She suddenly experienced a burst of guilt, wondering what Shane O’Neal would demand of Deacon in exchange for this afternoon’s encounter.
“I forgot, I got you something when we made that pit stop in South Bend,” Deacon said after he started the engine.
Surprise slid through her. “You did?”
He twisted his big body around and rummaged through the duffel he’d tossed in the backseat, turning a moment later with a small pill bottle in his hand. Looking awkward, he handed it to her.
Lana stared down at the label, battling between shock and pure joy. Prenatal vitamins. He’d actually bought her prenatal vitamins. Did that mean… Was he beginning to come around about the baby?
“Thank you,” she murmured, her chest tight with emotion.
He shrugged. “I figured you’d need ’em.”
She curled her fingers around the pill bottle, suddenly needing to cling to it. Maybe the tender gesture didn’t have any deeper meaning. Maybe he’d only done it to make himself feel better, to know she’d be taking care of herself after he disappeared from her life.
But she couldn’t help thinking that it did mean something. That Deacon had indeed heard everything she’d been saying and was finally beginning to see that his future could hold so much more than he’d always believed. Not just his future, but their future.
The impulsive notion gave her pause. She fixed her gaze out the window, watching the scenery on Lakeshore Drive whiz past. She suddenly had to ask herself exactly what she wanted from this man. To simply be a father to their child? Or did she want more?
She closed her eyes, a barrage of images swirling through her brain. She imagined Deacon’s strong arms gently cradling their baby, his rugged face soft with emotion. Deacon talking gruffly to their baby, looking down with pride.
And then the fantasy took a different turn. She pictured herself waking up every morning with her head pressed against Deacon’s rock-hard chest. Whispering to each other as they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Sitting at the kitchen table while he cooked for her.
Her eyelids snapped open. Oh, lord. This wasn’t just about the baby. This was about her. About them.
“Oh, my God,” she blurted out.
Deacon sharply swiveled his head. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed hard, searching for her voice. “Nothing,” she finally said. “I just never realized how beautiful the view of the lake is.”
His brows furrowed, as if he didn’t quite believe her, or know how to respond. Eventually he just shrugged. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice, I guess.”
Lana glued her gaze to the window again, trying to actually focus on the lake this time in the hope of erasing the terrifying thought that had crashed into her head before her outburst.
But it was impossible to erase. It lingered in her brain, making her a little lightheaded and a lot confused.
Was it possible?
Was she actually falling in love with Deacon Holt?
Chapter 14
Jim Kelley was feeling irritable as hell as he killed the engine of the pickup he’d rented at the airport and stared at the pale yellow glow seeping from the floor-to-ceiling windows of his brother’s ranch house. In the distance, the mountains dominated the horizon, their snow-dusted peaks like majestic castle turrets in the sky. Normally the sheer beauty of the landscape soothed Jim’s soul. As a kid he used to prowl the hills and trails of the property, astride his favorite dun-colored mare, Heidi.
Tonight, though, the mountains only served as a reminder of the towering obstacles in his path. He’d called every contact imaginable on the plane ride here, and hadn’t come up with a single lead regarding Lana’s whereabouts. Many of the contacts he phoned didn’t even know that Lana was missing. Apparently Hank had kept the story out of the press for as long as he could, and the news had only broken a couple of days ago. Jim had encountered more than a dozen reporters milling at the gates of the Bar Lazy K. They’d surrounded his truck like vultures, eager to scavenge any details they could about Lana’s disappearance or the senator’s misdeeds. At ten o’clock at night. Christ, didn’t those people have anything better to do?
Jim slowly uncurled his fingers from the steering wheel and got out of the truck. His boots connected with the dusty earth, kicking up little clouds as he headed for the porch. He entered the ranch house without knocking, and his ears immediately perked at the sound of muffled voices drifting from the doorway of the great room.
He made a beeline for it, throwing open the heavy doors without a care of what he’d find on the other side. What he found, though, startled the hell out of him. His father sat on one edge of the sofa, holding a highball glass filled to the rim with bourbon. Standing near the bookshelf was Gage Prescott, his dad’s bodyguard, but it wasn’t the sight of Gage that threw Jim for a loop. It was his brother Cole, who was plopped down on the other end of the couch, a beer in hand.
Cole willingly sitting with their father?