The Pregnant Bride

“Keep it, Meggie.”

Her chin raised a little. “I don’t accept pity money, or pity proposals.”

That was his Meggie. When he’d first seen her in the bakery, he’d thought she’d lost her fire. But it was back, with a vengeance.

He nodded toward the fistful of cash. “Imagine how well I could provide for your son or daughter.”

“Nick—”

“We could set up a trust fund for the baby. He or she would never lack for anything.”

She stopped talking, cocked her head.

“We could even keep Valentine’s home in trust, have someone else take care of it. You could leave this place with no thoughts of how you’ll make a living.”

“How did you get all this money?”

He didn’t like the expression on her face. Accusatory. Suddenly he felt fourteen again, with cuffs around his wrists, the sheriff breathing down his neck, yelling at him, pointing a stubby finger at the charred remains of Chaney’s Drugstore.

He wouldn’t have bothered to defend himself to anyone else but Meggie. His voice was a harsh whisper, edged by shame. “It was all legal.”

She shook her head, thrusting out her cash-laden fist once again. “That’s not what I meant.” Meggie’s glance combed the grass. “I know nothing about you, Nick. I’d be marrying a stranger.”

“I’m the same guy I always was.”

“No.” Her hand fell to her side. “You’re not.”

He knew it was true. Years of darkness had shadowed his brow, had given him a more predatory walk. He’d never possess the optimistic swagger of a teenager. Never again.

Why did she have to be so sad? Everyone changed. You just had to use your experiences to your own advantage. Didn’t she realize he just wanted to help her?

He walked nearer to Meggie, his fingers itching to tilt up her chin until her gaze met his. He’d never ached to touch a woman so much in his life.

“Nobody’s the same as they were sixteen years ago. But I haven’t changed that much.” He still carried a bright torch of anger. That would never change, not until Chad Spencer got his due.

As if sensing the intensity of his desires, she stepped away from him. “I still don’t understand why you’d want to raise a child who’s not even yours. The child of a man you hate.”

Guilt struck him a blow. What could he say to her? Meggie, I want the man who ruined my chances for a normal family life to suffer, knowing that I have control of his ultimate possession—his child?

How would she react, knowing that some dark part of his heart beat—no, survived—with thoughts of revenge?

“Trust me to do the right thing,” he said, ignoring all the doubts in his mind. Yeah, trust him to use her in his crusade against the town golden boy.

Meggie was silent a moment. Nick took the opportunity to enjoy how the moon’s milky sheen smoothed her skin. He wondered if the curve of her belly would look so soft. What would it feel like to cup his hands over her stomach? To run his fingers over the life pulsing just beneath?

Maybe he wouldn’t even be around to know. From the way Meggie was reacting to his proposal, he was in for a long walk home.

He couldn’t stand the pressure she was under. “Listen,” he said, “you don’t have to decide right now. You can contact me at the Edgewater Motel off the highway, okay?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

He tried to smile. “Worry about it later.”

“Take your money.” She held out her hand one more time.

“No.”

Her eyes widened. Nick recalled that Aunt Valentine rarely told her favorite niece no; obviously, she hadn’t expected him to say it, either.

She shrugged, seeming embarrassed. She opened her mouth, probably to slam him with a smart remark, but she was interrupted by the dry swish of tires burning rubber over the gravel road.

A mint Mustang convertible seemed to fly out of the moon’s center as it sped toward them. Long hair and slender arms sprouted from the seats as a carload of females roared down the road.

“What the hell?”

Meggie turned her back on them. “Don’t even look at them, Nick,” she yelled over the “Whoo!” of celebratory voices.

The car screeched to a halt next to them. Seven girls, all smooshed into the confines of a sports vehicle. He’d never understand the female species.

The driver had sparkling eyes and a short, pixie haircut. “Hey, Meg, want a ride?”

He didn’t know whether or not the question was mocking, but before he could decide, a passenger chimed in.

“Yeah, Witchy Poo, join us.” She turned to the other girls. “Maybe she can make our car fly over the moon!”

Nick was about to step up for Meggie when the driver whirled on her friends.

“Pipe down, you harpies.” She looked at Nick, then at Meggie, who wasn’t even facing the car. “You okay, Meg?”

Nick was close enough to see Meggie’s jaw clench. After a moment she said, “I’m fine.”

“Go!” screamed one of the harpies. The driver looked at Meggie once more, at Nick, then let out a deafening yell of joy before laying pedal to the metal and taking off in a spray of dirt. The car roared down the road, past the spindly black-iron angels of the cemetery gates, past rickety horse-pasture fences. Voices faded into the chilly, autumn-swept air, tree leaves rustling in the aftermath.

Meggie watched them leave. “You wanted Chad Spencer? Well, that’s the closest you’re going to get.”

“What do you mean?”

Meggie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “The driver was Ashlyn, Chad’s sister.”

Nick clenched his hands into fists, trying hard to ignore the fire in his heart. “What’re they doing tearing up the roads like that?”

Meggie looked past him, toward the graveyard’s angel gate. Nick thought about Aunt Valentine, and where she might be buried.

“That was Ashlyn’s plan for a friend’s bachelorette party. Raising Cain around town, flying a few bras on flag poles, posting a few anti-Spencer posters in windows. Anything to salute her brother’s superiority. She does her best to embarrass the family.” Meggie turned to Nick, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears.

A breeze whistled past them, humming a low, mournful tune in his ear. He had to hold himself back from smoothing a strand of bobbing hair from the corner of her soft, red mouth. So vulnerable. He wanted to protect her from all the hurt in the world.

She half laughed. “I think she despises Chad as much as you do. She’s had to live up to his perfection all these years. I almost like her.”