Surrender: A Bitter Creek Novel

by Joan Johnston

A good part of the reason why she hadn’t told him about the baby yet was the fact that she could never quite imagine the smile—the shit-eating “I did that” grin—she hoped would appear when she gave him the joyous news. Instead, she envisioned a frown of concern laced with shock and dismay. Brian had problems enough of his own without her throwing a baby into the mix.

  Because of her pregnancy, Taylor had completely abandoned the idea of having Brian move in with her when he got tired of his family. She needed to make plans of her own—for a nursery, and for Lamaze and breastfeeding classes, since she wanted to have natural childbirth and nurse the baby. She had to schedule a visit to her ob-gyn to get a checkup and a prescription for prenatal vitamins. She was busy growing a baby inside her belly, and frankly, didn’t have the energy to cope with another spoiled-rotten baby, who couldn’t face the truth about his future.

  That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?

  No. I’m just telling it like I see it.

  She had to face facts. She had to walk away from Brian Flynn and move on with her life.

  The decision made, Taylor had visited her ob-gyn late this afternoon. Afterward, she’d headed to the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar to celebrate her good health, and the good health of her child. She’d asked the bartender for, “A rum and Coke, please. Hold the rum. And a slice of lime.”

  She was sitting at the bar, summoning up the courage to tell her family about the baby—a Flynn baby—when Brian Flynn walked in.

  Taylor should have slid off that saddle seat and run like the devil was on her heels. She should never have said one single word to him. What on earth had possessed her to let Brian Flynn back into her life?

  Hope. You’re clinging to the hope that, once the cloud of pain and confusion about his future has cleared, Brian will be able to see you as the love of his life.

  Taylor had known she was taking a terrible chance even speaking to him. The more time she spent with Brian, the more chance of becoming emotionally engaged. It had been heartbreaking when she made the completely logical decision to walk away from him after his rant at the hospital, to cut off her love like an amputated limb. She’d gone through several boxes of Kleenex and still left her pillow wet with tears. It would be devastating if she allowed herself to fall in love with Brian all over again, and he abandoned her for a second time.

  And there was a ticking time bomb—

  That’s no way to describe your darling baby.

  A loudly ticking time bomb growing in her belly. Brian was going to find out the truth. She ought to tell him sooner, rather than later, and give him a chance to back out of living in the same house with a woman who was carrying his baby, which he might or might not want to acknowledge.

  Not now. Not yet. Give yourselves a little time.

  For what? Brian’s scarred flesh wasn’t going to magically reconstitute itself. He was still on crutches. He’d winced with pain when he sat down in the bar, when he shifted in his chair, and when he got up again. He must always be on the edge of lashing out—at whoever was closest—when he suffered such constant torment.

  At what point should she add to that burden by telling him she was pregnant with his baby?

  Not now, for heaven’s sake! Get hold of yourself. You’ll know when the time is right. Just wait. Wait until you see which way the wind is blowing. And don’t give up hope.

  Brian threw his crutches into the back of her pickup, hopped—and huffed and puffed—his way to the door, then used his arms and his good leg to lift himself inside.

  He heaved a sigh of relief that appeared as a cloud in front of his mouth before he closed the door. “Fall has fallen,” he said. “I want to be off these crutches before I have to worry about navigating icy sidewalks.”

  Taylor started the engine and headed for the closest overnight pharmacy, where Brian could buy the supplies he needed. “What does the physical therapist say?”

  “The same thing Aiden is always saying.”

  “Which is?”

  “Be patient.”

  “I take it that’s not one of your better qualities.”

  “You noticed? I want to be back on both feet without the need for either crutches or a cane, and I want it now.”

  She shot him a teasing look and said, “You’ll just have to be patient.”

  Brian’s laughter was cut short when she hit a pothole that jarred his leg.

  She watched him grit his teeth, but he didn’t say anything, so she didn’t either.

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from suggesting that she be the one to shop at the drugstore. She simply parked in front of the brightly lit store and said, “Have fun!”

  She saw him flinch when he exited the truck, gasp as he hopped to the back of the pickup for his crutches, and grit his teeth as he headed inside. He returned five minutes later with two plastic bags, which he threw onto the bench seat between them, before repeating the whole “throw the crutches in the back and hop to the seat” business.

  Four tension-filled minutes later, without another word of conversation, they arrived at her house on the mountain.

  “This is it,” she said, as she hit the button for the door and pulled into the two-car garage.

  Taylor couldn’t help remembering how, earlier in the day, she’d been moping around her lovely home, regretting the fact that Brian would never lounge on the leather couch or be sprawled beside her on the woolly buffalo hide in front of the stone fireplace.

  Suddenly, he was here.

  “Do you want me to get your crutches for you?” The words were out before she could stop them. She knew Brian didn’t want her help, or anybody else’s, which his next words confirmed.

  “I can do it.”

  She stood at the kitchen door waiting for him, then stepped back to let him inside.

  “Wow, Tag,” he said, his gaze darting, taking in the sizeable main floor, which had an open concept. “This place is amazing.”

  “Thanks. It was trashed when I bought it, but I managed to put it back together a little bit at a time.”

  “I like the fact that it’s perched on a mountain and tucked in among the trees, yet still walking distance to town. I’ll bet it’s beautiful here when the aspens turn gold.”

  “It was.” That had happened during the last week of September and the first week of October, when she’d been pining for a moment with Brian just like this. Now the aspens were bare, but enough conifers were left—lodgepole pine and blue spruce—to make it feel like the house was nestled in the forest.

  She watched Brian turn in a circle, using his crutches to prop him up. The great room, with its cathedral ceiling, included the living room, dining room, and kitchen.

  “I love the wood in the floors and counters and the stone in the walls and the fireplace,” he said. “Best of all, you have a couch long enough for me to stretch out on.”

  She smiled, remembering how, when she’d first been planning to have Brian as a roommate, she’d argued with the furniture guy to get her a longer couch. “It was the biggest one I could find. You can have the couch, but the chair and ottoman are mine.”

  The seating area faced the wood-burning fireplace, which Taylor had been using often, now that the nights were cold. Snow already capped the Tetons, but the sun had melted what little precipitation they’d had in town.

  She gestured toward the island that separated the kitchen and living room and said, “Help yourself to whatever you want from the fridge. Silverware is in the drawers, china and glasses are in the cupboards next to the sink.”

  “Thanks. Where’s my room?”

  Before Taylor had found out she was pregnant, when she was planning the best way to coax Brian into staying with her, she’d thought long and hard about where to put him. One bedroom was separated from the other three. She’d decided to give that one to him, since it h
ad both a sitting room and an attached bath. She’d been living in the second largest bedroom, which had a Jack-and-Jill bathroom attached to another, equally large bedroom, which she planned to decorate for the baby.

  Luckily, she hadn’t yet begun that transformation.

  Taylor walked ahead of Brian to his bedroom. Back when she’d been plotting and planning to get him here, she’d made the room as masculine as she could without giving away her game. The king-sized bed had a stripped-log headboard and footboard, and the dresser was pine. The curtains and bedspread were burnt sienna—what Brian would have called reddish brown—and the knobby-wool rug on the hardwood floor was the color of desert sand.

  She’d decorated the bed with a stack of pillows in various sizes and complementary colors, just to make it look a bit more feminine, and to keep Brian from noticing that the room had been intended for use by a man. To be absolutely sure he didn’t guess what she’d had in mind, she’d added a stuffed animal. The floppy-eared dog sat in front of the pillows.

  Brian immediately reached down and picked it up. “Who’s this?” he asked, grinning and wagging the black-and-white-spotted dog at her.

  She reached for it and said, “Give him to me, Brian. That’s Spot. Vick got him for me one Christmas.”

  “Do you have a watchdog guarding all your beds?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “If it’s any consolation, he doesn’t bite.”

  Brian chuckled and pitched the stuffed animal to her. “I think he’ll be happier in your room.”

  The two plastic bags full of stuff he’d bought at the drugstore were still hanging from one of his hands, where it was hooked over a crutch.

  “Do you need any help putting those things away in the bathroom?” she asked.

  “I can take care of it.”

  “Would you like a cup of coffee, or something stronger?” She hesitated and said, “Or something weaker? A cup of hot milk or cocoa?”

  He shook his head. “No, but thank you. To be honest, I’m bushed. I’ve been working hard every day to get better, and I seem to need more sleep than I’m getting. If you don’t mind, I’ll just say good night.”

  “There’s a TV behind the doors to that chest, and the bookcase in the corner has a few novels I’ve enjoyed.” In fact, she’d chosen every book on the shelves with Brian in mind, and the TV had every sports package she could find. “The Broncos have a home game tomorrow, if you want to watch it with me in the living room,” she added.

  “That sounds like it might be fun. I have to admit I haven’t paid much attention to football the past couple of months.”

  “The Broncos are undefeated so far this season. They have a new running back—”

  He held up his hand. “I’ll look forward to hearing all about it tomorrow. Good night, Tag.”

  It felt funny stepping out of the room and having Brian close the door in her face. Somehow, when she’d imagined him sleeping in that king-sized bed, she’d imagined herself lying right there beside him.

  Brian might be tired, but Taylor was far too excited to sleep. He’d talked her into renting him a room. He was sleeping right down the hall.

  Where did she go from here?

  Taylor wondered if she ought to implement a few of the ideas she’d come up with when she’d first planned to lure Brian into her home. The most important thing she’d decided, which applied equally to their current circumstances, was to give him space to figure out what he wanted to do next. She wanted him to feel that the pressure was off, that he could recover at his own speed.

  One of her more inventive ideas had involved dressing for sex-cess, that is, wearing outfits intended to spike Brian’s desire and heighten his physical awareness of her. She debated the wisdom of doing that now. Did she want to incite Brian’s passion? To what end?

  Maybe he has feelings for you that have taken a backseat to getting well. Maybe, with a little encouragement, his desire—along with his deep feelings for you—will be rekindled.

  Taylor got ready for bed, taking a quick shower and washing her hair, then put on a silky nightgown that left very little to the imagination. She lighted the wood fire she’d set earlier, then sat down in her chair in the living room, put her feet up on the ottoman, and continued reading her book, which she kept on a table beside the chair.

  The room was silent, except for the crackling fire, when she heard the thump of Brian’s crutches on the wood floor in the hall. Taylor sat up, but she didn’t get up. The only light in the room came from the reading lamp over her chair and the blue and yellow flames in the fireplace. She waited for him to reach the living room and say something.

  But he never did.

  “Brian? Are you—” she cut herself off. Do not ask if he’s all right! “Would you like to join me?” she called out instead, glancing over her shoulder toward the hall, where she found him in the shadows.

  He was naked except for a pair of black briefs—the kind that hugged his sex. His chest looked even more powerful than it had the day they’d gotten trapped in the cave. His lower right leg was lost in darkness. She made a point of keeping her gaze focused on his face.

  “I couldn’t sleep after all,” he said. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not.” As a host, she should offer to get him whatever he wanted, but she was also determined to let him do things for himself. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  She focused her attention back on her book, but she couldn’t make out a single word on the page.

  “What are you reading?” he asked, once he was settled on the couch with his back against the arm farthest from her.

  She glanced up and bit her cheek to keep from gasping at the sight of his calf, which wasn’t more than three feet from the end of her nose. She worked hard not to shudder. “It’s Stephen King. One of the scary ones.” But not as scary as Brian’s leg.

  He chuckled. “Aren’t they all scary?” He rearranged the pillow behind his back, then settled his wounded leg on a pillow at the other end of the couch. “My leg swells during the day, so I need to keep it elevated,” he explained. “Pretty awful, huh?”

  She saw the fear in his eyes that she would be revolted by the devastation wrought on his leg by the surgeon. She forced herself to look at his mutilated flesh, keeping her expression neutral. She was appalled at how much of the muscle was missing from his calf. There was not more than an inch or two of flesh covering the bone.

  When she’d examined his calf thoroughly, she met his gaze and said, “I agree it’s not a pretty sight.” She bit back her next question: “How in the world do you walk on it?”

  Taylor could see why anyone living with Brian would have a difficult time not asking “How are you?” or “How do you feel?” or “How’s the rehab going?” She wanted to ask all those questions herself. But she stilled her tongue and let him do the talking.

  “I thought I’d be further along by now,” he said.

  She kept her eyes focused on her book and said, “Uh-huh.”

  “The chief told me she’d take me back, if I can pass muster physically.”

  “That’s good news,” she said, reading the same sentence again.

  “Hey! Look at me.”

  She looked up. “What?”

  “Am I that boring?”

  “I thought the whole reason you came here was because you were sick and tired of everyone asking about your injury. But that’s pretty much all you’ve talked about since you sat down.”

  Taylor saw the shock on his face. She knew that getting back to normal must always be first and foremost in his thoughts. Part of what she hoped to accomplish by having Brian here was to get him focused on living a life that didn’t necessarily depend on a leg that functioned normally.

  Once that happened, she could tell him he was going to be a father.

  He gave a self-deprecating la
ugh. “I guess I needed to hear that. I’ve been so absorbed by rehab that my life has shrunk down so it doesn’t include much else.”

  “May I suggest Broncos football tomorrow afternoon?” she said with a playful smile.

  “Sure. I’ll make the popcorn.”

  “I just have ‘girl’ drinks in the fridge.”

  “Which are?”

  “Diet Coke and a bottle of Chardonnay.” The doctor had said she could have an occasional glass of wine, but she was waiting for one of her sisters to visit before opening the bottle.

  “I’ll have some Heineken delivered tomorrow along with my clothes,” he said.

  “Be sure to have whoever brings your stuff pick up some popcorn. I don’t have any in the house.”

  He laughed. “You got it.”

  “Are you going to tell your family where you’re staying?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “I’ll tell Aiden. He’ll leave me alone and keep the rest of them from worrying. How about your family? What are they going to say when they find out we’re roommates?”

  “They won’t like it, but it’s my life.” Taylor had long since realized she couldn’t love Brian and keep fighting his family. Brian had more than once said he’d opted out of the feud between their fathers. Taylor wanted to try. She wasn’t sure what Leah and Vick were going to say when they realized she was no longer going to wage war on the Flynns.

  Taylor was lost in her thoughts when she heard Brian say, “By the way…”

  She looked up. “By the way…what?”

  He was grinning from ear to ear. “I like your taste in nightgowns.”

  Taylor glanced down and realized her nipples were clearly peaked beneath the ivory silk, and that the cloth was thin enough that Brian could see her areolas as clear as day. “Stop looking, Brian!” She dumped her book and jumped up, wrapping her arms around herself and lifting her breasts even higher, creating even more cleavage.

  He bent over laughing. “That’s like asking a wolf not to eat a piece of meat that’s been thrown right into his mouth.”

  “You’re a beast all right!” She grabbed for her book to cover her chest and stomped out of the room, his laughter following her all the way down the hall.