Make Mine a Bad Boy (26 page)

“Nine on Monday.”

Colt nodded. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Across the gym, a group of townsfolk watched as Hope jerked her arm away from Colt and hurried over to help her mama.

“It was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Rachel scratched at a spot under her arm where the crumpled butcher paper of her costume had started to itch. “Hope stuffin’ her bra full of napkins in an attempt to attract those foreigners’ attention just broke my heart clean in two—which is why I sent Bear straight back to California. We need to find that daddy before Hope hooks up with some loser.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Rachel,” Harley said, his mustache drooping from the time spent in the dunk tank. “But I don’t think we can wait any longer. We got babies to think about, and we sure don’t want people talkin’ about our little Hope. Which means we need to give up on findin’ the real daddy and start lookin’ for a home-grown boy to do the job.”

“You mean like a step-daddy?” Kenny asked.

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“But who?” Sheriff Winslow jumped in as he watched Colt turn and walk out of the gym. “Hope is real picky about her men.”

“I don’t know,” Harley said. “But if we keep our eyes open, it will come to us.”

“H
OPE
S
CROGGS
?”

Instead of the female obstetrician Hope expected to see, Jimmy Higgins walked into the room with her chart, flashing a set of teeth that could no longer eat corn on the cob through a picket fence.

“How the hell have you been, honey?” He gave her a big hug as if she wasn’t as naked as the day she was born beneath the thin cotton gown.

Struck speechless, all Hope could do was stare back at him.

“Danged if you don’t look exactly the same as you did in high school.” He pointed a finger at her. “Remember when we had Crazy Fifties Day and we won the jitterbug contest? Never could figure out why you chose me as a partner when you were dating Slate. But I guess he won out in the long run.” He winked at her. “Congratulations, Mrs. Calhoun, you’re going to have a baby.”

Suddenly, having Jimmy for a doctor took a backseat to the news. After seven positive home pregnancy tests, the chances of her not being pregnant had been slim to
none. Still, she had clung to that one tiny thread of hope like a lifeline. And now, just that quickly, “Bucky” Higgins had clipped the thread, and she went tumbling head over heels into the black abyss. Luckily, Bucky had finally noticed the other person in the room and didn’t see her inappropriate reaction.

“Colt Lomax?” He glanced back at Hope, then back to Colt, and still the light didn’t go on. “I guess Slate is busy coaching that state championship football team, huh? Well, it’s good to see you, man. I saw your name in
Street Chopper Magazine—”

“The baby is mine,” Colt stated. Even in her comatose state, Hope wanted to reach out and slug him.

Bucky’s eyes widened, but he quickly collected himself. “Well, didn’t I just put my foot in it?” He walked over to the sink and set down the chart before turning on the water.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he continued as he scoured his hands with soap. “You two were always like vinegar and oil. And all it takes is a little shakin’ to get things mixed up. And it looks like you two got shaken up pretty well.” He chuckled. “Colt and Hope married. Now isn’t that just a kicker?”

Drying his hands on a paper towel, Bucky turned around and finally took note of their solemn faces.

“Would you look at me, runnin’ off at the mouth like an idiot? You’re not here to visit. You’re here to find out about your baby.” He cleared his throat and reached for the chart. When he spoke again, he sounded more like a doctor, instead of a babbling idiot. “So, using the information Hope wrote down on the questionnaire, I have her at six weeks with a due date of June tenth. Right before it gets too hot for a little extra weight.”

He winked at Hope, but all she could do was stare back at him.

June tenth. Only five days before her own birthday. It seemed entirely too close.

“So have you experienced any morning sickness or dizziness?” Bucky set the chart back down.

She shook her head, even though at the moment she felt a little sick and light-headed.

“Good. Some women breeze right through pregnancy without a hitch. And I don’t doubt for a minute that our sassy little Hope here will be one of those.” He walked back over, and, taking her hand, eased her back on the table before he spread the sheet over her legs. “You two living back in Bramble?”

She started to explain the situation, but then realized she couldn’t explain the unexplainable. So she was somewhat relieved when Colt kept it simple.

“Yes.”

Bucky nodded. “If Doc Mathers ever retires, I might just move back there myself. It’s a good place to raise a family. Although I need to pay off my student loans before my wife and I even think about kids. Kids are expensive.” He lifted one of her feet and placed it in a stirrup before he moved to the other side.

“Before you leave, make sure to get the maternity packet from Katie. It gives you all the information you’ll need—what exercise is good, what vitamins you’ll need to start taking, and what food and drugs to avoid. And, of course, if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call me. After all, we’re like family.” He hooked the low stool on casters with his foot and pulled it toward him before he disappeared from sight.

Until that moment, Hope had been too busy thinking about the baby to pay much attention to what Bucky was doing. Even when the sheet started to lift, it took her a second to react. Fortunately, Colt’s reaction was much faster. He reached over and jerked down the sheet, and at the same time, used a boot to shove the stool clear across the room.

“Whoa there, Bucky. What do you think you’re doing?” Colt stepped in front of the table.

By the time Hope got her feet out of the stirrups and peeked around, Bucky wore the same look on his face that had been there thirteen years earlier when she’d dragged him out on the dance floor so she would have a chance at the trophy instead of no chance with Two-Left-Feet Calhoun.

“A p-pelvic examination,” Bucky sputtered.

“If that includes looking at Hope naked—I don’t think so, Buck.”

“But I’m a doctor.”

“And I’m a biker who’s about ready to kick some MD ass.”

Hope waited for Bucky to take offense, but she’d forgotten how good-natured the man was. After only a few seconds, a grin spread across his freckled face.

“Fair enough, Colt.” He got up off the stool. “Doctor or no doctor, I wouldn’t want a man looking at my wife either. We have a woman on staff, and if you’re willing to wait, I’ll have her come in.”

“We’ll wait,” Colt said, without giving Hope a chance to speak. Not that she could have. Between Bucky and the baby, she was pretty speechless.

The other doctor wasn’t as nice as Bucky, but Hope
didn’t care, as long as she wasn’t someone Hope had done algebra homework with. When she was finished, she helped Hope sit up.

“Everything looks fine, so unless you have any questions, we’ll see you in another month.”

“A month?” Colt took a step forward. “Isn’t that a little long to wait? And what do you mean, unless something comes up? What would come up?”

The doctor walked over and started washing her hands at the sink. “I mean, if she should experience anything out of the ordinary—cramping, bleeding, or—”

“Which is exactly why I think a month is too long. Anything can go wrong in a month.” Colt shook his head. “No, we’ll be back next Monday.”

The doctor looked at Hope and winked as if they shared some special secret about the idiocy of men. “Of course, if you’d like to come back in a week—”

“A month is fine.” Hope finally found her voice, although it shook as much as her hands, clutched in her lap.

“Very good,” the doctor said.

Once the door clicked closed behind her, Hope just sat there, unsure of what to say or do. And Colt didn’t seem much better. With his hands shoved deep in his pockets, he wandered around, looking at the charts on the walls.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she lied. “But we shouldn’t have told Bucky.”

Colt glanced over at her. “You still think we can keep it a secret?” He looked back at the diagram of fetal development. “It. Is that what you call something the size of a lima bean?”

“I don’t know.” She got up off the table and proceeded to get dressed, no longer concerned about Colt being in
the same room. Not that he paid any attention. His gaze was riveted on the lima bean.

“Have you thought about names?” he asked.

She swallowed. “No.”

“Well, until we do, I’m going to call it Pumpkin Seed.”

Her heart, which had been beating so quickly, seemed to freeze up in her chest as her gaze snapped over to him. “I don’t think we should name… it. Not until we figure out what to do.”

He turned away from the poster, his brow knotted. “What do you mean?” The confusion cleared, and his eyes narrowed. “We’re not getting an abortion.”

As if it was the most important thing to do at the moment, she carefully folded the gown. “No, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to keep… it.”

His gray eyes filled with disbelief, but before he could reply, the cute little nurse poked her head in, and the conversation was put on hold while she gave them the maternity packet and directed them back to the receptionist’s desk, where Colt paid the bill, using a credit card.

A credit card paid for by Lyle Dalton, no doubt,
Hope thought. The idea of his using someone else’s money on their child angered her, although she was no angrier than he seemed to be. As soon as they pulled away from the parking lot, he started in.

“So that’s it? You want to give Pumpkin Seed away?”

“Stop it!” She turned to him, the seatbelt cutting into her shoulder. “Stop calling it Pumpkin Seed!”

“It’s not an ‘it,’ Hope! It’s something!” He ran a hand through his hair as he returned his gaze to the road. “It’s something.”

“I know it’s something. But it’s something inside my
body. My body!” She thumped herself in the chest so hard that it hurt.

“And because of that, I don’t have a choice. Is that what you’re saying?”

Realizing she was being a raving idiot, she fell back against the seat and took a deep breath. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying, we need to consider all the options and make an intelligent decision. A decision using all the facts.”

“Like what? The fact that you hate my guts?” He glanced over at her, his eyes shielded behind the dark green lenses of his sunglasses.

Hope started to say that she didn’t hate his guts. That as much as she wanted to, her emotions didn’t come close to hate. But she stopped herself. That kind of revelation would only cause more hurt and pain. And it was already painful enough.

“How about the fact that neither one of us has a job?”

“I have a job.”

She shot him an annoyed look. “Riding around on a motorcycle bought by someone else is not a job, Colt. It’s a pastime. Which means, if I don’t get this reality show, I’ll be living with my parents. And Mama and Daddy have no business helping me raise a child after they just sent their last one off to college.”

“Reality show?” Colt glanced over at her. “Is that why your agent showed up? He wants you to go back to California for a job?”

She nodded. “Ryan thinks I’ve got a pretty good chance of getting it. I guess I’ll find out when I fly back next week.”

There was a long pause before Colt spoke. “So that’s
what this is about. You finally have a chance to achieve your dream, and you don’t want my baby screwing it up.”

Hope pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. “Can’t we have one conversation where we aren’t at one another’s throats? This isn’t about me or you, Colt. It’s about an innocent life that deserves the best we can give it.”

“So what’s the problem? If you become a big reality star, you’ll have plenty of money to spend on a baby.”

“It’s not just about the money. It’s about giving our child a nurturing home—a home with two loving parents.” She turned away. “Given your childhood, I thought you would understand how important that is.”

“I survived,” he growled.

“Exactly.” She turned back to him. “But I don’t want my child to just survive. And I don’t want my baby being raised by a nanny because I’m working day and night, or being neglected by a father who can’t unglue his butt from a motorcycle seat. I want my child to feel safe and secure, surrounded by a loving mother and father.”

Colt’s gaze narrowed on her. “You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

He was right. All the time that she thought she was just walking around in a daze, her mind had already been working on a plan—a plan that made perfect sense.

“She’ll love the baby as her own,” she whispered.

He pulled up to the stoplight and turned to her. “She?” He studied her for a second before his eyes widened. “Faith? You’re going to give Pumpkin Seed to Faith and Slate?” When she shook her head, it didn’t take long for the logical answer to come. Colt fell back against the seat and released his breath in a slow, painful sigh. “Shirlene.”