A Baby of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #1)(37)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Next to nil.”

Delaney released her breath. “That’s what I thought.”

“At least we understand each other.”

“In what way?”

“In the only way that matters. We’ve played the game by your rules up till now, but that’s about to change.”

He sounded like a stranger to her—an angry, unfathomable stranger. And he very nearly was one. “Listen,” she said. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“Right. Well, you might be really, really sorry, but sorry’s not going to cover something like this.”

“You have every right to be upset, but please know that I wasn’t trying to trap you into marriage, if that’s what you think. And I wasn’t planning to go after you for money—”

“Oh, no? Were you planning to go straight to my grandfather, instead?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Delaney said. “I’m not out to cause any trouble.”

“You’re definitely correct there, Miss Delaney from Jerome with the big family living on the farm with the fresh milk and all that other bullshit,” he said. “Because I plan to make sure of it. How much did Stephen pay you, anyway?”

“I don’t know any Stephen.”

“Of course not. It doesn’t matter, anyway. You’re going to stay out here at the ranch until you have that baby, then you’re going to turn it over to me and walk away. You got that? We’ll deal with this little problem my way.”

Terror shot through Delaney’s veins. Regardless of what she’d done in Boise, she should’ve realized the risks she was taking when she told Conner about the baby. “I won’t ever walk away from my baby,” she said. “That’s something you need to understand.”

“Well, we’ll see about that,” he said. “For now, just pack your bags as soon as the library closes for remodeling, and come on out.”

“I’m not going to stay with you out there in the middle of nowhere.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re already in the middle of nowhere. Or is that what you liked about me—did you think I’d be your ticket out?”

“I don’t want a ticket out! I’m staying right here.”

“Not there, exactly. You’re going to move to the ranch with me, or you won’t be able to live in this town for the scandal I’ll cause. Poor Aunt Millie and Uncle Ralph and your dear old friends won’t be able to hold up their heads in public when I’m finished with you.”

Delaney imagined the embarrassment Conner could heap on Aunt Millie’s already stooped shoulders because of her, and hesitated. Conner was angry—or maybe livid was a better word—but he’d calm down, and then he’d have to listen to her. She’d make him listen, convince him that she’d had no intention of involving him or his grandfather in her baby’s future. Convince him she wasn’t interested in his family’s money.

“Fine.” She relented. “I’ll fill in for Dottie until she gets back, but that’s all I can promise.”

“See you in two weeks, sweetheart,” he said, then the phone clicked in her ear.

She was still holding the receiver when Rebecca appeared at the end of the hallway, wearing a pair of boxers and a T-shirt.

“I thought that might be Buddy,” she said, her hair sticking out on all sides.

“No.” Delaney hung up and covered her face with her hands. What was she going to do?

“So who was it?” Rebecca asked.

“Conner.”

Delaney peeked through her fingers long enough to see Rebecca’s surprised expression. “What did he want?”

“He said I’d better move out to the ranch as soon as the library closes or all hell will break loose.”

Rebecca shook her head. “I told you that you should’ve stuck with the cancer story,” she grumbled, and shuffled back to bed.

Then Delaney called Aunt Millie to tell her the good news.

CHAPTER TWELVE

TWO WEEKS LATER, Delaney was on her way to the ranch. Encompassing most of two mountains and a good portion of the valley between, it looked beautiful with the green of spring. Yellow wildflowers waved on the hillsides and the trees were just regaining their leaves. But she hadn’t come to enjoy the scenery.

Slowing at the gate that led to the house, she wiped away the moisture on her lip, wondering how she could be sweating in forty-degree weather. She tossed a nervous glance at the suitcases she’d piled in the back seat. She had enough clothes in those bags to spend all of spring away from home, and probably summer, too, but she didn’t intend to stay with Conner any longer than it took to gain his confidence and cooperation. It was just that packing had been therapeutic—all those neat folds and familiar steps to and from her closet—so she’d gotten carried away.

As she turned into the rutted drive, she recognized the white pickup that had been parked in front of Aunt Millie’s house when she’d come to dinner on Easter Sunday, and wished she had the nerve to ram it. She’d always weighed her actions carefully, stifled the dramatic, avoided anything that would make her look bad, anything that would make others look bad, anything that would be hurtful or foolish or require an apology. Anything, in short, with even the slightest negative consequences. But she was tired of all that. For some reason, she wanted to throw the biggest tantrum anyone had ever seen. All she’d ever wanted was a baby of her own. She’d lived a good life, followed the Golden Rule, gone to church, sacrificed for the good of the community. Was one baby too much to ask?

Evidently it was. Since that night in Boise, everything had started rolling downhill and was only gathering speed. Now she was a hostage to her baby’s father. Judging by the cryptic message he’d left on her answering machine last night, saying she’d better report for work by eight o’clock sharp, Conner planned to make the most of whatever power he imagined he possessed.

If he thought he’d take her baby, however, he had another think coming! She put a hand to her belly. No one, no one, was going to stand between her and this child.

Delaney parked to the side so the other vehicles in the drive—an old Chevy Suburban and a brown pickup truck with the tailgate down—could still get past her. Shoving the gearshift into park, she got out and collected her luggage. She dragged all three pieces to the front step, then punched the doorbell about ten times without pause, feeling vaguely satisfied when Conner answered, looking harried and still in the process of buttoning his flannel shirt.