Montana Dreaming. Karen Rose Smith
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gotten a squeamish I’d-rather-be-any-where-but-here look on his face. But he’d persevered like a real trooper.
Now he dozed on a pale green recliner near the window, hands folded over the flat plain of his stomach, eyes closed, dark hair spiked and mussed. He lay there for a while, unaware of her interest. And then he stirred.
She watched him arch his back, twist, extend his arms, then cover a yawn with his fist. When his eyes opened, he caught her gaze. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
“Tired, but the backache is gone.”
“That’s good news.” He gripped the armrests, manipulating the chair to an upright position, and stood like a knight in rumpled armor.
And that’s how she thought of him. Real hero material—in the rough.
With a wrinkled cotton dress shirt and tousled hair, the cynical reporter might not make another woman sit up and take notice this morning. But another woman hadn’t appreciated him pinch-hitting for the men she no longer had in her life.
Her brother Manny had been a macho guy, tough and gruff on the outside. But he’d also been a softy in the middle—at least, when it came to his little sister. And Mark appeared to be cut from the same bolt of cloth—a comparison made without any effort on her part.
There were men, as Juliet had learned the hard way, who wouldn’t stand by a pregnant woman.
Her baby’s father was one of them.
For a moment, as Juliet watched a sturdy, broadshouldered Mark walk toward the window, she pretended that she had someone in her corner. Someone who cared enough to stick by her.
And, at least for the past twelve hours, that had been true. Mark had been there for her when she needed a friend. And that was something she’d remember long after he’d taken another assignment and left Thunder Canyon.
She watched as he drew the floral curtains aside, allowing her to peer into the dawn-lit hospital courtyard. She wondered what the grounds looked like in the summer, when the patches of snow had all melted and the rose garden bloomed.
The door to the birthing room cracked open, and they both turned as Dr. Hart entered. The slender woman with light brown, shoulder-length hair approached the bed. As in the past, she exuded professionalism and concern. Yet last night Juliet had noticed something different about her. A happy glow that lingered this morning.
“Good morning,” the doctor said. “Did you have a restful night?”
“I didn’t sleep too well,” Juliet admitted, “but I’m feeling all right. No apparent labor.”
“Let’s make sure there hasn’t been any silent dilation going on,” the doctor said, as she headed for the sink.
As before, Mark left the room to give her privacy.
After washing her hands, Dr. Hart donned a pair of gloves and nodded toward the closed door. “That’s some friend you have.”
“It looks that way.” Juliet closed her eyes during the exam, whispering a prayer that all was well. That she hadn’t dilated any more, that her baby was safe in her womb for the time being.
“Good,” Dr. Hart said, removing the gloves and tossing them in the trash. “Nothing’s changed since last night.”
Juliet blew out the breath she’d been holding, as Dr. Hart opened the door to call Mark back into the room.
“I think we’re home free,” the obstetrician told him. “This time.”
“Thank goodness.” Mark blew out a little whistle and slid Juliet a smile, providing a sense of camaraderie. Teamwork. Something she hadn’t experienced since her brother’s accident.
The doctor made a note in the chart, then glanced at Juliet. “If you promise to stay off your feet, I’ll let you go home.”
“That’s great.” Juliet knew she’d feel better in the privacy of her own little apartment, close to her photographs and memories. “Thank you.”
“But I’m talking extreme bed rest,” the doctor stressed.
Mark cleared his throat. “Juliet doesn’t have anyone to look after her, so maybe she ought to stay here.”
For several weeks? Was he crazy? “That’s ridiculous, Mark. I’ll rest better and be happier at home.”
Dr. Hart glanced up from the chart. “I’m not sure how your insurance carrier will feel about you staying here for more than a day or so. Do you have someone who can stay with you?”
“No, I live alone. But I promise to take it easy.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mark made his way to Juliet’s bedside. He’d seen the way she’d been “taking it easy” at The Hitching Post. “Doctor, you can’t trust her not to get up and do the dishes or scrub floors or clean out closets or something like that.”
“Then maybe we’d better keep you here.” Dr. Hart, attractive even in green hospital scrubs, leaned her hip against the bed and crossed her arms.
Disappointment swept over Juliet’s face, and Mark felt like a real spoilsport. But she didn’t have anyone to look after her. He doubted Mrs. Tasker, who liked to park her butt by the cash register, would volunteer to help.
Juliet looked at him and frowned, tossing a guilt trip on him.
Mark supposed he could check on her. After all he was staying across the street.
“I can look after her.” The comment popped out before Mark could think about the ramifications. And when Juliet and the doctor faced him, he realized backpedaling would be next to impossible now. He was committed. And he’d taken a stand. But that didn’t mean his gut wasn’t twisting.
Juliet shot him a wide-eyed stare. “You can’t be serious about staying with me.”
“Why not?” The question couldn’t have surprised her any more than it had him. Hell, Mark had not only volunteered to babysit a woman who was on the verge of going into labor, but now he was trying to convince her—and maybe even himself—that it was a good idea.
“You can’t waste your time taking care of me.” Juliet pressed the control button that raised her up in bed. “You’ve got work to do.”
He shook his head. “I don’t have anything pressing to do.”
“That’s not true,” she countered. “You’ve got a news article to write.”
“The story, as I’ve told you before, is a joke. And the article can practically write itself.”
“So, what’s the verdict,” Dr. Hart asked. “Do I sign these release papers or not?”
Mark crossed his arms. “Sign them.”
“All right,” the doctor said. “I’ll have the paperwork processed. Then I’ll send an orderly to take you out in a wheelchair.”
When Dr. Hart left the room, Mark ran a hand through his hair. Juliet’s back might feel much better this morning, but his hurt like hell.
What he really needed to do was get out of here, shower and maybe take a nap.
He glanced at Juliet and saw reluctance in her expression. Resentment, too? He wasn’t sure. But she’d been overruled, and he had a feeling it didn’t sit well.
Strangely, for a guy who liked to come out on top himself, he wasn’t feeling too happy about winning this argument.
And he hoped to hell he hadn’t bitten off more than he could chew.
Thirty minutes later, Mark brought his rental car to the curb at the main entrance of the hospital. Then he helped Juliet into the passenger seat.
He was taking her home. And that fact brought on a flurry of other concerns, things he hadn’t