Winona fell asleep, even though she’d already slept for a solid ten hours. She didn’t seem to have energy to do much else. The pregnancy books she’d devoured before she ever became pregnant all said that the first few weeks were exhausting, and that hadn’t included all the women like her, blessed with morning sickness. She’d felt awful to run for the bathroom after Delores’s wonderful breakfast. There hadn’t been anything wrong with the food, except that maybe she’d eaten too much of it.
When she woke, beams of moonlight filtered through the blinds. She turned and startled to find Riggs slumped on the chair beside the bed, a plate of half eaten fried chicken, corn, and biscuits in his lap. She’d guess he was tired for different reasons. Hunger swelled in her at the sight and smell of the fried chicken and she reached over and carefully took the plate from him. He didn’t budge. Good to know her new husband was a heavy sleeper. They shared that quality although hers had been a byproduct of years sleeping in cars and rolling buses.
Shameless, she took a bite of the cold chicken as she watched him sleep, noticing that he looked far less imposing than he normally did. It was his height, and his build, that reminded her a little of a mountain man. Someone you’d never want to tangle with or disagree with often. He was, however, incredibly handsome, and for the first time since the day she’d first laid eyes on him, she took her time and appreciated his smoldering dark good looks. She drank him in, the mocha wavy hair, the square and powerful jawline dusted with beard scruff. The gray Henley he wore that strained against his biceps.
Her heart tugged. If only this was different. In another reality, they might have fallen in love. She supposed she hated his sense of honor because it reminded her of what they didn’t have. Even if in the past it had been far too easy to fall in love, she couldn’t fall for Riggs. She couldn’t love the father of her baby even suspecting that he’d fallen asleep watching over her.
Even suspecting that he cared about her well-being beyond being the housing for his baby. He would decimate her heart if she even dared to love him. She’d seen that side of him. The side that took control, that bulldozed over people who stood in the way of whatever he believed belonged to him.
And she didn’t belong in this small town. She’d shaken off small-town living ages ago and didn’t care to return. They were in a partnership together and that was all. They had a contract. He still resented her, whether he’d admit it or not, and she understood why.
He didn’t know that she hadn’t been with a man before him in years. That her last “fling” was her actual marriage to Jackson. She’d promised herself to do better. But Riggs had a way of bringing out the stupid in her, because he’d kissed her, and she forgot everything except how much she’d wanted him from the moment they met.
After she finished his plate of leftovers, still hungry, she climbed out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Groping in the dark, she found the light switch, opened the large refrigerator, and inside found neatly labeled Tupperware bowls. Bless Delores, she was a saint. So organized. Winona pulled out the fried chicken, another container labeled cherry pie, and mashed potatoes. This was home cooking the way her mother used to make.
“Well, I’m goin’ to get fat anyway, might as well enjoy it,” Winona muttered as she piled the Tupperware on the kitchen table. “Thank you, Delores. You cook just like my mama did.”
“Hey.”
She jumped at the sound of that deep, sleep-soaked voice.
“Glad to see you feel better.” Riggs stood in the frame of the kitchen doorway, large and imposing, and framed by the ambient glow of the moonlight shimmering through an open blind.
“Um, thanks. I figured, hey, why not? And the baby needs food. Right?”
“Right.”
Dear Lord, he had the most adorable bed hair. It fell over his forehead and eye on one side, giving him an almost boyish look.
“Let me help you with that.” He reached above her for the plates.
The old-fashioned clock on the wall said it was ten. “I know you get up ridiculously early. You should go back to sleep.”
“I will in a minute,” he said and set a plate down for her and found some silverware.
Winona picked out a cold chicken drumstick and a hunk of pie to start. “You need to know that I’ll take good care of this baby. She’s going to be healthy and have the best start in life.”
“He,” he said, but this time a hint of amusement creased the corners of his eyes. “And I can see that. You want this baby.”
“More than anything. This isn’t just a passing fancy for me, or some new toy I want. I’ve wanted to be a mother for years, but it never worked out for me.”
He nodded. “I just want to be involved. That’s all. I’m not tryin’ to crowd you, even though it might seem that way.”
She thought about his lost baby. “I know. And it’s okay. You’re going to make a great father, even if you didn’t plan on this.”
“I’m going to try and be a great husband, too, for as long as we’re married.”
As long as we’re married. There went that unwelcome tug again as she wondered how he defined a great husband. She could see for him it meant taking care of her, but did it also mean he’d be faithful to her for all these months? Should she even ask?
“We’re going to be parents, so I’d like it if we could get along.” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.
Maybe if you’d stop trying to control everything. She decided not to say this out loud and ruin this momentary truce. “I’d like that, too, Riggs, but we both know I don’t belong here.”
“I don’t know about that. You can belong anywhere you’d like.”
He then sat across the table and helped himself to a bite of her chicken like he’d been sharing with her for years. “Don’t give me that look. Think I didn’t notice my empty plate?”
She smirked. “Help yourself. And it should be easy to be a good husband to me, since I don’t even know what one looks like.”
Her first husband had been a kid, Jackson simply a good friend, and Colby? He’d been a decent manager, an adequate lover, and that was about it. Not even a good friend, as it turned out.
“I’m not sure I do, either, but I had a great example in Calvin Henderson.”
“That’s more than most can say. I had a great example, too.”
“Your mother?” He gazed at her from under hooded eyes.
“Yes, she was my everything.”
“Tell me about her.” He took a bite of pie and then offered her the fork. “The stuff I won’t get if I were to do a Google search on you.”
“Well, her name was Mary Jo and she sang to me all day. Nursery rhymes, and Patsy Cline, some Disney songs. Anything. I think she loved to sing more than she liked to talk. She baked the most amazing apple pies. And she could grow anything in her garden. All we had was a little patch of dirt, but she grew juicy tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash. I was an only child, so the center of her world. She died when I was ten, and because I’d never known my biological dad, I had to stay with my stepfather. He hated me and the fact that I looked so much like my mother.”
Riggs’s eyes were soft and warm. Kind. “How did she die?”
“Suddenly. They said it was a rare aneurysm of some sort. She was only thirty-two, younger than I am now. I know this doesn’t make any sense, but I used to wish it had been cancer, or anything else. Something to give me a little time to get used to the idea of her being gone.”
Her throat tight, she didn’t want to talk about her mama anymore. She shoved a bite of pie in her mouth, so that maybe he’d stop asking questions.
“No one gets that more than I do.” Riggs reached to squeeze her hand, then rose. “Good night. I won’t ask you to remember anything this sad again. I swear.”
“Wait.” She stopped him before he left the room. “Tell me something. How does a lawyer wind up being a cowboy?”
He ran a hand through thick, dark hair and gave her a small smile. “It’s more the other way around. How does a cowboy wind up a lawyer?”
“Okay. How?”
“First, he grows up in a trailer park with parents who care more about getting high than putting food on the table. When they lose their parental rights, he winds up a foster kid with Cal and Marge Henderson, and later their adopted son. Honestly, I would have been happy as a rancher my whole life. But my parents wanted me to go to college. I knew if I did, I’d do something that would help the ranch. So, I went to law school. I saw how Cal had trouble with some of the contracts he had to work with, and I specialized in contract law.”
“Just my luck,” she muttered.
“Cal Henderson was a great rancher, father, and husband. Just not much of a businessman.”
“What do you think makes a good husband?”
He studied her. “Same things that make a good wife. Honesty, loyalty, faithfulness.”
“You and I… We’re going to be faithful to each other?”
He quirked a brow and cocked his head. “Yes. We are.”
“Well, I know I’ll be. I just wondered…about you.”
“Don’t wonder anymore.”
“And by the way, you forgot something about a good husband. You forgot love.”
“There are different kinds of love,” he said, a hint of sadness in his dark eyes.
And with that he turned and left her in the kitchen.
A week later, Winona was still throwing up. Riggs would hear her in the morning and late at night after he’d retired to the spare bedroom. She seemed miserable, and worse, weak. Finally, Riggs couldn’t take it another blessed minute. By his calculations, she was now seven weeks pregnant.
How would his baby get the proper nutrition if Winona couldn’t hold her food down? Granted, he’d read that morning sickness was common. But it could also lead to complications if it got out of control, and in his opinion throwing up several times a day was out of control.
He made the appointment at the new clinic in town and informed Delores that he was concerned his new bride’s flu might get her too dehydrated. Delores gave him a long look filled with questions, but he ignored that.
Riggs took a break after lunch and found Winona in the bathroom retching again. He rapped on the door and let himself inside.
“Go away.”
“You’re going to the doctor. I made the appointment.”
“I told you this is normal. I’m not worried, why should you be?” She turned to him, holding a washcloth to her lips.
He glanced at his wristwatch. “We have to leave in thirty minutes.”
“Thanks for the heads up! I can’t go in thirty minutes. I’m not ready.”
“You look fine.”
She stood, washed her mouth out with water, and nudged the door closed leaving him on the other side. This was fine. She wanted her privacy and he could wait. But he didn’t do such a great job of waiting, pacing the bedroom floor. He had to tell Delores the truth about the baby and soon. She was nobody’s fool and would resent being lied to. So, he’d take her into his confidence. Maybe later tonight after they got through this exam. He’d lie about everything else: he fell in love with Winona, love at first sight, and they were a good fit. All that rot.
Riggs didn’t need the doctor often, but he’d still visited the clinic on opening day. He’d put his support behind the latest project funded by the biddies of the SORROW (Society of Reasonable, Respectable, Orderly Women). It was still a work in progress, with more funds needed for cutting-edge equipment and a full staff. But now there would be no more hightailing into Kerrville with a broken nose or a sprained ankle. It was either that or patch it up at home, which Riggs and his brothers did most of the time.
Winona emerged, blinking to find him there. “I told you, I’m not ready.”
“This is a come as you are situation. You look perfect.” He took her arm and led her gently out the door and down the hallway. “We’ll be back in a bit, Delores.”
“Feel better, Winona.” Delores waved and opened the front door for them.
“Riggs!” she complained as he led her to his truck. “Stop it.”
Damn, her arm felt weak. She couldn’t even manage a good shove.
Worry seeped through him as he let her go. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, but I think you’re worried for no reason. I’m fine.”
He opened the truck door and helped her inside. “Don’t tell me not to worry. Even Delores is worried.”
“That’s because she doesn’t know about the baby.”
“Well, she’s about to figure it out if we don’t do something about this and soon.”
“Well, excuse me for breathing.” She buckled in. “We have another week if you want to keep this pretense up. Or we could just tell everyone the truth. It’s not like we’re the only two people on earth this has ever happened to.”
But he might be the only forty-two-year-old man in town who’d used an expired condom like a jackass. Damn humiliating.
They didn’t say another word to each other for several minutes, and he just let the music play on the country western channel. It grated on his ears and nerves, but he knew that she preferred it.
“Are you okay?” he tried.
“Well, since you asked. I lied, because I am worried.”
“Were you avoiding making the appointment?”
“Maybe I was, I don’t know.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m afraid…somehow…they’re going to take this away from me. It’s not going to be real.”
“Ridiculous. That’s not going to happen.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe this morning sickness isn’t normal like I want to believe.”
“It’s normal. I’m just worried and want you and the baby checked out.”
“Maybe I should see a specialist. I don’t think a GP is what I need.”
“Dr. Grant has a midwife. Trixie something or other. She came out from Dallas, just like Dr. Grant did.”
“A midwife.”
“Is that okay?”
“I always wanted to go with a midwife, do the whole home birth thing, give birth in a kiddie pool.” She looked out the window, then back to him. “Plant the afterbirth at the bottom of a tree.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
She laughed, or more like cackled, and the feeling that shot through him was almost unrecognizable. Relief.
“I wish I could have taken a photo of your face.” She held up her fingers, as if framing his face. “Click.”
“You’re hilarious. I didn’t figure you for the crunchy granola type. Figured you’d want some luxurious private suite at a high-end hospital.
“Is that right? Well, you know what? Maybe I am crunchy granola! If the midwife says it’s okay for an old coot like me to have a home birth, it’s happening, baby.” She snapped her fingers. “And I don’t care what you have to say.”
“Say old coot again and see what happens. If you’re an old coot, does that make me a geezer?”
Winona crossed her arms. “Sensitive much?”
But it was all he could do to hold back a smile. He loved sparring with Winona. And the truth was that they’d been fine the past few days when they didn’t talk. Maybe they’d been getting along because they didn’t talk.
He pulled over in front of the clinic, an old formerly abandoned building kitty corner to the veterinary clinic. Since there were more cattle and horses in Stone Ridge than people, Eve and Annabeth’s business was doing better than Dr. Grant’s at the moment.
Holding open the passenger door for Winona, he offered his hand, but she didn’t take it. Still, he went ahead, opening doors, closing them, ready to carry her inside if needed. But she waltzed right inside like a queen or a princess dressed in her Wranglers and sweats, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. He doubted anyone would recognize her.
“Hi there, how can I help you?” A fresh-faced young woman greeted them.
“I have an appointment,” Winona said before he could. “My husband made it, without asking me, which is why I look like I’ve been dragged through a muddy field. My apologies.”
“I think you look great!”
The comment came off with false enthusiasm and no apparent recognition, so Winona turned to him with a smirk.
“She’s sick a lot. Every day, several times a day,” he said.
“My husband doesn’t seem to understand morning sickness.” She slid him a withering look.
“This is more like all day sickness.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you both. I’m Trixie Lee.” She offered her hand. “I’m the midwife here and also kind of the receptionist until we get the practice up and rolling. Dr. Grant is with a patient right now. We take turns at reception.”
“Well, it sure sounds like y’all are busy today. I’ll come back.” Winona turned but met his large body in her way.
Riggs smiled and crossed his arms.
“No, please, Mrs. Henderson, I have plenty of time for you,” Trixie said. “Right this way to one of our patient rooms.”
“Should I—” Riggs said.
“Wait here,” Winona ordered, sending him a clear message that whatever warmth he’d imagined between them had simply been an illusion.