Baby by Midnight?

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  He’d known she wouldn’t write. Or call. Or seek him out. He’d told himself it was for the best, too. He wasn’t—never had been—good enough for Annie Thatcher. He’d thought that once he got his future set and proved himself a winner, maybe then he could set about making it all up to her. Courting her slow and proper, the way she deserved. But he hadn’t thought there’d be a baby. He hadn’t expected she’d say it was none of his business, either.

  “Is her due date the same as yours?” he asked because he had to know.

  Josie hesitated. “It’s the thirtieth. Dr. Elizabeth says she expects one of us to win the contest, although she’s made it very clear that babies are pretty hard to predict.” Josie paused, plunged on. “So did Annie...say anything to you? About the baby, I mean?”

  A basket of tortilla chips appeared with the waitress, and Alex ate a chip before he answered. “She said it isn’t mine.”

  Josie’s eyes widened, maybe because the interior of the Chuck Wagon was dim and the smell of Nell’s infamous too-hot-tamale chili wasn’t. “Oh, Alex, you didn’t just ask her that, did you? Straight out? Without giving her a chance to get over the shock of seeing you all of a sudden?”

  “She couldn’t have been half as shocked as me. I walk in the clinic, with this lump of shepherd in my arms and there she is—round as a July watermelon and acting like it’s none of my business.”

  “Well, is it?” Josie asked with quiet intensity. “Is it your business, Alex?”

  His appetite for chips or cherry pie vanished like the endless prairie. “Nah,” he drawled, trying to sound supremely indifferent. “It’s not my business at all.”

  Josie opened her mouth to say something—and Alex hoped she was about to knock the chip off his shoulder with an affirmation that the baby was his, that Annie had admitted as much to her. But the waitress returned then, and with a tiny sigh Josie ordered a piece of cherry pie with cherry vanilla ice cream for her brother, who knew he didn’t have the stomach to eat it.

  ANNIE AND THE BABY had a deal. No late-in-the-day, sugar-high, empty-calorie snacking for her part. No crazy nighttime gymnastics for his. Most of the time they kept the bargain, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and tonight she needed chocolate. Lots of it. Even if it made the baby—and consequently, her—restless later on.

  Rocking back in the rocking chair on her front porch, she solemnly unwrapped a Hershey’s Kiss and promised herself she’d only eat. the one. Knowing in her heart ten more were as good as gone. It might not have been so bad if the mammoth horse trailer wasn’t right there in plain sight, backed up next to the holding pen, glinting at her like a silver tooth, reminding her that Alex McIntyre was home.

  Home. Ha! As if he knew the meaning of the word. She’d known he would come around, sooner or later. She’d just hoped it would be after the baby was born. After she’d established the parental bonds. After she’d met her son and assured herself that she could be not only his mother, but his father as well. That was the other part of their deal, hers and the baby’s. She hadn’t done so great at choosing his father, so she’d step up to the plate and fill that role, too. Much better for a child to have one responsible parent than...what? Than one irresponsible one? Or one of each? Well, her son wasn’t going to know he had a choice. It was her or nothing. So he was stuck with her.

  The early signs of an autumn sunset were just touching the mountain-scalloped horizon with a hint of muted color, and overhead the first stars sparked in faint, eager twinkles, unable to wait for the indigo backdrop of night to blanket the sky. “Pretty,” she told the child in her womb, talking softly to him as she was wont to do when there was no one else around. “Once you get here, you’ll want to spend a lot of time watching the sunset. Sunrise is pretty, too, but it’d be nice if you saved those until you’re older and I’m caught up on my sleep.”

  The baby made no move in response, keeping his part of the bargain, and with a sigh Annie rocked back and forth, savoring the texture and taste of the chocolate, even though she knew she’d pay for the pleasure later on. But wasn’t that the story of her life? Wasn’t that exactly how she’d wound up pregnant? One starry, romance-drenched night last April, she’d decided to say. a last and final goodbye to Alex by giving herself an unforgettable fantasy before getting on with her life. At the time she’d considered making love with him worth whatever happened later.

  Of course, she’d thought that “whatever” would be basically limited to the disappointment of waking up alone, which she’d expected. Not to getting pregnant, which she hadn’t. That was the kick fate had delivered square to the seat of her pants. Just when she’d gotten the courage to put Alex out of her life, presto, her reproductive system got ideas all its own. The last laugh, of course, was hers. She hadn’t bargained for a baby, a moment-by-moment reminder that a part of Alex would be in her life forever, but it wasn’t a bad trade. Not a bad trade, at all.

  The geriatric sputter of a worn-out motor warned her that he was returning, even before she saw the battered old truck turn into the drive that ran between the clinic and the house. She’d known he’d be back tonight to check on his horse, knew part—if not all—of the reason he’d wanted to stable the animal overnight was so he’d have an excuse to confront her again. Well, she was ready for him. Fortified by the knowledge she had almost a full bag of chocolate kisses, she figured he was as good as vanquished before he ever got around to opening his big mouth.

  He got out of the truck, stood there staring at the Bighorn Mountains, absorbing the first orangered rays of the coming sunset, then swept off his hat in a flawlessly unconscious gesture, as if he couldn’t help but acknowledge that such heartpinching beauty demanded a show of respect Which was always the problem with Alex McIntyre. Just when she convinced herself he had not a smidgen of appreciation for a sunset, he went and took off his hat, making her wonder if maybe—just maybe—she was wrong. About sunsets. And sons. And what it took to be a daddy worth having.

  “Evenin’,” he said, glancing over at her on the porch. “Just came back to get Koby settled for the night.”

  “Really?” She renewed her rocking, more to keep from fidgeting than anything else. “I figured you came back just to aggravate me.”

  His grin topped the list of her favorite smiles. “And here I took it for granted I was doing that just by breathing the sweet air of Wyoming.”

  “Well, there’s your trouble...thinking I care if you’re brearhing.”

  He laughed, and if a sound could hold color and texture, Alex’s laughter would have been the white of moonlight and had the feel of a roughly woven tapestry. “Ah. Annie, ’fess up. You’re happy to see me.”

  “I’m happy to see your horse eating his head off in my barn. With what you owe me for your dog, I’m gonna be real happy to cash your check.”

  Alex shut the door of the truck and walked toward her. There was always purpose in his stride and yet at the same time an innuendo that he had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do. In his blue eyes was the suggestion she was the only woman in the world with whom he could imagine sharing a sunset... and a sunrise. Providing, of course, something better didn’t come along between one and the other. Annie knew better than to believe this time was any different from a dozen times before. But every time he came near her—every single time—her silly heart behaved like a blushing adolescent, stammering, halting, rushing to greet him with wild and raw delight. She drew a deep breath. Sherlock Holmes had had his Moriarty. Napoleon, his Waterloo. Annie had Alex.

  Except this time, she had someone else to think about. Alex’s son. A tiny little heart beating fast with the hope that she could, and would, protect him.

  “We need to talk.” Alex came up the steps to the porch and perched on the rail, leaning a muscular shoulder against the support post, crossing his arms as if he dared her to tell him to get lost.

  Annie wanted to, she really did, but that would accomplish only one thing—the assurance that he’d stick to t
hat railing like glue. She had experience handling Alex. That much, at least, was in her favor. “What about?”

  “You, me...the baby.”

  Sighing, she crossed her arms, too, then immediately uncrossed them, not wanting to draw his attention to her rounded stomach. “There is no ‘you and me,’” she said firmly. “And that means we positively are not going to talk about my baby. My baby, Alex. Mine.”

  “Oh, come on, Annie. I may not be an obstetrician, but I can count the months from April to October as well as you can. We slept together at the first of April, and in October you’re six months pregnant. Why not just admit the baby’s mine and let’s get on with deciding what we’re going to do about it?”

  She thought about hitting him with the flat of her hands and knocking him off the porch. But that would require a quick get-up-and-go from the rocking chair and, unfortunately these days, she was in a more push-up-and-pull stage of mobility. “It’s just like you, Alex, to show up unexpectedly and try to wheedle your way back into my good graces. What surprises me this time is how you seem to be so eager to take on a responsibility that rightfully belongs to someone else.”

  He took a second to set his hat on his thigh and settle it carefully there before his gaze came up to pin her with the question. “And just who is responsible, Annie? Besides you, that is.”

  “Just me.”

  “Not satisfactory. It takes two to create a baby, and if you’re determined to convince me I had nothing to do with creating this one, then you’re going to have to give me a name, a face and a dadgum social security number.”

  “I don’t think so.” She’d stopped rocking, started clenching the arms of the rocking chair, begun to worry that he would never believe her. “I don’t think I have to give you the time of day.”

  “Then, how about you tell me whether it was the week before Josie’s wedding or the week after that you fell into bed with another man. I figure the window of opportunity for making a baby is still fairly arrow.”

  “That’s insulting.”

  “Damn straight it is. Give it up, Annie. You don’t sleep around, and I know for a fact you don’t fall for any old line.”

  “Oh, so since I fell for yours, that automatically cancels out falling for someone else?”

  “Yes.” He looked confident, sure of himself, altogether too handsome for his own good. Or hers. “You wouldn’t have come from another man’s arms to mine, Annie. And you wouldn’t have gone straight from mine to somebody else’s. We made a baby...and I’m trying to do the right thing by it.”

  “He,” she corrected. “It’s a boy. I had an ultrasound last week and the sex of the baby was pretty clear.”

  He looked stunned, as if she’d hit him with all four aces. “A son.” He swallowed hard and visibly. “We’ll need to get married.”

  She had to put an end to this fantasy. It wasn’t going to work. Not in a million years. No matter how good his intentions at this moment, it wasn’t going to work. “I’ll say this again, Alex. My son. Mine, not yours. And marriage isn’t a mistake I care to make at this time in my life.” Pushing to her feet—no easy task—she stood and he slid from the rail to stand too, towering over her like a cross between the Grim Reaper and John Wayne. “I don’t know what it’s going to take to make you believe me. I don’t really care if you do or not. I just want you to go away again and leave me alone. That’s clear enough, isn’t it?”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Oh, yes, I do.”

  “There’s only one thing you can say that will make me leave. If I’m not the father of your baby, then tell me who is. A name. The circumstances. How it happened you were so in love with him, you made love with me at almost the same moment in time?”

  Annie could feel the trembling start, the aching to cast caution aside and make her bed with Alex. Forever and ever, amen. But it wouldn’t be just her bed. It would be her son’s, too. And the trouble was, Alex wouldn’t be in it most of the time. He’d be off to parts unknown, chasing yesterday’s promise, telling himself he’d be there for her tomorrow. And if he wasn’t off somewhere, he’d resent her and her son for the tender trap in which they’d caught, and kept, his heart. She had planted a painful goodbye last spring. It was her responsibility now to make sure it took root. “Not everything can be had for the asking, Alex. I’ve told you the truth. This is not your child. You can sit on this porch until the cows come home, but it won’t change anything. You’ve practiced plenty at taking the easy way out, so why balk now? Go back wherever you’ve been and forget what happened between us six months ago.”

  A rueful slant of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. “Now, why would I want to forget one minute of the time I’ve spent with you, Annie? And even if I wanted to, what makes you think I could?”

  “Experience, Alex,” she said as she opened the screen door. “Lots of experience.”

  Then, keeping a tight rein on her resolve, she went in and closed the door behind her, shutting him outside with the last of the sunset—and, darn it, all of her chocolate kisses.

  Chapter Three

  He couldn’t tell for sure, but Alex thought the door hit her in the butt, she was in such a hurry to shut him out. So here he was, alone on her porch, talking to her in his head as if she was still there arguing with him. Frustrating woman. All he wanted to do was help her. She needed help, damn it. Any fool could see that. This house needed more fixup than a few cans of paint could provide. From what Josie had said and what he’d observed earlier in the day, Annie was handling the clinic without much assistance from her uncle. Either job would offer up any number of problems even before factoring in her pregnancy and her apparent determination to make it to motherhood all on her own.

  Stubborn, she was. Webster’s dictionary probably listed Annie as a prime example of obstinate, too. He’d come right out and told her he’d many her, do the right thing, and still she’d declared the baby wasn’t his, wouldn’t be his even if he waited until the cows came home. Annie had cows, too. At least, her Uncle Dex did. He grazed quite a few head on the acres back of the clinic. Had for years. So it wasn’t as if she didn’t know the cows came home for feeding every evening like clockwork, as if in some roundabout way she was inviting him to stay.

  Alex knew he was grasping at straws, but he hadn’t expected her to keep denying the obvious. The baby was his. No matter what she said.

  Unless...it wasn’t.

  But how could that be? Annie wouldn’t have—On the other hand, she might have. Hadn’t he told her often enough that she ought to? Hadn’t he teased her about getting herself a real boyfriend back when he was too stupid to realize she actually might? Wouldn’t it serve him right if she’d finally taken his advice?

  Okay, so he didn’t deserve Annie. What else was new? That wasn’t the question, anyway. If there was another man, where was he? Why wasn’t he here with her? What kind of fool would leave Annie once he knew she loved him? Releasing his breath in a self-deprecating rush, Alex knew exactly what kind of fool that man would be.

  On the other hand, she’d only shut the door. She hadn’t said she was never speaking to him again. And if he sat on her porch and ate the chocolate she’d left out—well, sooner or later, she’d come out and fuss at him. How did he know that?

  Experience. Lots of experience.

  ANNIE PULLED ASIDE one small section of the sheet that hung over the parlor window and peeked out. He was still there, sitting in her rocking chair, his boots propped on the porch railing, eating Hershey’s Kisses one by one and dropping the silver wrappers in his lap. At the rate he was popping them, she wouldn’t have to worry about those empty calories. No, sir.

  Didn’t he know better than to irritate an expectant mother? Didn’t he know pregnant women were often dangerously hormonal? Didn’t he have somewhere he needed to be? Someplace other than her front porch? Why couldn’t he just go take care of his horse and leave? It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the whole S-J ranch house porch to
sit on. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t stop on his way to the ranch and buy his own Hershey’s Kisses. It wasn’t as if he had to chow down on her one and only bag.

  Before she quite knew her own intentions, Annie jerked open the door, retaining just enough practicality to stay safely behind the screen. “Give me that candy,” she said.

  He acknowledged her presence by unwrapping another piece, tossing the chocolate into his mouth, and dropping the foil onto his lap. “ Eat an orange,” he said congenially. “You need the vitamin C.”

  “Eat dirt and die,” she countered, which wasn’t exactly what she’d meant to say, but seemed expressive enough in a pinch.

  “You talk turkey and I’ll consider it.” He leisurely unwrapped another candy and smiled at her while he did it. Even diffused by a good-size patch of wire-mesh screen, the slant of that smile made her knees go all soft and tingly. Why couldn’t she have found Clarence Tompkins charming all those years ago in eighth grade? He’d had a huge crush on her back then. Why couldn’t he have been the one to tell Jason Kittredge to stick a sock in his mouth? Why did it have to be Alex who took her side? Alex, the one her heart chose to be a hero?

  “I’m not talking to you,” she said firmly, although he had to know as well as she did that was nothing more than bravado. “Now, give me what’s left of that candy and go torment somebody else.”

  “This candy?” He held up the bag. “Trust me, you don’t want this. It’s got way too many empty calories for a woman in your condition.”

  “My condition needs calories. Lots of them. Chocolate is just what the doctor ordered.”