The Texan's Convenient Marriage. Peggy Moreland

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The Texan's Convenient Marriage - Peggy Moreland Mills & Boon Desire

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squeeze. “Thanks, Mack. For everything. I owe you one.”

      As Mack stepped through the Emergency Room doors, he pulled his cell phone from the holster clipped at his waist and punched in the number Addy had given him, wanting to make the call to her mother before he hit the road.

      When a woman answered, he asked, “Is this Mary Claire Sullivan?”

      “Who wants to know?”

      Mack scowled at the woman’s suspicious tone.

      “Mack McGruder. I’m calling for your daughter. Addy,” he added, thinking she might have more than one. “She went into labor earlier this evening and was rushed to the hospital. The doctor was able to stop the labor, but she’s going to have to remain in the hospital until the baby is born.”

      “Are you the one who got her pregnant?”

      Startled by the unexpected question, he gaped, then scowled again. “No. I’m just passing on information. Figured you’d want to make arrangements to come and stay with her.”

      “If she thinks I’m going to fly all the way to Dallas to hold her hand, she’s got another think coming! Nobody sat by my side while I was giving birth to her. No siree. I sweated out twelve hours of labor all by myself. Twelve long hours,” she added. “And even if I wanted to come, which I don’t, I’ve got a husband to see after. I can’t go flying off and leave him to fend for himself. You tell Addy that she’s the one who got herself into this mess, and she’ll have to see it to its end. I’ve got troubles enough of my own to deal with, without taking on hers.”

      Stunned, Mack stood slack-jawed. How could a mother be so callous about her own child? So uncaring? “If it’s the cost you’re worried about, I’ll arrange for your flight.”

      “A man who’d offer to do that either has a guilty conscience or money to burn.”

      Mack ground his teeth. “I’m just trying to be helpful. I’d think you’d want to be with your daughter at a time like this.”

      “She got pregnant without my help. She can deliver without it, too.”

      “But she’s your daughter!” he shouted, unable to contain his frustration any longer. “She needs you.”

      “I did my duty by Addy. I raised her, didn’t I? And without any help from the sorry SOB who fathered her.”

      Mack wanted to curse at the woman, strangle something, preferably her. How could anyone, much less a mother, be so cold-blooded?

      “I’m sorry I bothered you,” he muttered, and disconnected the call before he gave in to the urge to tell the woman exactly what he thought of her. Scowling, he stuffed his cell phone back into its holster at his waist, then dragged his hands over his hair. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he glanced over his shoulder at the Emergency Room door and envisioned Addy lying on the gurney, probably worried out of her mind about her baby, and without a soul to lean on for support.

      Dropping his arms, he headed for the parking lot, telling himself it wasn’t his problem. He’d done his duty. He’d called the ambulance for her, made sure that she’d arrived safely at the hospital. He’d even called her mother for her.

      He did an abrupt about-face and marched back to the Emergency entrance. Once inside, he quickly spotted the nurse who had taken him back to see Addy and motioned her toward him.

      “Leaving us?” she asked, smiling.

      “Yes, ma’am. I’ve got a good four-hour drive home.” He fished a business card from his wallet and handed it to her. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a call if there’s a change in Addy’s condition. My cell number is there at the bottom. Call day or night. Doesn’t matter. I’ll answer.”

      She hid a smile. “And you claimed you’re not a hero,” she scolded.

      “More like a janitor,” he grumbled, and turned for the door.

      “Janitor?” she repeated in confusion.

      He paused in the open doorway and glanced back. “Yeah. Seems I’ve made a career of cleaning up other people’s messes.”

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