Emergency Engagement (Love Emergency) (22 page)

Hunter grinned. “Aw. Is that any way to say thank you? Want to go to your mama?” He placed the baby into Madison’s outstretched arms.

Beau took the additional towels Hunter handed him, and then the stethoscope. “Hey, Madison?” He waited until she turned her head and smiled at him.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

“She’s gorgeous.” And she was. Pink and vigorous. “Your first post-birth duty as a mom is to hold her and keep her warm while I listen to her heart and lungs.”

Heart rate and respiration were strong and steady. He helped Madison listen to her baby’s heartbeat while Hunter clamped and cut the cord. Beau collected some medical history while his partner dealt with stage three. The cops made themselves useful and got the stretcher out of the rig, and then finally, Beau held the baby while Hunter lifted Madison onto the stretcher.

He walked behind them, staring into the newborn’s blurry eyes, and overheard Madison ask, “Back in the car, when you promised my baby and me would be okay, how did you know?”

Hunter looked back at Beau before answering. “Gotta have faith in happy endings. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Good question.

He pondered it for the drive to the hospital, and back to the station, and the same answer kept shoving its way to the front of his mind, along with an epiphany he needed to share with a specific someone. Now. By the time they’d clocked out he was frantic to get to Savannah.

“You headed home?” Hunter asked, apparently oblivious to his urgency.

“Not exactly, no. You?”

“I’m thinking about making a stop by the hospital, just to check in on our last call.”

“Good job tonight.” He clapped a hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “You did everything right.”

Hunter grinned. “I was sweating like a damned soul running a marathon in hell.”

“It didn’t show.”

“I have this philosophy I cling to when shit starts flying.”

“What’s that?”

“Things might just work out.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Savannah stood in the crowded gallery, smiling and nodding appreciatively as a prominent art critic held court for a handful of local collectors and discussed her work. Normally she loved the energy and buzz of a showing, but tonight the bustle of people and hum of conversation made it hard for her to concentrate on anything. Instead, her attention kept drifting to the milling guests.

Stop looking for him. Why would he come?

And yet she couldn’t prevent her eyes from searching the crowd. Midnight loomed, but the showcase remained in full swing. She’d sold several pieces, which meant she ought to be ecstatic. At least one aspect of her life was finally going according to plan.

The critic said something that coaxed a laugh out of the group of people around her. Savannah managed a lackluster chuckle that got lost in the noise of the room. A man in a suit entered the gallery, and her gaze snagged on him. A flare of recognition subsided into disappointment as their eyes locked. His lit up and familiar lips curved into a fast smile.

Mitch. Not the man from her past she’d been hoping to see tonight. Apparently her disappointment didn’t show, because he made his way over. She excused herself from the group and headed toward him, thinking to intercept him as close to the door as possible. He appeared to be alone, on New Year’s Eve, which seemed like an odd state for a newly engaged man.

“Hello, Savannah,” he said when he drew near enough to be heard. “It’s good to see you.”

He reached for her hands, but she kept them at her sides. “Mitch. What are you doing here?”

“I saw your name on a gallery mailing about the spotlight, and decided to stop by and congratulate you.”

“I would have thought you’d have other plans for New Year’s Eve. With your fiancée.”

A pained frown momentarily marred his handsome face. “She, uh…turned me down.”

Ah. Now the reason for his presence became clearer. “Sorry to hear that. Don’t worry. I’m sure the right girl will come along.”

“I was thinking maybe she had, and I failed to recognize her. I mean, look at you. You’ve scored a showing with a premier gallery. I heard they’re offering to represent you. You’re back on track. I think we’d make a great couple—a successful lawyer and a successful artist. Unconventional, but in an interesting way.”

Wow. The right connections and suddenly she’d been upgraded to marriage material. “I don’t know, Mitch. I think I may still be too unconventional for you.”

He took the statement as a challenge and smiled his confident lawyer smile. “Try me.”

“I’m pregnant.”

The smile disappeared. He paled and backed up a step. “That’s impossible. You were on the pill, and we always used a condom.”

Jeez.
“It’s not yours.”

“Oh.” For a moment she thought he might pass out from relief, but he pulled himself together. “Okay, well, then—” He trailed off awkwardly. “I guess you’re involved with someone else.”

“Guess again.” Now she was just being mean, but some wicked part of her wanted to watch him squirm out of this hole he’d dug for himself with his version of a romantic,
When Harry Met Sally
New Year’s Eve grand gesture. She stepped closer to him, crowding him a bit. “Still up for being part of an unconventional, yet interesting couple?”

“We should take some time to think this through. I mean, it’s New Year’s Eve, and we…I…got swept up in the excitement, but—”

“Relax, Mitch. I’m not interested. Nothing’s changed for me. If anything, this baby cemented everything I always believed about love. I’m not after a relationship that makes sense on paper, or one that qualifies as unconventional, yet interesting. I want a soul mate, partner, and friend. I want a man who loves me for who I am, as I am. Who appreciates my strengths, and accepts my weaknesses…and…and…”

Oh my God
.

She’d failed her own test. Beau had scars—weak points in his otherwise formidable strength. He’d shared them with her right from the start, and she’d claimed to understand, but when they got right down to it, she hadn’t accepted him scars and all. She’d rejected his love as too damaged, and demanded he fix it. He’d asked her to stay, but she’d walked away because he hadn’t been able to ignore his fears and paste a smile on his face. She needed to find him, talk to him, right now.

“I have to go,” she mumbled, already in motion, fighting her way through the shifting kaleidoscope of shapes and colors to find the exit. She had it in view when the door opened and a man walked in.

Savannah skidded to a halt and let her greedy eyes feast on Beau for a moment while he scanned the room. For her?

He still wore his uniform, and stood out in rugged contrast to the polished suits and dresses surrounding him. He held something in his hands. People parted to let him through, all the while looking around to see who needed his attention.

Me. It’s me. I need him.

But for some reason, her feet remained glued to the floor. She’d become performance art.
Woman Paralyzed with Regret
.

She knew the moment he saw her. His eyes locked onto her face, and her nerve endings tingled. Slowly, he approached. “I need a minute with you.”

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, and immediately started crying. Damn pregnancy hormones.

“No, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t the right time or place. I’m the last guy you want to see, and I’m showing up like a selfish jerk and ruining your big night. Timing’s not my strong suit, but I need to speak to you before you leave for Italy.”

She had to talk around the lump in her throat. “I canceled the fellowship as soon as I learned I was pregnant. I didn’t want to have my baby half a world away from home.”

“Thank you,” he said, and had the grace to look genuinely relieved. “Thank you for that, even if you had your own reasons for doing it.”

She didn’t know what to tell him about her reasons, so she stayed quiet.

“I want to introduce you to some people you should have met a long time ago.” He held a book out to her. She took it and looked down to see a pink photo album. Her heart prepared to run, but she found her voice.

“Y-you don’t have to…”

“I do.” He flipped the book open, and a picture of a sweet, tiny newborn in a little pink hat filled the page. Two deep, all-seeing eyes stared back at Savannah. Miniature versions of Beau’s. “This is Abbey.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” he agreed, and turned the page to a photo of a pretty, young brunette in a hospital bed, holding the baby and smiling a smile that radiated pride and adoration. “This is Kelli.”

“Also beautiful,” she managed, but the lump was back with a vengeance, and she couldn’t say more.

He flipped through a few pages and opened the album to a picture of a younger Beau with one arm wrapped around his baby, and the other wrapped around his wife’s shoulders. They stood in the shade of a big green maple tree. His smile reflected an unrestrained joy she hadn’t seen from him since he’d been a little boy, chasing her around the swing set with his silly rubber snake.

“This was us.”

Tears stung her eyes. He’d lost so much. Of course he feared losing again, and she’d been ruthless with his fear. “I’m so sorry.”

“I was, too. I loved them. Having them in my life made me happier than I even realized until they were gone. And when they left, I would have done anything—bargained with the devil, sold my soul, traded my life—to have more time with them. Losing them hurt so much. The hurt faded after a while, but it will never completely leave.”

“I understand. I do.”

“The thing is, I’ve been so focused on the hurt I overlooked something important. I wouldn’t trade a minute of my time with them. Not even to eliminate the pain. I’ll always wish we’d had more time, but even knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t have missed them for the world.”

“I’m glad.” She sniffed back tears and wiped her watering eyes. “I know you loved them.”

The lights went down around them. The crowd broke into a countdown.

Beau talked faster. “I did. They’re an important part of my past. But you, and our baby? You’re my future, and I don’t want to miss this, either. I love you. I
want
to be there with you, and I want you with me—through every up and down. I’m all-in. No hedging. No holding back. I can handle anything except letting you walk out of my life. What do you say, Savannah? Will you take me on?”

She wrapped her arms around him and hung on. “Beau Montgomery, you have a hell of a way of wishing a girl happy New Year.”

“It’s my way of asking you to marry me. Take a risk on me, on us, and a happy new life.”

“I’m all-in.”

He kissed her as the lights strobed, and the crowd cheered, and people shouted, “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year to you, Smith,” he whispered. Her knees went weak from the vibration of his voice in her ear and the sheer thrill of being pressed against him again, but to her surprise he suddenly drew away. She nearly swayed, but he dropped to his knees, clasped her waist in his big hands, and placed a gentle kiss on her stomach. “Happy New Year to you, little one.”

“To us,” she corrected when he stood and wrapped her in his embrace. “Happy New Year to us.”

He kissed her again, long and slow, only raising his head when hers started to spin. He rested his forehead against hers, and she basked in the joy lighting his eyes.

“To us.”

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Acknowledgments

As always, I owe vital organs to a whole bunch of people for helping make Beau and Savannah’s story a reality. Massive thanks to:

The whole awesome Entangled team, including Liz, Kari, Curtis, and Katie, but especially Heather, for sharing her ideas about a paramedic with a tragic past and a pie-baking artist—and believing I’d do them justice.

The insanely talented and generous Robin Bielman, for reading the first chapter and giving it a thumbs up, then holding her tongue when I re-wrote it, then not saying I-told-you-so when Heather told me the first version worked better.

The insanely talented and generous Hayson Manning, for reading the (more or less) final version and saying, (more or less), “Stop hacking at it, you paranoid fuck!”

The Romance Writers of America and the Los Angeles Romance Writers. I don’t participate as often as I should, but in my mind, I am at every meeting and event, consuming the wisdom, guidance, and free food.

Charles and Hud, for being my real-life happily ever after.

My friends and family for encouragement and support that goes above and beyond the call of duty.

Readers, for being kind with praise, generous with subject-matter expertise (a/k/a smutty .gifs), and for trusting me with two very valuable things—time and money. Believe it or not, I try really hard not to be a waste of either.