Marilyn Pappano - Rogue's Reform

“Who’s Callie?”

“My midwife.”

That brought his gaze to her face. “You’re seeing a midwife?”

Grace eased into the wooden chair behind the desk, propped her feet on the stool underneath the desk and folded her hands over her belly. “She’s going to deliver the baby.”

“Why not let Doc Hanson? He’s been doing it for fifty years.”

“Precisely why he’s not doing it anymore. He’s turned that part of his practice over to Callie.”

“So why not go to Tulsa or Oklahoma City?”

“Why would I do that when Callie is right here in town?” A scowl knitted her brows together. “She’s not some old granny that country folk turn to because they don’t know better or can’t afford a real doctor. She’s an R.N., a nurse-midwife. She practices in Doc Hanson’s clinic.” She paused before adding the one comment that would make a difference to him. “She’s delivering Olivia and Guthrie’s baby.”

It did make a difference. She could practically see the change in attitude. Oh, well, if Guthrie says it’s all right, then it must be all right. On the one hand, it annoyed her. It was her baby, her delivery, and if she said it was all right, it was. On the other, it was touching that, despite all the trouble between them, he obviously still had a great deal of respect for his brother.

But all that respect hadn’t stopped Ethan from fraudulently selling Guthrie’s ranch out from under him a year or two ago. Though the very idea of it was amazing, if pressed, she would have to admit that it was a good thing he had. Otherwise, he never would have developed a guilty conscience, he wouldn’t have come back last summer to undo his wrong, and he wouldn’t have been in that bar on her first night of freedom. She wouldn’t have such sweet memories, her friends, this business, the house or, most important, her baby. She owed a lot to his disreputable ways.

Still, “disreputable” didn’t come high on her list of qualities desired in her baby’s father.

Hands in his pockets, he came around the counter and circled the small space that served as her office. He glanced out the window at her view—the dock where customers backed up their pickup trucks to load lumber and wall-board—then thumbed through a catalog offering every hand tool known to man before finally speaking. “Tell me something. What was Jed Prescott’s little girl doing in that bar dressed like a—” He broke off, then substituted a less-harsh description, she suspected, than what had initially come to mind. “Like a woman looking for a good time?”

“If I’d gone in there dressed like this, I wouldn’t have gotten the same response.”

The hint of a smile crossed his face, then disappeared. She remembered his smiles best of everything about him. They’d come so quickly, so easily, from sweet, gentle smiles to broad, oh-so-cocky grins. She’d thought halfway through the evening how incredibly wonderful it was to spend time with a man who expressed pleasure so naturally. Her father was not a smiler. Living with him, she hadn’t been, either.

Finished with the office, he turned and leaned back against the counter. “No,” he agreed. “Going in looking like that—” once again he gestured toward her stomach “—would have scared all the men away, including me.” Crossing his ankles, folding his arms across his chest, he waited for the real answer to his question.

She considered ignoring it, and him. She had end-of-the-month invoices to prepare, a couple of orders to call in, tax records to update, inventory to finish. If she chose, she could find any number of excuses for not answering, and she couldn’t think of one single reason for telling him.

So she told him, anyway. Go figure. “Do you remember me?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “From…?”

“High school. Middle school. Grade school. Church, when my father still let me go. When your mother still made you go.” She shrugged. “From growing up two years apart in the same small town for sixteen years.”

Ethan didn’t need to think about his answer. For all he remembered, she could have sprung into existence full-grown yesterday, with absolutely zero contact between them before then. He didn’t offer the response immediately, though. It seemed cruel to be so quickly certain that she hadn’t existed in his world—in their mutually shared world—for all those years.

But finally he couldn’t delay any longer, and so he shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“I’m the most forgettable person in Heartbreak. People who have known me all my life don’t know my name. My own father called me ‘girl’ rather than make the effort to remember ‘Grace.”’ Her smile was thin and bitter. “He called his dog ‘girl,’ too. He took her with him when he left.”

For a moment she seemed lost in that thought. Missing the father who’d apparently never loved her? Maybe regretting all the years she’d spent with a man who’d walked out when she needed him?

At least it gave them something in common—they’d both had lousy fathers. And they both wondered whether he could do better. And she had good reason to think her child would be better off with no father at all.

“That day last summer was the first time in my life that I was free of his control.”

It was an outrageous statement, but she said it so flatly that he knew it was true. Ethan couldn’t imagine living a life so restrictive. From the time he was fifteen, he’d taken such freedom that his life had been virtually without rules. Sometimes he’d wished his mother would put her foot down and hold him to the same rules she’d held Guthrie to. He’d figured that she thought he wasn’t capable of living up to them, so why even try.

“So you transformed yourself into someone else—” beautiful, sexy, sultry Melissa “—and determined to live all you could in that one day.” How many firsts had she experienced? First bar, first drink, first dance? Definitely first kiss. Sweet, a bit awkward, as if she’d expected their noses to bump or their mouths not to fit. It had taken only one kiss to convince her that wasn’t the case. The next had been sweet and steamy, full of promise, and at the motel, virgin or not, she’d delivered on that promise.

And he had definitely been her first man. Her only man, he suspected. There was something old-fashioned and satisfying about that knowledge.

“And that’s why you disappeared in the middle of the night.”

She shook her head. “Not in the middle of the night. Early, just before dawn.”

She was right, of course, Ethan thought, because in the middle of the night, they’d been making love again. She’d liked it better the second time. He’d fallen asleep wondering how much more she was going to enjoy the third time, only to awaken alone. The only thing she’d left behind was the faint scent of her cologne perfuming the sheets wrapped around him.

It was the first time in years that the roles had been reversed. He was the one who woke early and slipped away. He was the one who didn’t want to face goodbyes, demands, recriminations. He was the one who kept his sexual encounters as anonymous and short-term as possible.

And Grace had shown him how it felt to be the one walked out on.

“So…I woke up alone, and you…?”

“Went home. Washed the color and the curls out of my hair. Scrubbed the makeup off. Gave the clothes back to my friend. Put away the memories and prepared to convince my father that I’d been a good girl while he was gone.”

“And he believed you.”

“For a while. One day I was over there—” she gestured to the shelves that flanked the side windows “—getting something off the top shelf for Miz Walker and…I don’t know. The light was right. My clothes were a little snug. Something about the way I was standing… He realized I was pregnant.” She lowered her hand to her stomach in a touch that Ethan suspected was totally reassuring. “A few weeks after that, he left town. But before he left, he signed the store and the house over to me.”