Wanted: Texas Daddy. Cathy Thacker Gillen

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       Chapter Two

      Four months later

      Nick put the closed sign on the door of Monroe’s Western Wear and turned back to Sage.

      Wheat-gold hair swept up into an untidy knot on the back of her head, her face glowing with the unmistakable light of happiness and maternal good health, she looked more gorgeous than he had ever seen her.

      But the time for avoiding this conversation was over.

      He walked through the rustic interior of the store, his attitude as stern as hers was stubborn. “Enough of this evading, Sage. We have to tell people.” The sooner the better, as far as he was concerned.

      Sage ducked her head to avoid meeting his gaze, and continued sorting through the stack of women’s jeans. “In a couple of weeks,” she murmured, zeroing in on another size up from her normal.

      He resisted the urge to direct her over to the small but well-outfitted area containing denim maternity wear. Settling with his back against the heavy wood display rack, so she would have no choice but to look at him, he asked, “You really think you can keep hiding this?”

      Her lower lip thrust out into a kissable pout. “The chef’s coat and colorful aprons have worked so far.”

      Actually, Nick thought, his gaze sliding down her newly voluptuous body, they hadn’t. It wasn’t just the waist and hips of the garment that were snug—the double row of buttons over her newly luscious breasts were so tight, they threatened to pop off.

      Deciding, however, that might not be the best thing for him to point out, he merely inclined his head. “Your family has been giving me looks.”

      “So?” She shrugged again. “They give everyone they think has designs on me looks.”

      Not, he thought, the kind of looks they’d been giving him. He cleared his throat, regarded her severely, tried again. “Sage...”

      She started to dart past him, then stopped, spying a Bullhaven Ranch pickup truck parking in one of the slanted spaces in front of the store. Her pretty mouth dropped into an O of surprise.

      “Oh, heck!” she swore, darting off in the opposite direction toward the back of the store. “There’s Chance!” She ducked through the curtain that led to the storeroom, calling over her shoulder. “If he asks, I’m not here!”

      Well, this ought to be fun, Nick thought wryly, as a second, then third pickup pulled up next to the first. Three tall men emerged from the driver’s seats. Headed toward the front of the store.

      Chance Lockhart peered around the closed sign. Gestured. He wanted in. So did his two brothers.

      Figuring they may as well get this over with, Nick obliged. Garrett, Wyatt and Chance Lockhart stalked in. Not surprisingly, all three of Sage’s older brothers looked loaded for bear. The only sibling not there was her Special Forces brother, Zane, who was as usual off on assignment. Garrett nodded perfunctorily at Nick. “Monroe.”

      This was not looking good. “What can I do for you?” Nick asked.

      Wyatt jumped in with a suspicious glare. “For starters, tell us what in blazes is going on between you and Sage.”

      “Not sure what you mean.”

      Chance squinted. “Are the two of you a couple? Or what?”

      It took everything Nick had to suppress a groan. “I imagine Sage would classify us in the ‘or what’ category.”

      Garrett’s frown deepened. “Not funny, Monroe.”

      “Mom is worried sick,” Chance added.

      Lucille Lockhart was a wonderful woman. Kind and generous to a fault. Nick did not want to cause her grief.

      “She needn’t be.” He would care for and protect Lucille’s only female child with every fiber of his being.

      “Really?” Wyatt demanded, slamming his hands on his waist. “Because from where we’re standing, it looks as if Sage has some pretty big news to share.”

      So they did suspect, just as Nick had figured. Pushing aside his irritation that Sage had let it come to this, he said, “Then maybe you should be asking her.”

      The brothers’ expressions turned even grimmer. “We have,” Wyatt groused. “She won’t tell us anything.”

      Sounded familiar.

      Suddenly, he felt sympathy for her family, even as he remained boxed in by his first obligation, which was to Sage. “What do you want me to do?” he demanded impatiently. It wasn’t like he could control Sage. No one could.

      “Cowboy up,” Chance said.

      Garrett nodded. “Show some responsibility.”

      The intimation that he hadn’t stung.

      Nick thought about all the times he’d held Sage while she cried—uncharacteristically—over the silliest things. How he’d taken it in stride when she’d fallen asleep, mid-just-about-anything, and/or asked him not to touch her breasts because her nipples were just too sensitive. Surpassed what he really wanted—like sizzling fajitas or a big juicy rare steak—and instead dined on what she was having, even if it was ginger ale and crackers.

      Resentment knotted his gut. “How do you know I haven’t been?”

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