it a cramp?” he asked. “Or maybe a contraction?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a baby before.”
They stood in the stairway, not moving up or down.
After a beat—and another painful twinge—Shane clicked his tongue. “That’s it. You need to see a doctor.”
“But he’s in Houston.”
“We’re not making a two-hour drive for medical advice. I’m taking you to the E.R. at the Brighton Valley Medical Center.”
She wanted to argue, to downplay the pain, but the whole baby experience was new to her, and she had to admit she was a little worried herself.
But was this something that required a visit to the emergency room?
“We could go upstairs and wait to see if it goes away,” she said.
Shane reached for her waist. “Don’t take another step, Jillian. I’m going to carry you down the stairs and put you in the truck.”
She wanted to object, to say that she could walk, but as Shane scooped her into his arms, as she caught a whiff of his musky scent, she let down her defenses for the first time since the night they’d met and let the cowboy have his way.
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