The Rancher's Expectant Christmas

“No, he just lied. Same thing. So if you think I’m gonna judge you, you are definitely barking up the wrong tree. Seriously. Like I’ve got room to talk?”

She almost smiled at that. “Austin?”

“Yep. And Jordan and I were being careful, too. Or at least thought we were. Having a kid had definitely not been on the agenda. But at least I wasn’t involved with someone else. Let alone married. And when she told me she was pregnant...let’s just say I grew up real fast.”

“And she took advantage of your big heart.”

He felt his brows shove together. “What else would I have done?”

She almost laughed. “Really? After what I just said?” Then her eyes watered. “I’m so sorry, Josh. You deserve so much better than that.”

Her sincerity, her kindness, stole his breath. Not to mention a good chunk of his earlier irritation, if not his disappointment.

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You’re a prince, dude. Own it.”

Clearing his throat, Josh leaned forward, linking his hands between his knees. “Hardly a prince. In fact, looking back, it was probably stupid, her and me hooking up to begin with—okay, so no maybe about it, I knew better and I did it anyway—but at least I acknowledged my kid. Took responsibility for him. What that jerk did to you...” He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence.

“Oh, it gets worse.”

From her tone alone, he knew what she meant. “He asked you to get rid of it.”

“Demanded, actually.”

“Before or after he told you he was married?”

“After. But before he admitted he already had three kids. Yep,” Dee said to Josh’s softly uttered obscenity. “However, no matter how much I might wish I hadn’t let myself get caught up in the fairy tale, that I’d been more alert to the signs I now realize were there all along, the fact is I still made my own decisions. And now I have to deal with the consequences of those decisions. Same as you did...crap,” she said, her breath suddenly catching.

Josh jerked to attention. “What?”

“Nothing. Well, not nothing, my back’s killing me. But it’ll pass.” Then she frowned when he dug out his phone. “What’re you doing?”

“Calling Mom. Because I’ve heard way too many going into labor stories not to know a hurting back’s not a good sign—”

“Then I’ve been in labor for the past two weeks. So put your phone away—”

“Hey, Mom,” he said when she picked up. “Deanna says her back’s hurting pretty bad.”

“Oh?” Mom said, her voice kind of echoey. “How bad?”

“Bad enough she’s making faces—”

“I’m not in labor, Billie! Your son’s overreacting!”

Mom laughed in his ear. “You probably are. But if it makes you feel better, I’m on my way back into town—I had clinic this morning—so I’ll swing by, no problem. If that’s okay with Dee?”

“You’re on the phone while you’re driving?”

“Hands-free, not an idiot. And no other cars for probably ten miles. Well?”

He looked up from the phone. “Mom’s gonna come check you out, if that’s okay.”

She glared at him. “If it gets you to shut up, sure. But I’m not. In. Labor.”

Mom chuckled again. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she said, then disconnected the call.

* * *

Billie stuffed her stethoscope back in her bag, then straightened, her hands on her hips. “You’re not in labor,” she said, and Deanna released a half relieved, half annoyed sigh.

“Thank you—”

“You are, however, about fifty percent effaced and a couple centimeters dilated. Not to mention that baby’s sitting real low. As in, engaged already. Probably why your back’s been giving you grief.”

Deanna felt her forehead crunch. “I thought none of that happened with first babies until much closer to the due date.”

“So either your date’s wrong—”

“Two ultrasounds. Not wrong.”

“Or this child has a mind of her own. In which case, steel yourself, because that’s not gonna get better once she’s out. Which might happen sooner rather than later,” she said to Deanna’s undoubtedly horrified expression. “In any case—and you’re really not going to like this—you might want to rethink getting on a plane right now.”

The horrified expression instantly morphed into panic. “I can’t stay here, Billie.”

“You might not have a choice. Unless you want to risk giving birth at thirty thousand feet with a couple hundred strangers as witnesses.”

Struggling to her feet, she shook her head. “Nonononono... I have an installation to oversee, and I haven’t finished setting up the baby’s space—” Such as it would be, a corner in her dinky little bedroom. “And...” Deanna sagged back onto her bed, defeated. “Really?” she said in a small voice.

Billie sat beside her, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders and tugging her close, like she used to after Deanna’s mom died. “I know, sweetie,” she whispered into Deanna’s hair. “Like you didn’t already have enough on your plate. And it’s not like we know you’d go into labor—could be you’d make the trip just fine. But it’s not a chance I’d want to take. Or want you to take. And if you do give birth early, at least you’ll be back home by Christmas, right? Maybe even Thanksgiving, who knows?”