Baby by Midnight? Read online

  “I’ll bet he doesn’t know you’re substituting chocolate for a real meal, does he?”

  Guilty. Not that she planned to admit today’s poor eating habits to him or Dr. Elizabeth. “She.” Annie redirected in self-defense. “I believe I already told you that my obstetrician is a woman.”

  “You mentioned it, yes. Accused me of being the father of her baby, as I recall.”

  “I did not. You seemed to want to take the responsibility for somebody’s baby and I merely suggested you talk to her.”

  “I’m thinkin’ I’ll make an appointment.” He rolled the spent wrappers into a small silver ball and dropped it into the cellophane bag with the untouched candy. Then he folded the whole bag— what was left of it into a tight little package and set it on the floor, where she’d have to either walk all the way around the porch or get down on her knees and crawl under his propped-up, lazy pair of legs to get her hands on it. “Ask her about paternity tests and stuff like that,” he continued, oblivious to her dilemma. “Never too early to plan ahead.”

  Annie felt hungry all of a sudden...and edgy about what Alex might do. Not a happy combination. “For the last time, you are not about to become a daddy. Not with this baby, anyway. So why don’t you quit hassling me about it?”

  “I’m figuring the father must be somebody I know, since you’re so determined not to name names.”

  She wondered why she hadn’t simply told him the truth in the first place, then remembered the consequences. “That is a giant leap of logic,” she said. “Even for you.”

  “Maybe, but I think I could be on the right track here. Let me just take a stab at guessing.” He dropped his feet from the railing to the floor and scooted forward in the chair so he could make eye contact. “Harvey Mellencamp.”

  “Harvey—? Are you nuts? That old coot is old enough to be my grandfather.”

  “Maybe even your great-grandfather, but I’m working my way down the list of Bison City bachelors, and I had to start somewhere.” Alex stopped, frowned, rubbed his chin. “I am right in sticking with bachelors, I take it?”

  “You can read names out of the phone book if you want, but I am not having this discussion with you.”

  “You can end it anytime, Annie. Just tell me what I want to know.”

  She was tempted to march out there and tell him everything. How panicked she’d been at the first hint she might be pregnant. How ridiculously happy she’d been in the first astonishing moments after finding out she was. How quickly the worry set in. How hard the questions got. How much everything changed. It would have been nice to have had someone—him—to talk to. It would have been reassuring to know he was there for her to depend on for support, help and plain old encouragement. It wouldn’t have made the decisions easier, necessarily, but it would have been nice to share them and not shoulder all the burden alone.

  But Alex hadn’t been there. “I’m going to go into the kitchen and fix myself something green and disgustingly healthy, and if that bag of candy is gone when I come back out to get it, you’re going to owe me twice the normal boarding rate for your animals. Are we clear on that?”

  He pursed his lips, rubbed a fingertip across his jaw. “Stanley Hillman?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Tyson Thomas, then.”

  As if she would let that one pass. “Don’t be completely ridiculous. His mother would never let him date a redhead, much less a woman who can’t cook.”

  “Poor old Tyson will never know what he missed.” Alex smiled, softly and slow. “Because I seem to recall you cook up a mean picnic supper.”

  She blushed, damn it. And not from embarrassment, either, but pleasure—pure, sweet pleasure—that he remembered. Not that he had any business knowing her memories of him were anything but aggravating. “I should have poisoned those barbecue ribs when I had the chance.”

  “Life is full of missed opportunities,” he said with a shrug. “Okay, what about Jack Pannell? He was forever after you to two-step with him at the VFW Howdy dances.”

  “Jack moved to Cheyenne several years ago, when his daughter, Eleanor—who, in case you’ve forgotten, went to school with my Uncle Dex—decided he couldn’t take care of himself anymore and put him in a rest home.”

  “I know you’re too sassy for old Jack to handle. I meant his son, Eleanor’s youngest brother. Isn’t his name Jack, too?”

  “John,” she corrected. “And he’s been married for years.”

  “Is that a fact?” Alex stood, tall, lean, about the most compelling reason for Wrangler jeans she’d ever seen on her front porch. “Hmm. Looks like I’m going to have to brush up on who is and isn’t still a bachelor around here.”

  “Times change,” she said. “People change. Nothing stays the same. You should know that by now.”

  He scratched his head, pushing his hat to a rakish tilt in the process. “If you’re turning philosophical, I must be getting warm.”

  “I don’t understand why it matters to you who the father of this baby is, Alex. It’s not like I’m asking you to be responsible.”

  “I’m sorta thinkin’ I am, though, see, and unless I find out differently, I mean to be responsible. Are we clear on that?” His gaze tussled some with hers, and she went down in defeat, losing the battle if not the war.

  “He’s not from Bison City,” she said, hoping her expression was sad enough, weary enough, wary enough to be convincing. “Not that that’s any of your business, either.”

  “Well now, that’s just what we’re trying to determine, isn’t it?” He glanced down at the scuffed toes of his Tony Llama boots, as if he was feeling a bit guilty for pressuring her, but no such luck. “Where is he? In the house, there, with you?”

  “You know he’s not.”

  “Are you expecting him anytime soon?”

  “No.” She searched for inspiration, tried to think of some little detail that might convince him. “He’s...in the Peace Corps.”

  “The Peace Corps?”

  Annie had to defend the father of her child, even if she had made him up on the spot. “What’s wrong with that? He’s a very unselfish person.”

  “He must be quite a guy. How’d you meet him?”

  “Um...in school. He was at Kansas State with me.”

  “He’s a veterinarian, too?”

  She nodded, eager to collaborate any idea he might have about her imaginary mate. “Yes.”

  “Did he know he was going to become a father before he so unselfishly joined the Peace Corps?”

  “No.” She hesitated, realizing this was going to get complicated. “I...uh, didn’t find out until he’d left. For Africa. He’s in Africa.”

  Alex nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “Stands to reason the Peace Corps would need veterinarians in Africa.”

  “That’s not what he does,” she snapped, and immediately regretted it because she had only the vaguest idea of what the Peace Corps did do in Africa or anywhere else. “He’s...building houses.”

  “That’s noble, considering you’re here trying to turn a rundown old house into a home for his baby. When’s he coming back?”

  “He’s not.”

  Alex frowned. “Ever?”

  Oops. “Not for a while,” she corrected, smiling, thinking she must be crazy to have started this. “Quite a while.” Alex looked even more doubtful, so she added, “But he’ll be here before the baby’s born. He promised.”

  “A man would want to be there when his son’s born.”

  “Yes.” She swallowed hard. “He wouldn’t want to miss that.”

  “I wouldn’t, if it was me.”

  “No, of course you wouldn’t. If it was you. Which it’s not. See? I told you you’re trying to borrow someone else’s trouble. Now you can go on about your business knowing this is not your problem.”

  He rubbed his chin and a good twenty-four hours worth of stubby beard. If she hadn’t known the story of Samuel and Jocasta McIntyre, hadn’t heard the tale of how Samuel
had let a fortune in gold sink to the ocean floor off Cape Horn in order to save the woman he loved and later married, if it wasn’t common knowledge that Sam and Jocasta had eventually settled in Wyoming and started a dynasty, well, it would have been easy to believe that Alex was descended from the most notorious outlaws ever to inhabit the nooks and crannies of the Bighorn Mountains. He looked the part. Outlaw to the core. Audacious. Handsome. I’ll-take-that attitude. And as likely to steal her heart as hold it hostage.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking, Annie,” he said after a short silence. “That’s not much of a story.”

  He didn’t believe a word she’d said. Lied. Okay she’d lied and he knew it. So what? Lifting her chin, she brazenly asked, “What part bothers you?”

  “Pretty much everything except you being pregnant and not telling the man who got you that way.”

  “Look, I’m not going to stand here and argue. I’ve worked all day. I have a date with a can of paint tonight and, since you ate all the chocolate, I’m now faced with fixing myself something completely unappetizing to eat.”

  “You’re hungry?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

  “So am I. I’ll fix you something. Something hot and nourishing and a thousand times better for you than Hershey’s Kisses.”

  “But not as good.”

  “Who said? Turn me loose in the kitchen and you’ll be begging for my recipes.” He pulled on. the handle of the screen door, but she held fast to the latch. “Plus,” he said, adding what he obviously felt would be the pièce de résistance, “I’m real handy with a paintbrush.”

  Okay, so she was a direct descendent of the pantywaist bank teller who took one look at the dangerous outlaw and turned over all the money in the cash drawer, then offered to open the safe just to be polite. It was sad, really. Embarrassing even. But as she stepped aside, allowing him to open the screen door and walk right back into her life, all she felt was a familiar, deep-down joy that he was here. She’d been lonely for a long time, and when Alex set out to charm her, there was simply nobody who was better equipped for the job. “I won’t eat green beans,” she warned. “No matter how you disguise them.”

  He grinned like the thief of hearts he was. “Sounds like a challenge to me. Point me toward the kitchen, Annie, and then stay out of my way.”

  As if she hadn’t been trying.

  SHE NEVER EVEN KNEW he put the green beans in the salad. Chopped up fine and sprinkled in with the parsley. She ate it all and asked for seconds and Alex, through some divine intervention, managed to keep his mouth shut About green beans and parenthood, if not much else.

  He laid his fork across his plate and watched her put away the last of a generous helping of meat loaf and mashed potatoes, marveling that her appetite had outpaced his from the first bite. It must be true that she was eating for two. On the other hand, Annie had always had the metabolism of an adolescent boy. Even the few extra pounds of pregnancy had merely rounded the angles of her body into a pleasing fullness. Once, during their high school Senior Spring Fling, he’d conned her into entering the pancake competition, where she’d handily outeaten Rick, The Moose, Rodman and won the respect of every boy in school. The girls mostly thought she cheated, but they were just jealous. Or hungry.

  “Quit staring.” She folded her napkin over the remaining bits of the meal, giving it a decent burial. “Haven’t you ever seen a pregnant woman eat before?”

  “I watched Josie put away a monster slice of cherry pie this afternoon, along with close to a pint of cherry vanilla ice cream.”

  Annie’s eyes brightened hopefully. “Did you make

  “Tonight?” He laughed. “No, with the state of starvation your cabinets are in, I think I worked a miracle just coming up with a halfway-balanced meal which, I might add, you seemed to enjoy.”

  “Can’t always believe what you see.”

  “You practically licked the plate.”

  “I was hungry. You ate all my candy.” She brushed a couple of crumbs from her shirt. “I’m surprised you had any appetite left.”

  “I didn’t eat all of it.” He gathered up the plates and carried them to the sink. “If you can find the bag, you can have what’s left.”

  “Oh, gee, thanks, Alex. What a guy. Sheesh. You had no right to hide the candy, you know. That was a low-down, dirty rotten trick.”

  “Yes, it was. I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself.”

  “Right. As if you even know the meaning of regret.”

  “Sure I do. It means ‘to gret again.’ See? I told you those five years at Florida State was time well spent.”

  “I never doubted it for a minute, despite the fact that you didn’t get around to completing a degreen.”

  The words pinched, even though he knew Annie hadn’t meant them as criticism. He was overly sensitive, inured to the idea that he was less of a McIntyre than his older brothers, that he lacked the sense of responsibility both Matt and Jeff held as an unconscious, but sacred trust. He, on the other hand, had rebelled early and often, trying always to separate his identity from his actions.

  Not finishing the few hours needed for that piece of sheepskin, however, was probably the dumbest bit of defiance he’d ever pulled. It didn’t really matter that he’d eventually taken the couple of classes necessary for the degree and obtained the official document. He’d cheated himself out of any celebratory graduation, sacrificed the moment when he might have basked in genuine family pride, and consequently, he hadn’t mentioned his accomplishment to anyone. It hadn’t seemed important... until now. “I finished the degree,” he said as he stooped to look inside the cabinet under the sink. “Where’s the sink stopper?”

  “What?”

  “You know, the round, rubber mat that keeps the water from going down the drain?”

  “I know what a sink stopper is.” Her chair scraped on the old vinyl flooring as she got up from the table. “What did you say about finishing the degree?”

  He wished he hadn’t mentioned it. “I finished,” he said with a shrug. “No big deal.”

  “You went back to school?”

  “Couple of years ago, I was training Western pleasure horses for a breeder in Florida and I had a little time on my hands. The college was an easy commute, so I took the classes. Here it is.” He straightened, holding the sink stopper up for her to see. “I found it.”

  “I’m proud of you, Alex.”

  The unfeigned pleasure in her voice pinched his heart...but in a way altogether better than before. “It wasn’t hard,” he said. “It had just fallen behind the can of scouring powder.”

  A light smile curved her lips. “Still, without that diploma, who knows how long it might have taken you to get the dishes done.”

  “Well, with or without a college degree, it’ll take twice as long if you don’t grab a dish towel and help.”

  “I didn’t ask you to make a mess in here, you know. I would have been perfectly content with frozen pizza.”

  He grimaced, hoping she was joking. “A hot meal is much better for you, Annie.”

  “Well, I don’t normally eat the pizza straight out of the freezer.” Pulling open a drawer, she rummaged until she withdrew a threadbare, redchecked dish towel. “And I never have to worry about finding little chunks of green beans in it, either. That’s a definite plus on the side of pizzas.”

  “Okay, so I put some green beans in the salad,” he admitted. “You ate them.”

  “No, I picked them out when you weren’t looking and dropped them on the floor.” With a saucy flip of the towel, she indicated a little pile of chopped green under the table. “You’ll want to sweep the floor once you’re done with the dishes.”

  “Annie, Annie, Annie. I had no idea you needed so much looking after.”

  “That’s because I don’t. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself—and have done so for years. Don’t go thinking I need any help from you, because tonight was a one-shot deal. You just caught me in a weak moment and
if you hadn’t bragged about knowing your way around a paintbrush, you wouldn’t be here now.”

  He smiled, loving her spirit, but completely unfazed by her declaration of independence. In fact, he was as tickled as a little boy pulling a dog’s tail to discover just how much she needed his help. Reaching across, he turned on the hot water, squirted some liquid soap into the sink and watched the bubbles rise. First thing, he decided, she needed an automatic dishwasher. It’d be real easy to install one, and then she’d be able to sterilize the baby bottles without boiling them. A dishwasher would cost her a cabinet under the counter, but she had space for a pantry out in the screened-in back porch. He’d have to close in the porch, of course, but that wouldn’t be difficult. Just take a little time. There might even be room to put a washer and dryer out there, too. The whole thing would have to be heated, of course, but—Suddenly the faucet sprang a leak and sprayed him with hot water.

  “Oh, I forgot to warn you, Alex. You have to turn the faucet like this...” She reached past him and jiggled both water taps. “Or else you’ll be dripping wet before the sink is half-full.”

  He rubbed the spot on his shirt with a dish towel. “You need to get that fixed.”

  “You think? Gee, wonder why that idea never occurred to me.”

  He acknowledged her sarcasm with a wry frown. “How long have you been living out here, anyway?”

  “Off and on over the summer, but full-time since September. Had to wait to move in until Ray Shields got the plumbing to work. He’s one very busy plumber these days. Or so he tells me. He’s supposed to have ordered a part for the faucet that’ll fix the leak, but so far it hasn’t come in.”

  “I’ll talk to him, get him to put a rush on it.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got things under control, and if anyone is going to rush the plumber, I’ll do it.”

  “You’re paying him, Annie. Just call him up and tell him if he doesn’t have it done by tomorrow, you’ll get somebody else to do it.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not paying him, Alex. We’re bartering. He fixes the pipes. I fix his animals. That way I can afford to have plumbing that actually works.”