A Baby of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #1)(28)
Author: Brenda Novak

He frowned, remembering their conversation in the bar, when he’d mentioned birth control. “You don’t have to worry about that,” she’d said. And they hadn’t. But what if…

That was crazy, he decided, slinging an arm over the steering wheel as he drove. If she’d purposely gotten herself pregnant in hopes of coming after him for money, why hadn’t she contacted him by now?

He let his breath go in a long sigh. Maybe he didn’t want to know what Delaney Lawson was all about. Maybe he’d be better off heading back to the ranch and minding his own business.

But he didn’t turn around. The library was on his right, and an old Volvo still sat in the lot.

He pulled into the alley that ran along the back of the building and parked where he could watch the front door. Then he cranked the heater and folded his arms to wait. If she didn’t come out in the next ten minutes, he’d go home and let the future take care of itself. But one minute ticked on to the next, and he was still there after half an hour.

Did he want to go in? Would he be sorry if he did?

Sitting in the cold certainly wasn’t doing him any good.

He got out and slammed the truck door, then walked through the patchy snow to the entrance. A placard in the window said the library closed at eight on Wednesdays, which was nearly two hours ago. But when he tried the door, he found it unlocked.

THE LIBRARY HAD ALWAYS BEEN Delaney’s safe haven, even when she was a child, and it still was. Between Aunt Millie muttering “What’s this world coming to?” and “Just when you thought you knew someone,” and Uncle Ralph closing himself in his bedroom until she left, she couldn’t visit her childhood home. With Rebecca insisting she shouldn’t tell Conner about the baby, that he’d probably leave town, anyway—haranguing her on the subject—she didn’t feel like going back to her own house, either. And then there was her fear of running into him before she could decide what to do. With all of that, she’d rather just stay at work. She wanted to hide out in the peace and quiet of the library for the rest of her pregnancy. Especially now that Mrs. Minike, her most devoted volunteer, had gone home.

Stretching out on the floor in one of the wider aisles, she turned to the books she’d piled next to her, hoping to distract herself from her worries, if for only a few minutes. She’d been so overwhelmed by the negative consequences of what she’d done, she’d scarcely had time to consider the positive—the fact that she was actually going to have a baby.

She gazed down at the cover of Your Pregnancy Week by Week, entranced by the photograph of a fetus in its mother’s womb. What a miracle! She traced the baby’s tiny fingers and toes, marveling at the absolute perfection.

Page One started from the beginning and showed a picture of a sperm penetrating an egg.

One Month: What’s happening

This week—or sometime soon—the momentous meeting takes place: the sperm breaks through the egg and fertilization occurs. A baby is in the making!

That had already happened to her. She thumbed ahead to see what was coming next and couldn’t help smiling at the words and illustrations. The fetus grew fingernails during week eleven, kicked for the first time in week nineteen and could laugh at three months—

“Hello? Anyone here? Delaney?”

Quickly shoving her books beneath a nearby cart, Delaney sprang to her feet, her heart beating wildly. She knew that voice. It had been over six weeks since she’d heard Conner speak, but she would’ve recognized his baritone anywhere.

“The library closed at eight,” she called, to buy herself a few precious seconds. What was she going to do? What was she going to say? She double-checked to make sure the books she’d been reading were well out of sight, then hovered there in indecision.

“Delaney? Can I talk to you? It’s Conner Armstrong.”

Biting her lip, she forced herself to start toward the front desk. She had no choice. She had to deal with this situation, and she had to do it now.

When she emerged from the stacks and saw him standing there, wearing a heavy coat, jeans and boots, she felt apprehension—and a sudden, undeniable excitement. That excitement seemed to bubble up from the part of her that didn’t know this sudden appearance was a catastrophe, the part of her that clung to the memories of their time together and knew it had been special.

He looked good. Better than ever. Somehow, just seeing him evoked every wicked sensation she’d experienced at his hands. But he wasn’t smiling. Suspicion marked his features, making him seem more like the Conner she’d spoken to at the bar than the one she’d known in his room.

“Rebecca told me you were in town,” she said.

“I thought she might, although I’m sure that came as no surprise to you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The fact that I’m here in Dundee, that I live at the ranch. That couldn’t have been a surprise. You knew I was Clive Armstrong’s grandson, right? That’s why you intercepted me in Boise, why you never asked anything about me.”

She’d picked him up because, in that setting, he was the obvious choice, and she hadn’t asked anything about him because she hadn’t wanted to know. She’d been afraid that knowing him would make him too hard to forget, and she was right. She might not have heard his hopes and dreams, where he came from or where he was going. But she’d learned other details that were just as significant—how he liked to be touched; the tenderness and caring he hid behind a façade of indifference, the security he offered when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close while he slept.

“I had no idea who you were when we met in that bar,” she said. “I intercepted you because…because you seemed the type who might—”

“Be an easy mark?”

Delaney winced at the accusation in his tone. “I wanted a one-night stand and you were there.”

“If it was that simple, why all the lies?”

Feeling her neck and cheeks warm with embarrassment as she recalled the make-believe childhood she’d created for his benefit, Delaney managed a brittle smile. Inside all those lies she’d actually revealed her heart, the real Delaney. But he wouldn’t realize that. She didn’t want him to. She showed others the Delaney they wanted to see, the one she knew they’d accept.

“I’m sorry about that. Really I am.”

His brows lifted. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say? I’m sorry?”