Chapter Nine
Abby sat curled up on one end of the couch, twisting a strand of hair around one finger as she read the pamphlets the nurse had given her. She’d been at it ever since she’d cleaned the kitchen after supper, and had only made it through half of them so far. Some of them, like the ones on nutrition, were boring, but the ones on fetal development had taken on a whole new meaning for her.
Like Tate, the baby had just been an abstract idea for her until she’d actually seen it today, a problem that had to be overcome somehow. Now it was real, a little person that was hers to love and care for. Someone who would love her back, need her, depend on her. She was determined to make sure this baby was happier and healthier than she’d ever had the chance to be. Her baby was going to be proud of its mother.
She put the pamphlet she’d just finished on the end table and glanced up at Tate. He was sitting across from her with not one, but two books on baby names he’d bought today. And he was watching her again.
He’d been doing it all afternoon. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but she was always aware of it. It had gotten to the point where she didn’t even have to look at him to know. Every time he started watching her, the hair would stand up on her arms, and a strange sense of anticipation would hit her.
She glanced back down at the next pamphlet on the stack and smiled. There was a picture of a chubby-cheeked newborn on the front, and the inscription, “Lamaze: The Natural Way to Healthy Babies.”
One of the pictures they’d gotten today was now stuck to the refrigerator door with magnets. She wanted it where she could see it often. The other one Tate had kept, tucking it carefully into his wallet. After he’d shown it to Buddy, of course.
Abby smiled again. Buddy had given him a lot of grief over that picture, pretending at first that he couldn’t see anything on it. Tate had been ready to strangle him by the time his brother finally admitted he could see the baby. After that, they had spent fifteen minutes trying to decide who it looked like, which Abby found hysterical, considering the vagueness of the image. Buddy had finally declared it had to be a girl because it was too pretty for a boy.
“What about Darren?”
Abby looked up and made a face. “There was a Darren in my third-grade class. He was a hateful little monster.”
“Okay, scratch Darren.”
When he went back to the book, Abby started reading the next brochure. She’d barely gotten through the first page when she started laughing.
“What?” Tate looked up.
“You know that Lamaze thing you signed me up for today? Well, you didn’t just sign me up, you signed yourself up, too. It’s classes on natural childbirth. And you have to be my coach.”
“Let me see that thing.” He got up and sat down beside her on the couch, taking the pamphlet from her hands.
Abby leaned closer until their shoulders were touching and read over his arm, trying to ignore the tingle his nearness was causing. An uncontrollable shiver ran over her.
“This doesn’t sound too bad.” He glanced down at her. “Although I’m not sure how you can teach someone to breathe. Seems like it would be a case of either you can or you can’t.”
“Look at this part.” She pointed to the last paragraph on the page, her arm brushing his. Tate seemed to tense before he started reading.
“You mean I get to be in there with you when it’s born? I thought I’d have to stay in the waiting room.”
Abby glanced up at him. “Do you want to be there?”
“Of course I do. I help our mares foal all the time. How different could it be?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything being born before.”
“You will. It’s spring. There’s always something being born this time of year on a ranch.”
Tate stretched his arm out along the back of the couch and turned toward her a little, his gaze running disconcertingly over her face before coming to rest on her lips. “What else have you got over there?”
Was it her imagination or had his voice gotten softer?
Abby shuffled through the papers on the end table with shaking hands until she found the one on fetal development. “This one shows what the baby will look like each month.”
“Really?”
His voice definitely sounded husky now and she got the impression he’d stopped paying attention to her words. Before she could look up his fingers slid through her hair and Abby went still.
“It’s bound to have black hair,” he murmured.
Slowly she looked up at him, her heart quivering. The expression on his face was the same one she’d seen several times today, but now it was more intense. His rough features had taken on a sensual look that sent a streak of unexplainable heat shooting through her, along with a yearning emptiness that gapped deep in her middle.
“I hope it has your eyes,” she whispered, staring into their blue depths. Even as she watched, the pupils expanded, darkened, and his hand moved to her cheek, thumb tracing the outline of her jaw.
“Why? You have beautiful eyes.”
Abby couldn’t have spoken a word if her life had depended on it. All she could do was wait and she wasn’t even sure what for. It didn’t take long to find out.
Tate’s hand curved around her nape, pulling her gently but inexorably closer. And then his mouth covered hers. Abby stopped thinking, almost stopped breathing. There was nothing she could do but feel.
The papers still on her lap slid to the floor unnoticed as she leaned into him. His lips were warm and firm on hers and, instinctively her own parted. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat as he plunged inside and, without quite realizing how, Abby found her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him even closer.
The heat that had run through her before burst into incandescence, making her body hypersensitive. Her breasts, already tender, seemed near to bursting now and she could feel the solid strength of Tate’s body with every inch of hers. It had never been like this before. Not the night he’d first come to her, and not when he’d kissed her after the wedding.
His mouth ravaged hers, again and again, and she didn’t care, didn’t want him to ever stop. She was inflamed with feelings in places where long dormant nerve endings were exploding to life and she wanted more, wanted to know what those feelings could become.
Suddenly, the dual beams of headlights stabbed through the window and Tate jerked away from her as though he’d only just realized he was holding live fire with his bare hands.
“Shit.”
The word was low, almost under his breath, but she heard it. He was looking down at her, his face rife with confusion. Well, he couldn’t be any more confused than she was right now, Abby thought, watching as he ran a hand through his hair.
The headlights came to a stop in front of the house and she could hear the sound of a motor.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” Tate said. “I’ll go see who it is.”
“I’ll go make coffee.”
“Fine.” The word was curt as he started across the living room.
Abby waited until he reached the door then jumped up and ran into the kitchen, frustration and embarrassment battling inside her.
* * * * *
Tate stepped out into the darkness of the front porch and watched as Joe Blackburn climbed out of the cab of the pickup. He was in no mood for company right now, wasn’t even sure he could carry on a normal conversation. But at least the interruption had put a halt to what was surely about to happen in the house. Something he couldn’t let happen again no matter how badly his body ached.
“Joe.” He nodded as his best friend stopped at the bottom of the steps.
“Damn you, Tate. You know what I found on my answering machine when I got home tonight? Well, I’ll tell you.” He kept talking without giving Tate a chance to answer. “I found a message from Hank telling me there was going to be a party here Saturday to celebrate you getting married. It’s pretty dang sorry when you have to find out news like that about your best friend from an answering machine. Why didn’t you call me?”
“It was kind of spur of the moment. Didn’t have time to call anybody.”
“Shit. And I thought Diane was going to be out of town for two weeks. How’d you talk her into it?”
Tate’s stomach clenched painfully. Apparently Hank hadn’t gone into details. “She is gone for two weeks. I didn’t marry Diane.”
Joe took a step back, almost falling down the remaining steps in his shock. “Then who the hell did you marry?”
“Abby Grayson.”
“Abby?” Joe’s mouth gapped. “That little waitress from Delly’s?” He closed his mouth with a snap. “Hell, Hoss. When I suggested using her for revenge, marriage wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“Keep your voice down,” Tate hissed. “She’s in the kitchen.” He paused. “And I didn’t do it for revenge. She’s pregnant.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Before you ask, yes, it’s mine.”
Joe grinned at him. “I wasn’t going to ask. I figure you’re smart enough to know something like that on your own. No wonder you got so mad at Delly’s Friday night. You already knew then, didn’t you?”
“I suspected. I found out for sure later that night.”
“I’ll be damned,” Joe repeated, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be a daddy. Just don’t seem possible. So, are you gonna introduce me?”
Tate sighed. “I guess I might as well. Come on in.”
Abby looked up from the coffee pot as they entered the room and smiled hesitantly.
“Abby, this is Joe Blackburn. You probably remember seeing him at Delly’s. Joe this is Abby.”
“Sure she remembers. Hard to forget a handsome face like mine.” Joe was grinning at her in obvious delight. “Do I get to kiss the bride?”
Abby backed up a quick step, but it was too late. Joe grabbed her and put a loud smack on her cheek while Tate watched with amusement.
“You sure picked yourself a sorry excuse for a husband, girl. Take it from me. Why, me and Tate used to chase each other around the yard until our diapers fell off.” Joe pushed his hair back on one side. “See this scar? He did that. Hit me over the head with a shovel when we were four. Took six stitches to sew it up.”
He pulled out a chair across the table from Tate and sat down. “Hey, you still got that scar on your butt where I snagged you with the fish hook that time?”
Abby was staring at Joe with a slightly dazed expression and Tate grinned wryly. “You know I do. It took Daddy an hour to pull it out with the pliers. I couldn’t sit down for a week.”
“And it was a whole year before he’d let me go fishing with him again. Can’t imagine why.” Joe was doing his best to look hurt and Abby started laughing.
“Neither can I. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Don’t mind if do.” He was the one staring now. At Abby.
Tate shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Joe arched an eyebrow at him.
“I think I just saw the light,” his friend murmured under the cover of rattling cups.
Tate glared at him and Joe chuckled.
Abby came back to the table carrying two cups and the coffee pot. “Do you take sugar or cream?”
“Nope, black is fine.”
She got her own glass of juice and joined them at the table.
“So when’s the baby due?”
Abby promptly choked on her first swallow and Joe thumped her politely between the shoulder blades.
“You know?” she gasped.
“’Course I do. Tate told me. Does this mean I get to be an honorary uncle? Just think, Tate. I can help you teach him to ride and break horses.”
“As long as you don’t try to teach it to fish,” Tate commented. “Besides, what if he’s a she?”
“A she?” Joe looked stunned at the idea that it might be a girl. “Damn, Tate. What if she wants to date boys? We’ll have to figure out some way to stop her.”
“I figure if we put our heads together we can come up with something in the next sixteen years,” Tate couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice and Abby grinned at him.
“Buddy took one look at the pictures and decided it was a girl,” Abby told Joe, “but the doctor said it was too soon to tell yet.”
“You got pictures? How the hell do they take pictures before it’s born?”
Tate pulled his wallet out and carefully extracted the image, handing it to Joe. “It’s called an ultrasound.”
Joe held it at arms’ length, then pulled it in closer. “What am I looking at here?”
Abby leaned closer to him and pointed. “That’s its head. See, there’s its eyes and cheeks and that right there is a nose.”
“Well, I’ll be damned if it ain’t. And cute as a button. Ain’t science wonderful?” He studied the picture. “Nope, Buddy’s wrong. It’s a boy. Any fool could tell that. Don’t look a bit like a girl.” He handed the picture back to Tate. “Speaking of Buddy, where is the squirt tonight?”
“Over at Tommy Johnson’s. They’re supposed to be studying, but I figure they’re probably watching TV. I told him to be home by ten.” Tate glanced at his watch.
Joe drained the last of his coffee. “Well, tell him I said hello. I’d best be on my way. Have to get up early tomorrow.” He pushed his seat back and stood. “Ma’am, thanks for the coffee. It’s been a pleasure meeting you proper. I’ll see you at the party Saturday.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Tate stood and followed him.
Joe was silent until he pulled the truck door closed behind him, then he leaned on the opened window frame and looked at Tate closely. “I like her. And damned if that smile of hers don’t knock a man’s socks plum off.” He hesitated. “I know you might not think so right now, but you are one lucky son-of-a-bitch, Hoss. Maybe one of these days you’ll figure that out for yourself.” He turned the key over. “See you Saturday.”
Tate watched the truck vanish down the driveway in a billow of dust, then turned back to the house. Through the kitchen window he could see Abby clearing off the table and washing cups. For a while he just stood there watching her.
Lucky? He sure didn’t feel lucky. He felt like he was being torn in half. And he suspected it was going to get a lot worse before it got better. Assuming it would ever get better.
Diane’s image flashed through his mind and he turned from the window. A little over a week and she’d be home. Could he stay away from her? He’d have to for both their sakes, no matter how much it hurt.
He had to remember the baby. That was really the only thing that mattered now. It didn’t seem possible, he reflected, to love something that much when you’d never held it, never even seen it, really. But he did. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his child. Even give up the woman he loved to live the rest of his life with one he didn’t.
He glanced back through the window, but Abby was gone, and he could hear the sound of movement from the living room. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. He did like her and lots of marriages had been based on less than that.
Another set of headlights caught him in a beam of light and he watched as Buddy pulled the truck up next to the house and stopped.
“You’re late.” Tate looked pointedly at his watch.
“Only by ten minutes. I passed Joe down the road. Is he coming to the party Saturday?”
“Do you think I could stop him?” He followed Buddy inside.
“Mr. and Mrs. Johnson said they’d be here, too. Mrs. Johnson is going to bring some of her homemade peach pies.”
Abby was squatted in front of the couch, picking pamphlets up off the floor and stacking them neatly on the coffee table.
“What are you doing?” Buddy eyed her curiously.
“Just straightening up. I dropped these earlier.” She stood and glanced at Tate before looking quickly away. “Did you get your homework finished?”
“Geesh. You’re starting to sound like Tate. What is this, a conspiracy? Yes, I finished my homework. Did you?”
She smiled at him. “All done and mailed this morning.”
“You’re gonna make me look bad, you know.”
“I doubt it. And I never would have figured that math out without your help.”
Buddy gave Tate a smug smile. “See? I do know what I’m doing.”
“I suppose there’s a first time for everything. But don’t let it go to your head.”
“Like there’s any chance of that with you around.”
Abby had finally finished stacking the papers. “Well, I think I’m off to bed. Goodnight.” She sent them both a smile then went up the stairs.
“I think I’ll do the same thing.” Buddy shifted his books from one arm to the other.
“Hey.”
Tate waited until his brother looked at him. “Be sure and put your clothes in the hamper. Abby does enough around here without having to pick up after you.”
“Sure. You going to bed?”
He nodded. “Just as soon as I turn the lights off.”
“Okay. See you in the morning.”
“Night.”
Tate waited until Buddy got up the stairs, then moved though the quiet house, flipping off lights as he went. His gaze fell on the couch as he went back through the living room and he paused.
Why couldn’t he seem to keep his hands off Abby? It wasn’t like he was desperate. And why couldn’t he stop remembering the way she felt in his arms, the way she tasted? God, and the way she’d seemed to melt into him when he kissed her. He’d never felt anything like it before in his life. Another few minutes and he’d never have been able to stop. Hadn’t wanted to stop when he had.
He forced his feet back into action and slipped upstairs to his bedroom. Stripping his clothes off, he climbed into bed and lay staring into the darkness.
Just a few steps down the hall Abby was curled up in bed, no doubt wearing that damn see-through nightshirt. He could picture every inch of her with no trouble at all. Her hair was probably tangled over her face, hiding those dark eyes behind that silken veil. One fist would be tucked in by her cheek, and one knee pulled up tightly against her, exposing the sweet curve of her hip.
Tate groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. He was torturing himself and he couldn’t seem to stop. If he couldn’t find a way to control this, and damn soon, he was going to die. The thought of a cold shower entered his mind, but he discarded it immediately. All he needed right now was to have everyone in the house up, wondering why he was taking a shower in the middle of the night.
With a curse, he flopped onto his stomach and rammed his fist into the pillow. It was, he suspected, going to be a long time until daylight.