you.”
“I’ll admit I asked the girl behind the counter for something uncaffeinated. And the peppermint might be, um, soothing.”
He handed her something wrapped in waxed paper. “I got you a cookie, just in case your blood sugar was low.”
Alex wondered how he knew so much about the biology of pregnancy as she unwrapped the long, dry biscotti and tried a nibble. It seemed safe. A sip of the peppermint tea confirmed it. “Thanks. I think we’re good.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad. I’d hate to have a repeat of earlier.”
She laughed a bit. “You’ll have to find another method for your next damsel in distress.”
Connor sipped his coffee, sucking in his lips as the hot liquid burned. “You seemed to need it. Plus, my grandmother would flay me alive if I didn’t help a lady in need.”
“I thought chivalry was dead?”
“Not quite.” His smile was thin. “And this way I can procrastinate.”
“I beg your pardon?” She put down her mug and stared at him.
“I have a meeting this afternoon. I’d rather spend the afternoon shovelling—Well, you get the idea. I’m simply not looking forward to it.”
“Why?”
He avoided her prying eyes and stared out the window. “It’s a long story.” He turned back. “What about you? What are your plans for you and the baby?”
She took another long drink of tea to settle the anxiety brewing in her belly. “Our plans are pretty open. I’m working for now. Trying to figure out what to do next. It’s temporary.”
“You’re not from here. I can tell by your accent.”
“No. Ottawa.”
He smiled. “I thought I sensed a little Ontario,” he teased. “But there are so many easterners here now that for all I knew you could have lived here for years.”
“Three weeks, two days and twenty-two hours,” she replied. “I’m working at the Pig’s Whistle pub for now.” She needed to find something else, away from the second-hand smoke. But her tips were good, and she’d have a hard time finding a boss as accommodating as Pete had been.
He didn’t have to answer for her to know what he was thinking. It was a dead-end job, and hardly one she could support herself and a baby on. She knew right away she’d said too much.
His brow furrowed a little, and she somehow felt she’d failed a test. Which was ridiculous. He didn’t even know her, and they wouldn’t meet again, so his opinion shouldn’t matter at all. She was working on coming up with a solution. Just because she hadn’t come up with one yet, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t. Heck, she’d been finding her way out of scrapes for years. This one was going to take a little more ingenuity, that was all.
It was time to end this whole meet-and-greet thing. She pushed away her tea. “Listen, thanks for helping this afternoon, and for the tea. But I should get going.”
She stood to leave and he rose, reaching into his pocket.
“Here,” he offered, holding out a card. “If you need anything, call me.”
“Why would I do that?”
His face flattened and he stepped back at her sharp tone. “I’d like to be of help if I can. I’m at Windover Ranch, just north of Sundre.”
She had no idea where Sundre was, and had no plan to discover the wonders of Windover Ranch, so she figured there’d be no harm in responding to his solicitude by being polite. She tucked the small white card into her jeans pocket.
“Thanks for the offer. It was nice meeting you, Connor.”
She held out her hand, and he took it firmly.
Her eyes darted up to his and locked.
Another time, another place. She lost herself momentarily in their chocolaty depths. Perhaps in different circumstances she might have wanted to get to know him better. It was just her luck that she’d fainted in front of the first hot guy she’d seen in a good long time.
And it was the height of irony to meet someone like him when she was obviously unavailable. She was pretty sure that being pregnant with another man’s child was probably number one on a guy’s “not in this lifetime” list.
“Goodbye,” she whispered, pulling her hand away from his grasp.
Her steps were hurried as she exited the shop, but she couldn’t escape the gentle and understanding look he’d given her as she’d said goodbye.
“HAVE you seen today’s paper?” Connor stopped his agitated pacing and faced his grandmother.
Johanna Madsen looked coolly over the rims of her glasses, her shrewd eyes assessing. Not a single white hair was out of place, curled back from her temples stylishly and stopping at her collar.
“Yes, dear, of course I have.”
Connor started pacing the elegant sitting room again, feeling fenced in among the classic furniture and expensive knickknacks. His head was ready to implode. How could she sit there so implacably, a study in calm? This was big. It was huge. It was probably the end of Windover.
“We almost lost the farm after the last scare. This’ll put the final nail in the coffin, Grandmother.”
“My, you are upset,” Johanna replied with a tiny smile. “You never call me Grandmother unless you’re piqued at me.”
“Whatever.” Connor stopped pacing and faced the elderly woman squarely. “I want to know what you’re willing to do to help me save our heritage.”
She laughed, a raspy, rusty sound that made Connor’s lips twitch even as he waited for her answer.
“Our heritage? You’ve been thinking about this all day, I can tell.”
On the contrary. For a few hours that afternoon he’d forgotten about his current troubles, focusing on another’s issues. A slight girl with jet-black hair and astonishing blue eyes. With a baby on the way. Where was she now? He hoped she was still all right. When her face had paled and she’d wavered he’d simply acted, while no one around had batted an eyelash.
And even at her worst she’d still maintained a sense of humor. He admired that. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was in a bad way. For the father to simply disappear like that…Connor frowned. He had no compassion for cowards. A real man stood up and did what needed to be done.
And so, apparently, did Alex. Because the only sense he’d got from her today was that of strength and stubbornness, not hopelessness and self-pity.
And why, considering the
