The Pregnant Ms. Potter. Millie Criswell

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ you don’t mind taking a check. I didn’t bring much cash with me.”

      “Don’t need your money or your help with the animals, though I appreciate the offer. But if you want to cook, that’s fine with me. That’s one chore I hate doing.” Pete’s brother was fond of saying that his beef stew tasted worse than fresh horse droppings. And John ought to know since he was Sweetheart’s one and only vet.

      “I—” Suddenly Maddy placed her hand over her mouth, and all color drained from her face.

      “What’s wrong?” Pete’s eyes widened, then filled with concern at her pasty appearance. “Are you going to be sick or something?” He looked horrified at the prospect.

      Not daring to answer, she nodded, then raced for the bathroom, where she promptly gave up what she’d just eaten. While she was still retching into the toilet, Pete came up behind her and handed her a damp wash cloth.

      “You got the flu?”

      Wiping her mouth, she faced him, feeling mortified and afraid. The concern on his face made her eyes fill with tears. “I wish it were that simple.”

      “Food allergies, huh? I hear they’re pretty common. My mom used to be allergic to eggs.”

      There was no sense in lying or trying to hide the truth. Not when they had to live in the same house together. She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

      “Pregnant!” Paling visibly, fear entered his eyes, which he masked with anger. “You’re pregnant and you were out driving in a snowstorm! How smart is that?” He turned away from her then, stalked back into the kitchen and began cursing under his breath.

      Not knowing what else to do, she followed. “I’m sorry to have blurted it out like that. This is my first bout of morning sickness. I’ve been fine up till now.”

      His fingers gripped the countertop as he stared unseeing out the window at the falling snow. When he finally got his emotions back under control he turned to face her. “I thought you said you weren’t married.”

      Her ashen cheeks filled with color. “I’m not. It’s not a prerequisite these days.”

      “Does your boyfriend know?”

      “David’s not my boyfriend. He’s my boss. And he knows. He told me to have an abortion and not to come back to work until I had ‘solved my little problem,’ I believe was how he put it.”

      “You must a either been drunk-on-your-ass or crazy-in-love to have gone to bed with an ass like that.”

      “I was neither. And you forgot stupid. Stupid seems to be the operative word.”

      He glanced down at her abdomen, which was still flat as a board. He knew it wouldn’t remain like that for much longer. Soon she’d be softly rounded, her breasts would enlarge, her skin would turn rosy and radiant. He remembered, all too well. “You’re not very far along.”

      “Eight weeks. Look, Pete, I’m sorry to have dumped this on you, on top of everything else. It’s my problem and I’ll deal with it.”

      “And that’s why you were going to Leadville to see your sister? To tell her about ‘your problem’?”

      She heaved a sigh. “Mary Beth’s the only family I’ve got. I haven’t seen my dad in years. I—I need to talk to her, get some perspective on what I should do.” She needed a hug and consolation, and knew she’d get both from Mary Beth. Along with a large dose of levelheadedness.

      “Sounds like you’ve already decided not to have an abortion.”

      “I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to the baby. He or she can’t help who their father is, or that their mother is an irresponsible lunatic.”

      She looked so distraught that he wrapped a comforting arm about her shoulder and helped her back to the chair. Pete didn’t believe in kicking a body when it was already down, and Maggie looked about as low as a person could get at the moment. Besides, who was he to moralize? He’d certainly made his fair share of mistakes.

      “Sit here. I’ll get you a glass of milk. That’ll probably go down a lot better than the orange juice. And you should eat some dry toast. I’ll fix it.”

      “You can’t use the toaster.”

      “I’m an Eagle Scout. I’ll improvise.” And he did, using the open flame of the gas jet to toast the bread golden brown.

      “Tha…thank you.” His being nice made her want to cry, but she forced back the tears threatening to spill. She didn’t think Pete Taggart was the kind of man who did well with tears and weepy women.

      Placing the milk and toast in front of her, he sat down beside her. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

      “I really think I should go. I—”

      “No! I’ll not have another—” The wounded look in his eyes gave her pause.

      He continued, “Have you looked outside? It’s still snowing like crazy. You won’t be going anywhere for a good long while, Maddy, so you may as well just get used to the idea that you’re stuck here with me.”

      “But my clothes, the car…” She’d never felt so helpless. But at least she wasn’t alone, and for that she was grateful.

      “I’ll saddle one of the draft horses and see if I can fetch your clothes. The car’ll have to remain where it is, until Willis can tow it into town. Trust me. No one’s going to bother it. Even a snowplow would have difficulty getting back in here now.”

      “Quit trying to cheer me up.” She forced a strained smile.

      He flicked the end of her nose and returned the smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Miz Potter, ma’am.”

      This was just getting better and better, Maddy thought after he’d departed. Not only was she pregnant and unmarried, sick to her stomach and stuck out in the middle of nowhere with an arrogant rancher two weeks before Christmas, but she was starting to like Pete Taggart. And that would never do.

      “I DON’T THINK YERK is a word. Are you sure you’re not trying to cheat by making that up?”

      Dressed in the jeans and blue cashmere sweater Pete had fetched from the rental car, Maddy was lying flat on her stomach in front of the parlor fireplace facing him, the Scrabble board situated between them. “Of course, it’s a word. I admit, not many people use it, but it’s definitely a word.”

      He shook his head in disbelief. “Guess I’m gonna have to challenge, then.”

      She smiled confidently. “Go ahead. But if you’re wrong, I’m going to get the extra points, which means I’ll win the game.”

      While Pete studied the dictionary, Maddy turned toward the fire, resting her head on her palm and staring into the blue and orange flames.

      Playing Scrabble had been Pete’s idea, and she was having a wonderful time beating him. Of course, she’d never before played Scrabble or any other board game by firelight and lantern light—the generator still wasn’t fixed—which made the experience СКАЧАТЬ