what am I supposed to say when we talk to them?”
“Nothing. I’ll do the talking. I just need you there as proof.”
“Proof,” he repeated, then snorted again and shook his head. He released her hand and moved to tie Danny Boy to the side of the trailer. “I don’t know what in the hell my being here proves.”
“That I really do have a husband,” she said in surprise, then clamped her lips together when he whipped his head around to look at her, one brow arched high. “Well, you know what I mean,” she said, flustered.
Chuckling, Troy hung a net filled with hay within Danny Boy’s reach, checked the level of water in the bucket, then placed a hand at the small of Shelby’s back as he guided her to the narrow iron stairs that snaked up the rear of the building. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
He stepped out of the way while she dealt with the locks, then followed her into the dark apartment. He stopped, waiting for her to turn on some lights. When she did, he glanced around.
Though definitely larger than his horse trailer’s sleeping loft, which was home to him when he was on the road, the room was small, yet comfortable. A love seat, upholstered in a floral chintz, dominated the center of the room. Two wicker chairs, one covered in a cheerful yellow fabric, the other in mint-green, sat opposite. Between the sofa and chairs was a small trunk that served as a coffee table of sorts, he supposed. As he studied the cozy seating arrangement, he tried to imagine squeezing his large frame onto that little sofa and shook his head.
“I told you it was small,” she said as she headed for the kitchen tucked into a corner of the room. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you. Just a place to stretch out and catch some shut-eye.”
She did a neat U-turn and lifted a hand to a panel of wood on the wall. Troy’s chin nearly hit the floor when the panel lowered, exposing a bed.
“It’s a Murphy bed,” she said in explanation as she fluffed pillows. “I don’t have a bedroom.”
He snapped his head up to look at her. “You don’t have a bedroom?”
Her cheeks pinkened, and she shook her head. “No. There’s just this room and a bath.” She settled the pillows at the head of the bed, then turned back the quilt, folding it neatly at the foot of the bed. “You can sleep here, and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Troy shifted his gaze to the sofa. It was so small he doubted even Shelby would be able to comfortably sleep on it. “I have a better idea,” he said. “We’ll share the bed. Me on top, you underneath.” At the horrified look that came into her eyes, he felt his own cheeks heat. “The covers,” he growled with an impatient wave of his hand at the bed. “I’ll sleep on top of the covers, and you sleep underneath ’em.”
Acutely aware of the man who lay on the bed beside her, Shelby held the sheet to her chin, her eyes wide as she stared at the dark ceiling. For the past forty-eight hours, ever since leaving Derrick’s apartment after learning that he wanted nothing to do with her or their baby, she’d felt as if she was moving in a thick fog—lost, her thoughts jumbled, her nerves frayed—knowing that she couldn’t go home and face her parents. Not without a husband, not without a name for the baby she carried.
She stole a glance at Troy who lay beside her, his eyes closed, his breathing even. She was still unable to believe that she’d had the nerve to ask a complete stranger to marry her. But even now, as she looked at him sleeping in her bed beside her, she didn’t feel any fear. There was something about him—exactly what, she wasn’t sure, but something—that told her he was a man whom she could trust.
She supposed it was fate that had placed them both at the truck stop’s café at that exact moment in time. Her desperately in need of a husband to give her baby a name, and him in need of money so he wouldn’t have to sell his horse. But whether it was fate or God’s divining hand, she didn’t think she would ever in a million years be able to repay him for the sacrifice he was making for her and her baby.
Even as the gratitude swelled inside her, guilt stabbed at her conscience as she realized she’d never properly thanked him.
“Troy?” she whispered urgently.
“Hmm?”
“Are you asleep?”
“No. But I’m working on it.”
“Oh,” she murmured in embarrassment, realizing too late how tired he must be. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.” He stretched his arms up to the ceiling and his bare feet over the foot of the bed, growling, then sighed, relaxing his body as he laced his fingers across his bare chest. “Whatcha need?”
“Nothing, really. I just wanted to—” she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, unable to find words adequate enough to convey the depth of her feelings “—to, well, to say thank you,” she finished futilely. “I don’t think I ever did.”
“No thanks needed,” he said gruffly.
“Oh, but there is,” she insisted, turning her head to peer at him in the darkness. “You’ll never know how much I appreciate your letting me use your name. And taking me to Las Vegas and handling all the arrangements,” she added. “I hadn’t thought about the time involved, obtaining a license and such. It was fortunate that you did.”
“Like I said,” he repeated. “No thanks needed. Now why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
She turned her face back to the ceiling and pulled the sheet to her chin once more, but was too keyed up to even think about sleeping.
“Troy?” she whispered again.
“Hmm?”
“I don’t think I can sleep.”
He chuckled, the sound deep and throaty in the darkness. “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?”
“No,” she replied, and bit back a smile at his teasing. “I think I’m a little old for that.” She glanced over at him again and nervously pleated the sheet between her fingers. “But would you mind talking to me for a while?” she asked hopefully. “Just until I get sleepy?”
She could feel his gaze as he turned his head to peer at her, though his features were nothing but a play of shadows in the darkness. “About what?”
“Anything. Just talk. Tell me where you’re from,” she suggested and rolled to her side, slipping a hand beneath her pillow to support her head as she peered at him in the darkness.
He turned his face away to stare at the ceiling. “Texas. I’ve got a place near Tyler. Know where that is?”
“Yes,” she said in surprise and pushed herself to an elbow. “I go to Canton for First Monday several times a year on buying trips. Tyler is near there, isn’t it?”
“Not far. First Monday, huh?” She could hear the smile in his voice, though his face remained in shadows, hiding his expression. “Now there’s a circus, if ever I’ve seen one.”
She smiled, too, remembering
