“You are ruining my schedule,” Evan griped as Lachlan stripped out of his scrub shirt and pulled on a T-shirt in preparation to head to Marisol’s appointment late the next morning. “We’re going to end up working after hours, aren’t we?”
“Well, I will, with the Johnsons being okay with me cleaning Flick’s teeth at the end of the day instead of now.” It was the second day in a row he’d had to ask Evan to do some last-minute switching, and the guy had been grumbling all morning because of it. It wasn’t a habit Lach wanted to get into—he wanted to be an asset to Maggie, not a hindrance—but today was a special situation. “Head out at your usual time, though. I can shut everything down and lock up.”
Evan placed a protective hand on the computer monitor. “Risk you messing up Lucille? That’s a big no. I’ll stay. Deon and I can kick our dinner plans out a little. But only because this is monumental for you.” His cheeks reddened. “And because I played a tiny part in keeping Marisol’s message from finding you.”
Lachlan held out a finger and thumb with a fraction of space between them.
Evan winced. “Sorry.”
“Enh, it was as much technology—and me—as you. And that aside, I still hate messing up the schedule.”
Evan’s sigh fluttered the papers on the new-patient clipboard sitting on top of the desk. “If it’s a boy, you can name him Evan in honor of all the crap I put up with.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Lach shook his head and put on his bike helmet. The veterinary clinic was a mile out from the town center where Marisol’s doctor’s office was located, an easy trip on his road bike.
The sun beat on his forearms and wind whistled in his ears, waking him up a little. He made a habit of never watching the clock whenever he struggled to fall asleep, but there had been a definite sunrise glow around the curtains before he’d managed to nod off last night. This morning, rather. Ugh.
His thoughts had flitted around faster than a hummingbird. He hadn’t been able to settle on how he felt. He loved kids. And screw following his parents’ pitiful example.
But aside from the sheer shock of learning he was going to be a father, it was the mother of his child who had him tied in knots. Marisol wanted to be platonic? How the hell was he supposed to manage that? He’d been infatuated with her since the moment they hooked up.
He’d met her while sharing nachos with his SAR buddies at the end of a long day on the hill. She’d been ski-rumpled and adorable, and had pulled him in with jokes about hockey and an encyclopedic knowledge of dogs. And man, there was nothing better than colored Christmas tree lights picking up the green in her eyes, or splashing a rainbow glow on her golden-brown skin. For the rest of her vacation, she’d spent more time in his bed than on the mountain.
With some permanent repercussions.
Gripping the handlebars, he gulped warm, early-summer air into his lungs. It was more than a roll or ten between the sheets. I cared about her.
He had. Still did.
And the baby... God, he would love the kid.
Could love Marisol, too, but she clearly didn’t want that. And he’d meant what he said—he wouldn’t convince her otherwise. He’d keep his feelings out of it. Doing his job sometimes meant having to compartmentalize for the sake of being objective. He’d have to do that with Marisol. Jam the emotions down deep.
Yeah, ’cause that’s healthy.
Maybe not. But necessary.
He locked his bike, shoved his helmet in his backpack and pushed through the doors of the Sutter Creek Medical Clinic.
The waiting room was half-full—he nodded at the owner of a Siamese patient of Maggie’s and at one of the local ranchers, who smiled knowingly. But Marisol wasn’t there.
He scanned the room again, wiping his damp palms on his thin cargo shorts.
“Head to exam room three, Lachlan.” The receptionist, a high school classmate of his oldest sister’s, pointed to a hallway. “Dr. Matsuda took your partner in about ten minutes ago.”
The announcement tripped him up. “What?”
Sympathy crossed her face. “It’s okay. You probably haven’t missed much.”
He was late? How? He checked his watch. Eleven thirty-five, and Marisol had told him her appointment was at eleven forty. His gut rolled, and he hustled toward the corridor.
Knocking on the door labeled Three, he waited to be let in. The door swung open, and Caleb Matsuda’s smiling face greeted him.
“Hey, doc,” Lachlan said.
“Reid. Congratulations. Marisol tells me this was a bit of a surprise.” The doctor, a few years older than Lachlan’s thirty-three, ran a hand through his short, dark hair and clapped Lach on the shoulder with the other as they stood in the entryway.
“Uh, yeah...” He didn’t want to throw Marisol under the bus—with her moving to Sutter Creek, it would be crappy if her decision not to tell him about the baby right away clouded people’s opinions of her. He wished things hadn’t played out the way they had, but he also didn’t want her to have any reason not to like living here, or for the local contingent not to accept her. Then again, Caleb was a recent transplant himself. He probably understood the ins and outs of adjusting to small-town life better than most. “We’re figuring things out, though.”
“You’ll do great.”
“I hope I haven’t missed much of the appointment. Didn’t think I’d be late.”
“Thanks for understanding. Garnet and I are heading out camping for a few days—and we can use any head start we can get.”
Lachlan had become good friends with Caleb in the last six months—the doctor was madly in love with one of the women Lachlan volunteered with on the county search and rescue team. Come to think of it, the doctor had a shared history with Marisol’s brother, too. They’d been involved in an avalanche a couple of years back.
He motioned between Caleb and Marisol. “I guess you two know each other because of the...uh...” He never was sure whether Caleb felt like talking about the tragedy. The guy was open about his PTSD, but bringing it up still made Lachlan’s gut twist.
“Yeah, Marisol was in Whistler after the slide,” Caleb said calmly, waving Lach into the room. “We’ve met a few times. And I’ll be honest, I’m still getting used to treating people I consider friends, but it’s not a conflict of interest or anything, so let’s just keep things casual, okay?”
“You got it,” Lachlan said.
“Marisol and I have just been going through her history,” Caleb said. “Saved the good stuff for you.”
“Oh.” Caleb probably assumed Lachlan knew Marisol’s medical information. So not the case. Hell, he hadn’t even known she’d been married before. And he didn’t feel like admitting his ignorance. If Caleb brought anything up that would make Lachlan’s lack of knowledge obvious, he’d just have to fake it. Breathing in resolve, he scooted around the doctor to get his first look at Marisol, half reclined on the exam table in her street clothes. The pink of her short-sleeved T-shirt highlighted the healthy glow in her cheeks. His chest tightened. Damn, she was beautiful.
“I texted you,” she murmured.
“Phone’s in my bag. I biked over.”
The quick swing from thinking he’d let her down to realizing he hadn’t added to the magnitude of walking into a doctor’s office for a freaking prenatal appointment weakened his knees. He sat down in the chair next to the exam table with a thud.
He swallowed, fighting the sudden onset of dry tongue.
Marisol rolled to her side and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. Warmth spread from her palm. Oh, man, he enjoyed her touch too much.
“You’ll get used to it,” she said. “Appointments become boring after a while.”
“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”
Uncertainty crossed her face, a hint of pleasure covered by a whole lot of will to resist it. At the endearment? At his wonderment? Who knew?
Her expression blanked as quickly as it had slipped. She withdrew her hand and refocused on Caleb, who was typing something into the computer attached to the counter. “You saw my blood pressure history?”
“I did. Your doctor in Vancouver included a record.” Caleb cleared his throat. “It’s something to watch. The family medicine team here is well prepared to provide care and to ensure your pregnancy remains uncomplicated, and I know you want to stay local for your appointments and delivery. But if complications pop up, we may need to refer you to an ob-gyn in Bozeman.”
Both Marisol and Caleb glanced at Lachlan. Crap, he was breathing too fast. Noticeably so. He forced a shrug. “Complications. Not a pleasant word to hear.”
“Perils of being in a medical profession.” Caleb’s nod was sympathetic beyond usual bedside manner. “Being a vet tech, you know too many ways that conditions can go sideways. Even if the chances are low.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’d lie down in the road for my patients. But there’s a big difference between Mrs. Rafferty’s cat and Marisol.”
“I dunno,” Marisol said lightly. “That cat was pretty cute.”
“You’re more than cute. And our baby...”
Biting the inside of her lip, she studied her hands. A hint of red colored Caleb’s tawny cheeks, and his smile went mushy.
Well, crap. Way to stay objective, Reid.
Was he really being fair to himself, though? He could bury his feelings for Marisol, but not for the baby. And given they were intrinsically tied through gestation... Damn. How was he going to do this?
He fisted his hands. He’d have to. For her to trust him, he had to stick to his word. And he’d promised to respect her limits.
Focus on the science. On finding a way to coax out answers on Marisol’s blood pressure without giving away that he knew nothing about her medical history.
“What’s the probability of her numbers worsening?” he asked.
Caleb shrugged and wrapped a cuff around Marisol’s arm, then studied the display as the electronic device inflated, then deflated. “They’re not in the danger zone right now. And it’s not something we can predict. Home monitoring, regular appointments to check for protein in the urine, exercise, a balanced diet—hopefully we never get to the point of doing more.”
Lachlan’s heart skipped a beat. If something happened to Marisol or the baby... This was too much to process, learning about the baby a day ago and now having to contemplate complications—
“Lach.” Marisol cut off his thoughts. “I’m healthy. So’s the kid. I’m taking care of things.”
“I know.” He screwed his mouth up. How to say the right thing... “I just want to help where I can.”
Clearing his throat, Caleb effectively broke the tension in the room. “Have you heard the heartbeat yet, Lach?”
He shook his head. No pretending on that one.
Caleb brought over a fetal Doppler and applied gel to the wand. Marisol scooched up her T-shirt. One swipe of the device, one faint, rapid lub-dub, and Lachlan was a goner. His jaw went loose, and he stared at Marisol’s bared belly, the rhythmic beat of their child’s heart filling the room. Filling his soul.
“One-forty-two. Nice and strong.” Caleb withdrew the wand and handed Marisol a small towel. He gripped Lachlan’s shoulder for a second. “Take a minute if you need it. And make an appointment for two weeks from now, Marisol.”
“You got it,” she said, cleaning the gel off her belly.
Good thing Caleb had addressed Marisol, because Lachlan couldn’t make his voice work. He’d have to text his friend to have a good camping trip later. Wow. He would not have predicted he’d react this strongly—he listened to heartbeats on an hourly basis at work, would have expected to be at least a little desensitized. Apparently not.
Caleb left the room with a smile and a wave.
Marisol fixed her T-shirt and sat up, legs dangling off the high bed. She patted the table next to her, crinkling the paper. “Come here. Baby’s moving. You should feel it.”
He hitched himself from the chair to the space next to her, and braced a hand on the table so he could reach across and palm her stomach.
A little pop tickled his palm.
His heart skipped again.
“It’s okay to be affected by it. It’s a lot to absorb in twenty-four hours,” she said.
He shifted his hand lower, following the pattern of bumps and nudges as the baby wiggled. “Twenty-seven hours.”
“Right.” Marisol splayed her hand across his.
“The kid’s active.”
“The Doppler always gets her going.”
He did a double take. “Her?”
“Better than ‘it.’”
“Could we find out?” he croaked, vocal cords straining with yearning.
“Let’s ask at my next appointment. If you want to come.”
“Of course,” he said.
The scent of Marisol’s body lotion cut through the odor of sanitizer. Last time he’d caught a whiff of that sugary confection smell, it had been fading on his sheets as he woke up alone after she returned to Vancouver. He swallowed down the urge to nuzzle the crook of her neck. Withdrawing his hand from her stomach, he gripped his knees.
“Hey.” She slid her fingers along his jaw and gently turned his face to her. “Don’t worry. I have this under control.”
“You’ve mentioned.”
Worry muted the green in her eyes. “I need that control, Lach.”
“Okay. I—” He ran his teeth over his lower lip. “I haven’t figured out where I fit into your plan yet.”
“I haven’t, either. Not entirely.”
The truth stung, but he appreciated it nonetheless. Honesty mattered. How many times had he and Maggie borne the brunt of his parents’ lies? Getting pulled between their mother’s guilt trips and their father’s ambivalence and living in the no man’s land of constant parental battles. Their half sister, Stella, had escaped it some by living with her mom in Sutter Creek. But their dad had been a jerk to her just as much as to Maggie and Lachlan. Thankfully, their grandparents had filled the parental gap some before his grandmother passed away. And if he was lucky, he’d find a woman who looked at him the way Grams had smiled at Pops for close to half a century. A woman he’d go to bed wanting to please and wake up next to with a grin on his face because she was snuggled in his embrace.
Love’s a joke, son. Don’t be weak.
Ignoring the echo of his father’s voice, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “Parents need to be a team, Marisol.”
“Sure. And I’ll work with you on that. But there’s not much you can do while the kid’s still uterus-bound. Beyond getting the nursery ready, preparing my prospectus presentation is my biggest priority until I deliver.”
Frustration tingled along his spine and he hopped off the table. “I know you’re used to doing things yourself. But you don’t have to be alone. I’ll come along to appointments, help you get the baby’s room ready. I’ll need one at my place, too.” Though where he’d put a baby in the tiny apartment he rented to maximize how much he could save for his dog training facility, he didn’t know. He’d figure something out, though. “Hell, I can help you with your prospectus if you like. You know my background with avy—avalanche—dogs. And Maggie’s been training assistance dogs since she started college.”
She slid awkwardly to the edge of the table and he caught her elbow, easing her down to the floor. Her gaze shifted to his hand and her lips formed a grim line.
“What? You can’t tell me I didn’t make that easier for you right there.”
“Things haven’t worked well for me in the past when I tried to share my life. And I have too much on the line to screw up again.”
“Then you didn’t have the right partner.”
“No, I did not.”
But clearly, she didn’t believe he deserved that title, either.
Well, for the sake of the feisty little being who’d punched the heck out of his hand, he’d have to show her he did. That even if they weren’t a couple, they could create a kick-ass life for their kid. He’d been the ten-year-old abandoned at boarding school. The fourteen-year-old who’d pieced together a birthday party for Maggie because his parents were somewhere in Europe on business and forgot to call. The fifteen-year-old who’d provided Kleenex and company when his half sister, Stella, had miscarried and her high school boyfriend had been long gone.
No child of his would go through anything similar. He and Marisol had to learn to communicate and work together.
So she didn’t know how to share her life?
Well, he’d share his with her until she believed she could do the same.
“When do you start at the university?” he asked.
“Tomorrow. I have to maximize my time.”
“You’ll be tired. Let me cook dinner for you.”
She bit her lip. “Give me a few days before you act as the welcome committee, okay?”
He frowned. “Okay, but I don’t like the idea of you sitting alone all week.”
“I’ll be fine. Tell you what. If you’re meeting the SAR crew after work on Friday, I’ll come join.”
That was usually the routine. Won’t be for long. I’ll be dealing with diapers and feeding routines on the weekends.
Jarred by the thought, he shook his head. That was going to take some getting used to. Maybe a few days to adjust wouldn’t be a bad idea. He’d wait until the weekend, and then make sure he helped her get acclimated to Sutter Creek.
And to having him in her life.