a cheerful little song, but otherwise the house was quiet. Peaceful. It was, she could tell, a good house. A refuge.
After what seemed like five minutes, Rosie tapped on her door. “Tess, he’s here.”
Heart pounding and palms sweating, Tess brushed her hair, refreshed her makeup and smoothed the wrinkles from her blouse and slacks. As she was about to open the door, she heard Zeke’s deep laugh. She hadn’t thought she’d remember it, but the sound awakened feelings she’d hoped she’d buried. She didn’t want to be attracted to him—not anymore—but her libido seemed to have other ideas.
She heard another man chuckle. That must be Herb, Rosie’s husband. Rosie had mentioned he would be the only other person there for dinner. Sometimes there was a crowd, she’d said, but not tonight. Tess figured that was on purpose.
When she walked into the living room, Zeke was sitting on one end of the sofa, holding a bottle of beer. A wiry older man, undoubtedly Herb, had taken the opposite end and Rosie was in a comfy-looking armchair. Both men popped up immediately.
Herb smiled in welcome, but Zeke’s face, what she could see of it since he now had a full beard and wore his Stetson, was brick-red with either anger or embarrassment. Maybe both.
He gave Rosie a quick what-the-hell glance before turning back to her. “Hello, Tess.” He cleared his throat. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
“I invited her.” Rosie stood. “Tess, this is my husband, Herb.”
“Nice meeting you.” Herb walked over and shook her hand. “Glad you could pay us a visit.” He, too, had kind eyes.
“Thank you.” She managed a smile. “So am I. Your place is charming.”
“Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes,” Rosie said, “but I can let it simmer a little longer if you two need more time to talk. Herb, let’s go whip up a salad.”
“I’m on it.” He left the room.
Tess wished she could follow them both into the kitchen. She’d rather do almost anything than stay there with the smoldering volcano that was Zeke. But Rosie was right. Telling him in person was the way to go, no matter how awkward it might turn out to be.
He let out a breath and met her gaze. “Guess I should have called you.”
“Maybe this is better.”
Gradually the color drained from his face. “Why?”
“I’m pregnant.”
He stared at her. Then he shook his head. “You can’t be.”
“I didn’t think it was possible, either, so I put off going to the doctor. Frankly, I thought I might have some serious health issues and I didn’t want to deal with them until school was out.”
His breathing accelerated. “How can you be pregnant? We used condoms!”
“I can’t answer that for sure. The doctor said it could be for any number of reasons, but she said it happens.”
“So much for modern science.” He grimaced. “Look, this feels like a lousy thing to say, but I have to ask. Are you sure it was me?”
“That’s a fair question. But you were my first lover after my divorce, which was a year ago, and there’s been nobody since. I don’t have any proof, though, so you’ll have to take my word for it.”
“I will.”
“Thank you.” That was one ugly discussion they could skip. “Look, I know this is a shock, but let me put your mind to rest. I’m here to inform you because I don’t believe in keeping a pregnancy a secret from the father, but I don’t expect anything from you.”
“But you’re pregnant with my kid!”
She shrugged. “So what? You didn’t intend for this to happen and, judging from our discussions in April, you never planned to have children, so I’ll handle everything. I absolve you of any responsibility.”
“That’s crazy. You can’t just—”
“Sure I can. I’ll have a lawyer draw up something legal for us to sign if you’d prefer that. I know you don’t want him, but the thing is, I do. I love children, but I was told I had about a five percent chance of ever conceiving. This is a miracle baby and I can’t wait to be a mother.”
“You said him.”
“Yes. I’m having a boy.”
“I thought you couldn’t tell at three months.”
“They have a blood test now. It’s very accurate.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “A boy. Wow.” Then he glanced toward the kitchen. “Did you tell Rosie you were pregnant? Is that why she set up this meeting?”
“No, you’re the first person I’ve told.”
“Really? What about your folks? What about your friend, the one you came to Texas with?”
“Nobody knows. I wanted a plan before I broke the news. But I think Rosie suspects. When I called back a second time and told her it was very important that I get in touch with you, she probably guessed why.”
“I should have called. I apologize for that. I thought—well, it doesn’t matter. I still should’ve called.”
“You thought I was out of school and looking for a way to spice up my summer?”
“Yes, ma’am, I did.” His hazel eyes gleamed for a moment but then the twinkle was gone. “And I’m not feeling up to that.”
The temporary gleam of desire got to her. She hated to admit it, but the longer they talked, the more she wanted to touch him. “I’m sorry about your shoulder. I thought you might show up here in a sling.” She didn’t know which shoulder was injured, either.
“I have one but I don’t like wearing it.”
“Does your bad shoulder make it hard to shave?”
“Shave? No, I’m right-handed. Oh.” He stroked his beard. “You mean this. I decided to grow it since I’m not doing public appearances.”
“Mmm.” She wondered if it would be prickly or soft.
“You don’t like it.”
“It makes you look different.” Like a pirate or a mountain man, both intimidating images of rugged men who couldn’t be bothered with changing diapers and warming bottles.
“You don’t look different.” His gaze drifted to her stomach. “This is so hard to believe. I feel like this is a dream and any minute I’ll wake up.”
“Trust me, I felt the same when I got the news. The
