stuck to a clipboard.
Erica shook her head and stuffed a free hand in her pocket while she jiggled the lock. Stupid truck.
The lock finally flipped open, and she jumped into the cab that was nearly as cold as the outside temperature. The only saving grace was the absence of wind. The engine turned over a few times before finally catching, and she slammed the heat on high, not even remotely hopeful her old beater would be warm by the time she pulled into her spot in front of her apartment.
She gave the truck a moment to warm up and considered the noise that had finally brought her awake. What was outside Hal’s office at eight in the morning? Unwilling to stick around and make an introduction to some Texas wildlife, she’d left Hal a note to check her numbers on the new keg orders and headed out. She’d have to remember to tell him about whatever it was sneaking around—coyotes, probably—she thought as she put the pickup into Drive.
The early morning sun caught on something in the distance, and she hit the brake. Leaning forward over the steering wheel, she tried to make sense of the flash she’d seen.
A mirror?
The light flashed once more, and she had the vague sense of a pair of binoculars before it vanished.
Without stopping to question why, Erica slammed her hand over her door lock and peeled out of the parking lot. She just needed to get home.
And once she did—once she was wrapped up in Nana’s quilt—she’d think about what she saw.
And then she’d tell Hal there was someone creeping around outside the Granite Gulch Saloon.
Ethan shoved his feet back into his work boots, his conversation with Lizzie louder than crashing cymbals in his head.
A stalker had threatened her. The police were about as helpful as they usually were. And he was going to be a father.
“It’s certainly been a hell of a morning, Colton.”
He finished tying off his laces and got to his feet, embarrassed to be caught talking to himself when he saw Lizzie standing at the entry to the kitchen. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
“For speaking the truth? I can hardly blame you for that, Ethan.”
“I don’t usually do that.” He wasn’t crazy, and he hated anything that might make him appear as if he was.
“I talk to myself all the time. Most of the time I’m better company than the majority of people I know.”
Ethan couldn’t quite resist her wry grin and once again was struck by how enticing she was. Sunlight spilled through the mudroom, highlighting her features. She was too tall to be considered delicate, yet there was something ethereal about her. As if she were made of spun sugar and would float away at the slightest touch.
Since he already knew she tasted better than an entire bag of cotton candy, he shook off the fanciful notion and pointed toward the back door. “I need to go check on Dream.”
“Your horse? Joyce mentioned she was having some issues when she let me in.”
The reminder that his foreman’s wife had already met Lizzie—and no doubt hadn’t missed the pregnancy bump—only made what they’d shared that much more real. Joyce wasn’t a gossip, but she would be beside herself at the news there was a baby on the way.
“She had a rough night, but the vet thinks she’s back on track.”
“May I go with you? To see her?”
He’d been raised with six siblings, none of whom loved animals with quite the same bone-deep affection he had. On the rare occasions they got together, his siblings were forever teasing him about his preference for a barn instead of a party.
“You really want to?”
“Oh, yes.” Color ran high on her cheeks, and her enthusiasm was contagious.
“Bundle up. The barn is cold.”
She slipped into a large puffy coat and Ethan watched, fascinated, as the material stretched across her stomach. He didn’t want to be caught staring, but he couldn’t quite hide the continued mix of shock and satisfaction that gripped him. That bump was his child, warm and safe, protected by Lizzie’s body.
Since that thought quickly led to how the child had got there, he pushed aside the primitive thoughts and gestured her out the door.
“Winter’s been colder than usual.” Several puffs of breath punctuated her comment.
“It’s always a crapshoot in this part of the state, but we’ve definitely got our fair share. Reports keep saying we’re due for at least two more storms before the month’s out.” Ethan took her arm to help her over the dented dirt path that led to the barn and made a mental note to fill in several of the larger divots.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, their breathing the only sound between them. Ethan opened the door of the barn and gestured her through, then followed her down the long corridor that held stalls branching off on both sides.
From behind he couldn’t see any difference in her shape, and a strange—and altogether unexpected—thought popped into his head. His sister Annabel had mentioned a friend who “carried high” and claimed it was a boy.
Was Lizzie carrying his son?
Ethan had always wondered at the people who seemed desperate to have one sex over the other. Wasn’t a healthy child the goal?
But the prospect—old wives’ tale or not—that the child might be a boy struck with a hard slap. Boys grew into men. And just like that, images of his father and all the man had been capable of rooted him to the ground as if he were wearing cement shoes.
It wasn’t possible, was it? The idea he’d pass his father’s blood on to a child had always filled him with fear. But now.
Now that there was a real baby...
“What is it?”
Ethan hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until Lizzie turned around and waved him forward. “Nothing.”
“You sure? You look like you’ve seen a cross between the ghost of Christmas past and the Headless Horseman.”
Her tease was light and airy, but the concern underneath the words was hard to miss. “I’m good.”
Ethan flung off whatever had momentarily gripped him. He needed to deal in facts. And in reality. He was going to be a father, and now that he knew that, he’d do whatever it took to care for his child. To see that he or she grew into a healthy, well-adjusted adult. He’d give everything he possessed to make that a reality.
He stalked the rest of the way to Dream’s stall, pleased to see his filly’s eyes bright and devoid
