His Pregnant Courthouse Bride

He nodded and released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Why her decision should matter so much to him, he couldn’t begin to guess. “Then it appears you have a whole new life to build.”

“To put it mildly,” she agreed. Placing her chin in her hand, she smiled at him. “It’s been awful, Wyatt. Just awful. Everything blowing up around me, finding out I’d been lied to and used by someone I trusted, leaving my new job...it’s been terrible. But I feel the most ridiculous sense of freedom for the first time in my life.”

He nodded in understanding, but wondered how much of that was real and how much was a reaction to all the stress. He hoped it was real, because she sure as hell had blown up her bridges behind her.

Chapter Four (#ulink_8c7bc4ba-362c-557a-ba24-3b6992aa1156)

The room Wyatt had given her was lovely, Amber thought. She hadn’t really seen much last night because she’d been so tired, but when she came upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes for the afternoon and evening, and maybe to grab a short nap, she took it all in.

A wide four-poster bed with its head against a wall covered in floral wallpaper. A rocking chair with comfortable pillows, a small writing desk, an armoire that looked like it was as old as the house and a surprisingly large walk-in closet.

A person could almost live in a room like this. Heavy rugs were scattered across the wood floor, their pastel colors matching the roses on the wall. It felt fresh and new, yet it retained the charm of an older age. When was the last time she’d seen wallpaper like that?

She changed into jeans. Her pregnancy hadn’t yet started expanding her middle, or at least not enough to affect what she wore. Over that, she pulled an off-white cotton sweater. Autumn was here and there was a slight chill in the house, but she couldn’t stand wool. She had occasionally thought with amusement that a lawyer without a wool suit was doomed to failure. So far she’d managed, though. There were enough cotton blends that she’d been able to look properly well-to-do. Once she’d found a tailor who got it, anyway.

She still felt tired from all the traveling, packing and stress, but lying down only sent her mind roaming anxious pathways. No good. Finally she rose, put on some ballet slippers and returned downstairs. She found Wyatt in the kitchen, doing something with beef in a frying pan that smelled absolutely delicious.

“Hi,” she said.

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “No nap?”

“Couldn’t quiet my mind. Is that for chili?”

“Yup. There must be a million recipes for it. I’ve tried a lot of them.”

She managed a small laugh. “Fond of it, are you?”

“My fondness for chili is so famous that I’ve been asked to judge the chili cook-off the last few years.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Grab a seat. If you want a cold drink there’s a choice in the fridge. If you want hot, I can make some more cocoa.”

She chose a soft drink and passed close to the stove to see what looked like cubes of high-quality meat browning, already aromatic with seasonings. “I always use hamburger.”

“Hamburger and beans. You can do a lot with those.”

“So how did your chili become famous?”

He laughed as she sat at the table. “My chili isn’t famous. My love of it is. When I have friends over, it’s chili. When I throw a bigger bash, it’s a bigger pot of chili. When I’m invited to a backyard barbecue, I bring some chili. Not always the same recipe, but it’s a great way to feed a crowd easily. And I do enjoy it.”

“So no fancy canapés?”

“No. Just hearty, stomach-filling food.” He chuckled quietly and pulled the frying pan off the burner. “How hot and spicy do you prefer? I don’t want to burn a hole in your tongue or stomach.”

“Medium.”

“Good enough.” He went back to adding ingredients to the pan—tomato sauce, some floury substance he said was masa and more seasonings. Then he put the chili on to simmer and joined her at the table.

“So, too anxious to nap?”

“That’ll wear off,” she said. “I guess I need to just settle things inside me. Get used to it. And you couldn’t possibly want to hear me talk endlessly about myself, Wyatt.” She shook her head a little. “I’ve got one topic and one topic only lately. As for everything before...well, most of that wasn’t very interesting, either.”

She watched him smile and remembered how much she had always liked his smile. Something about it seemed to radiate warmth and charm. “I think you’re very interesting,” he answered. “But...what else would you like to talk about?”

An answering smile was born on her own face. Despite everything, he could make her smile. After the last month, she appreciated what a wonder that was. All her smiles had been forced, required, and none of them had been real. Until she saw Wyatt again.