Their Child?: Lori's Little Secret / Which Child Is Mine? / Having The Best Man's Baby

He got up—not too fast; he felt slightly light-headed. And he took the few steps that brought him nose to nose with the good-looking surgeon. “You’re sure. She’s okay now?”

Zastrow smiled his movie-star smile. “She’s doing very well. I think, by now, it’s safe to say that she’s out of the woods.”

Lena quivered with impatience. “Tucker. Come on. Let’s go…”

But Tucker wasn’t going. He didn’t want to see her right then. He couldn’t see her—couldn’t trust himself not to…

No. Better not.

He turned to Lena. “I think I should head on over to your folks’ place, tell them the good news—and tell Brody, too, if he’s still awake.”

Brody, he thought, and then, impossibly, my son…

But wait. There was still that other guy from the night after the one she’d spent with him…

Or was there? Who the hell knew? Only Lori—sweet, beautiful Lori, who’d been lying to his face all along.

He still couldn’t quite get his mind around the thousand and one ways she’d pulled the damn wool over his eyes. Lie after lie after lie. He had a lot to say to her and none of it was pretty—which meant he didn’t dare to see her now. Not while she was flat on her back with twenty stitches in her head.

“But Tucker,” Lena wheedled, “you don’t need to go all the way over to the house. We can give my folks a call. And Lori’s expecting you, looking forward to—”

“No.” He fell back a step and put up a hand. “I should go. Tell her for me that I’ll see her…real soon. Tell her to get well quick.” Before Lena could argue any more, he spun on his heel and headed for the wide hallway that led out of there.

A minute or two later, he shoved through the hospital doors into the windy darkness of the night. The rain had stopped. Sometime during the long hours they’d waited to learn if Lori would make it, the wind had pushed the clouds along. Beyond the cover of the front entrance porte cochere, the sky was clear and thickly scattered with stars. He reached in his pocket for his keys…

And he remembered.

He had no damn car. It was somewhere in the club parking lot—maybe totaled and buried under the liftedoff roof of the clubhouse or an uprooted oak. Hell if he knew. And hell if he cared right at that moment.

He cared about getting where he was going, period—to the Billingsworth house, where he could see Brody. But Memorial was ten miles out of town and Tate’s Junction was too small to support a cab company. Tucker stood there in the darkness, beneath the jut of the porte cochere, staring out at the stars, swearing under his breath and considering his options.

Dirk might loan him the keys to whatever vehicle he and Lena had taken to get to the hospital. But to get those keys he’d have to go back inside and find Lena’s new husband, who was probably with her in Lori’s room…

Uh-uh. Not happening.

Tucker got out his cell and actually raised a dial tone. But he flipped it shut before auto-dialing the ranch. He didn’t want to drag anyone out of bed at that hour, not Tate and not Jesse Coutera, who ran the Double T garage. He could call a poker buddy, or his semiretired partner, Leland Hogan…

No. Same problem. It was a bad hour for asking favors. And he’d have to be civil to whoever he called; you didn’t call a buddy at midnight asking for a ride and not make some kind of effort to explain why. Tucker wasn’t feeling civil; he was in no mood to explain anything. He put his cell away.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, he started walking, thinking, as he strode across the parking lot, that walking was pretty stupid. It would take him hours to get to the Billingsworth place on foot.

But he didn’t much care right then how long it took. He only knew he was going there, that when he arrived, he would see Brody and…

Hell. And what? He didn’t know.

He didn’t know anything, really. But then again, he’d been around the damn world and never really known where he was going. At least, tonight, his destination was clear.

The wind was in his face, warm and still smelling of rain. He peeled off his jacket, slung it over his shoulder and kept on walking.

Lena patted Lori’s shoulder. “Dr. Zastrow says you’re gonna be just fine. I am so relieved. I can’t tell you. You gave us one whopper of a scare.”

Lori stared at the empty doorway that Tucker should have come through. She lifted a careful hand and touched the bandage wrapped around the top of her throbbing head. Her head wasn’t the only thing that hurt. Her whole body felt stiff and sore and she also had a kind of disembodied feeling, as if none of this was real.

And why hadn’t Tucker come to see her again?

“I’ll be back as soon as they’ll let me,” he’d whispered to her before he left her side the last time. He’d kissed her—a gentle brush of his lips against her own. “It won’t be long,” he promised.

So where was he now? She touched her mouth, where the feel of that feather-light kiss still lingered. Oh, she just didn’t get it. “Tucker said he was going to Mama and Daddy’s?”

Lena pasted on a bright smile. “That’s right. He said he’d see you real soon and for you to get well.” She patted Lori’s shoulder some more.

Lori shut her eyes. When she opened them again, Lena was still there, looking down at her, smiling fondly.

What a sister, Lori thought. Lena’s hair straggled free of her formerly elegant upswept do. She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek and her wedding dress was torn at the sleeve and stained with soot and mud—and still, she was forcing brave smiles.

I’m so very fortunate, Lori thought, to have a sister like this one: a sister who called all the time, whether I called her back or not. A sister who never gave up on keeping the family connection, a sister who didn’t even hesitate to spend her wedding night at the hospital in her ruined bride’s gown, waiting for a chance to pat me on the shoulder and tell me I’m going to be fine.

Lori said, softly, “Did I tell you? You’re the most beautiful bride I ever did see.”

Lena’s eyes got misty. She sniffed. “Yes, I did look pretty amazing and gorgeous, didn’t I?”

“You still do. Absolutely beautiful…”

Lena sniffed some more and lightly punched the shoulder she’d been patting. “Oh, stop.”

“I’m grateful to have a sister like you.”

“Now, I mean it. You will have me bawling my eyes out and we don’t need that.”

“I haven’t always appreciated you and I know that.”

“Okay, okay. You’re definitely on to something, here. I won’t deny it.”

“But things are going to change, I promise. From now on, I’m going to work as hard as you always have, to keep that special connection between us.”

“Good.” Lena sniffed once more. And then she grinned. “Move home.”

“I don’t know about that—yet.”

“Wow. You should get hit on the head more often—” Lena caught herself. “No. Scratch that.” She pressed her hands together and cast her gaze heavenward. “I never meant that, Lord.” She let her hands drop and looked ruefully at Lori. “I can’t believe I said that. It was horrible, all of it, and I would never want anything like it to happen again.”

Lori reminded her, “Still. You know what they say—bad luck at your wedding, good luck for the rest of your married life.”

Lena sent a soft look over her shoulder at Dirk, who’d made himself comfortable in the corner chair. “I guess we’re headed for the luckiest marriage in history.”

“No doubt about it.” Lori glanced toward the door again and sighed.

“What?” Lena prompted tenderly.