Bedded Then Wed (7 page)

When she turned, it wasn’t a random guest standing a few feet away, but Mitch, who was glaring at her with dark, angry eyes.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice as sharp as a knife edge, “I guess it’s a good thing I found out about this before the wedding rather than after. It would be pretty stupid of me to marry another liar and cheater.”

She felt Chase tense behind her a second before he growled, “Now, wait just a damn minute—”

“And with my own brother.” Mitch stared past her, a sneer twisting his mouth.

“Mitch…” she said quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation before it got any worse “…it’s not what you think.”

Taking a step forward, she stretched a hand toward his chest only to drop it when he moved back and gave her a look that could have cut through glass.

“It never is, is it?” he replied nastily.

“Watch it, Mitch,” Chase murmured from behind her in a threatening tone. “I’m not above bloodying your nose at your own engagement party.”

Mitch took a menacing step forward, his furious gaze locked on his brother, completely ignoring Emma, who stood between them. “You’re not above making time with my fiancé, either, are you?”

“Enough,” she snapped, turning sideways and holding her arms out to stop both men in their tracks. “That’s enough. Chase, I appreciate your help, but I think Mitch and I need a few minutes alone.”

Chase relaxed his stance enough to meet her eyes. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“All right, but I’ll be just inside. Yell if you need me.”

She nodded but kept her mouth shut, knowing that if she said anything, Mitch would take it as a further sign that she was siding—not to mention cheating—with his brother.

Chase moved around them to the door, keeping a wary eye on his brother the entire time. With his hand on the knob, he said, “Hurt her and I’ll make you sorry,” before returning to the crowded house.

“Too late,” Mitch muttered, even though his brother was no longer there to hear him. “I’m already sorry.”

Her heart squeezed at his implication, but she lifted her chin and forced herself to face him head-on.

“Mitch, what you saw…Chase was only comforting me because I was upset. We weren’t involved in some clandestine meeting. I’m not Suzanne,” she added with feeling. “I would never betray you like that, and neither would your brother.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw tightening, and he lifted his hands to his hips. “I know what I saw.”

“You saw me crying on your brother’s shoulder, that’s all.”

But even as she said the words, she knew they were falling on deaf ears. No matter what she said, he wasn’t going to believe her. He thought the worst because he’d been cheated on before and was still raw and aching from the experience. She could talk herself blue…for heaven’s sake, she could show him photographs proving her faithfulness and he still wouldn’t believe her.

A stab of regret pierced her belly and her heart began to ache as she realized this would never work. She couldn’t marry Mitch. Couldn’t maintain a relationship with him when it was obvious he would never trust her.

His reaction to her innocent conversation with his brother was enough to convince her of that. And she didn’t want to be with someone who was automatically going to think the worst of her in every situation.

She couldn’t live like that, always being watched, always being suspected and accused.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and prayed she wouldn’t break down in front of him the way she had with Chase.

“You know, I don’t think this is going to work,” she told him, glad when her voice came out solid and self-assured, because her insides were shaking like the San Andreas Fault. “There’s nothing going on between Chase and me. That’s the God’s honest truth. But you’ll never believe it, never believe a word I say because you’re still not over Suzanne. And I can’t marry a man who doesn’t trust me.”

She opened and closed her hands at her sides, not knowing what else to do with them and half-afraid she would reach for him, effectively ruining any resolve she had about calling things off.

“I’m sorry, but I think it would be better if we called off the wedding.”

For several long seconds, Mitch stared at her, gaze intense, a muscle jumping in his clenched jaw. “You’re right. Things never would have worked out.”

Turning on his heel, he stepped off the porch and disappeared into the night. Emma watched him go, knowing she’d made the right decision but hating it all the same.

Mitch was the one man she’d always loved. And now, she realized, he was also the one man she could never have.

This was the fourth day in a row that she’d been sick, and she fully expected to feel better by midafternoon, just like all the other times.

At first she’d thought she was just coming down with something—a cold or the flu. She’d even considered that the headaches, nausea and tiredness were simply symptoms of stress due to her breakup with Mitch. Lord knew she’d been upset every one of the eight-and-a-half days since that night.

She’d left the engagement party right after he had, without bothering to go in and explain her absence to anyone else, and spent the rest of the evening crying into her pillow. If she had her choice, she’d still be crying, but since she hadn’t wanted her father to begin to suspect anything was wrong, she’d cleaned herself up and tried to maintain a strong outer facade.

She would have to come clean eventually and admit to her father—and everyone else—that the wedding was off. But she just couldn’t seem to bring herself to do it yet. Her emotions were still too raw, the pain still too deep and acute.

And judging by her father’s comments and behavior, no one seemed to have a clue. They all thought she and Mitch were still engaged, still making plans to be married. Apparently, Mitch hadn’t returned to the party or mentioned their split to anyone, either.

At the moment, though, that wasn’t her biggest concern. She had worse problems than what people did or didn’t know about her personal life.

Namely, she was late.

And now, she was beginning to believe she was in much worse trouble than just having to fight off the flu.

She was beginning to suspect she was pregnant.

Two weeks late for her period, morning sickness, moodiness and sensitivity…it might as well be written in neon across her forehead.

Then again, maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was overly emotional from the recent ups and downs with Mitch and was letting her imagination run away with her.

Meeting her reflection in the mirror above the sink, she noted the dark circles beneath her eyes and the sallow pallor of her skin.

There was only one way to find out if she needed an extra dose of vitamin C…or a bassinet.

She straightened away from the sink and stood perfectly still for a moment to be sure the room wasn’t going to spin around her the way it so often did of late. Then, taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

The house was quiet, and she sincerely hoped her father was busy outside so she could slip away without having to give an explanation or risk his noticing that she looked like the walking dead.

Grabbing her purse and keys, she slipped out the front door and headed for her car, which was parked only a couple of yards away. Just as she reached the driver’s side door, her father stepped out of the barn and gave a shout of greeting.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, teasing her over her recent habit of waking up late, going to bed early and even taking naps during the day. “Where are you headed?”

“I need to run into town,” she called back without elaboration. Then she yanked open the car door and jumped inside.

“Be back soon,” she added before starting the engine and tearing down the drive so quickly, her rear tires sent gravel flying.

Pop would think she was crazy, she knew. Or at the very least, be very wary that something was wrong.

But how could she tell him that she might be pregnant? Even if she were happily married and had been attempting to procreate, the announcement would have made her blush. Telling him that she’d gotten herself in trouble before marriage and with a man who was now her ex-fiancé, would be positively mortifying.

A burst of hysterical laughter broke past her lips, and she blinked rapidly to keep tears from clouding her vision.

Dear God, how had her life gotten so out of control in such a short amount of time?

And what would she do if she really was pregnant?

Images of digging a deep, dark hole in the ground and burying her head in denial ran through her head. Oh, if only it were that simple. But if a baby was on the way, there would be nothing she could do to hide or refute the fact.

She made it to town in record time and aimed the nose of the car into the first available space near the drugstore. Leaving the keys in the ignition, she slammed the door and walked as fast as she could without breaking into a run.

Her breathing was labored by the time she reached the right aisle, from both anxiety and exertion. Rows of home pregnancy tests stared back at her, mocking her with their bright colors and promises of immediate results.

She wished even one of them promised the result she was hoping for. But life—and over-the-counter pregnancy tests—didn’t work that way, and she had a sneaking suspicion this was one test she was destined to fail, no matter which brand she chose.

After studying the boxes a few moments longer, she grabbed one with a flashy yellow star announcing one hundred percent accuracy and headed for the checkout counter.

Relief washed through her when she saw a teenage boy behind the register. He wore a ratty black T-shirt advertising some heavy metal band she’d never heard of, his dirty blond hair stuck out in seventeen different directions, and he was leaning back against the cigarette rack reading an automotive magazine.

She didn’t recognize him and prayed to God he didn’t recognize her. If he did, word that Wyatt Davis’s unmarried daughter had bought a home pregnancy test would likely spread through town like a brush fire. And that was one more problem she did not need.

Nose still buried in his magazine, the boy scanned the item without even glancing at it and stuffed it into a plain paper bag before checking the total and taking her money.

She carried her purchase out of the drugstore, stopping on the sidewalk for a split second and taking a deep breath before crossing the street and entering the local library. At this time of day, the place should be fairly empty. And she knew she could slip in, pretend to be perusing the stacks, then slip into the restroom at the back of the building and take this stupid test.

She smiled and said hello to Mrs. Alderson, the librarian, doing her best to shield the drugstore sack with her body. Making an effort to tamp down the urgency thrumming through her veins, she stopped at the New Arrivals section, then headed for the paperback rack, where she could disappear between the shelves.

Two minutes later, she was in the bathroom, peeing on a stick…and then she began to wait. With the little plastic wand balanced on the edge of the sink, she paced the tiny, tiled room and told herself not to panic.

She re-read the instruction sheet, checked her watch, read the instructions again. When she looked down at her watch a second time, her stomach plummeted.

This was it. The point of no return.

Stumbling forward, she closed the lid of the toilet and sat down, afraid she might fall otherwise once she got a glimpse of the results. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut, she reached over and grasped the plastic test strip. Holding it up in front of her face, she slowly opened her eyes…and was glad she was sitting.

Right there, in screaming aqua-blue was a plus sign as big as her thumb. Plus means pregnant, minus means not pregnant.

She was definitely, positively, plus-sign pregnant.

A wave of nausea rolled through her and she spent a long minute breathing through her nose until the sensation passed.

What in God’s name was she going to do?

Emma didn’t know how much time flew by while she sat there, numb, staring at the test wand in shock. But finally, she got shakily to her feet, grabbed her purse from the floor and stuffed both the pregnancy test box and the test itself inside.

Making as little noise as possible, she left the bathroom and stalked back between the shelves of books toward the front of the library. Mrs. Alderson was still behind the counter as she passed.

“Didn’t find anything?” the woman asked politely.

“Nothing today,” Emma forced herself to say in a voice that didn’t tremble. “But I’ll stop in again soon.”

“All right, dear. Have a nice day.”

Walking back to her car, she climbed in and started toward home. She wasn’t even remotely ready to face her father—or anyone else, for that matter—but didn’t know where else to go.

She thought about running away. To Europe or Hawaii or even just the other end of Texas.

But what good would that do? She didn’t have the money to start over on her own somewhere else, even if she had been willing to leave her father and the only home she’d ever known. And at the end of the day, she would still be pregnant with Mitch Ramsey’s child.

How could this be happening? She’d only recently begun to accept the fact that she and Mitch would never be more than just neighbors, and now this. Talk about a streak of bad luck.

Preoccupied, her mind swirling with a million scattered thoughts, she zipped past the turn to Mitch’s ranch. A second later, she stood on the break, bringing her car to a screeching, skidding halt in the middle of the road.

She’d been going home—or at least heading in that direction—but now the idea of stopping off at Mitch’s place first seemed to rise up and overshadow everything else.

Why should she be the only one plagued with this new knowledge? The only one suffering from a healthy mix of fear, panic, hysteria…

It was his child, after all. He’d played an equal part in its creation, however unplanned.

And—if she was feeling generous, which she was only about five percent of the time lately—she would admit he did have a right to know. Especially before she showed up in town with a growing belly, and word of her predicament got around.

Shifting the car into reverse, she backed up, turned right and drove slowly down Mitch’s lane.

Her stomach was rolling, her palms sweating on the steering wheel. Lord, she wasn’t looking forward to this. It had to be done, but she wished she could be anywhere else, doing anything else.

Pulling up in front of the house, she cut the engine and grabbed her purse off the passenger side seat. Her feet felt like lead weights as she crossed to the porch, wiping her damp palms on the legs of her jeans before lifting a hand to knock.

It was nearly lunch time, so she had a chance of catching him here. But if she had to, she would go out to the barn to look for him.

She was about to knock again when the inside door opened and she found Mitch standing on the other side of the outer screen door, staring down at her.

“Emma.”

He sounded surprised to see her, even though his dark eyebrows knit over storm-cloud eyes. It was obvious he still thought the worst of her.

Instead of bothering with pleasantries, she said simply, “We need to talk.”

“About what?” The lines around his mouth lightened slightly, but he looked otherwise disinterested.

Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the test wand and held it up, big blue plus sign turned in his direction.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“What does it look like?” she tossed back, her words laced with more than a little annoyance.

“I don’t know,” he drawled. “One of those fancy thermometers?”

Rolling her eyes heavenward, she heaved a frustrated breath. “No, not a thermometer. I wish.”

Digging into her bag one more time, she came up with the flattened pregnancy test box. She waved it in front of his face, right beside the test stick.

“See this?” She was moving it back and forth so fast, he probably couldn’t make out what it was, so she elaborated.

“This is a home pregnancy test,” she said, thrusting the box against the screen. “And this is the little plus sign that means the test came out positive.” She shoved that up right beside the other so there could be no confusion.

That, at least, elicited a reaction. The stern expression on his face washed away, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief.

“What…you mean…”

“I’m pregnant.”

Mitch stared stupidly at Emma through the screen, then pushed the door open and moved onto the porch, forcing her back a step.

“You’re pregnant,” he repeated, feeling as though he was losing IQ points by the second.

“Yes.”

She held out the pregnancy test pieces again, and this time he took the stick. That little blue plus sign she’d been talking about sure looked a hell of a lot bigger now. Ominously, toweringly bigger.

“When…” The word came out strangled and he stopped to clear his throat and lick his suddenly parched lips. “How did this happen?”

“The usual way,” she snapped, fixing him with a freezing-cold, narrow-eyed glare. “And I’m not sure when. We were together a lot before calling it quits, and I guess we weren’t quite as careful as we should have been.”

He didn’t say anything, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was going to be a father.

A father.

He’d barely been ready to get married again, even knowing it was more as a favor and for the sake of convenience than anything else. The idea of having children had never occurred to him.