Little Secrets: Claiming His Pregnant Bride. Sarah M. Anderson
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fit to give or even sell her part of the agency. Instead, they’d used it almost like a dowry, rewarding Roger for taking her off their hands.
Why hadn’t she realized that before? She was a good real estate agent. She sold her market well. She was more than capable of being a full partner in the family business and running the office.
But it was Roger Caputo who was being rewarded with his name on the front door. Because why? Because he was marrying her?
She was their daughter. Wasn’t she good enough on her own?
Oh, what would her parents say about all this? Especially once they found out she was pregnant? Her mother would try to be supportive—Kate hoped. The prospect of a grandbaby would be exciting, once the humiliation of a broken wedding passed.
But her father? Joe Burroughs was a dyed-in-the-wool workaholic who demanded perfection—or at the very least, that everything be done his way, and in his mind, those two things were the same.
She had to face the facts—her father might disown her for this, and if he did, he might forbid Mom from seeing Kate. Hadn’t he already chosen Roger over her?
Just as she began to panic at the thought, Seth looked up at her again and smiled. It was a very nice smile, seemingly real and not the kind of expression one directed at a crazy person. He hadn’t treated her like she was nuts at all, actually—even though the situation certainly did seem to warrant a little concern.
Instead of telling her she was insane to walk away from Roger, he’d agreed that tying herself to him was a bad idea. Anyone could have said the words, but Seth wasn’t just saying them because she was having a really bad day. He was saying them because he actually knew Roger. Maybe not well, but he’d lived with Roger. He understood what that was like in a way that her friends and even her parents might not. Seth was speaking from a place of wisdom, and that counted for a lot.
It didn’t make any sense that she felt safer with a strange man who rode a motorcycle than she did with the man she’d been with for four years, but there it was. Seth didn’t know her at all, but he was more concerned with her well-being than anyone else. After all, how long had she been here? At least half an hour, maybe much longer. And had anyone come looking for her? Roger? Her parents? Any of the wedding guests?
No. Seth had stumbled upon her, noticed something was wrong, and he was actively making sure she was okay. He’d given her his leather jacket and dried her tears.
He glanced at her again, another smile on his lips—which set off another round of butterflies in her stomach. Now that her mind had cleared, it was hard to miss the fact that her Good Samaritan was also intensely handsome.
No, no—she was not going to be the kind of woman who defined herself by her attractions to men. It was blatantly obvious that she couldn’t run from Roger’s arms straight into a stranger’s. She was pregnant, for God’s sake. Romance should be the last thing on her mind.
She needed a place to stay tonight. Maybe tomorrow. She needed a job that didn’t involve Roger or her father. She needed...
A plan. She couldn’t sit here at a scenic overlook forever.
Had she managed to bring anything important with her—her wallet, money, credit cards, her license—anything that could help her out tonight? She rather doubted it—she didn’t even know where her shoes were.
Seth ended his call and began to walk back toward her, and Kate realized something.
She needed him.
“Come on,” Seth said, pulling her to her feet. She was not a tiny thing—she was only a few inches shorter than he was—but there was still something delicate about her. “I’m going to take you to a hotel.” Her eyes widened in surprise but she didn’t lean away from him. Not that that mattered. “And I’m going to leave you there,” he added with a smile.
“Oh. Of course,” she said, her cheeks blushing a soft pink. “Thank you. I don’t think I can go back to the house I shared with Roger.” She cleared her throat. “Are we taking the limo?”
“No. I talked to Ron—he’s going to send someone out to pick it up. They did have cops looking for it but he’s reported it not stolen. He’s not going to press charges.”
She blinked at him. “Is that because of you?”
The short answer was yes. Ron had been furious that Kate had driven off with his limo—apparently it was his most expensive ride. He’d already fired the driver for dereliction of duties.
Ron’s temper burned hot, but it always fizzled out quickly. Ron had been buddies with Billy Bolton for years and Seth had seen him in action plenty of times. He had to blow his top, and then he could be reasoned with.
Seth had waited until Ron finished blustering and then had convinced the man not to fire his driver—who had reasonably thought he’d had another hour before anyone would care about the whereabouts of the limo—and to inform the police that no theft had been committed.
But that’s not what he told her. Instead, Seth said, “Ron’s a great guy. He understood.” Kate notched an eyebrow at him—clearly she wasn’t buying that line.
But that was his story and he was sticking to it. Kate had already had a terrible day. The prospect of being arrested and booked for grand theft auto would only make everything a thousand times worse and he didn’t want that, especially now that she’d calmed down.
He hadn’t lied when he’d told her he’d keep her safe. This pull he felt to protect her—from the consequences of taking a limo, from Roger, from her thoughtless parents, from the harsh realities of life as a single mother—it wasn’t something that made sense on a rational level. He didn’t know her. He had no claim to her.
But by God, he wasn’t going to cast her to the winds of fate and call it a day.
“Okay,” she finally said, exhaling heavily. Which did some very interesting things to her chest. “Then what do we do next?”
“We ride.” The color drained out of her cheeks. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle before?”
She shook her head, her tilting hair bobbing dangerously near her left ear. He reached up and tucked it back in place as best he could. He managed to do so without letting his fingers linger, so there was that.
“I’ve been riding for years,” he assured her. “All you have to do is hold on. Can you do that?”
“I...” She looked down at her dress. “Um...”
She had a point. He eyed the confection suspiciously. The skirt was a full ball-gown style, layered with ruffles and lace. It spread out from Kate’s waist in a circle that was easily five feet in diameter.
Ron had made it clear—Seth wasn’t driving the limo. But Kate in that dress on the back of the chopper was a recipe for disaster. He could just imagine the wind getting underneath her skirts and blowing that dress up like a balloon.
“Is there any way to reduce the volume?” He tried to think back to what his aunt Stella had taught him about women’s fashion. “An underskirt of some kind that we can remove?
Her face got redder. “I have on a structured petticoat. It’s separate from the dress.”
“Can you get it off?”
Kate’s hands went to her waist. “I’m... I’m wearing a corset. I can’t bend at the waist very well. And the skirt is tied on behind.” She sounded unsure about the whole thing.
Seth mentally snorted to himself. Because if there was one thing a groom enjoyed on his wedding night, it was fighting through complicated layers of women’s clothing. Petticoats and corsets—what was this, the 1800s? “How did you get into it?”
“I