by L. B. Dunbar
Bull’s eyes widen. “Scarlett—”
Placing my hand on his chest, I stop him. “I just wanted to know the truth for you. Lex owed me this, and he sent Glenn and Robert to film everything.”
Bull looks over at the two men, but only Robert waves as Glenn is still starstruck by Canyon.
“What were you planning to do with what you recorded?” Bull’s cautious asking still hints at a vibration of doubt.
“That’s up to you. Insider is happy to air a retraction, explaining the facts behind the fiction created. I’m willing to report it myself.”
“But—”
“Or,” I cut him off. “We can keep the truth to ourselves, but just knowing the truth should feel better, right? I did this in hopes you’d have answers.”
I hold my breath as Bull could easily say I did this for myself. He didn’t ask for a retraction. He didn’t ask for the truth, but I wanted him to know that it was someone in his own backyard who tried to damage his family and their reputation. If he wants recourse, he has the means. If he wants a retraction, we have the confession.
“He isn’t worth it,” Blade speaks up beside his brother. “I think he’s had fair warning. One more slipup and he’s over.”
Bull nods, still looking at me. “You did this for me, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“And you weren’t planning to take a new job?”
“No, Bull. I’m right where I belong.”
Bull scrubs a hand down his face, relief washing over him, but then something else fills his expression.
“Jesus, Scarlett. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I wanted to catch Redd and the truth. I’m a reporter. That’s what I strived to go after.”
“You’re a gossipmonger,” Blade interjects. “But damn, I’m glad you had the skills this time.”
I softly chuckle.
“Thanks, Scarlett.” Blade’s gratitude surprises me, and he steps forward to give me a hug. Canyon turns to me next.
“I need to get back in there, but I always knew I liked you, Scarlett.” He winks at me before turning back for the entrance, Glenn on his heels.
“We’ll send you all the footage,” Robert says next, stepping up to me.
“It’s your choice, Bull.” This time it’s up to him if we report on his family, making it right, or if what’s been done is good enough.
“I think you’ve done enough,” Bull says, his voice still edgy, and Robert steps away next.
“I’m sorry, Bull. I thought I was—” My words are cut off as I’m tugged to him and kissed hard and fast. His tongue comes forward, claiming my mouth, and I’m too stunned to respond at first.
“Kiss me, sweetheart,” he mutters against my lips, and I give in to his request. I’ll give in to anything he asks of me.
Pulling away rather quickly, Bull rests his forehead against mine. “What am I going to do with you, sweetheart?”
I can think of several things, starting with asking me to marry him, but I bite my tongue on that one.
“How about taking me to bed, partner?”
Bull chuckles before leaning back and gazing into my eyes. “I thought you’d never ask.”
26
Surprise, Baby
Bull
It’s two weeks before Scarlett is due. Snow is falling, and a storm is on its way. The clouds are heavy, and I feel like I’m standing on a precipice with Scarlett. I need to tell her how I feel despite the risk. Despite the fact I know admitting I love her might jinx everything, I need her to know I want her forever.
After the incident with Redd back before Halloween, Scarlett told me more details, including how she threatened Lex for help but assured me she was never going back to work in the industry again.
“That was my last official report, even if it never makes the news.”
On that night in October, I’d felt a mix of emotions. I was so angry, thinking she was considering a job with that gossip rag and so upset she hadn’t talked to me about it. I shut her out for two days, wallowing in my fears that she was leaving me for bigger and better. It was easiest to jump to conclusions instead of accepting Scarlett wouldn’t do that to me, and we talked about it later that night.
“I hate that you doubted me,” Scarlett softly said as we lay on our bed. The one we hadn’t shared in the manner I like to share it for two full nights.
“I hate that I doubted you,” I admitted to her.
“Why would you do that?”
“It just seems more believable you’d rather leave than stay. Back to city life. Back to the flashy job.”
“Bull, have I given you the impression I want to go?” she questioned, keeping her eyes lowered while her finger ran along my collar.
“No.” No, she hadn’t, so I shouldn’t have been pushing her away, which was what I was starting to think I was doing. Was I forcing her to leave because I wasn’t giving her a reason to stay? I wasn’t considering I was enough. Or the farm. Or my family. But Scarlett had not been the one doing that to me. I’d been doing that to myself.
And still, I didn’t tell her I loved her. I didn’t ask her to marry me because I did not want to lose her.
We celebrated Thanksgiving with much gratitude this year as we are thankful for Scarlett and the anticipation of Sprout’s birth.
I’d been off to the tractor supply shop for a plow part, hoping to return before the heaviest snow fell. That damn tractor needs a new wedge for the small plow. We really need to replace the thing next spring, but replacing farm equipment is expensive. Being a farmer, one learns to be thrifty, and I’ve been putting away my own money for a while, saving up for the likes of someone like Scarlett. A certain someone.
As I pull up to the dairy barn while the day grows dark early, Blade exits the building and stops short when he sees me getting out of my truck.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, staring at me before looking over my shoulder at my truck.
“What do you mean, what am I doing here? I’m working.” I snap, stepping toward my brother, who blocks my way. “Blade, move.”
“Where’s Scarlett?” His eyes widen, searching my face.
“Home.” Stepping right, Blade follows again, blocking my path. “Dammit, Blade.”
“Didn’t Scarlett call you?” Blade questions, his voice a drop of concern.
“Why would she call me?” Instantly, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I reach for my phone in my pocket to find a text I’d missed. She’d contacted me an hour ago.
Meet me at the Engagement Tree at five.
My eyes drift to the time. It’s five thirteen. On top of that, it’s pitch-black out, and the snow is coming down heavy. Instantly, I dial her number, but it goes to voicemail.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my stomach flipping as there’s no way Scarlett could have gotten to that old tree. There’s no discernible driving path leading to it, and walking would have been dangerous in her condition plus with the weather. “What did you do?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“Blade, you have half a second to speak.”
“It’s a secret. A surprise.”
“It’s also fucking snowy and she’s pregnant,” I remind him.
“She’s at the tree waiting for you.”
“I’m thirteen minutes late,” I snap. She had to have left when I didn’t show. “Why is she there?”
“I can’t say, but she’s probably still there. She couldn’t leave.”
I press her number again on my phone, waiting on her response, and see red despite the whiteness swirling around us. She doesn’t answer again. “What do you mean she can’t leave?”
Blade swallows. “Well, the generator is kind of connected to the tree from the back of the truck and—”
“What the fuck?” I snap, swiping my cap off my head and running gloved fingers over my hair. “I need to get up there. Where’s your truck?” The plow is on the front of B
lade’s truck as he was given the responsibility to clear the drive and the lane in my absence. Blade’s head turns, looking away from me. “I need the plow to get up there.”
“Well, it’s . . . actually . . . it’s already there.”
“What?” I bark again. Glancing down at my phone, I press her number one more time with no success, as Blade explains. “I plowed a path for her and left the truck.”
“You left a pregnant woman in a snowstorm?” I glare at my brother, completely flabbergasted by this action.
“She said she’d be fine. You’d be there soon enough, and everything would be better.”
Hissing his name, I turn for my truck. “Get in,” I snap over my shoulder, demanding he come with me because if I get stuck, I’m going to need his help to get out of the rut. Blade follows my quick pace, climbing into my truck at the same time I do.
“Start talking,” I demand, wanting to know just what the hell Scarlett intended to do with a generator, a plow truck, and that old tree.
“No way. She’d have my balls if I tell you anything.”
“I’m going to have your balls if you don’t talk.”
“No offense, Bull, but I’m more afraid of Scarlett.” I’d chuckle at his response if I wasn’t so angry as well as anxious. This is not a good scenario. With Scarlett due in two weeks, I can’t believe she’d put the baby at risk. I can’t believe she’d do something to herself.
Too upset to consider all the bad things that could happen to her, I peel down the lane, the truck fishtailing a bit on the freshly fallen snow.
“If anything happens to her—” I hiss.
“Nothing’s going to happen.” Suddenly, he doesn’t sound so sure as the truck struggles for traction on the slowly mounting snowfall.
“Blade,” I growl. He doesn’t answer, tipping his head into his hand as his arm perches on the passenger door. As we turn in the direction of the tree, lights illuminate the dark up ahead. “What the hell?”
Risking a quick glance at Blade, he smiles to himself.
“It’s a surprise,” he whispers, and before me, it certainly is.
27
Birth Plans
Scarlett
I’d been sitting in the warm truck ever since Blade left me. The plan was for him to plow the path, and I’d follow in my car, which he’d drive back to the house. But as time passed, and Bull wasn’t answering my text, I stepped out of the truck to pace. It’s cold, but I’m sweating with nerves. I’m also cramping a bit, and the doctor had told me walking can rid me of false contractions. I’m two weeks away from my due date, and my hand rubs over my tightening belly.
“Whoa,” I gasp, bending forward at my waist at the sharp pain. This isn’t like the time I was dehydrated and stressed over my parents, although I’ve certainly been stressed for the past forty-eight hours. There have been moments I’ve wondered if what I was doing was too much.
Bull certainly had doubts about us, and I hated that I played into them just a little bit back in October to get some answers for him. That night, I learned that despite my grand gesture, Bull wasn’t going to take action unless my gesture was even grander. Like the grandest gesture I could pull off, and I really wanted to pull this off. I’d noticed that every time I mentioned the Engagement Tree, Bull refused to confirm going back to it. I’d suggest picnics or date nights moon gazing, and he’d always shrug, brushing me off with a maybe. Then he’d never mention it again. The tree scared him or I did, and I couldn’t figure out why until I put two and two together. Or rather, Bull’s fear of two and two, leaving only one person standing under the tree.
Now, I was in the same position. I’m afraid I’m about to fall flat on my face, and Bull isn’t going to show because of the tree. Putting myself out there in a way I never have, this could either be glorious or the biggest mistake of my life.
“Wow,” I grit through clenched teeth, stopping next to the truck to hold the side as another wallop of pain rushes through me. The snow is falling pretty heavy, but surprisingly, I’m not freezing. A chill seeps through my jeans, but I’m still warm enough.
It’s all the baby heat, I tell myself. I’ve been exceptionally hot during pregnancy, hardly needing a coat some days despite the colder temperatures. It could be the elevated blood pressure, although I have the preeclampsia under control. Or so I think when another stab of pain bends me forward for my knees, which I can’t reach.
“Settle down, Sprout,” I demand, keeping a hand on the side of the truck as I slip with my first step in the freshly fallen snow. Using the edge as a guide, I return to pacing a few times before opening the truck door and reaching for my phone in the cup holder. The engine still runs as does the gas generator. Blade was hesitant to leave the machinery in the bed of the truck but being full of gas, it was too heavy to move alone.
“Don’t leave,” he warned me, as the generator is connected to the power cord, leading to the lights, which illuminate the tree. Blade did a beautiful job of hanging Edison bulbs on an outdoor lighting string through the lower branches of the tree. I really wanted to picnic here, despite the cold temp, covering up under heaps of blankets in the back of the truck, but the snowfall worries me. And the generator is louder than I predicted. Bull and I wouldn’t be able to talk, and I have so much to say.
Another whammy of pain rushes over my middle, causing it to harden, and I pause, unable to move under the shooting rush. Standing still, I hold my phone. Five twenty-two.
At what time do you call defeat? It’s been twenty-two minutes since he was supposed to be here, and he hasn’t shown. He didn’t even respond to my text.
“This was all a mistake.” I don’t know what I was thinking. Actually, I do know what I was thinking, what I was hoping would happen, but Bull isn’t coming. I went too far.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I struggle to remove my gloves, fumbling my phone before cold fingers press at the screen for Bull’s number. As I wait for the phone to ring, I pull back the silent device when no dial tone occurs.
No service.
“Frick,” I hiss aloud. Stepping toward the tailgate, I’m wondering if I can simply unplug the lights. Blade explained how there’s a switch on the side of the generator to cut the power, but he also mentioned Bull would know how to take care of everything.
Bull, who didn’t show.
Once I reach the end of the truck, I realize the tailgate is not lowered. I’d have to climb up on the bumper to hitch my legs over the barrier to enter the bed and flip the switch.
Unfortunately, I can’t lift my leg. To angle my leg to the left, bending my knee around my belly and awkwardly trying to position my foot on the bumper, another shot of pain rips up my middle, and I bend forward instead, gripping the metal bumper as I scream.
“Scarlett?!”
My name is an echo in the whirling wind, and I straighten as best I can, holding onto the edge of the truck to round the corner of it. With the generator so loud, I hadn’t heard the approach of another vehicle.
“Bull,” I whisper. Rushing to me, his hands grip my shoulders.
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
“You came,” I say through clenched teeth, holding my belly with one hand while my other curls around the edge of the truck.
“I told you once, I’d always find you. I’m sorry I’m late, but what is all this?” His eyes lift for the lights circling the tree and highlighting the trunk.
“I wanted to ask you something, but oh God . . .” I groan, my knees bending under the weight of the contraction. Bull’s eyes focus back on me as we wait out the tightening in my belly. Once it subsides, I try to speak again, no longer able to remember all I wanted to say.
“This is really important,” I begin, but the words are strained as my stomach clenches once more.
“Just relax,” Bull says, ignoring me as he lifts his gloved hand for his teeth and bites at the leather. With his left hand free, he reaches into his pocket, and it reminds me the item I need i
s still sitting in the cup holder. Bull holds his phone, watching me.
“I need to ask you something,” I grit out.
“Scarlett, are those contractions coming sooner than five minutes?”
I shake my head. “It’s just Braxton Hicks. I’m not going into labor,” I say, but the second I speak, reality hits me. Could I be going into labor early? I’m two weeks early.
“Sweetheart?” Bull questions, holding his phone as he looks at the screen.
“Maybe,” I say of the timing and moan again as my knees give out a bit. Bull catches me under my arms and yells over his shoulder. “Blade!”
What? No. We need to be here alone.
“Bull, I have to ask you something,” I strain through the pain.
“We need to get you to the hospital,” Bull says, searching around our feet as his brother approaches. “This snow is really piling up, though.”
“What’s going on?” Blade asks.
“We need an ambulance,” Bull states, but I’m shaking my head. I need to get this out. I need to say what I have to say before the baby gets here. “There’s no phone service. Radio the house.”
Blade races back to Bull’s truck. Bull told me they started using two-way radios for occasions just like this when conditions interrupted phone service. Bull picks me up, and I hiss as he carries me to the cab of Blade’s truck. Setting me back on my feet, he opens the driver’s side door and demands I get in.
Blade returns with the radio, and we hear Canyon snap through the device. “Having a blizzard here.”
“Scarlett’s having a baby,” Bull barks over his shoulder.
“Frick,” I groan, clutching at my waist.
“Fuck,” Bull adds stronger. “We need to get her out of here.”
“No,” I yell through the pain. “I need to—”
“It can wait,” Bull demands, his voice harsher than it’s ever been toward me.