His Perfect Bride: Hired by the Cowboy / Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek / Coming Home to the Cattleman. Judy Christenberry
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complete stranger.
“That’s none of your business.”
He had no cause to know her personal troubles. It was her problem. And she’d solve it. Somehow.
“I beg your pardon. I was only trying to help.”
She grabbed the vitamins and shoved them into her purse. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
The pause was so long her scalp tingled under his scrutiny.
“No, you didn’t. But I offer it anyway.”
And who else was going to step up and give her a hand? She was alone, nearly destitute, and pregnant. She had no one waiting for her at home. Home, she thought sardonically. Now, there was an idea. She hadn’t had a real home in a long time…too long. Five years, to be exact. Five years was a long time to be at loose ends.
At present she was sleeping on the floor of a friend of a friend. Her back protested every morning, but it was the best she could do for now. She’d find a way, though, she thought with a small smile. She always did, and had done since being left alone and without a penny to her name at eighteen.
Connor was a friendly face, and also the first person who actually seemed to care. Perhaps that was why she made the conscious choice to answer his question.
“Yes, this baby is unplanned. Very.”
“And the father?”
She looked out over the bustling street. “Not in the picture.”
He studied her for a few moments before replying, “So you’re alone?”
“Utterly and completely.” Despair trickled through in her voice and she shored herself up. No sense dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. Her voice was again strong and sure as she continued, “But I’ll manage. I always do.”
Connor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Surely your family will help you?”
“I have no family,” she replied flatly, discouraging any further discussion of that topic. She had no one. Loneliness crept in, cold and heavy. Not one soul. Anyone she’d truly cared about in the world was gone. Sometimes she almost forgot, but now, faced with a pregnancy and no prospects, she’d never felt more isolated.
After a long silence, he spoke again. “Are you feeling better? Would you like some tea or something?” He smiled at her, friendly, and her heart gave a little foreign twist at this complete stranger’s obvious caring and generosity.
“You needn’t feel obligated. I’m fine now.”
“Humor me. You’re still a bit pale, and it would make me feel better.”
It was a lifeline to hold on to. It wasn’t like her life was a revolving door of social invitations. “Tea might be nice, I guess.”
She looped her purse over her shoulder. “So where are we off to, Connor Madsen?”
“There’s a little place around the next corner.”
She chuckled a little. “You use that line often?”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever used it before, as a matter of fact.” He adjusted his long stride to her much shorter one.
“I wouldn’t recommend using it again,” she remarked dryly.
“You’re coming with me, aren’t you?” Connor shrugged out of his suit coat and draped it over an arm. “To be truthful, I don’t spend much time in the city, picking up women. Or for any other reason, for that matter.”
He was wearing a white dress shirt that fit snugly over wide shoulders, then tapered, tucked into slim-waisted trousers. Alex hadn’t believed men that good-looking actually existed, and here she was going for tea with one. One who had already seen her faint. She shook her head with amazement.
“So, if you’re not from the city, where are you from?” Small talk. Small talk was safe and not too revealing. She could handle niceties.
“I run a ranch about two hours northwest of here.”
“Ah.” Well, she certainly wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him again after today. She’d be able to look back on it as a bizarre, fantastical dream. A Knight in Shining Chaps, it would seem.
She giggled, then clamped her mouth shut at his raised eyebrow. “Is this the place?” she asked, changing the subject.
“It is.” He held the door—more good manners, it seemed—seated her at a table and went to get drinks.
The coffee shop was trendy, and didn’t seem to suit either of them. She pictured him more as a local diner type, drinking black coffee from a thick white mug while some middle-aged waitress named Sheila read the specials of the day. Despite his formal appearance today, she got the impression that he wasn’t totally comfortable in a suit.
In moments he returned with two steaming mugs…one of peppermint tea and one with straight black coffee. The café didn’t suit her much either. She usually bought coffee from a vending machine, or drank it thick and black from behind the bar—not that she’d been drinking much lately. Still, she was touched and surprised that he’d thought to get her something herbal in deference to her pregnancy.
“Thanks for the peppermint. It was thoughtful of you.”
“I’ll admit I asked the girl behind the counter for something uncaffeinated. And the peppermint might be, um, soothing.”
He handed her something wrapped in waxed paper. “I got you a cookie, just in case your blood sugar was low.”
Alex wondered how he knew so much about the biology of pregnancy as she unwrapped the long, dry biscotti and tried a nibble. It seemed safe. A sip of the peppermint tea confirmed it. “Thanks. I think we’re good.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad. I’d hate to have a repeat of earlier.”
She laughed a bit. “You’ll have to find another method for your next damsel in distress.”
Connor sipped his coffee, sucking in his lips as the hot liquid burned. “You seemed to need it. Plus, my grandmother would flay me alive if I didn’t help a lady in need.”
“I thought chivalry was dead?”
“Not quite.” His smile was thin. “And this way I can procrastinate.”
“I beg your pardon?” She put down her mug and stared at him.
“I have a meeting this afternoon. I’d rather spend the afternoon shovelling—Well, you get the idea. I’m simply not looking forward to it.”
“Why?”
He avoided her prying eyes and stared out the window. “It’s a long story.” He turned back. “What about you? What are your plans for you and the baby?”
She took another long drink of tea to settle the anxiety brewing in her belly. “Our plans are pretty open. I’m working for now. Trying to figure out what to do next. It’s temporary.”
“You’re not from here. I can tell by your accent.”
“No. Ottawa.”
He smiled. “I thought I sensed a little Ontario,” he teased. “But there are so many easterners here now that for all I knew you could have lived here for years.”
“Three weeks, two days and twenty-two hours,” she replied. “I’m working at the Pig’s Whistle pub for now.” She needed to find something else, away from the second-hand smoke. But her tips were good, and she’d have a hard time finding a boss as accommodating as Pete had been.
He didn’t have to answer for her to know what he was thinking. It was a dead-end job, and hardly one she could support herself and a baby on. She knew right away she’d said too much.
His