The Accidental Bride (33 page)

He'd find out for sure in a few minutes. He'd know when he saw her. Shay was good at hiding her feelings, but he wasn't just any old neighbor. She was his first love, his soul mate. He'd know when she saw him how she felt about his return. For better or worse.

Travis patted the envelope in his shirt pocket, reassuring himself that it was there. He felt for the lump in his jeans pocket as he crossed the shallow spot of the creek.

40

S
hay washed off in the barn tub. The last heifer to calve had gone into labor that morning. An hour ago Shay had pulled a healthy newborn calf from the relieved mama. Now the heifer was on her feet and licking her calf clean in the fresh bed of straw.

Shay was glad to have the last birth behind her, relieved she'd managed without getting kicked. Branding was on the horizon, but she wasn't fool enough to try that in her condition. Her neighbors would pitch in even if she couldn't return the favor.

She dried her hands and went to the house to change into clean clothing. There was little that fit her now. She was down to two pair of jeans she could wear unfastened.

She finished the buttons on her flannel shirt. Gray—the exact color of Travis's eyes. Her rounded belly pressed against the buttons, and she promised herself she'd go to the thrift store the next day with the equity check from the sale of her ranch.

“Either that,” she said, looking in the mirror, “or you'll have to wear your bathrobe to church Sunday.” That would get the neighbors talking.

Shay grabbed her coat off the tree and left the house. She wanted to check on the pair again, make sure the heifer was accepting her calf. Gray clouds rolled across the valley, promising rain. The sun peeked out through a gap, warming the air for a moment, making her believe spring really was on its way.

Feeling optimistic, she tossed her coat on her truck as she passed. Maybe it would warm up today. Maybe the rain would green up the grass.

She entered the barn and walked to the stall where the heifer was licking her scrawny calf. Shay hitched a foot on the gate and leaned into it, watching. She never tired of this, her favorite part of the job. The births could make for some sleepless nights, but it was always worth it when the calf arrived safe and sound.

Now the mama began nursing her calf. She eyed Shay suspiciously, seeming to have forgotten who it was that had just helped her baby safely into the world.

Shay understood that protective gleam in the heifer's eyes, though. Wouldn't she do anything for her own daughter? For the baby that grew inside her? Wouldn't she give up the only home she'd ever known? Give up the cowboy way of life to provide for her own?

She'd found a little apartment in town, and a job awaited her at Pappy's Market after the baby was born. Marla said she could bring the baby to work the first few weeks. After that, Shay would have to figure out something else. She might have to sell her truck to pay for day care, but she could walk to work. She'd do whatever it took. She'd spent every spare minute of the winter making barbed wire baskets. Those would provide extra cash over the summer.

She shifted her weight, and the cow rolled her huge eyes toward her.

“Relax, mama. Your baby's safe.”

The calf stopped nursing a moment, then continued. The mama would keep the calf at her side, feeding her, caring for her every need. It was her job, and hers alone. They had more in common than the cow could ever know.

The wind whistled through the cracks in the barn, and the rain began a tap dance on the roof. She'd miss this place. She breathed in the smell of rain, fresh straw, and horseflesh, meandering over to Brandy's stall.

She ran a hand down her horse's nose. There was no way she could keep her in town. Maybe the new owners would let her and Olivia visit from time to time. Hard to say, since a big corporation would probably buy the place. Until then, the McCoys would have to hire out help to run the place.

She wondered if they'd told Travis, then checked her thoughts. Why would he care? He and Ella were probably cozying up somewhere in Texas, riding tandem, waking up next to one another. He was picking straw from her hair and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Calling her “sweetness.”

Her gut clenched hard at the thought as her eyes, of their own volition, swung to the third stall. She'd raked out the straw, leaving the floor bare, a week after he'd left. She didn't want the reminder of their secret rendezvous.

But reminders were everywhere she looked. In the shower they'd shared on one occasion, in the bedroom where they'd made love, inside her swollen belly where the evidence of their affection had culminated in life.

When she lay in bed at night, she missed the quiet strum of his guitar. She missed how protective he was, even missed the way he rubbed his jaw when he got fed up with her.

Mostly, she ached for his arms around her. Wondered, if he was still here, if he'd put his hand on her belly and dream with her about what their baby would be like. If it was a boy and if he would have Travis's gray eyes and dark hair. Or if it was a girl and she'd have Shay's coloring and stubborn streak.

Shay would correct him: strong-willed, not stubborn. Then he'd chuckle and give her a kiss that would start quick and easy, then grow slow and desperate.

Brandy whinnied softly.

None of that was going to happen. Shay shook the wandering thoughts away, blinked the moisture from her eyes. She had to stop this. Had to stop thinking about him, dreaming things were different. It was unhealthy.

You got over him once before, you can do it again
.

But even as the thought surfaced, the truth bubbled up with it. She hadn't gotten over him before. She'd never loved Garrett the way she loved Travis.

Is this just the way it's going to be, God? Am I going to have to live
with this aching hole inside for the rest of my life?

The only answer was the soft patter of rain, the faint rustling of the calf in the bed of straw, the distant creaking of leather.

She frowned at that last sound, turning toward it. The wind swung the barn door on its hinge, making it squeak. But that wasn't the sound she'd heard.

A moment later a familiar silhouette filled the doorway. Her heart stopped beating, her breath caught in her lungs. She'd know the set of those shoulders, the contours of that body, anywhere.

Travis scanned the barn until he saw her.

Saw her.

She turned her back to him, leaned into the stall door, hiding her pregnant belly. Panic surged through her like a lightning bolt. He couldn't see. He couldn't know. Not like this.

“Hello, Shay.” His footsteps grew closer.

Her heart started again, made up for lost time. Why was he here? Was he trying to torture her?
Help me, Jesus
.

He put his hand on the gate beside hers, facing her. She leaned into the gate, propping her elbows so the top of her shirt ballooned out. Why, oh why, had she ditched her coat outside? She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to hide. She was trapped. If she tried to run for the house, he'd stop her. She'd be out in the open, in full view, and then he'd see.

“Shay . . .” He pulled his hat, and the movement sent a waft of his musky scent her way.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded like she'd swallowed a coil of barbed wire. She tried to swallow and found her throat swollen and achy.

“We need to talk.”

“We have nothing to—”

A terrible thought hit her like a sledgehammer. Had someone told him about the baby? His parents didn't know, but Travis had friends. Dylan, Wade . . . but surely they wouldn't have meddled. This was her matter to handle, and hers alone.

“Have something for you.” He didn't sound cross.

Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he'd come back to box up his parents' things and ship them off to Guatemala. That had to be it. She sneaked a peek at him—a quick one. His face was relaxed, his eyes sparkling with something . . . hope?

“Go for a ride with me,” he said.

She couldn't go for a ride—she couldn't even step away from the gate. She had to get him out of there. “It's raining.”

“In the house, then. I'll fix some coffee.”

“Why don't you call me later?” She could put him off until he left town again, which would hopefully be soon, before someone mentioned her pregnancy. “Maybe tonight?”

Olivia would be home. It had taken months for her to forgive Shay for making Travis leave, and they'd be back to square one, but it couldn't be helped.

“You look good.” The deep tone of his voice roused something in the pit of her stomach.

She could feel his gaze on her face, and her skin heated under his perusal. Why had he come here? It wasn't fair that he could stir her up this way. She was just beginning to forget, and now he was here making her remember what she was missing. She felt the sting of tears and swallowed hard.

“I've missed you,” he said.

She'd bet he had. A wry laugh escaped. Her feet itched to run. Only her swollen belly, pressed against the wooden gate, kept her still.

“Don't believe me?” he asked.

He had no idea what missing was. Missing was lying in the dampness of your tears night after night. Missing was a constant hollow spot in the center of your chest. Missing was a yawning ache that was never satisfied.

“Go away, Travis.
Please
.”

He moved beside her, and she heard a crackling sound. He handed her an envelope. She stared at it, frowning.

“Go ahead.” He pushed it toward her. “Open it.”

He wasn't going away until she did. Sighing hard, she took the envelope, slid her finger under the flap, and removed the folded paper.

It was an official document. A deed of some kind. She scanned the paper and found her ranch's address.

“What is this, Travis?”

“The deed to your ranch.”

She studied the paper, confused. “I don't understand. Your parents bought my place.”

“Actually,
I
did.”

She looked at him then, frowning. The flecks in his gray eyes sparkled. He'd bought her home? For what purpose? And why'd he hide behind his folks?

“They were my nominees,” he said. “Perfectly legal.” He looked rather pleased with himself, his chin tucked, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

He was taking her property away? Kicking her out the way she'd kicked him out? What was this . . . revenge? The flesh under her arms heated, prickling. She felt angry tears gathering in her eyes. She had to get away, was not going to crumble to pieces in front of him.

She shoved the envelope into his chest. “Congratulations.”

She darted away, her feet moving quickly. How could he have done this? He of all people knew what this place meant to her. It was her home. Their home. She could barely stand the thought of strangers living here, much less Travis.

“Shay . . .”

She left the barn and passed Buck. The drizzle cooled her skin, but not her temper. He'd said he loved her, but she knew better, didn't she? Last time he'd loved her, he'd deserted her. This time he'd taken away her home.

“Wait, Shay.” He sounded close behind.

She had to make it to the house. She'd slam the door in his face and lock him out. But it wasn't even her house now. It was his.

His footsteps pounded the dirt behind her. He was catching up.

“Shay.”

So close.

She grabbed her jacket from the hood of her truck just as he took her arm and whipped her around. She clutched the damp coat to her belly, breathing fire.

“You don't understand,” he said. He no longer looked pleased. A flicker of fear flashed in his eyes. He held out the folded paper. “It's yours. I bought it for
you
—it's all paid for.”

All hers? She was afraid to believe it. Why would he—

“Take it.” He thrust it at her.

She clutched the coat against her belly. Why was he doing this? Guilt for all the pain he'd put her through? She didn't want his charity. Besides, she couldn't run the ranch now, not like this and not after the baby was born.

“It's yours,” he said.

“I don't want it.”

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. His hair was plastered to his head. A drop of rain ran down the crease between his brows. His eyes had gone the color of a summer storm.

“No strings attached—it's yours free and clear. But I came back to see . . . I've missed you, Shay. I love—”

She whipped around and jogged for the house.

“Shay, blast it, why do you have to be so stubborn?”

She had a childish urge to put her hands over her ears. But her hands were full of coat, and running was easier. She didn't want to hear his declarations of love. She didn't believe him, refused to believe him, and if she stood there for a second more, she'd be tempted. Tempted to believe him, tempted to fall right back into his arms like a fool.