Montana Homecoming (The Wildes of Birch Bay Book 6) Page 2

  “You’re pregnant?” The question, coming from behind, made her realize that Cord hadn’t followed her into the road.

  She turned back. “I am.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say any more. Not just yet. But as he stood there, the look on his face indicating that he saw her condition as more disease than miracle of life, she found herself with tears suddenly filling her eyes.

  That made him move. “Are you okay?”

  He hurried toward her, and she took two steps back, not wanting to be near him. But as she did, one of her feet slipped. She flailed, fear instantly corkscrewing through her, but Cord stopped her from falling by locking one hand around her bicep.

  Heart pounding, she stared up at him. She hadn’t fallen. She hadn’t hurt the baby.

  Her next thought was that Cord didn’t look horrified any longer. Now he looked terrified.

  Was something wrong that she hadn’t realized? Had she hurt the baby, after all?

  She looked down at herself, taking in Cord’s hand still clasped tightly around her arm before sweeping her gaze over the rest of her body. She seemed exactly as she had before she’d run off the road. Before she’d looked up and found Cord Wilde staring in through her window at her.

  She hadn’t fallen, she repeated to herself. She hadn’t hurt the baby.

  Her pregnancy was textbook, and her son was exactly where he should be at seven and a half months. There were no signs her delivery would be anything but normal.

  As the words calmed her, she pushed at his hand. “I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”

  He didn’t let go. “You’re crying.” His voice was deep.

  More tears leaked out, and she swiped at them now. “Pregnant women cry. Sue me.”

  His hand remained firm around her arm as he lowered his gaze and took in the fullness of her stomach. He stared at her for a long moment, his breath seeming to be caught in his lungs, before he brought his gaze back up to hers.

  Panic flashed through his eyes.

  And then . . . anger?

  Before she could process why he might be angry, all emotion cleared from his face. “You just wrecked.” His tone went professional. “You could have an injury that isn’t visible. You could be in labor. I need to get you to the hospital.”

  They stood alone in the middle of the road, snow swirling around them, the streetlights casting an eerie glow down over them, and it finally sunk in that he hadn’t put two and two together. He didn’t yet realize this baby was his.

  “I don’t need to go to the hospital,” she assured him. She tugged at her arm again, but his clamp remained tight.

  “Yes, you do. You need to be put on monitors. You could already be in labor.”

  She snort-laughed at that. “If only. I’m weeks away from delivering, Cord. I promise.”

  Disbelief slashed the line of his mouth, and he looked her up and down again. “Come on, Maggie. That can’t possibly be true. You look—”

  Her hackles went up. “I look what? Fat?”

  Her brows lifted as she stared at him. She knew exactly what she looked like. She looked like she should have given birth at least two weeks before. From what she could tell, she was due to pop out the next NFL offensive lineman in exactly six weeks, and the child would likely enter the world ready to suit up and take the field.

  “No. I just mean . . .” Cord seemed at a sudden loss for words.

  “I know exactly what you meant. I’m huge. It’s a side effect of having a baby, didn’t you know? Just like the tears.” She was tired of standing out in the cold. If he intended to help her, then it was time he got to it. “Can we go to the house now?”

  “I’d rather take you to the hospital.”

  “Well, I’m not going.” She stuck out her chin. “You either take me to the house or you drive away and leave me standing here.”

  She didn’t know a whole lot about him, but she did know enough to understand that there was zero chance he’d leave her standing in the snow. Even while not knowing that the baby she carried was his. And that’s because as a teenager, he’d once come upon his mother after she’d wrecked. She’d died before the paramedics could get to her, and all the while Cord hadn’t even known she’d been seriously injured.

  Maggie had heard that story as a teen. Cord had been sixteen at the time, her thirteen. And given she was also now good friends with one of his sisters-in-law and with another soon-to-be sister-in-law, she’d also heard Cord’s name mentioned more than once in the last year and a half.

  He took care of people; that’s what he did. He’d gotten a medical degree and moved to Billings, and though for a long time he’d rarely come home, he now made regular visits. And he did that because his father had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. Because back in the spring, in the middle of a medically induced hallucination, his dad had driven a tractor headfirst into a tree.

  Max Wilde had lost a leg that day, and Cord, the son with the medical degree, had taken responsibility for his care personally. He didn’t do things like leave people standing in the middle of a snowstorm.

  Cord finally nodded. “I’ll take you to the house.”

  He kept a hold on her as he led her to his truck, and she scowled down at where his arm now looped through hers. She didn’t comment on it, though. Because the reality was that her center of gravity was so far off that while in the snow, she’d much prefer a helping hand. She just wasn’t about to tell him that.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” she grumbled as they made their way to the truck. She’d been told he wasn’t coming in that weekend. And she’d been told that because she’d specifically asked. Because if he had been planning to come in this weekend, she wouldn’t have gone to visit her parents the day before. Instead, she would have shown up unannounced at Cord’s family Thanksgiving, and then she would have confronted him, making it impossible for him to ignore her yet again.

  “I came in to check on Dad,” he muttered. “Nate called.”

  That’s all he said, but it told her enough. There was something he was worried about. He’d checked on his dad multiple times the weekend they’d gotten together. Max had just gone into the rehab facility after he’d lost his leg.

  They reached the truck, and as he opened the passenger door, an annoying reality slammed into her. She sighed. She wouldn’t be able to get in by herself. Not even if it hadn’t been snowing. She couldn’t possibly stretch one leg up far enough to hoist herself into that cab. At least, not without falling over backward.

  Cord read the situation correctly, and with no more warning than a brief, but direct glance into her eyes and an annoyed slant to his mouth, he gripped her under both arms. The ground left her feet and she found herself hoisted up and plopped down on the seat before him. With her legs now dangling out the side of the truck, she suddenly found herself light-headed.

  “Well,” she murmured. She dragged her eyes off the brick-hard line of his jaw and looked around the spotless cab of the Chevy. “That’s one way to do it, I suppose.”

  Scooting back as gracefully as she could manage, she pulled her legs into the truck and turned to face the windshield. However, instead of closing the door, Cord just stood there. When she peeked back at him, she found that he’d once again lowered his eyes to stare at her stomach. And as he continued to study her, her anger reappeared.

  She hadn’t seen the man since that weekend in April. She’d found out she was pregnant about five weeks after that, and it had seemed the honorable thing to let the father know. What hadn’t seemed honorable, she’d decided at the time, was to do it over a text. Therefore, she’d sent a message and asked him to call. And he’d ignored her.

  She seethed in memory. She’d reached out again a month later, more insistent that time via both text and by leaving a voice message, stating that she needed to talk to him. He’d responded, promising to call.

  He hadn’t.

  And now here he was, staring at her, no doubt clueing i
nto the situation himself, and given the stony hardness of his features, he was about to lay into her for not letting him know about the baby beforehand. And she was fully prepared to give it right back. Because she wasn’t the one who’d been ignoring him for months!

  Cold eyes rose back up to meet hers, the light blue of the irises as striking as always, but instead of laying into her, his words stupefied her. “Shouldn’t the baby’s father be the one you call instead of your brother?”

  Her jaw dropped open. “The father?” Good Lord, the man was dense.

  She continued to gape at him as if he weren’t capable of filling out an application for medical school, much less the intensive years of studying to become an MD. How could he have not figured this out? He knew how these things worked.

  The man had given her the best weekend of her life. He’d knocked her up in doing so. And it apparently would never cross his egotistical mind that those two things might possibly be related. How had she ever thought he was someone she’d wanted to be with?

  “Just take me to the house.” She shoved at his chest, done with him being in her face. “The sooner I can make that call and get away from you the better.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  He closed the door before she could say anything else, his gaze capturing hers briefly through the glass of the window, then with long strides, he rounded the front of the truck. Climbing in, he started the engine, immediately turned the heat to high, and without another word, pulled out onto the road.

  Chapter Two

  Cord did his best to ignore Maggie as he drove. He had less than a mile to go, and he couldn’t get there fast enough. Why he was so ticked, he couldn’t say. But the fact remained.

  He’d been with her for one weekend. And what a weekend it had been. But when she’d proclaimed that she hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, he’d believed her. Not that it mattered. He never expected women to be celibate. Just like he wasn’t. But something about how she’d said that to him, just before he’d entered her for the first time . . . He’d let himself like knowing that.

  But what the heck? Clearly, she’d been lying. As she clearly still was. Because no way did she have weeks left before her due date. She’d obviously been with someone else, and only a short time before him. She had to be due any day now. He’d guess a week at the most.

  His teeth ground together. He hated liars.

  And he hated how much he’d enjoyed that damned weekend.

  What he didn’t hate, though, was that there was no way that baby could be his. And that had been his first thought. But aside from the fact they’d used protection religiously, he just couldn’t believe she wasn’t ready to deliver. He also couldn’t let go of the fact that he should be taking her to a hospital right now instead of going in the opposite direction. If only to confirm her declaration that she was fine.

  “I got a signal.” Her words were spoken so softly he assumed she was talking to herself. From the corner of his eye, Cord watched her hold her phone out in front of her, the screen glowing bright.

  “Good. Make the call.”

  Her entire body tensed, and he sensed her continuing anger. But he didn’t care what she felt. In fact, he didn’t care if she felt anything at all. He just wanted her gone. He just wanted to get on with this forced vacation and get back to his life.

  “Crap,” Maggie murmured a minute later. “It won’t go through.”

  “Try again.”

  “You think?” Sarcasm dripped heavy from her words. “Do you really think I need you to tell me that, Cord?”

  He gave a shrug meant to annoy. “I don’t know what you need. And even telling me still doesn’t mean I’d know, does it? People lie.” He glanced at her, making sure his glare wasn’t missed.

  She glared back. “What are you insinuating?”

  “I’m not insinuating anything. Make the call.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t lift the phone back to her ear. “What do you think I’m lying about?”

  “I never said I think you’re lying. I just said that some people do lie.”

  He went back to focusing on the road, knowing his behavior was beyond childish, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Seeing her pregnant had annoyed him an absurd amount.

  After several seconds of what was likely more glaring being fired his way, Maggie went back to trying to get a call to go through. The driveway was within sight now, and since the house phone had never been disconnected, even throughout the renovations, there was really no need to keep trying. He’d have her to a working phone within minutes.

  Neither of them pointed that out, though.

  He kept slowly making his way through the piling snow, and this time, a millisecond before a sigh sounded in the cab of the truck, he heard the “unable to complete the call” message. He gave no indication he’d heard it, and when her hand lowered, he tossed a questioning glance her way. “I guess I was right, then.”

  Steam practically leaked from her ears. “Right about what?” She straightened and held her phone up between them. “I tried to call. Did you miss that? It isn’t going through.” Her voice rose with each word. “Why would I lie about making a phone call?”

  “Why would you lie about anything?”

  “I don’t lie!” Her breaths came out hard and fast then, and one hand went to her stomach.

  Shit. What was he doing? He went instantly into professional mode.

  His gaze raked over her, taking in everything from head to toe. Her water hadn’t broken, as far as he could tell, but that didn’t always mean a woman wasn’t in labor. And he hadn’t been kidding before. She could be in labor and just not be aware of it. Adrenaline had a way of hiding things.

  He needed to quit being a dick.

  “Are you sure you feel okay, Maggie?” He kept his focus split between her and the road. “No pains? No contractions?” It would take only a minute to turn the truck around and head toward the hospital. He shouldn’t have let her convince him otherwise in the first place.

  The questions seemed to catch her off guard, and the tension seeped from her shoulders. She leaned back against the seat. And as had happened while she’d been standing in the middle of the road, tears once again sprang to her eyes.

  “Damn it,” he muttered. That was it. He was taking her to the hospital.

  “No.” She held up a hand, the word being choked off with tears. “No pain. No contractions. I only ran off the road. I didn’t hurt anything but my ego.”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  They were at the driveway to the house now, and he didn’t hesitate. He turned in and immediately shifted into reverse. A gloved hand touched his forearm before he could start the vehicle moving backward, and he jerked his gaze to hers.

  “I’m fine.” Her soft proclamation came out sounding sad. “I promise. I’m crying simply because all these emotions have to go somewhere. If I can’t yell right now, then I have to cry. And I can’t yell at you for asking if I’m okay.”

  He stared through the darkness, unsure whether to trust that she was really okay. Things weren’t always as they seemed from the outside. After raking his gaze over her yet again, he took in the curve of her cheek and the slight downturn of her lips. The glow from the moon reflecting off the snow provided the only light in the cab, and the space suddenly felt too intimate. It reminded him of sitting on the floor in her living room, the roar of the fire in front of them. Them laughing, playing cards, making smores by use of that very fireplace.

  All the fight drained out of him.

  “Maggie,” he started, but he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know why they’d been arguing to begin with.

  Just because they’d had that weekend . . .

  Just because he’d liked thinking she hadn’t been with anyone in a long while . . .

  Eyes he knew to be a mix of pale green and gray peered back at him, and he had no clue if his read on things was correct, but it felt as if her look
held hope. Only . . . hope for what? For whatever future lay ahead for her and her baby?

  Or was it simply memory of a really nice weekend staring back at him?

  Those two nights back in April hadn’t been like others. At least, it hadn’t for him. It hadn’t just been about the sex. That wasn’t to say there hadn’t been a lot of sex. And a lot of really good sex. Because dang, she was hot. And as bold in bed as out of it. And adventurous. And just so darned fun to be around.

  But he’d been in a weird place that weekend. Worried about his dad. Wishing he could somehow be both here but not have to leave his home several hours away, at the same time. She’d been just what he needed.

  In between the rounds of sex, they’d talked. Not about anything in particular for the most part. Work, general day-to-day stuff. But he had shared a couple of thoughts about his dad. And because he had, because the time with her had put him so at ease that he’d confessed feelings he’d normally never speak to anyone, he’d shed some of the stress he’d been carrying. The weekend had relieved him when he’d been so concerned about his father, and he’d wanted more of it. He’d wanted more of the normalcy of all of it.

  That’s why he hadn’t called her back over the summer. Because he’d been afraid talking to her would make him want to see her again. And then he might want to see her even yet again.

  He put the truck into park as he sat there. He shouldn’t have said he’d call her. He knew that. He’d done it to protect himself. To get her to back off. Because he knew that “they” could never be. And the last thing he’d wanted was to get either of their hopes up.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, Maggie.”

  A vat of silence sat between them. “You’re not sorry.”