wanted to keep the baby a total secret from him, she knew Ethan’s feelings on children. After the initial shock of discovering her pregnancy, she’d consoled herself with the idea that she’d tell him after she’d adjusted to motherhood. She and the baby would get into a routine. Make a life together. And then she’d figure out a way to tell him.
Instead, some creepy jerk had forced her hand and put a very dark mark on that future.
She directed Ethan to the turn for her small subdivision, a townhome community that sat about a mile off Main Street. When he only nodded his head and murmured a husky “I remember,” she turned her gaze to the window, another one of those nameless emotions bubbling to the surface.
The February weather had been colder than usual, so the trees that lined the entry to her development were still bare. Even without the pretty shades of green that had canopied the neighborhood on his last visit, Ethan took each turn like a pro.
He did remember.
Which did nothing to help her internal argument to stay cool, calm and distant toward Ethan Colton.
An unbearable heaviness threatened to pull her under at the realization, and she rubbed a slow, soothing hand over her belly. The baby was in one of its quiet periods and had settled down during the drive. Over the past few months, every time she’d begun to feel any anxiety, Lizzie had focused on the life she carried. Staying calm for the baby was essential to its well-being, and she was determined to avoid as much stress as possible.
Or at least the self-induced kind, Lizzie admitted with a quick eye roll that reflected back at her from the window of Ethan’s truck.
Oblivious to her thoughts, Ethan turned in to her driveway and cut the engine. His gaze roamed over the brick facing before he turned toward her with a smile. “What a great place. I thought so before, and it’s only more true in the light of day.”
“I love it. I’ve loved this place from the first moment I saw it.” The baby gave a sharp kick as if to punctuate the point, and Lizzie laid a firm hand over her stomach.
“You okay?”
“Field-goal practice has begun once more.”
“Do you need to sit for a moment?”
“No. Walking will help move her a bit.” She was already reaching for the door handle when long, strong fingers came down over her hand.
“Wait. I’ll come around.” The strength that lined his features softened as his gaze drifted to her stomach. “So the baby’s a girl today?”
“I told you. I like to trade off each day.”
“So you did.” His hand lifted from hers to settle over the large mound of her belly. “But she’s still kicking field goals?”
Her voice came out on a husky croak, her throat desert dry. “Like a champ.”
“Which means you definitely need a bit of pampering. I’ll come around to get you.”
The tender moment of connection ended, the crackle of electricity that seemed to flow between them effortlessly fizzling in the cool air that blew in through his open door. Lizzie kept her hand on the door handle but followed Ethan’s command to stay put.
It was nice to have the help and the extra bit of attention. Even if she put aside the feelings for Ethan that never seemed to fully go away, it was just nice to have someone to talk to about the baby. Her coworkers had been excited for her, and she’d made a few friends since she’d started at the bank, but they weren’t with her in her more private moments. Decorating the baby’s room or picking out some items at the store had been all her own doing.
“Why don’t you give me your keys and I’ll go in ahead of you?”
“I know you’re worried, but it’s not that bad. This is my house.”
One eyebrow rose. “Humor me.”
Lizzie stilled from where she worked her way out of the seat belt. “You use that look to get whatever you want, Colton?”
“Did it work?”
“Sadly, yes.”
One of those rare smiles lit up his face. “Then consider it an effective tactic.”
Lizzie allowed Ethan to help her from the elevated passenger seat of his truck, then handed over her keys. “I’ll stay behind you.”
She stayed true to her word but couldn’t fully eliminate the seeds of resentment that took root as she followed him to her front door. This was her home. She’d worked and saved and had been so proud when she’d qualified for the mortgage on her own. All her hard work and dedication, focus and goal setting, had paid off. And ten months ago, she’d signed the papers and moved in.
Now she had to face the fact that someone had threatened all she’d worked for. Worse, they’d threatened the fragile life she protected within her.
“Come on in.” Ethan gestured her through her open front door. “I’ll look around, but everything looks like it’s in place.”
“Everything’s where it should be. The curse of the foster child.”
“Oh?”
The curious “Oh” had gone straight over her head, but the question beneath his question didn’t. Lizzie glanced up from her focused perusal of the front living area. “Sure. Keep things neat as a pin so you don’t give them a reason to get rid of you.”
“You said that without a trace of bitterness.”
“Because I’m not bitter. Not at all.” When he only continued to stare at her, Lizzie pressed on. “I had wonderful people who took care of me. They did the best they could and they did love me.”
“I hear a but there.”
“But I was the stubborn teenager who kept my distance from them. They weren’t my real parents, and I never let them forget it.”
“You sound sad about that.”
“More than you can know. Roy and Rhonda Carlton were my last foster family and they cared for me. They gave me a home, and I didn’t appreciate them nearly enough.”
“My brother Chris mentioned their passing several years back. We thought they might have known—”
Lizzie’s attention sharpened on all Ethan didn’t say. “Thought what?”
“It’s nothing.”
She leveled her own stare on him and knew the well-practiced gesture had a similar effect as his lone eyebrow. Nor did she miss the resigned look or the small exhalation as Ethan paced through her living room, his large frame at odds with the delicate furniture she’d selected.
“Chris is a PI, and he looked into them a bit when we were trying to find out more about Josie. To see if they knew anything. That was about a year after she disappeared and—” his large shoulders rose and fell in a simple shrug “—he discovered they died in a car accident.”
“A
