From the day she moved in, she’d never considered that tract of land or portion of cattle hers. Miller dangled it in front of Dylan to ensure his capable assistance. Sondra wanted him to succeed—not only so she’d be able to stay, but also because Dylan worked with incredible diligence. He deserved what Miller bequeathed him.
But then why is he fretting over the baby?
The next morning, Sondra fumbled to open her car door. She needed to go apologize.
“Ain’t gonna open unless you unlock it,” Edgar drawled.
Sondra’s face twisted in chagrin as she realized she’d locked her keys in the car. Her moan brought Edgar closer.
“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy. It’s no big deal.” Edgar whistled and waved. Chris Ratliff pulled up. “Perfect timing. The lady’s locked herself out. How’s about you helping her?”
“No problem.” Chris pulled a metal strip from beneath the front seat of a battered-looking green work truck. Seconds later, he opened Sondra’s door with a flourish.
“How’d you do that?” She gaped at him.
“I repair cars for a living. It would be too embarrassing to call up customers and tell them I locked myself out of their cars.”
Sondra ventured, “If I made both of you your very own treat, would that suffice as hush money?”
“No need to,” Chris said.
Grinning from ear to ear, Edgar shook his head. “Ma’am, if you’d offered that yesterday, I’d take you up on it in a hot second. I can’t now.”
Dread iced down her spine. “Just what do you mean?”
“I can’t rightly say.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked guilty as sin.
Chris chuckled and drove toward Nickels to pick up the eggs.
“Edgar—”
Her steely tone seemed to amuse him. “You may well be mad at me, but I’d rather suffer your wrath than Dylan’s any day. ’Specially since I’ve tasted your pies.”
“Argh!” she said theatrically. She may as well make fun of herself. “I have a sneaking suspicion I’m never going to live that down.”
He thumbed his hat back a tad. “Now that’s probably a fact.”
Rats.
“Then again, good as I heard tell the other pies were, I suspect we’re all gonna hold Dylan to blame for costing us one.”
Sondra laughed at his hangdog expression. “Didn’t you get a slice?”
“Mournful fact is I barely got a taste.”
“I see. Give me a day or so, and I’ll make it up to you.”
His eyes locked in on her belly. “I’d be much obliged, but I’m not sure you ought to be going to such trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. I like being in a kitchen.”
He shook his head. “Never did see me a woman who kept as busy as you do. Suspect it has to do with you being on the nest, so to speak. Between you peekin’ and peckin’ into everything ’round the ranch and Dylan gettin’ antsy ’bout trying to tie you down, a body could be rightfully entertained.”
“The show’s over for today.” She scooched behind the wheel and headed toward Dylan’s spread.
L
AUGHINGSTOCK
, proclaimed the sign over the gate. Sondra winced.
That’s me, all right. I’ve managed to let go of my temper and make a fool of myself.
One of Dylan’s men said he wasn’t there, and he didn’t know where to find him. Sondra thought about calling him, but she wanted to apologize in person. Driving on, she went to Lawton and parked at the first store she found. After a month and a half of poring over the computer and tending to bills, Sondra knew full well that her financial state might be characterized as exceedingly stable. As a matter of fact, she’d never imagined that Miller Quintain possessed such staggering wealth. Though she didn’t particularly want anything for herself, she knew the time had come to buy things for the baby.
❧
Accustomed to the sight of Sondra traipsing around with a couple of the hounds scrambling at her feet, Dylan missed seeing her that morning. Pressing business matters forced him away from the ranches until noon.
Last night, he’d tried to call her to apologize, but she wouldn’t answer the phone. He’d gotten an earful from every man at the barbecue—they’d been ready to beat him to a bloody pulp. As if the men hadn’t been voluble enough, his sister nearly smacked him. “What got in to you? The poor gal! A horse? Walk her like a horse?”
He clamped his big mouth shut.
“I can’t believe you compared Sondra to a horse.” She shook her head. “Go clean up. Afterward, you’d best crawl over there on your hands and knees and apologize!”
He barked defensively, “All I was trying to do was get her to eat better. How is a bachelor supposed to know what a pregnant widow does for indigestion?”
Howie piped up. “She’s been keepin’ a bottle of antacid tablets in the stable.”
Dylan nearly exploded. “Anything you know about her comes directly to me, do you hear that? Anything. Miller put her in my care. The last thing I need is for the lot of you to go leavin’ me in the dark about the particulars.”
Someone grumbled, “She’s an adult. She takes pretty good care of herself.”
“You can’t be serious! She hasn’t had liver even once. Every fool knows she supposed to eat liver. And when she got sick—remember when she got sick?”
Nickels admitted, “She was pitiful.”
Teresa rubbed her hands on a napkin. “Enough’s been said. I doubt Sondra would appreciate being the topic of any further conversation. Just do your best by her.”
Dylan held up a hand and added, “And each of you comes to me with anything—otherwise, you’ll be looking for work elsewhere. Any questions?”
No one said a thing.
Still, his message got through. As soon as he showed up that afternoon, Edgar reported, “Miz Sondra locked herself out of her car today. Went shoppin’, too. Brung back loads of baby stuff. She’s up at the house.”
Armed with a carton of rocky road ice cream as a peace offering, Dylan headed for her door. She didn’t answer his knock. He wasn’t sure whether she refused to speak to him or if she was in trouble. He knocked once more. With no response, he decided to take her at her word. Dylan opened the kitchen door. He strode into the kitchen, letting his boots scrape on the floor loudly in hopes she’d call out a howdy. She didn’t.
He stuck the ice cream in her freezer, expecting she’d hear him and make an appearance. When she didn’t, he peeked into the empty living room. Maybe in the basement—doing laundry perhaps? Nope. The light was off down there. Her bedroom was empty, too. His heart started to race.
A soft sound made him push open the last door. Dylan stood there and tilted his head to the side. His eyes narrowed. Asleep? In here? He drew closer and confirmed his suspicion. She looked vulnerable as she slept. Her lashes fanned across her cheekbones and fluttered a little. Her lips pouted. He winced at how kissable she looked.
Whoa. Where did that thought come from?
For all of its surprise, the admission rang true.
She had no right to look so adorable. And cuddly. Peach and yellow flowers dotted the dress that draped her softer, fuller curves. Sondra had gained some weight—enough to fill in the hollows of her cheeks pleasantly, and the radiance of her skin brought to mind the cliché of how pregnant women glowed.
Oh, man. I’m getting lassoed by my own rope.
She favored some heady perfume—an exotic blend of subtle spices and a hint of flowers that left him inhaling deeply after she walked past. Just a whiff, and he’d hold his breath to appreciate the scent a moment longer. The intelligent sparkle in her eye captivated him. And the way she sometimes pursed her lips as she thought or absorbed something he told her—as if she were ready for a kiss.
Oh, he’d been appreciating the sight all along. Truth be told, she’d slowly been driving him crazy—but until this moment, he’d attributed it more to obligation and her quirky nature. Never once had he admitted his heart might be getting involved.
Through it all, he’d been sort of a neutral party. Exhibiting a polite modicum of concern and a proprietary interest were all that seemed appropriate. After all, they were partners of a sort. Miller had entrusted her into his care.
Besides, she was a widow. Carrying another man’s baby. And he was a Christian brother. That certainly put him in a position of helping out.
Until now. Just as soon as Dylan admitted to himself that he’d fallen, and fallen hard, the sucker punch came. He could want her from now ’til the moon fell out of the sky, but wanting didn’t matter when it was one-sided. Then, too, he didn’t cotton to the notion that he would be last in line. Sondra’s world revolved around the child she carried. That was admirable. . .but it also pointed out a glaring fact: That baby would always bind her heart to Kenny.
She cherished her memories of Kenny—and though that was well and good, he’d once been a mortal man. . .but Dylan knew he’d now be competing with saintly memories. That went over about as well as getting bucked off into a cactus patch. Nope. He shook his head. Partners. Brother and sister in Christ. That’s all he and Sondra would ever be.
Other than when she had the flu, she’d been bouncing around and getting into everything. Indigestion might be a bit of a nuisance, but overall, she’d never complained or shied away from doing anything. Leave it to a sassy woman like her to carry a kid with confidence. She didn’t want or need special considerations.
Just then, the baby moved, making the flowered fabric of her dress ripple in the most fascinating way. Dylan watched in silence. It was such an amazing sight. A little frog-catching, jackrabbit-chasing, cowlick-headed boy was inside of her. What a wonder!
Tension sang through every last inch of her. His eyes narrowed. “You’re awake.”
She let out a cry.
Ten
“Hey, settle down,” Dylan placated in a soft tone. “It’s just me. Everything’s okay. I brought some ice cream. Rocky road.”
Sondra wet her lips and nodded slowly. She sat on the far side of the bed, back pressed against the wall. Her eyes were huge.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Dylan realized aloud, “I spooked you. I’m sorry.”
“ ’S okay.”
“Not really. You look like you wanna scream. I’ll go dish up ice cream. Okay?” He headed for the kitchen and decided to have a bowl, too. A relaxed time together was just the ticket—and no one could get het-up mad while eating ice cream. He scooped out several hunks and created a mountain in each bowl.
“Dylan! What army is going to help me do that justice?”
He turned. “You’re on your own.” Grinning wasn’t hard. She’d run a comb through her hair so it fell in a fiery, bouncy fall past her shoulders. Her flowered dress looked springy and cool.
Self-consciously smoothing out a few wrinkles over her tummy, Sondra said, “I should have changed.”
“You look cuter than a bug’s ear. Come sit down.” Thumping the bowls onto the table, Dylan waggled his brows. “I brought your favorite.”
She sat, took up her spoon, and let out a small sigh of pleasure as she swallowed her first bite. A moment later, she frowned at her hand. “My ring’s getting tight.”
“Better take it off.”
She chewed on her lip and shrugged.
He wondered if it was already stuck. Forcing himself to not look at her hand took considerable self-control. He’d already blundered by giving his opinion about how she ought to take care of herself. A pregnant widow had every reason to want to keep on her wedding band. Still, she needed to be sensible. “When you’re ready, a little butter might make it slip off a bit easier.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I thought maybe bag balm would do the trick.”
He shot her a quirky smile. “Ma’am, you said it, I didn’t.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Dylan, I owe you an apology. I let my hormones and temper get ahead of me last night—”
“I owe you an apology,” he interrupted. He searched for the right words, “About the—”
“How about we both forget that unfortunate episode?”
He started to chuckle. “You’re not hearing me complain. Your revenge was mighty sweet.”
She smiled as she took a bite of ice cream.
He finally allowed himself to look at her left hand. “Ma’am, if your band gets much tighter, you’ll be in trouble—but then again, I’ve proven myself to be wholly ignorant regarding maternity and women, in general. I’ll have to beg your pardon if I get a mite jumpy about you. . .” He waved his spoon toward her tummy. “And all of this.”
“There’s nothing to fret about. Overall, I’ve been very lucky. Six weeks to go, and I’m feeling fine.” She looked pleased—though he wasn’t sure whether her relief came from the fact that she was so close to the end of being in a family way, or that they’d dropped the subject of her ring.
“When are you going to move into the city?”
Her spoon clattered to the table. “I’m not moving!”
“Oh, come on, Sondra! I wasn’t talking about you leaving permanently.”
“I’m staying right here.”
“You have to be closer to medical care for when the baby comes. No one’s gonna take that as abandonment. Other mothers-to-be do it. As a matter of fact, BobbyJo Lintz just came back home yesterday after having their kid.”