Colton's Surprise Heir. Addison Fox
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to deliver for about six more weeks. But her heavy breathing and wide-eyed fright suggested her new foal wasn’t prepared to wait for spring.
Ethan dropped to his knees beside Dream, his hands gentle when he reached out to stroke her neck. “Hey, baby. Shh there, beautiful girl. It’s okay.”
His gaze drifted from the clear lines of pain that suffused her dark brown face on down over the sleek lines of her body. The filly’s rib cage contracted hard with her labored breaths, and the distended belly—the telltale sign of her pregnancy—quivered almost of its own accord.
“Think we can stop her from delivering?”
“Doc told me to keep her comfortable and as still as possible until he got here.” Bill paced next to the stall. “Says he’ll know better after he looks at her.”
Bill’s words kicked up an odd twist of memory—absolutely unbidden—of another night long ago. But with an outcome that had no hope of ending well.
Those memories had become more frequent of late, his brother’s recent tussle with their father stirring it all to the fore. With the iron will he’d honed through the years, he pushed the ever-clear memory away and focused on Dream.
She was his pride and joy, along with the rest of the horses in his stable. The years of hard work, building something that was his own. That no one could taint.
He’d be damned if he’d sit by and let her suffer. Or see to it he didn’t do everything he could do to make sure she had a healthy foal.
Bill worked with him in silence as they followed the vet’s instructions, keeping Dream as calm as possible while they waited for help. He was pleased to see her breathing even out a bit as they settled a blanket beneath her head and several more to support the long length of her back.
“Babies are a tough thing. They’re natural but not normal.” Doc Peters bustled in, his cheery smile at odds with the still-sleepy eyes and tufts of gray hair that stuck out all over his head.
“Not normal?” Ethan kept his voice low, not wanting to spook Dream, but he couldn’t keep from questioning the vet.
“Of course. Pregnancy is a natural state, but it’s hard on the body.” Doc Peters dropped to his knees, his lithe form belying what had to be at least forty years of caring for large animals. “But we’ll take care of Dream here, won’t we, sweetheart.”
Ethan kept a calming hand on Dream’s neck but said nothing more, allowing the doctor to do his work. The vet inspected the horse, his hands following all the places Ethan’s own gaze had roamed for the past twenty minutes. After several endless moments of inspection and even more checks with the stethoscope, Doc Peters got to his feet.
“You ready for a long night?”
Ethan stared up at the doc’s slim figure, standing over his horse. “She’s having the foal tonight?”
“Not if we can help it. But we do have to get him turned around. There are two pairs of long, long legs pointing exactly where they don’t belong.”
Ethan took solace that the doctor seemed in control of the situation and nodded his head. “Tell us what to do.”
* * *
The frigid night had given way to a cold crisp morning, and Ethan breathed in deep as he headed for the ranch house. He’d spent hours worrying they wouldn’t be able to help Dream, but Doc Peters had been a pro. Bit by bit, he’d managed to turn Dream’s foal back into position. Ethan knew they were out of the woods now, but he hadn’t missed the concern that had stamped itself deep in the grooves on Peters’s face around four that morning.
Things had been more than touch and go for a while, and Ethan had barely dared to believe things could end well, convinced he needed to brace himself for the worst. For the inevitable.
Yet the doc had done it. Dream was on her feet and happily grazing on a fresh batch of oats Bill had poured just for her when Ethan finished washing up in the sinks in the barn.
Now all he could think about was a hot shower and roughly a gallon of coffee. He might even manage something beyond the breakfast sandwiches he typically microwaved each morning. In fact, he thought he remembered seeing a rasher of bacon in the fridge the last time Bill’s wife, Joyce, did a shopping order.
The back door swung open under his hand and he caught himself. Hadn’t he locked it when he headed out?
The smell of coffee accosted him and the mystery of the back door vanished as he imagined Joyce over here, putting on a pot for when he got back. That woman was gold, and he’d have to remember to thank her later.
He dragged off his boots in the mudroom and turned for the kitchen. The distinct scent of bacon assailed him just before the soft, subtle hum of a popular country song followed.
But it was the woman who stood before his stove that had Ethan going still.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
* * *
Elizabeth Marie Conner—Lizzie to the few who knew and loved her—already knew she was pushing beyond acceptable boundaries by coming here in the first place. Since she figured she had to get this over with, she might as well add bacon to the mix.
Men loved bacon. Heck, there were whole websites devoted to the very best part of the pig. And based on what Joyce had said when she’d let her in, Ethan had just spent a hard night.
She was smart enough to know the bacon wouldn’t go all that far to soften the blow she was about to deliver, but she was hungry as a horse all the time, and it would make her feel better.
“That’s some welcome.”
The man had the sense to look contrite, and she took it as a good sign. But when a quick shot of something warm and hungry flitted through his gaze before those rich hazel depths turned cold once more, Lizzie pressed a firm hand to her fluttering stomach beneath the oversize sweatshirt she’d tugged on for the visit.
Ethan Colton was anything but cold.
And she’d had six months of very warm memories reminding her of that fact.
“You can imagine my surprise to find a woman cooking me breakfast.”
Lizzie did her best to keep her body facing the stove, only turning to eye Ethan over her shoulder. “Joyce let me in. Said you were having a tough night with one of your horses. How is she?”
“Good. Fine.” Talk of his horse seemed to mellow him a bit more, and he crossed to the pot of coffee. “Want some?”
“No, thanks. I’m not a coffee girl. No one at work can understand it but—” She broke off, the reality that there was no work any longer more bitter than she’d expected.
“But what?”
“Nothing.”
Ethan poured his coffee and, after doctoring it with a sugar and some creamer from the fridge, moved to the long island counter at her back. “Look. I’m sorry for my greeting. I’m tired and I didn’t expect anyone to be in here when I got back. And—”
He stilled, a small smile edging his lips. “And that’s lame. I’m sorry for my greeting. How are you, Lizzie?”
She’d thought she was prepared. Had believed she could keep her emotions in check and her mind clear for all that was still to come between them.
Oh, how wrong she’d been.
Those hazel eyes—the ones that were an amazing mix of green and brown and several spots of gray—drew her in and touched something deep inside she couldn’t quite define.
Need? Yes.
Desire? Yes.
Love? She was so not going there.
Even if she had harbored feelings for him since she was young. He was the big brother of her best