right.” Somehow his interest in the presents disappeared just that quickly, and he wondered what he’d been doing following her around, digging through her things. “Sorry to intrude,” he said. “I’ll tell Isaiah about his cake.”
>
DELANEY SIGHED when she heard Conner’s steps retreat. She knew she’d hurt him in some way, but she didn’t know what to do about it. She’d come home overwhelmed by the attention she’d received at the shower, already embarrassed because everyone in town seemed to think she’d met her Prince Charming—and yet she and Conner were barely speaking to each other. She was marrying him to make amends, as far as she could, for what she’d done, but she wasn’t sure marriage was very wise in the long run, for either one of them. And just when all these thoughts and feelings seemed to be colliding inside her, he appeared out of nowhere and began examining these stupid gifts, things that felt too personal to share with him. And she’d…Well, she hadn’t reacted in the best manner.
She slumped down on her bed, started to call Rebecca back, then hung up. She’d talk to Conner instead, open communications between them, try to gain some understanding of his confusing behavior.
Leaving her presents behind, including the embarrassing memory of unwrapping edible underwear in front of Aunt Millie—thanks to Katie, another stylist at the salon—she walked silently to the other side of the house. But Conner’s office was, for once, dark.
Was he in his bedroom? Continuing around the corner, she came face-to-face with his closed door, hesitated, then raised her hand to knock.
The door opened a second later and Conner stood there, wearing jeans but no shirt. The sight of his bare chest brought their night in Boise back to her—the steam from the shower, the smell of his soap and shampoo, the intimacy of talking to him and getting to know him. She tried to tell herself this wasn’t the same man she’d met that night, that this Conner had good reason to hate her, but it was difficult to get beyond a very basic desire to touch him again.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Delaney opened her mouth to apologize, to try to explain why she’d behaved the way she had a few minutes ago. But once more, he looked so composed and remote that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She must have imagined the hurt, she decided. Conner didn’t care enough about her to feel hurt. “Um…Aunt Millie wanted me to tell you that she thinks you’re doing your grandfather proud by taking responsibility for the baby.”