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He did feel it, little nudges against his palm. He wondered if it hurt her, to have a tiny human being moving around inside of her, but that seemed like too personal a question to ask. Not that his ex-wife seemed to care about boundaries, which was why Reid was moving out of state in an effort to establish some. Instead he asked, “He?”
Trish smiled and nodded. “It’s a boy. We’re going name him Henry—for my dad.”
Reid had to clear the tightness from his own throat before he could respond. “That’s a great name.”
She watched him tape the flaps of the box shut. “I really wish you weren’t going.”
He hadn’t expected that his ex-wife would make this easy for him, but he hadn’t expected that it would be so hard, either. But he didn’t—couldn’t—waver. He needed to move on with his life, and as long as he was living a stone’s throw away from her, he knew that wouldn’t happen.
“You’re going to be okay, Trish. You don’t need me anymore.”
She sniffed and knuckled away a tear that spilled onto her cheeks. “But what if you still need me?”
She’d been his family—his only family—for seven years now. But it didn’t matter if he still needed her—it was time for him to move on.
* * *
Kate thanked the clerk as she slid the judge’s signed order into her client’s file, tucked the file into her briefcase and turned away from the desk. She exited the courthouse, pausing outside the doors to perch her sunglasses on her nose in defense against the bright afternoon sun, then continued on her way. She’d been told that she moved purposefully, like a woman on a mission, and she usually was.
Today her mission was to get away from the courthouse before she threw up. She crossed the street and ducked into the shade of the trees that lined the perimeter of Shearing Park. The greenspace was usually quiet at this time of day, offering the privacy she needed. She lowered herself onto the wooden slats of a bench and reached into her briefcase for the sleeve of saltine crackers she’d been carrying for the past few days.
She inhaled, taking three long deep breaths. Then she nibbled on a cracker and sipped some water. When she felt a little steadier, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed her office.
“I’ve got the custody order for Debby Hansen,” she said when her assistant answered the phone. “If you want to print up the cover letter and final account so everything’s ready to go, that would be great. I’m heading to a settlement conference in Winnemucca this afternoon, but I’ll be back in the office in the morning.”
She could picture Beth frowning at Kate’s schedule on her computer screen. “I don’t have anything about a settlement conference.”
“I set it up myself—a favor for a friend,” she explained.
Lied.
If she was looking in a mirror, she would see flags of color on her cheeks. Thankfully, Beth wasn’t able to see the telltale proof of her deception.
“Okay,” the other woman said agreeably. “I’ll leave your docket and the files for tomorrow morning on your desk before I lock up.”
“Thanks, Beth.”
She disconnected the call and nibbled on another cracker. She’d never felt good about lying, but lately she’d been doing a lot of it.
Lying to her assistant, to explain her absences from the office. To her dad, when he said she looked peaked. To her sister, when Sky asked what was wrong. To her grandmother, when she hinted that Kate was working too hard.
To herself, when she suggested that the first home pregnancy test was faulty and there was no reason to panic.
It was only when a second, and then a third, test showed the same obviously inaccurate result that she’d decided to see an ob-gyn.
She tucked her crackers back into her briefcase, walked to her car and headed toward Battle Mountain. Because she would rather drive thirty-five miles out of town than risk the inevitable speculation that would follow a visit to a local doctor.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Gilmore—I’m Camila Amaro.”
Kate accepted the proffered hand of the woman who entered the exam room. “Thank you for squeezing me in.”
“You sounded a little panicked on the phone.”
“I’m feeling a little panicked,” she admitted.
The doctor didn’t go behind her desk to sit down but leaned back against it, facing her patient. “Is this your first pregnancy?”
She managed a weak smile. “So much for thinking the results of three home pregnancy tests might be wrong.”
“False results do happen,” the doctor acknowledged. “But a false positive is extremely rare, and the test we ran here confirms the presence of hCG—the pregnancy hormone—in your system.”
“I’m really pregnant? I’m going to have a baby?”
“You’re really pregnant,” the doctor confirmed.
She’d dreaded receiving this confirmation. How could she possibly juggle her professional responsibilities with the demands of a baby? And yet, something surprising happened when the doctor said those three words. She felt a loosening of the knots in her stomach and unexpected joy in her heart.
A baby.
And she knew then that it didn’t matter that she hadn’t planned for this—she would figure out a way to make it work.
“Do you want to set up a sonogram so we can establish how far along you are and discuss the options that are available to you?” Dr. Amaro asked.
“Five weeks and six days,” Kate told her.
“You’re sure?”
She nodded. “Broken condom.”
The doctor opened the folder she carried and made a note in the file. “Are you in an exclusive relationship with the father?”
The question was matter-of-fact and without any hint of censure, but Kate felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment that she’d been so foolish and careless. A weekend fling had seemed like a good idea at the time—some harmless fun to break the monotony of her everyday life. She’d never anticipated that a few unforgettable nights would give her a lasting reminder of those nights with the handsome sheriff from Texas.
“No,” she admitted. “In fact...I haven’t seen him since the weekend that we were...together.”
“Then maybe we should run some other tests?” the doctor suggested gently.
She wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but her already burning cheeks flamed even hotter. She’d been so off-kilter about the possibility of a pregnancy that she hadn’t given a thought to any other potential consequences of unprotected sex.
Of course, when the condom broke, she and Reid had talked about their respective sexual histories to reassure one another that there was no cause for alarm. But she nodded her assent to the doctor now. “Yes, please. Whatever you need to do—I want to know that my baby’s going to be okay.”
“Then you do want to have the baby?” Dr. Amaro asked in the same neutral tone.
Kate nodded again. While she appreciated the woman’s professional manner and obvious determination not to influence her decision, there had never been any question in Kate’s mind. Even when she’d still been firmly in denial about the possibility of a pregnancy, she’d known that—if she was pregnant—there was no other choice for her but to have the baby.
She’d always wanted to have a family...someday. Of course, she’d expected to be more established in her career—and preferably married—before that dream became a reality, but she was going to play the hand that had been dealt and be the best mother she could be to her baby.
She had no intention of making any claims on Sheriff Reid Davidson of Echo Ridge, Texas. She’d gone to bed with him not just willingly but eagerly, and even if the possibility of a pregnancy had never entered her mind, she alone had chosen to have this baby and she alone would be the responsible for that choice.
And while she had no idea how he would respond to the news that he was going to be a father, she knew that she had to tell him.
Soon.
Chapter Three (#udc6d5391-96d8-5b5e-8fca-0348804637a7)
Reid stared at the modest pile of boxes in the middle of his new kitchen. He suspected that most people, by thirty-four years of age, had acquired more stuff, but when he and Trish had separated, he’d moved into a fully furnished apartment and let her keep the house and almost everything in it.
While looking at the housing options in Haven, he’d found an in-law suite available to rent only a few blocks from the Sheriff’s Office—furnishings available—and decided that was again the easy option. Glancing around his new home, he acknowledged that he should have asked for photos.
Whether or not his decision to move to Haven, Nevada, would prove to be the right one had yet to be determined. But he’d needed a fresh start, he’d liked what he’d seen of the town on his first visit and he’d been assured by Jed Traynor, the former sheriff who had been forced into early retirement by some health concerns—and his wife—that Haven was populated by mostly good people.
And then, of course, there was the Katelyn factor.
He wasn’t foolish enough to let his career decisions be influenced by a weekend fling, no matter how spectacular and unforgettable the sex had been. But he’d been thinking about her a lot and he was looking forward to the opportunity to see her again.
Seeing her naked again would be even better.
She was a woman of intriguing contrasts. When she’d walked into the conference room, she’d been the picture of cool professionalism, but it hadn’t taken long for him to realize how much heat simmered beneath the surface. The passion she’d displayed in advocating her position in the conference room was just as evident in the bedroom.
She’d made the first move—not just when she’d invited him back to her room, but when she’d kissed him. There had been nothing tentative about that first kiss. No questions or doubts about what either of them wanted. Their mouths had come together eagerly, almost desperately.
They’d both been enthusiastic participants in their lovemaking. Tearing at their own clothes while simultaneously trying to undress each other, laughing when limbs got tangled in uncooperative fabric.
When she’d been stripped down to a tiny pair of black bikini panties and a low-cut bra, he’d stopped laughing.
Hell, his heart had almost stopped beating.
She was so incredibly hot.
So wonderfully agile.
So totally willing.
And even six weeks after only two nights together, he hadn’t forgotten any of the details of the time he’d spent in her bed. Not the way her eyes went dark when she was aroused or the soft, sexy sounds that emanated from deep in her throat. Not the rosy pink buds of her nipples or the tiny brown mole beside her belly button. Not the way her hair looked fanned out on the soft pillow behind her head, or the erotic brush of those long tresses as her lips leisurely explored his body. Not the way her thighs quivered when he stroked deep inside her or the way her inner muscles clenched around him when she finally succumbed to her climax.
Yeah, he was definitely looking forward to seeing her again.
With that thought in mind, he decided to abandon his unpacking for a while and wander the neighborhood—to get his bearings. At least that would be the justification if anyone asked. The truth was, he’d already located the most important places: Sheriff’s Office; courthouse; Diggers’, the neighborhood bar and grill; Jo’s, a local pizza place; The Trading Post, the general store; and, a few blocks down from the courthouse, The Law Office of Katelyn T. Gilmore.
Her practice was set up in a beautiful old building with a cornerstone that established the date of its erection as 1885. Maybe the old library, he speculated, since Jed had pointed out the new community center, which included a swimming pool, gymnasium, “the new library,” several multipurpose rooms and administrative offices.
“Are you in need of legal counsel?”
Reid turned to face a woman who appeared to be in her mid-to late-sixties, about five-four with shoulder-length dark hair liberally streaked with gray, wearing a plaid shirt with faded jeans and well-worn boots.
“No, ma’am,” he said. “Just admiring the building.”
“The old library,” she said, confirming his supposition. “It was built in 1885, as were most of the buildings on this stretch of Main Street, but the doors didn’t open until 1887. It’s rumored that sixteen-year-old Elena Sanchez hid out in the basement of this very building for three weeks in the fall of 1904 to avoid being forced to marry.”
“Did she succeed?”
The woman nodded. “With the help of the librarian, Edward Jurczyk, who sneaked in blankets and food for her. Two years later, they were married. Nine years after that, Edward was killed fighting in The Great War in Europe.”
“Haven has quite an interesting history,” he mused, his gaze returning to the wide front window where Katelyn T. Gilmore was painted in bold black letters outlined in gold and Attorney at Law was spelled out below in slightly smaller letters.
“Katie opened her office here almost two-and-a-half years ago,” the woman continued. “If you’re ever in need of an attorney, you couldn’t do better. She sometimes has office hours on weekends, but she’s out of town right now.”
“You seem to know a lot about Ms. Gilmore’s schedule,” he noted.
And sharing more information than you should with a stranger, he wanted to caution. Of course, he kept that admonition to himself, as he was eager to hear anything about Katelyn that she was willing to tell him.
“Of course, I do,” she replied. “Katie’s my granddaughter.”
“I’m beginning to believe that everyone in town knows—or is—a Gilmore.” He offered his hand. “I’m Reid Davidson, the—”
“The new sheriff,” she finished for him, as she gripped his hand in a surprisingly firm shake. “I know who you are. And I’m Evelyn Gilmore, not some dotty old woman who would spill personal information about my family to a stranger on the street.”
Then her gaze narrowed speculatively. “So you apparently know that Haven was founded by the Gilmore family,” she acknowledged, “but what do you know about the Blakes?”
He forced his expression to remain blank. “Who?”
She laughed. “It might turn out that you’re exactly what this town needs, Sheriff Reid Davidson. You plan on staying beyond the completion of your current term?”
“Maybe you should table that question until after I’ve actually started my job,” he suggested.
“Maybe I will,” she decided. “Until then, if you’ve got time for a cup of coffee, I can introduce you to Donna Bradley. She’s been working the counter at The Daily Grind for longer than it’s been The Daily Grind.
“Cal’s Coffee Shop, it used to be called,” she continued. “But Cal died nearly a dozen years ago now and when his granddaughter took it over, she gave it a face-lift and a new name. She was smart enough to keep Donna, though, and if there’s any news in town, she’s usually the first to know it.”
“I’ve always got time for a cup of coffee,” Reid said, looking forward to her commentary on the community and its residents—and hopeful that she’d share more information about Katelyn.
* * *
Though Kate had been feeling tired for a couple of weeks, having the doctor explain that fatigue was normal in the first trimester, because her body was expending lots of energy helping to grow a baby, seemed to exacerbate the situation. By the end of the following week, she was really dragging.
Thankfully, she didn’t have court Friday morning, but she did have an appointment at the community center in the afternoon to talk to a group of seniors about wills and estate planning. After the session was finished, she decided to call it a day.
Her cell phone rang just as she pulled into the parking lot behind the old library, which housed not only her law office but her apartment above it. Shifting her vehicle into Park, she glanced longingly at the second-floor windows. If she ignored the ringing, she could have her shoes off and her feet up in less than three minutes.
She answered the call, anyway.
“Hey, Kate—it’s Liam,” her brother said, as if she wouldn’t recognize his voice or the number on the display.
“What’s up?” It was unusual for him to contact her in the middle of the day, so she knew his call had a specific purpose.
“Do you remember my friend, Chase, from school?”
“Of course,” she said.
