The Cowboy's Pregnant Bride. Crystal Green
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be parents.
Nightmares of what she’d found when she’d opened his door, only to find him en flagrante delicto with a bridesmaid. And then...
Apologies from him after he’d sent away her friend. Yeah, a “friend,” for God’s sake.
Then the worst of it. A flash of his hand rising in the air after the bride had the temerity not to accept all his excuses and then call off the wedding.
“You look a little lost,” said a man’s voice.
It shocked Annette, partly because she hadn’t expected anyone to be nearby, but mostly because she recognized who it was and because he left a twist of need spiraling through her.
She looked up to find Jared standing there in his black coat with Tony Amati’s journal tucked under his arm.
Her blood surged, sending her pulse scampering.
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” she asked, putting a smile on her face for him.
He smiled back in that lopsided way that took the edge off him. Then he gestured toward the bench.
“May I?”
She scooted over and pulled her long felt coat around her, as if that would protect every vulnerable angle he’d just seen.
But it didn’t do any good—not when she could smell the hay scent of him, even over the fresh air, and surely not when she was all too aware of his broad shoulders under that coat.
He tilted up the brim of his hat, and she couldn’t take her eyes off his strong profile.
“I think I got a little lost yesterday myself,” he said.
“In the diner?” she asked, remembering their conversation after he’d first looked in the journal. He’d definitely seemed lost enough for her to have commented on it.
“Not in the diner.” He laughed. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I got it into my head that your garden would be some kind of burial place for more Tony Amati artifacts. So I drove out there, hoping to just knock on your door and see if you’d let me do a little Indiana Jonesing.”
Her skin flushed, just as if he’d spread fire over it. “You paid me a visit?”
“Before my better sense got to me, yes. I did.”
A feeling of warmth and excitement expanded in her, and the awareness spilled over, alerting her to their proximity on the bench. Only a small space separated them. If she would only move her hand an inch, she would feel a vibration from his leg, a sense of being closer to him than ever.
What if she dared?
She didn’t. The last thing she needed was to get involved with a guy she knew next to nothing about. A guy who rattled her as Brett had first done with his own manly presence, and look how that had turned out. She was better off not trusting her first impressions.
Besides, her baby needed more than a drifter. Actually, all her child needed was her, not any man at all.
Jared must have interpreted her silence as wariness, and he grabbed the journal from under his arm. “I ended up going home and rereading this entire thing in depth last night. It changed my mind again about approaching you.” He offered it to her. “There’s not a heck of a lot in here unless you’re looking for a love story, so I’m hoping to find more—even if it’s in your garden.”
She took the journal. “Just like a man. If there aren’t explosions and car chases, you’re not interested.”
“I’m interested, all right. I just didn’t expect Tony to be...” He motioned with his hand.
“A sap for love?”
“Maybe.” He paused. “All he talks about is some girl he fell for.”
“I’d ask if he married her, but I know Tony never took a wife.”
“Right. He wrote about how they met in secret all the time. She was engaged to marry someone else, though Tony says she didn’t love him.”
“She was a bad girl? How progressive for the time.”
“Nah, from what Tony says, she was an angel. But her father disapproved of him, and it wasn’t because of their age difference. Evidently, Daddy thought Tony didn’t ‘suit’ his daughter.”
“Ooh—a forbidden romance.” She wanted to ask if Tony had “gone digging in the girl’s garden,” but there were limits to flirting, especially with someone like Jared.
He leaned back, resting his arms on the top of the bench. His coat brushed her shoulder and she shivered.
“It’s weird, though,” he said. “Tony never wrote about the...details when it came to him and his girl.”
“Details?”
Jared raised an eyebrow, and she understood.
Intimacies, she thought, thankful that Jared hadn’t put it out there.
Was he feeling the tense atmosphere between them, too? Did he want to avoid it just as much?
He went on. “Tony doesn’t even give her name. It’s not that kind of notch-on-the-bedpost journal.”
“What kind is it then?”
“The type of crap Romeo would’ve written about. You know, ‘What light through yonder window breaks?’ That sort of flowery stuff.”
Annette playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “You know your Shakespeare.”
“No, I don’t.” He looked disinterested. “I just had to read it freshman year in high school. The girls in class had this thing where they’d go around quoting it whenever they were sighing over some guy.”
And how many of those girls had quoted lines about him?
“Anyway,” he said, once again the persistent subject-changer, “you can read the journal if you want to, but later, after I show it to my grandma. I owe you that much for bringing it to me. But, if you do take it, I’d ask that you keep it out of sight.”
Annette didn’t know how to respond. He’d said it so casually, but she got the feeling that letting her in on this was a big deal for Jared Colton.
She treated his gesture with the respect it deserved. “I’ll do just that, Jared.”
At the sound of his name coming from her, he met her gaze. It was as if his irises had heated to dark fire, and she had to glance back down at the journal to keep from getting scorched.
Without looking at him, she said, “And if you want to do some digging, you’re welcome to come over to my place.”
Because it was no big deal, right? Besides, she meant digging in the sense of “investigative labor,” not...well, “digging in her garden.”
His voice lowered, scratching over her skin. “Then I’ll do that. Dig, I mean.”
What precisely did he mean by “dig”?
Whatever it was, she would avoid it. He could be a friend, and that would be easy enough because she got the feeling he’d be leaving just as soon as he satisfied himself about Tony Amati for whatever reason.
That made everything pretty simple.
He stood, reaching out a hand to help her to her feet. When she grabbed it, a blast zipped up her fingers, heating her hand, her arm. Her chest.
Everywhere.
“I’m off work tomorrow if that suits you,” he said. “Maybe I could drop by sometime early?”
Based on his regular appearances at the diner, he had to know that tomorrow was her day off, too. But she had some baby furniture being delivered at nine, and she didn’t want him there to see proof of her condition. Not before she was ready for the dirt