His Texas Christmas Bride

скачать книгу бесплатно


After noting the James Dean comparison, her next thought had been that he had to be one of the best-looking human beings she’d ever laid eyes on. Bad-boy dangerous and take-your-breath-away gorgeous, with that shock of dark hair that was just a tad too long.

Sigh.

“I can totally see it,” Kate said. “Did you sit and brood over James Dean last night?”

Becca tried to shrug it off. “I did and it’s so stupid. I just need to get Nick out of my head. I keep going back and forth between being furious with him for pushing this paternity test issue and thinking that this guy and I are going to be irrevocably connected because of the baby. And despite it all, I want that. I really want it. But what he must think of me to insist on this test.”

Kate looked at Becca for a long moment, and Becca could see the wheels turning in her friend’s head.

“What?” Becca asked. “Just say what you’re thinking. I’ve already admitted I’m a hot mess.”

“I know it was hard for you to go get the test done. It probably felt as if he was questioning the very core of your character. I know that must’ve felt really crappy. But there are some women who—” Kate paused and winced. “How do I say this? Just don’t hate me for it, okay?”

“Just say it.”

“There are women out there who might try to trap a man like Nick.”

“A man like Nick? What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

“He’s a good-looking guy with a nice income and secure job. You know, a doctor.”

“You sound like Jane Austen.” In her best high-pitched British accent, Becca said, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

Kate laughed. “Well, not exactly. I was trying to say that there are certain women who think a man in possession of a good job, especially a doctor, would make a good husband. Okay, I guess that did sound a little Austen-ish. Remember Liam’s neighbor Kimela Herring, and how she set her sights on him after his first wife passed away? That woman was shameless. She would’ve done anything—and I mean anything—to get her hooks in him. She’s the reason I ended up bidding ten thousand dollars for him at that bachelor auction that funded the new pediatric wing at Celebration Memorial Hospital. Remember how she drove up the bid?”

Becca sat back in her chair and squinted at her friend while she tried to ignore the annoyance sparking in her solar plexus. “I remember, but I’m not quite sure where you’re going with this trip down memory lane. Because surely you’re not comparing me to Kimela Herring.”

Kate looked genuinely surprised. Becca knew she sounded defensive, especially when Kate burst out laughing.

“Hardly,” Kate said, a broad grin commandeering her face. “But what I am saying is, even though you are far from being a Kimela Herring and I know this is tremendously hard for you, you might want to cut Nick some slack. Women like Kimela throw themselves at men like Nick and Liam, and that might be one of the reasons Nick is so wary.”

Becca wasn’t quite sure what to say. She could always count on Kate to give it to her straight, but she was having a hard time swallowing what Kate was dishing up. Okay, so Nick was a doctor. That didn’t make him better or worse than anyone. Even if certain women had a tendency to fling themselves at men like Nick. It certainly didn’t absolve him of his responsibility.

Kate must’ve read that on her face, because she waved her hand as if she were erasing her words. “That didn’t come out right. I feel like I just set back womankind two hundred years.”

Becca cocked a brow. “Maybe three hundred years.” But she smiled to let Kate know she wasn’t taking it personally. She couldn’t. Because even though Kate’s words rankled her, Becca could step back and see that there was some truth to the matter. Gold diggers were real. They weren’t the stuff of urban legends. She didn’t like it, and she certainly didn’t like the thought of Nick thinking of her that way.

“You’re right,” Becca said. “He doesn’t know me.”

“So please don’t be too hard on him, or on yourself, for that matter, okay?” Kate said.

Becca offered a one-shoulder shrug but nodded. He’d see the truth soon enough. She wasn’t trying to force his hand. Even if they were having a baby, she didn’t want to marry a man she didn’t love or a man who didn’t love her.

For a moment her heart tried to eclipse logic with quiet protestations. How did she know she couldn’t love Nick? She didn’t even know him beyond that one earthmoving night, which proved that there had certainly been plenty of raw material to work with then.

And, oh, how it had worked.

As if the heavens were seconding that motion, a notice that she had a new email popped up on her computer screen.

She clicked over to her inbox.

The results were in.

* * *

After working the 7:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. shift the night before, which he would repeat tonight, Nick’s days and nights were mixed up, but such was the life of someone employed in emergency medicine.

His schedule was as unpredictable as the cases that presented themselves each night in the ER. Some weeks he worked the graveyard shift, others he pulled the more civilized 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. one. Even though Celebration Memorial usually scheduled attendings four days on and three days off, sometimes the workweeks were longer, and he never knew what he’d be working one week to the next. That was fine because he was married to his job. Emergency medicine was a possessive spouse.

But now he was going to be a father.

He’d picked up Becca’s text after he woke up around two o’clock. He hadn’t even had a chance to grab a cup of coffee. So he was still a little groggy as he read the news. It was force of habit to check his phone the minute he rolled out of bed to make sure he was on top of things at the hospital, to make sure he hadn’t missed an important call or text.

In this case, he had.

Becca had called. Then, when he’d slept right through that, she’d texted. Her message had said, The results are in. She’d included a link to a website and a password.

He’d known what the results would be before he’d typed in the first character. He’d known in his bones that Becca wasn’t the kind of woman who would try to pawn off another guy’s child on someone else. He supposed he’d known the truth since the moment he’d set eyes on her again in the emergency room, but he hadn’t been able to wrap his mind around it.

A father. He was going to be a father. He couldn’t imagine a worse person for such an important job. The kid deserved better than anything he could offer. Of course he would provide for the child, but love? How could he love someone else when he didn’t even like himself sometimes?

The bald reality rolled around inside his gut, cold and heavy like a large ball bearing. To make it stop, he pushed up off the sofa bed and made short order of putting the couch back together, tossing the cushions into place. The chore had become a routine because if he didn’t put away his bed, it dominated the living space in the tiny efficiency apartment that sat above George and Mary Jane Hewitt’s garage. He’d rented the place on a month-to-month basis, figuring he’d find something more permanent once he got settled in his job and got to know the area. Since the place came fully furnished, he’d had the movers unload everything he owned, except his clothes, into a storage shed.

He didn’t spend much time at home, and as the modest apartment came with everything he needed, he really hadn’t missed the stuff that was stashed in those boxes. The Hewitts’ granddaughter was coming to live with them in January. So they wouldn’t offer more than a sixty-day lease. By that time, Nick figured he’d be settled in at the hospital and have a better read on the town. He’d even planned on looking up Becca.

It didn’t make any sense to unpack only to pack it all up again when he moved again after the first of the year. It felt good and light and free to not be weighed down by worldly possessions, even if temporarily.

But he hadn’t counted on the news that Becca was carrying his child.

He was going to be a father.

Maybe if he repeated the words to himself enough it would start to sink in. Yeah. No, that hadn’t happened yet.

As Nick made his way into the tiny kitchenette, he uttered a silent oath that was utterly unfatherly. He braced his arms on the edge of the slip of kitchen counter, where the coffeemaker and toaster lived. He knocked his head against the cabinet in front of him for not being more careful.

But he had been careful. They’d used protection. Short of being celibate, how much more careful could he be?

The only thing that was crystal clear now was, with Nick as its father, this poor kid was screwed. Nick wasn’t cut out to be a dad or a family man. The most devastating part of the equation was that this child hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t selected him. He or she—God, this was a person, a living, breathing human being whom he could screw up—deserved so much more than such a poor excuse for a father.

But like it or not, this child would arrive in about six months. There was no changing that. He squeezed his eyes together and raked both hands through his hair, which was still sleep mussed. Then he grabbed his phone and called Becca.

The phone rang three times, and he thought it might go to voice mail, but she answered.

“Hi, it’s Nick.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment he wondered if the call had dropped. He was just pulling the phone away from his ear to look at the screen when he heard her.

“Hi, Nick.” Her voice sounded neutral, almost businesslike. Of course, she was probably at work. And nearly four hours had passed since she’d texted him this morning.

“I just picked up your text.”

“Okay.”

She wasn’t going to make this easy on him, was she? Well, why should she?

Okay, so he had some smoothing over to do to convince her he wasn’t a first-class creep. But he still felt justified asking for proof positive. He hoped Becca would understand that the test results were the first step in moving forward.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said.

“Do we, Nick?”

Her tone wasn’t hostile, just calm, eerily calm, a matter-of-fact answer to his feeble attempts to meet her halfway.

“I would ask you to have dinner tonight, but I have to work at seven. Would you have time to meet for coffee after you get off work?”

“Meet me in Central Park in downtown Celebration at five o’clock.”

He released a slow, controlled breath, both relieved and surprised that she’d agreed to see him. But she had, and that was the first step. They’d take it from there.

“I’ll see you then.”

“Nick,” she said. “I don’t expect you to marry me. So, don’t worry.”

What was he supposed to say to that? It was one of those damned if you do, damned if you don’t situations, and he wasn’t going there. This impassive front she was projecting was probably just a defense to gain control over a situation that felt way out of control. He felt out of control, too.

Becca had just told him he was off the hook. She’d just handed him a free pass. If he knew what was good for him, he’d take it and run. But he couldn’t. And that made him feel so out of control it was as if his world was spinning, and all he could do was hang on or risk being flung off into parts unknown.

Actually, maybe that had already happened. Maybe this weird alternate universe was where he’d landed.

“I’ll see you at five.”

* * *

He arrived at the park a little early. He left his motorcycle in a parking space along the street and sat on a bench, looking at the fall decorations adorning the gazebo. Kids played in the park, running and laughing and chasing each other, as he sat there trying to gather his thoughts before Becca arrived.

Her words I don’t expect you to marry me rattled in his brain. If Becca Flannigan was one thing, it was sincere. If she said it, she meant it. Nick knew he should’ve been relieved, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was feeling—

Until he saw her walking across the grass toward him in her red coat and boots. Something pinged in his gut. Awareness flooded his senses, and his body tightened in response.

An image of the night they were together played through his mind. A guy like him would be wise to ignore feelings like this. He shouldn’t lead her on and make her think he was promising things he couldn’t deliver. Becca and the baby deserved better than anything he had to offer. He had a history of tearing things apart, of ruining anything good that had ever come into his life.

She deserved to be married to the father of her child, if she wanted to be. Deserved to have a traditional family, a traditional life. The house with the white picket fence with dogs and cats in the yard, if that’s what she wanted.

He didn’t know for sure, because he didn’t know her at all. Even if every cell in his body tried to convince him otherwise. As he stood to greet her, he shook off the unbidden memory of their night together—holding her, kissing her, making love to her. He had to man up and knock it off.

She offered a shy smile as she approached.

He had to fight the urge to hug her. He mentally scoffed. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t a hugger. He had to do something to lighten the mood and preempt the awkwardness.

“Go ahead and say it.”

She squinted at him as she fidgeted with the scarf that hung around her neck. “Say what?”

“You can say I told you so. Twice if you want.”

She nodded solemnly. “I thought about it, actually.”

She shrugged and looked away.

Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to make a joke out of it. He was only trying to lighten the mood. A group of six preschool-aged kids ran ahead of their mothers, landing and tumbling in the grassy area directly in front of Nick and Becca.

Their mothers stopped at another bench about ten yards away and waved to Becca. She waved back. The three huddled for a moment, talking, then in unison they looked back at Nick and Becca. Then huddled up again.

“Friends of yours?” Nick asked.

“Acquaintances,” she said. “I don’t usually hang with the playgroup set. I guess that will change soon.”

One of the kids, a little girl with white-blond curls, let loose an earsplitting shriek, and two of her friends followed suit before they started chasing each other and shrieking even louder as they ran.