Facing the Fire

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Facing the Fire Page 2

by Calle J. Brookes


  “Clint.”

  2

  Pregnant. It wasn’t a dream or a mistake. It was for real—the evidence tech who had told him Maggie was pregnant after finding the pregnancy tests that day she and Violet had almost died had been right. The evidence hadn’t lied.

  Maggie was pregnant. Clint just…stared. Like a complete idiot.

  She didn’t say anything to him. Maggie stood in the doorway and watched him. Clint stared right back. He studied every single inch of the woman he had dreamed about each night for almost eight months.

  Longer.

  He’d been dreaming about her far longer than that.

  Since about a month after she had moved into his home. His wife had only been gone four months and he had been lusting over his housekeeper.

  Not exactly admirable.

  He couldn’t bear to look her in the eye now.

  Maggie would see every failure he’d ever had. Every way he had let her and Violet down before.

  He had failed Maggie so badly it made him sick to even think about it.

  Clint turned to the baby in Maggie’s arms, instead. Tears hit his eyes, but he blinked them back. He’d missed his daughter so damned much. She didn’t look the same at all.

  "She's gotten so big." Clint looked at his baby for the first time in five and a half months. There had been so many changes. Her hair was quite a bit longer. Thicker. She had her mother’s golden curls, having lost the bit of red she’d been born with. Now it was spun gold. So beautiful.

  Violet chattered at Maggie, shooting the woman holding her a smile.

  Amy’s smile.

  It was his late wife’s smile. Full of mischief and joy, just like Amy’s had always been. Damn, that hurt. So much.

  A pang of grief stabbed right through him.

  They hadn’t married for love; both had admitted that just a few months into the marriage, during a heated argument he’d always regretted. They had cared a great deal for one another. They’d decided to work together to have a successful marriage, to build a good life together as friends. And they had. Would have continued to do so, if they’d had the chance.

  Amy had chosen to give their baby girl life.

  He would always mourn her. Always love her.

  But Maggie…Maggie was the woman he wanted now. The woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He just had to get her back to where she belonged first.

  “Da, da, da!” Violet babbled, waving a chubby little hand at him.

  Like she recognized him.

  “I’ve…showed her your picture every day. Talked about you so she wouldn’t forget you. Hello, Clint,” Maggie said quietly, as the woman who’d walked in with her stepped out of the room and pulled the large, hand-carved doors shut, giving them privacy.

  Maggie carried Violet further into the room and sank onto the overly large couch. She placed his daughter on the floor.

  The baby sat at Maggie’s feet, yanking on the tassels of the couch, and banging on the knee of Maggie’s cream trousers. Playing.

  Perfectly content, right where she was.

  There were baby toys in one corner of the family room they were in. Toys for his daughter, as if she belonged right there.

  Perfectly comfortable in the home of a billionaire.

  Clint had rarely felt intimidated as an adult—but where he was now…it was a totally different kind of world than what he was used to.

  He couldn’t give his child this.

  Either of his children.

  He looked at Maggie again, cataloging every tiny change her pregnancy had made. She was the most beautiful pregnant woman he had ever seen.

  “Maggie, honey…”

  Clint’s gaze fell. To the rounded stomach where his baby was growing, very obviously. Emotion slammed into him.

  Maggie hadn’t lost the baby or gotten sick or hurt or any of the other fears that had run through his head at his weakest moments. Every crazy scenario possible had tormented him for months. Haunted him.

  That was over now.

  Maggie Tyler was definitely pregnant with his baby.

  Clint hadn’t realized how much he loved her until she was gone. That love threatened to send him to his knees at her feet right now.

  He’d been terrified something would happen to her during her pregnancy, just like it had Amy. Terrified he’d lose her and never know. Terrified that she needed him and he couldn’t get to her.

  Would find her too late. Or not at all.

  He’d been afraid he’d never see her again. But there she was. Perfect. Beautiful.

  He’d beg if he had to.

  3

  Nothing was ever that simple for Clint.

  He’d packed up her and Violet’s things, and now watched as she told her Texas friends good-bye. He was about to whisk them away in his rental car.

  Just like that.

  She hadn’t said much to him. Just nodded when he’d said he was there to take her home. She hadn’t acted happy, or excited—just nodded.

  Clint knew he had no right to tell her where she had to go. Even with the baby growing in her being half his, too. If she’d wanted to stay with her rich friends, she would have been able to.

  All she had to do was say the word—he had no doubt the security guards would have booted him in an instant. Then dragged his body off with that damned ATV.

  It was because of Violet that she was cooperating. He had no doubt about that. Clint held his daughter in his arms while Maggie was hugged repeatedly by the rich man’s wife. Both women were teary-eyed when Maggie finally pulled away.

  He felt like a monster ripping her away from her friends forever.

  Then it was Violet’s turn. The billionaire himself seemed ready to cry when he told Clint’s daughter good-bye and hugged her close, rocking her gently as if he’d never let her go.

  He’d spent time with Violet, it was obvious. Violet told him “Bye-bye, Who-who.” And gave him a sweet little wave.

  Clint was torn between jealousy that another man had been there with his daughter for the last five months and gratitude for what Houghton Barratt had done for them, provided for them.

  Gratitude won out. This man had kept his daughter and Maggie safe behind guarded walls. Protected them when Clint hadn’t been able to.

  Clint would never be able to repay that.

  He shook the man’s hand and thanked him again.

  Houghton Barratt just nodded. “Anytime. We’ll miss them around here. I wouldn’t be surprised if Melody didn’t suddenly want to visit Wyoming in a few months. She’s adopted Maggie as one of her little sisters, I think. Wants to be there when the baby comes.”

  Ten minutes later,

  they were in his rental and Maggie was attempting to get comfortable. Clint just wanted to sit there and stare. At the beautiful woman next to him, at the beautiful baby in the backseat.

  He finally had them back with him. Where they belonged. Words couldn’t adequately describe what he felt right now.

  He controlled himself. Barely.

  “You ok?” Worry for her was at the forefront of his mind.

  It probably always would be.

  Damn, he wanted to touch her. To kiss her. To just tell her how sorry he was for being such a total asshole seven and a half months ago. He should have tracked her down that first morning when she’d run back to her room. Followed her and made her understand why he’d gotten stupid. Scared.

  He should have lifted her into his arms and made her understand that he was an idiot and hadn’t meant a word he’d said. Should have kissed her and apologized and just held her for hours. If she’d let him.

  He’d told her there was no future for them—and told her he’d lied about how he felt for her. Destroyed everything they could have had with two minutes of stupid words.

  He’d known the first moment he’d touched her that he had strong feelings for her.

  He’d just let his cowardly self convince him he didn’t.

  “I’m fine.
It’s hard to get comfortable sometimes.”

  Clint looked at her stomach. A boy. She’d told him they were having a son. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. It was…real. “You…doing ok?”

  “The baby is healthy. And I’m doing fine. You don’t have to worry. I’m not sick or anything. Perfectly healthy pregnancy.”

  Her tone was so impersonal. That gave him pause. She’d never spoken to him like that before. “I can’t help but worry, Maggie. I care about you.”

  “I’m sure you do. But like I said, the baby is fine,” she said, before turning toward Violet and checking the baby quickly. His daughter was still in a rear-facing car seat; he could hear her giggling, though. The most beautiful sound in the world.

  “I do. More than I told you. Then.”

  “Clint…I…am not going to do this. I am going back to Masterson because I left things, my life, hanging there. I want to see my brothers and my cousins and my friends. But I’ve had a lot of months to think about what happened between us. I’m not the same woman I was back then. You need to understand that. Everything is different now. I’m no longer your housekeeper. I won’t be again. My life is going in a different direction—one I’m very happy with now. We have a few things to work out between us, for the baby’s sake. That’s it.”

  He bit back the panic. There was too much finality in her tone.

  “I’m not the same man, either.” Hopefully, he was a better one. He needed to make her see that. Fast. “I hope you’ll let me have a chance to show you.”

  She just watched him for a long time, out of those Tyler blue eyes of hers. Those eyes had seared into his soul the one night he’d had with her. He’d never be able to erase Maggie’s eyes from his memories.

  Nor that night.

  She kept the distance between them for the rest of the journey back to Masterson. Even on the flight.

  Maggie was so busy with taking care of Violet he didn’t even attempt to have a more serious conversation.

  Clint just attempted to help with the baby, and tried not to stare—at either of them.

  When they left the airport, he carried Violet to his truck, marveling at how she felt in his arms. She was asleep again.

  Tonight, she would sleep in her own bed for the first time in five and a half months.

  Where she belonged.

  Maggie would be just down the hall.

  If…she went back to the ranch with him at all. He’d been stupid. Just assumed he would go get her and Violet, take them back to the ranch, and everything would just go back to the way it had been—with two major differences.

  One—the baby would be there in a few months, and two—he would make things right with Maggie and she’d love him again. He’d be able to make things right with her.

  He should have known better.

  He thought about the options as he led the way to his new truck in the airport parking lot.

  “I…are you coming home with me?” He asked it, after they’d been on the road for a few minutes. “All of your stuff is there. I wouldn’t let your brothers take it. Even though they wanted it. Fought me several times to get it. I had to call Rex out to threaten them once—so they probably still hate my guts. They’ve harassed me weekly since you’ve been gone.”

  She winced. “I’m sorry. For whatever they did or said while I was gone. They can be total idiotic Neanderthals sometimes.”

  “They weren’t too bad.” Other than Michael breaking Clint’s nose for refusing to tell him where his sister was. Clint would have a permanent bump on the bridge of his nose because of that. Would remember how he’d gotten it every time he looked in a mirror.

  Or at one of Maggie’s brothers.

  It was only Phil Tyler showing up at the last minute and making it clear that no one knew where she was that had kept the other four brothers from breaking every bone in Clint’s body that day.

  They’d just wanted their sister back. Hell, Clint had understood.

  He’d wanted their sister back, too.

  He hadn’t been about to share that fact. Michael was considered one of the nicer of Maggie’s brothers. It would have been more than his nose the Tyler brothers broke that day. Clint wasn’t stupid. “But I’m definitely not their favorite person around Masterson. They’ve…made their thoughts clear.”

  “No. I suppose you wouldn’t be. Did you tell them anything about the baby?” she asked, evenly. She had asked him if he was angry with her about the baby. Asked if he had known for long.

  How could he ever be angry with her over their son?

  He’d told the truth; he’d known almost from the moment she’d been taken from him. Had worried and missed her just as long.

  He didn’t know if she’d believed him at all. Maggie was more guarded with him than she had ever been.

  Clint shook his head. “I didn’t want that information getting out. I didn’t want to give anyone any more ammunition to use against me. I had to keep you safe.”

  “Thank you.” She watched the countryside roll by for a while. Then she turned back to him, a resolute look on her beautiful fairy-like face. “I…was afraid you’d hate me, you know.”

  “For what? I could never hate you.”

  “I took Violet and ran, Clint. I basically kidnapped your daughter that day.”

  “Bull. If you hadn’t taken her, Maggie, she would have been hurt or killed. I have no doubt about that. You protected her and cared for her and loved her. I will always be thankful to you for that. Hell, if you hadn’t gotten her out of town, she would have been with me the day those bastards bombed my truck. It would have been your day off, honey. You saved her. I’ll never forget that. There hasn’t been day that has gone by since that day that I’ve not thanked God you were there with her, and Miranda there to get the two of you out of the state. I…you and Violet and little Clint, Junior there are my everything.”

  Clint reached out and snagged one small feminine hand where it rested between them.

  He just wanted to touch her. Maggie jerked slightly. As if his touch burned.

  Clint decided to just go for it. To get it out there between them. “I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last five months. Longer. I was a fool. A coward. I never should have run from you that morning. Now that you’re back, I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to show you.”

  “Show me what?” She shot him a wary look, one that stabbed him in the gut.

  Maggie didn’t trust him any longer.

  “Let me show you how much you mean to me. I hope you’ll give us a chance. Things will change now. I can promise you that. I’m going to be the kind of man you deserve. And I’m never going to be a coward where you are concerned ever again.”

  She just stared at him as he drove.

  Clint was afraid to hope. Afraid he’d acted too soon. Afraid she was going to tell him to just drop her off at her brothers’, or at the Talley Inn right there in the middle of Masterson. She had friends there who wanted her back, too.

  He didn’t know if he could do it.

  He couldn’t lose her again.

  4

  Maggie stared at the man driving next to her. Clint was dead serious. But she had his measure, knew the truth.

  He couldn’t get away from her fast enough that next morning all those months ago. Just a little time hadn’t changed that.

  No. He’d convinced himself he loved her. Probably as a coping mechanism for his worry over Violet.

  She wasn’t naïve anymore. Nor was she a fool.

  Clint did not love her. He wanted the idea of her. That was all. It couldn’t ever be anything else. She had kept his home clean, kept his baby safe and cared for, kept food cooked on his table, kept him in clean clothes—and one fateful night, she had kept his bed warm.

  She’d been so convenient for him, after all.

  That was exactly what he’d said.

  He’d made love to her that night because she’d been convenient.

  Never again.

&n
bsp; He’d run away like his boy part was on fire. All she’d seen of him for weeks after was his backside. Yes, it was a nice backside, but still…

  She thought about exactly what had happened as he drove to his place a good thirty miles north of town. She’d had nothing but time over the last five and a half months to think about what had happened between her and the man next to her.

  Nothing much had changed between them.

  Maggie wasn’t going to be convenient for him ever again.

  She almost ordered him to stop at the inn when they drove through Masterson.

  That would have been the easiest choice.

  To have him just leave her there, with the Talleys. Dusty and Marin were two of her closest friends. Daisy and Meyra were her friends, too. She would have been perfectly fine right there with them for a few days or so—and had more than enough cash to pay for a room for a week or two. Until she could decide what to do next.

  Violet fussed in her sleep.

  Violet.

  The precious baby girl had Maggie not making that exact demand.

  Violet needed her tonight. And Violet needed, deserved, to be with her father after so many days apart, too.

  Maggie would never do anything to cause Violet pain. Ever. She loved that baby girl so much.

  The eight weeks after she and Clint had slept together had been filled with the two of them avoiding each other as much as possible. She’d cried herself to sleep every night for almost a month. Thought about quitting as the nanny and leaving forever a thousand times a day.

  Only Violet had kept her in Clint’s home back then. Violet had needed her, and Maggie loved her so much. Otherwise… she’d have run right back home to her brothers. And stayed there.

  Probably forever, knowing her. That would have been the worst thing she could have done. For herself.

  New Maggie wouldn’t have ever existed if she’d run home to Martin and the others.

  No. She wasn’t going to hide from life any longer. Not even for a moment.

  She would admit that, freely. She would have run from him…once. He wouldn’t have done anything to even try to stop her. She knew that down to her bones.

 

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