In Name Only. Peggy Moreland
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back, and left them strangers again.
Not sure what the game plan was, now that they’d arrived in Dunning, he gestured toward the trailer. “I need to unload my horse and walk him around a bit, if that’s okay.”
Tucking her arms beneath her breasts, she nodded and stepped out of his way, then followed him to the rear of the trailer and watched silently as he unlocked the door and lowered the ramp.
“Danny Boy, isn’t it?” she asked, obviously trying to make conversation as he backed the horse down the ramp.
“Yep. That’s his name all right,” he replied.
The horse spooked when his hooves hit the slick asphalt drive and skated a bit. Troy quickly tightened his grip on the lead rope. “Whoa, there, Danny Boy,” he murmured softly, reaching to pat the horse’s long neck. He glanced around as he soothed the animal, getting his bearings, then frowned. “Is this where you live?” he asked, turning his frown on Shelby.
She glanced over her shoulder at the block of dark, two-story buildings behind her. “Yes. I have an apartment over my shop.” She looked at Troy again and shrugged self-consciously. “It’s rather small, but it suits my needs.”
He blew out a long breath, wondering how anybody could stand to live in such close quarters. For himself, he preferred open country with green pastures, rolling hills and a lake to fish, much like the land that surrounded his own home in East Texas.
“My parents live a couple of blocks away,” she added. “In the parsonage beside the church.”
At the reminder of her parents and the confrontation that awaited him in a few hours, Troy gave the lead rope a gentle tug. “Walk with me,” he murmured, and caught Shelby’s hand when she hesitated, pulling her along with him. He’d intended to release her hand once he had her in motion, but after feeling the tremble in her fingers, he found himself lacing his own fingers through hers and squeezing, knowing she was thinking about the confrontation with her parents, too. “They’re going to be pretty disappointed, I’d guess,” he offered quietly.
He saw her chin quiver before she caught herself and gave it a defiant lift.
“Yes, but they’ll get over it.”
He snorted a laugh. “That’s yet to be seen.” Having reached the end of the alley, he made a wide turn, then started back the way they’d come, stopping to let Danny Boy graze on a clump of grass growing at the edge of the dark drive. “I’ll be leaving right after we tell them,” he said after a moment. “I have a rodeo in Pecos on Friday.”
He felt her fingers tense within his before she forced them to relax.
“That’s fine,” she replied, though he could tell the thought of being left alone to deal with her father scared the hell out of her. “I didn’t expect you to stay.”
“Exactly what am I supposed to say when we talk to them?”
“Nothing. I’ll do the talking. I just need you there as proof.”
“Proof,” he repeated, then snorted again and shook his head. He released her hand and moved to tie Danny Boy to the side of the trailer. “I don’t know what in the hell my being here proves.”
“That I really do have a husband,” she said in surprise, then clamped her lips together when he whipped his head around to look at her, one brow arched high. “Well, you know what I mean,” she said, flustered.
Chuckling, Troy hung a net filled with hay within Danny Boy’s reach, checked the level of water in the bucket, then placed a hand at the small of Shelby’s back as he guided her to the narrow iron stairs that snaked up the rear of the building. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
He stepped out of the way while she dealt with the locks, then followed her into the dark apartment. He stopped, waiting for her to turn on some lights. When she did, he glanced around.
Though definitely larger than his horse trailer’s sleeping loft, which was home to him when he was on the road, the room was small, yet comfortable. A love seat, upholstered in a floral chintz, dominated the center of the room. Two wicker chairs, one covered in a cheerful yellow fabric, the other in mint-green, sat opposite. Between the sofa and chairs was a small trunk that served as a coffee table of sorts, he supposed. As he studied the cozy seating arrangement, he tried to imagine squeezing his large frame onto that little sofa and shook his head.
“I told you it was small,” she said as she headed for the kitchen tucked into a corner of the room. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you. Just a place to stretch out and catch some shut-eye.”
She did a neat U-turn and lifted a hand to a panel of wood on the wall. Troy’s chin nearly hit the floor when the panel lowered, exposing a bed.
“It’s a Murphy bed,” she said in explanation as she fluffed pillows. “I don’t have a bedroom.”
He snapped his head up to look at her. “You don’t have a bedroom?”
Her cheeks pinkened, and she shook her head. “No. There’s just this room and a bath.” She settled the pillows at the head of the bed, then turned back the quilt, folding it neatly at the foot of the bed. “You can sleep here, and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Troy shifted his gaze to the sofa. It was so small he doubted even Shelby would be able to comfortably sleep on it. “I have a better idea,” he said. “We’ll share the bed. Me on top, you underneath.” At the horrified look that came into her eyes, he felt his own cheeks heat. “The covers,” he growled with an impatient wave of his hand at the bed. “I’ll sleep on top of the covers, and you sleep underneath ’em.”
Acutely aware of the man who lay on the bed beside her, Shelby held the sheet to her chin, her eyes wide as she stared at the dark ceiling. For the past forty-eight hours, ever since leaving Derrick’s apartment after learning that he wanted nothing to do with her or their baby, she’d felt as if she was moving in a thick fog—lost, her thoughts jumbled, her nerves frayed—knowing that she couldn’t go home and face her parents. Not without a husband, not without a name for the baby she carried.
She stole a glance at Troy who lay beside her, his eyes closed, his breathing even. She was still unable to believe that she’d had the nerve to ask a complete stranger to marry her. But even now, as she looked at him sleeping in her bed beside her, she didn’t feel any fear. There was something about him—exactly what, she wasn’t sure, but something—that told her he was a man whom she could trust.
She supposed it was fate that had placed them both at the truck stop’s café at that exact moment in time. Her desperately in need of a husband to give her baby a name, and him in need of money so he wouldn’t have to sell his horse. But whether it was fate or God’s divining hand, she didn’t think she would ever in a million years be able to repay him for the sacrifice he was making for her and her baby.
Even as the gratitude swelled inside her, guilt stabbed at her conscience as she realized she’d never properly thanked him.
“Troy?” she whispered urgently.
“Hmm?”
“Are you asleep?”
“No. But I’m working on it.”
“Oh,” she murmured in embarrassment, realizing too late how tired he must be. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.” He stretched his arms up to the ceiling and his bare feet over the foot of the bed, growling, then sighed, relaxing his body as he laced his fingers across his bare chest. “Whatcha need?”
“Nothing, really. I just wanted to—” she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, unable to find words adequate enough to convey the depth of her feelings “—to, well, to say thank you,” she finished futilely. “I don’t think I ever did.”
“No thanks needed,” he said