Fortune's Texas Surprise, page 20
Eventually her pets must have sensed she needed comforting. Violet, the Siamese, curled up by her side, while, Daisy, the yellow tabby, settled herself in Stephanie’s lap. Even Orville hopped over and snuggled his furry body next to her bare feet.
“Well, guys, at least you three love me. But it’s going to be awfully quiet around here without Linus and Acton.”
Violet let out a coarse meow and then another. Stephanie was stroking the cat and trying to blink away another stream of tears, when the doorbell rang.
The unexpected sound jolted her. Who could that be? Her brothers had left for the construction site earlier this morning and Becky and the twins were on their way to the pediatric center.
Easing away from the pets, Stephanie went to the front door and peeked out the peephole.
Acton!
Rain was dripping off the brim of his brown hat and the shoulders of his khaki Western shirt were splotched with wet spots. What was he doing here?
Her heart thumping fast, she opened the door and discovered her tongue had momentarily become glued to the roof of her mouth.
“Acton. What...why are you here?” she finally asked.
He gestured to the folded quilt and a plastic container jammed beneath one arm. “Your brothers told me you weren’t feeling well. I thought you might need a little TLC. This is my grandmother’s chicken soup and a favorite quilt of mine. It has dogs and cats on it, so I thought it might cheer you.”
None of what he was saying sounded like a man who wanted to end things, Stephanie thought. And when she looked into his eyes, she was mystified to see there was no anger or accusation flashing back at her. What did any of this mean?
Totally confused, she asked, “My brothers? You’ve talked to them?”
His smile took on a wry slant. “I have.”
She gestured for him to come in, and after he’d walked to the middle of the room, she shut the door and leaned her back against it.
“So you know that Linus is gone?” Even as she asked the question, fresh tears sprang to her eyes. She promptly dashed them away with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stop crying.”
“Yes, I know about Linus. I can only imagine the pain you’re feeling right now. I’m really sorry, Stephanie. I know how much you cared about Linus. To tell you the truth, I’m missing the little guy pretty bad myself, too.” He walked over to the window and placed the container of soup and the quilt on the table.
Questions swirled in Stephanie’s head as she moved slowly toward him. “It’s been awful, Acton. Just awful. Not just because I lost Linus, but...because I lost you.”
His expression solemn, he shook his head. “I messaged you yesterday asking if we could talk. You never responded.”
A few minutes after Faye Donovan had left the clinic, Stephanie had discovered Acton had sent a text message earlier that morning. Her first instinct had been to call him. But the timing had been all wrong.
She sighed. “I didn’t respond because I...had to go home—to pack up all of Linus’s things and get him ready to leave with his father. It wasn’t a good time for us to talk.”
Damn it. If only he’d known. He’d been a class A idiot. “I’m really sorry. I had no idea.” He’d stop kicking himself eventually. Maybe in a year. “And now?” he asked gently.
Fearing another burst of tears was about to flood her eyes, she turned and walked over to the opposite side of the room. Standing near the fireplace, she stared out the window at the falling rain.
“We do have a lot to talk about,” she said quietly.
At the sound of his footsteps, she glanced around to see him walking toward her and the look of yearning on his face caused her heart raced with anticipation and hope.
Stopping an arm’s length away from her, he said, “And the first thing I need to say is that I’m sorry. Truly sorry.”
Moisture filled her eyes as she met his gaze. “Oh, Acton, after we argued that day at Paws and Claws, and I’d had time to calm down and think more clearly I felt ashamed and guilty and stupid. Yes, I was knocked sideways over the news about Linus, but that was no excuse for shutting you out. And I’m sorry about that. You were right all along. Linus should be with his real father. That’s the most important thing.”
He moved a step closer and Stephanie was suddenly overwhelmed by his rugged face and familiar scent. She was going to have his baby and she wanted it, and him, more than she wanted anything in her life.
“You don’t need to apologize to me, Stephanie. I was the one who handled things badly. But that was because I wanted to be the one to comfort you—help you deal with losing Linus.”
“I realize that now. But that day I wasn’t thinking clearly, Acton. And then afterwards, when reality began to set in...well, I thought I’d blown everything between us.” Her gaze somberly searched his face. “I think...the big problem is that I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
“You haven’t? About what?”
“My feelings for you. I should have told you long before all of this happened with Linus that I love you. That I’ve been in love with you almost from the very start.”
A mixture of amazement and doubt washed over his face. “Love? You love me? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her gaze dropped to the pearl snap in the middle of his chest. “Because a guy like you—you’re not ready for marriage. And I was afraid it would make you run from me.”
“Who says I’m not ready?”
She looked guiltily up at him. “Well, most everyone who knows you has told me that you—”
“That I’m a playboy?” he interrupted with a frown. “That I don’t have a serious thought in my head? Well, they’re wrong, Stephanie. Maybe on the outside that’s what people think they see, but they don’t know what’s going on in here.” He tapped the region of his heart. “I’ve been committed to our relationship from the very beginning, Stephanie. I love you, too, sweetheart. More than you’ll ever know.”
Hope bubbled inside her, but before she could truly let her heart celebrate, she had to tell him about the baby.
Biting down on her lip, she carefully studied his face. “You say that now, Acton, but you might feel differently when I tell you the rest.”
Curious, he arched his eyebrows. “The rest? Your love comes with a condition?”
She smiled. Because when she thought about Acton’s baby, that’s the way it made her feel—happy. Oh, so happy.
“No. It comes with an addition. I’m pregnant, Acton. I’m going to have your baby.”
His eyes grew wide. “Pregnant? You, me... We’re going to have a baby?”
She nodded and, holding her breath, waited for his reaction.
It came with a smile that spread from ear to ear. “Oh, Stephanie! Wow! A baby for us! This is...amazing!”
“I realize it’s unexpected and I haven’t confirmed it with the doctor, but I’ve already taken a home-pregnancy test. And morning sickness is hitting me as soon as I lift my head off the pillow. I’m not sure how it happened exactly. But I think my pills are too weak, or you’re too virile. Take your pick.”
Suddenly he was laughing and hugging her tightly against him. “We’re going to have a baby and you love me. The only way I could be any happier is if you agree to be by my side for the rest of our lives.”
Leaning her head back, she smiled up at him. “Again, before I answer I have a condition.”
“Okay, lay it on me. I’m guessing you’re eventually going to want a giant wedding with twelve bridesmaids and me in a tuxedo.”
She laughed. “The wedding doesn’t have to be that big! As far as I’m concerned I’d be happy if we eloped to Las Vegas.”
His blue eyes twinkled. “Hey, now that’s a thought,” he said, then asked, “So what is the condition?”
“That we make our home on the Diamond D—in your grandparents’ farmhouse. Do you think you can make room for me, our baby and six more animals?”
Mystified, he gestured to their luxurious surroundings. “I can make room for all of you and more. But, Stephanie, what about this place? It’s so grand and—”
“Yes, it’s grand. But my home is with you—in the little house where we first made love. I want our children to be raised on the Diamond D, just like you.” Her smile was full of love. “And don’t worry about this place. My triplet sisters are planning to move to Rambling Rose soon to help with the restaurant. This part of the house will be perfect for them. And your house will be perfect for me. What do you think?”
“I came over here determined to fight for the woman I love. Now I’m thinking I’m the happiest man in the world.” Dropping his head, he placed a long, sweet kiss on her lips. “I want us to get engaged soon, Stephanie. As soon as I can find the perfect ring. What do you say?”
“I say yes!”
Cradling her face in his hands, he rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks. “I do have one important question, though,” he said. “Do you think Seymour and Grizabella will be willing to share their home with all your furry friends?”
Smiling cleverly, she brought her lips back to his. “Seymour and Grizabella will be glad to share. Remember, I can put special spells on animals.”
Groaning, he pulled her tightly into his arms. “Mmm. And you’ve put one on me that’s going to last a lifetime.”
* * *
Look for the next installment of the new continuity
The Fortunes of Texas: Rambling Rose
Don’t miss The Mayor’s Secret Fortune by USA TODAY bestselling author Judy Duarte
On sale March 2020, wherever Harlequin books and ebooks are sold.
And catch up with the previous Fortunes of Texas titles:
Fortune’s Fresh Start
by Michelle Major
Available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from For the Twins’ Sake by Melissa Senate.
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Prologue
Was that a baby crying?
Nah.
Noah Dawson turned over in bed and tried to go back to sleep, but he heard the sound again. A crying baby. Impossible on this isolated ranch in the Wyoming wilderness, but unmistakable. Yesterday, Noah had gone to Bear Ridge Groceries to stock up for the impending rainstorm that threatened flash flooding, and a woman in front of him on the long checkout line had had a baby in her shopping cart, wailing just like he was hearing now. A round of peekaboo had helped quiet the screecher. But, man, did he know a crying baby when he heard one.
Still, right now? He glanced at his phone on the bedside table—at 1:52 a.m.? He had to be hearing things. Dreaming. Imagining it.
“Waaaah!”
Noah sat up. The crying was getting louder—and coming through the window on the early April breeze.
Did he have a middle-of-the-night visitor and he’d missed the doorbell ringing or something? Did he even know anyone with a baby?
“Waaah-waaah!”
Noah bolted out of bed. That was a baby crying. And it was coming from just outside the window of his cabin, below which was the front porch. He grabbed his jeans from where he’d slung them over his desk chair, pulled them on and hurried downstairs.
The crying got louder. He pulled the front door open.
Then he looked down—and gasped.
A baby—a girl, guessing from the pink blanket covering most of her in an infant car seat, a white cotton cap on her head—was crying up a storm. A small black tote bag was beside the carrier.
What the hell? Who would leave a baby here? He glanced around for a car, for someone, anyone, but all he saw were the distant evergreens in the moonlight. The ranch was silent otherwise.
“Hello?” he called out, looking in every direction. No one. “Hello?” he shouted.
No response. No person. Nothing but the breeze through the trees.
How long has she been out here? he wondered as he snatched up the carrier and bag and brought them inside, his heart starting to pound, his brain trying to make some sort of sense of this. A baby. Left on his porch at two in the morning.
He set the carrier on the big wood coffee table in the living room. He carefully moved aside the blanket.
Whoa. Noah didn’t know much about babies, but this tiny creature had to be a newborn. He wouldn’t be surprised if the baby had been born today. That’s how small she was. Her pink footie pajamas were way too big for her little body.
Call the police. Call an ambulance. Call social services. So many thoughts ran through his head at once that he had to just stop, stand still and breathe.
He glanced out the window, the rain starting. Just drizzling now, but within ten to fifteen minutes the skies would open up. That was a problem. The ranch was forty minutes from town down some winding rural roads, and the storm was forecasted to quickly create flood conditions, which would come before anyone could safely reach the place. Doc Bakerton, who ran the clinic in Bear Ridge, had emergency hours, and his home was only a ten-minute drive from here. Noah could get the baby over to Bakerton’s faster and safer than an ambulance or the sheriff could get here, and he knew these country roads and where the river would rise the worst. He could get back.
Decision made: he’d take her over to Doc Bakerton’s place.
But right now, the baby was crying her head off. Should he comfort her for a few seconds? Noah had no idea what the hell to do. She let out another wail, and he shifted the blanket aside, not surprised she wasn’t even buckled in.
Hand under the neck, he told himself, lifting her out as carefully as he could. He held her alongside his arm, bracketed by his chest, not sure he was doing this right.
He touched a finger to her little cheek. She wasn’t cold or hot, and her color seemed okay.
A hot burst of anger swelled in his gut over whoever had left a newborn to the elements in the middle of the night. What if he hadn’t heard her crying at all? What if she’d been out there all night? In the middle of the Wyoming wilderness, a rainstorm about to pour down. Granted, the large front porch of his foreman’s cabin was covered on three sides as a point of refuge for future guests of the ranch to wait out any bad weather, but still.
He swayed his arms a bit, and the crying stopped. When the baby’s strangely colored eyes—a grayish blueish—closed, his anger dissipated some. The little face looked content, relaxed, the tiny chest rising and falling, rising and falling, the impossibly tiny bow lips giving a quirk.
Whose are you? he wondered. Why would anyone leave you here? The Dawson Family Guest Ranch wasn’t due to open for seven more weeks, on Memorial Day weekend, so the guest cabins were empty. And none of the small staff he’d hired lived on the property.
He glanced at the carrier and tote bag on the coffee table. Maybe there was a note. Or a birth certificate. Something.
He couldn’t reach the bag easily without putting the baby down, and he thought he should hold her a bit—why, exactly, he wasn’t entirely sure. To keep her warm? To comfort her? Make her feel connected to someone and something? His gaze caught on something small and white poking up from underneath the blanket in the car seat. He shoved the blanket aside.
So there was a note. Half a page. Scrawled, crudely, in black pen.
She’s your baby, Noah Dawson. Your responsibility. You won’t hear from me again.
Every cell in his body froze.
What?
My baby? he thought, the idea not penetrating.
Forget the police. Or social services. Until he could think, figure out who the mother was.
His baby? Seriously?
He grabbed the tote bag and rooted around inside it for a birth certificate or envelope or any kind of paperwork. Nothing but a baby bottle, a small container of formula and two tiny diapers.
The infant’s eyes opened just then, then drooped, opened, drooped, then closed again. There was something familiar about the little face, something in the expression, the eyes, that he couldn’t pin down. He knew that face. The baby’s mother, a woman he probably was with one night... Or maybe the little girl looked a bit like him?
Just get her to the doc, he told himself. Now.
He very gently laid her back down in the carrier, one little fist moving, the lips quirking again. He buckled the five-point harness and settled the blanket around her.
From the looks of her, all scrawny and tiny, tinier than your average baby, he was pretty sure she couldn’t be more than a few hours old. So her mother didn’t want to keep her and dropped her off right after giving birth? That hardly made sense. Mothers who’d just delivered a baby didn’t jump in cars and drop off their babies in the middle of the night. Unless they were desperate, maybe.
All he knew was that someone had left a baby on his doorstep. No knock, no explanation. No concern for the infant’s well-being.
No idea who that person could possibly be.
His baby? His brain wasn’t fully firing right now from the shock, but as he lifted the carrier he managed to think back nine months. It was the second week of April now. Who had he been involved with last July?
There were a few possibilities. One of whom he’d seen in passing just last week as he’d parked in front of the coffee shop in town. She certainly hadn’t been nine months pregnant.
