The doctor did, indeed, start her rounds early. And by 8:00 a.m., Sierra was sitting in the passenger seat of Deacon’s truck, on her way home.
She felt a little bit guilty that he’d driven all the way from Haven to Battle Mountain only to turn around and immediately drive her all the way back again, but he’d refused to even consider letting her make other arrangements. And when he pulled into her driveway, he didn’t just walk her to the door but insisted on seeing her inside, settling her on the sofa where he’d already set up a pillow and blanket. Then he made her tea and toast, handed her the remote control for the television and kissed her on the top of the head before heading off to the courthouse with a pointed reminder that she was to call him if she needed anything.
She sat on the sofa, cradling the mug of tea in her hands, her heart overflowing with gratitude for everything he’d done.
Had anyone else ever taken care of her like this?
Her mom, obviously, when she’d been little. And maybe Nick. She remembered her brother blending frozen fruit into smoothies for her when she’d had her wisdom teeth removed—and having to spoon the thick liquid into her mouth, because the dentist had forbidden sucking through a straw, which he told her would put too much strain on the stitches.
But she couldn’t recall anyone who wasn’t related to her ever going to such lengths. Apparently Mr. Columbia Law was a lot more than a hotshot lawyer with a handsome face and sexy body, and she was immensely grateful that they’d found their way to being friends.
After she ate her toast (or at least half of it) and drank her tea, she decided to close her eyes and have a quick nap. When she woke up, three hours later, she was feeling much more rested and even strong enough to venture upstairs to change the sheets on her bed—only to discover that Deacon had taken care of that, too. He’d even put clean towels in the bathroom.
It was going to be a very lucky woman who managed to snag that man someday, she acknowledged. His willingness to take care of menial chores around the house was the least of it, and if she felt just a twinge of regret that she couldn’t be that lucky woman, she was still grateful for his friendship.
She made her way back downstairs, ate the rest of her (now cold and hard) toast with another cup of tea, then fell asleep rewatching Bridgerton for the third time.
At the end of the day, Deacon stopped by to see how she was doing and to bring her some more soup. Minestrone. The day after that, he brought Remy to visit. And harvest vegetable soup. On the third day, she was standing at the stove when he arrived.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Making dinner.”
“But... I brought you soup.”
“Thank you,” she said, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “But I’m sick of soup. I want real food.”
“You should have told me that. I would have been happy to pick up whatever you wanted.”
“I am capable of putting a meal together.”
He came into the kitchen then and peered into the pan.
“Grilled cheese is real food?” he asked, sounding amused.
“Apparently I need to make a trip to the grocery store.”
“Make a list,” he said. “I’ll pick up what you need.”
“I need to take care of myself.”
“You’re just getting over the flu,” he reminded her. “You need to be careful not to overdo it.”
“I’m over the flu,” she said. “In fact, I’m going back to the office tomorrow and would like to pick up my dog to bring him home after work, if that’s okay.”
“Our dog,” he reminded her.
“Our dog,” she agreed. “And I’m more grateful than I can express for everything you’ve done, but I’m really fine now.”
“Okay,” he agreed. Then, “Any chance one of those sandwiches is for me?”
“That’s why there are two plates on the counter.”
He got out two bowls to divvy up the chicken and rice soup he’d brought, and they ate it along with the sandwiches.
After they’d finished the meal—Sierra managed half a sandwich and most of her soup—they tidied up the kitchen together. Deacon wanted Sierra to sit and rest, but she reminded him that she’d been resting for nearly five days already.
When she straightened up after bending to close the dishwasher door, she sucked in a breath and pressed a hand to the side of her belly.
Deacon was immediately there. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She smiled to reassure him. “I think... I felt the baby move.”
The worry on his face immediately eased.
“First time?” he guessed.
She nodded. “I’ve had these weird little flutters that I thought might be the baby, but this was different. This was a more distinct—oh.” She smiled again. “A definite kick.”
Then she took his hand and guided it to the same spot.
His eyes went wide, and she knew that he’d felt it, too.
“I guess you really do have a tiny human being in there.”
“Seeing him on the ultrasound didn’t convince you?”
“He looked like a baby, but that was still just an image on a screen. This is...”
She lifted her gaze when his words trailed off and suddenly realized that they were standing close, her hand on his hand on her belly.
Sierra knew that she should take a step back; put some distance between them. Instead, she stayed right where she was, her eyes locked with his.
“This is?” she prompted softly.
His response was barely more than a whisper, “Real.”
It certainly felt real to Sierra.
Not just real but right.
She leaned in, breaching the scant distance that separated them, and tipped her head back to touch her lips to his.
She was kissing him.
Deacon’s head was reeling over the fact even as her lips—so soft and sweet—moved against his. And while she might have taken him by surprise, he had no intention of letting this opportunity slip through his fingers. Though he knew there was at least one not-so-little reason that kissing Sierra was a bad idea—that being the slight (but growing) swell of her belly pressed against him—he didn’t ever want to stop.
His tongue touched the seam of her lips, then slipped between when they parted for him. A soft hum of approval sounded low in her throat and she lifted her hands to his shoulders, holding on to him as the kiss went on and on.
As she’d been the one to start it, he let her be the one to end it. She did so far too soon for his liking, pulling her mouth away from his and dropping her head against his chest.
She exhaled a regretful sigh. “We can’t do this.”
“It seems to me that we can—and were.”
She pulled out of his arms then and took a deliberate step back. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been giving you mixed signals.”
“You have,” he agreed. “But I’m happy to forget all the earlier signals and get back to the kissing.”
“Except that kissing is a slippery slope. And I’m not in any position to get involved in a personal relationship right now,” she continued her explanation.
“It seems to me that we already have a personal relationship.”
“And I’m grateful to you for your friendship.”
“Friendship is always a good starting point,” he agreed.
Sierra’s boss wanted her to ease back into work, so he didn’t assign her any court duty until a full week after she returned to the office following her bout with the flu. And her first assignment was First Appearance Court with Judge Graves. The overwhelming majority of cases were put over at First Appearance, which allowed the court to get through the docket quickly. Still, a two-page docket usually meant a mid-morning recess, but Judge Graves insisted on pushing through rather than take a break, and by the time court was finally adjourned, she was starving.
She’d lost three pounds when she was sick with the flu, but she’d gained them back fairly quickly—plus two more. Because now that her appetite had returned, she was eating regular healthy meals again—supplemented by more-than-occasional treats from Sweet Caroline’s (the salted caramel brownie was her new favorite) and ice cream from Scoops (always rocky road).
As her colleagues filtered toward the exit at the back of the courtroom, Sierra found an emergency granola bar in the side pocket of her briefcase, tore off the wrapper and took a big bite.
“Sierra?”
She froze, a strange feeling—almost like dread—washing over her.
Could it be...
No, she couldn’t imagine any circumstances that would have brought Eric Stikeman to Haven, Nevada.
But though she hadn’t heard his voice in more than seven months and he’d only spoken a single word—her name—she knew it was him.
She chewed quickly and swallowed before glancing over her shoulder to confirm that it was, indeed, her ex walking toward her.
He approached the prosecutor’s table, a half smile on his lips. “Of all the courtrooms in all the towns,” he mused.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” she said, discreetly brushing a crumb off her lapel. “What are you doing here?”
“A careless driving trial, if you can believe it.”
“You came all the way from Las Vegas to argue a case in traffic court?”
“The defendant is the daughter of one of my biggest clients. I couldn’t say no.”
“I guess not,” she agreed.
“What are you doing here?”
She tucked the remainder of her granola bar into her jacket pocket. “Working for the Haven district attorney.”
“Do you prosecute traffic violations?”
“Not usually,” she said. “Ron Harding handles most of those.” She gathered up her files and stuffed them into her briefcase. “Well, good luck with your trial.”
Eric took a step closer, ignoring the obvious cue that she was ready for this conversation to be over.
More than ready.
“I should have reached out to you, when I got back from—” he cleared his throat “—when I got back.”
“What would have been the point?” she wondered aloud. “We’d both said everything we needed to say.”
“Did I say I was sorry?”
“I think what you said was that you were sorry I didn’t tell you that I’d decided to meet you in San Francisco after all.”
“I know you were upset about what happened—and you have every reason to be,” he hastened to assure her. “But it was a mistake—an error in judgment—and I am sorry.”
“So noted.” She pushed her chair back from the table and rose to her feet.
Eric sucked in a breath. “You’re...pregnant?”
“Yep.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed a few times before he managed to speak again. “Jesus, Sierra—why didn’t you tell me?”
At another time, she might have enjoyed seeing the unflappable attorney so obviously and completely flapped. But that time had passed seven months earlier when she’d caught Eric with his pants down and Aubrey on her knees.
“I didn’t tell you, because it has nothing to do with you,” she said coolly.
“Are you saying...the baby’s not mine?”
“The baby is definitely not yours.”
He exhaled an audible sigh. “Thank God.”
“Don’t hold back,” she said dryly. “Tell me how you really feel.”
He had the grace to look chagrined. “It’s just that we never talked about having kids. And then, to see you now...pregnant...was a bit of a shock.”
“Instead of thanking God, you should probably thank the condom manufacturer.”
“Oh. Right.” He attempted a smile, but it was gone before it had fully formed. “Well, if you’re sure...”
“One hundred percent.”
“Then I guess the only thing left to do is wish you luck.”
“I don’t need luck,” she told him. “I’m going to be just fine.”
“I have no doubt,” he agreed. “And for what it’s worth... I’m sorry that I screwed everything up.”
She accepted his olive branch and offered one of her own. “I don’t know how long your trial is expected to last, but if you have time while you’re in town, you should try Jo’s Pizza.”
“Is it half as good as Grimaldi’s?” he asked, naming what had been their favorite pizza place in Vegas.
“No,” she told him. “It’s better.”
“Then I’m definitely going to have to check it out. Or maybe you and I could...” The question trailed off as she shook her head.
“No,” she said again. “There’s no way we’re going to share a pizza and conversation as if you didn’t screw around on me with one of my friends.”
His cheeks flushed. “You have to know it didn’t mean anything.”
“That only makes it worse,” she told him.
Turning toward the exit and discovering that Deacon was standing there, waiting for her, further compounded her humiliation.
“I thought you’d gone,” she said.
He studied her carefully neutral expression for a minute before responding. “I was going to head back to the office, then I realized it was past lunchtime, so I thought I’d see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat.”
“I definitely do,” she agreed. “I’m starving.”
“Jo’s?” he suggested.
She narrowed her gaze.
“You mentioned last night that you’d been craving it,” he reminded her.
He was right—she had mentioned it. Because she had been craving Jo’s Pizza, and she wasn’t going to let Eric’s unexpected appearance in town deprive her of it.
Deacon did her the courtesy of waiting until the server had taken their order before broaching the subject she knew had to be at the forefront of his mind.
“So...that was your ex?”
She nodded.
“Obviously he’s a lawyer, too.”
“We both worked at Bane & Associates,” she said. “I was in the criminal law division, Eric specialized in civil litigation.”
Deacon smiled his thanks to the server when she delivered their drinks, then turned his attention back to Sierra, obviously waiting for her to continue.
“You really want to hear the whole sordid story?”
“I think you need to tell someone,” he said. “I got the impression, during your brief exchange in the courtroom, that you’d been keeping some pretty intense emotions bottled up for a while.”
“I guess I have,” she admitted. “So I’ll tell you—but please cut me off at any point if you get bored.”
“You worked together at the same firm,” he said, prompting her to pick up where she left off.
She nodded again. “Practicing law in a big-city firm can be a cutthroat business, and I didn’t have a lot of close friends at Bane. Except for Aubrey. We worked a lot of cases together, which meant that we spent a lot of time together, and she was one of very few people who I confided in when I started dating Eric.
“Bane didn’t have an explicit nonfraternization policy, but they discouraged professional colleagues from getting personally involved. And while my relationship with Eric wasn’t a big secret, we were discreet.
“Anyway, after six months of dating, we moved in together. Actually, I gave up my apartment and moved in with him, which meant that when we broke up, I was the one who had to move out.
“But that was at the end. In the beginning, things were really good. We enjoyed spending time together—whether out with colleagues or friends or alone at home.”
She paused when the server delivered their pizza to the table. Deacon transferred a slice from the tray to her plate before taking one for himself. Between bites of pizza, she continued to fill in the details for him.
“We’d been living together for almost a year when Eric was invited to present at a law conference in San Francisco. It was a huge honor, but he hesitated to accept because he didn’t want to be away on our eighteen-month anniversary. He did ask me to go with him, but I already had a two-week trial on the books that conflicted with the conference dates.
“So I convinced him it was too great an opportunity to pass up, and he promised to put my name on the room registration in the hope that my trial would finish early and I could join him in San Francisco for a few days, at least.
“There were half a dozen associates from Bane who were at the conference, including Aubrey. She checked in with me every day, asking me about the trial, sharing information about the conference. And when my trial did, indeed, finish early, she encouraged me to book a flight to surprise Eric.
“‘Think about how romantic it will be, to celebrate your anniversary in San Francisco,’ she’d said. It did sound romantic, and I figured, after my big trial win, I deserved to steal a few days away.”
She lifted her glass to her lips and swallowed a mouthful of icy water, hoping it would cool the heat of embarrassment that she could feel spreading through her body.
“I think I can guess what happened next,” he said.
“I’m sure you can,” she agreed. “The worst part of the whole thing is that I actually apologized. I interrupted my boyfriend in bed with my friend, and I said sorry.”
It still stung to realize that not only had her supposed friend cheated with her boyfriend, but Aubrey had obviously set Sierra up to find them.
“Then I retreated to the lobby, determined to book an immediate flight back home, but I was shaking so much, I could hardly hold on to my phone. A few minutes later, Eric found me there, still shaking and crying, and tried to convince me to go back to his room so that we could talk. He actually thought I would go back to the room where I saw him...them...”
She blew out a breath. “Obviously I declined. And not very politely. Apparently I said a few words that you don’t often hear in the lobby of a Fairmont hotel, and so Eric went to reception to get another room.”
She managed a wry smile then. “All they had available was a deluxe balcony suite, but he handed over his credit card, and we went up to the suite to talk. Actually, he tried to convince me to understand that the scene I’d walked in on was really one of my own making, because I hadn’t given him a heads-up that I was coming to San Francisco.”
Deacon looked horrified. “He honestly said that?”
She nodded. “And expected me to take at least some responsibility for the situation so that we could forgive one another and move past the unfortunate indiscretion—all his words.”
“Please tell me that you told him to go back to his own room and screw himself.”
“Oh, I did. Several times.”
Deacon wiped his fingers on a paper napkin, then folded it on top of his empty plate. “And he’s really not the baby’s father?”
“The San Francisco fiasco was last September. The baby is due August twenty-second. Obviously this baby isn’t his.”
“I guess that’s good then,” he said.
“It’s very good,” she agreed.
He handed his credit card to the server, who brought a take-out box for the leftover pizza. A few minutes later, they walked out of the restaurant together.
Sierra blinked at the bright sunshine that greeted them, her mood instantly lifted.
“I think I love northern Nevada in the spring,” she said.
“There’s something to appreciate about every season here,” Deacon told her.
“Well, I’ll still be here for the beginning of summer,” she noted. “And maybe I’ll come back to visit in the fall.”
“Or...you could stay.”
She looked at him then, her heart filled with regret. “Haven’t we had this discussion already?”
“I know you think there isn’t any reason to stay after your contract is up,” he said, “but what if you had a reason? What if we got married?”
“There’s no point in asking what if, because I’m not going to marry you. I sincerely appreciate the white knight routine,” she said, because she did. “But I’m not a damsel in distress who needs to be rescued.”
“I know you’re not,” he agreed. “In fact, you are one of the most amazingly capable women I’ve ever known. But I grew up with a single mom, and I know the kind of struggles that she—”
“I’m not going to be a single mother, Deacon,” she interjected.
“I don’t understand,” he admitted.
“My responsibilities with respect to the baby will be over as soon as he’s born.”
Deacon’s brows drew together as he attempted to decipher the meaning of her words. “Are you telling me...are you giving your baby up for adoption?”
Sierra shook her head. “I’m telling you that he’s not my baby.”