Brenda Harlen - A Very Special Delivery

She rolled up the window—no point in letting the inside of the car fill up with snow—and unlocked the door.

As soon as she did, he opened it for her, then offered his other hand to help her out. He must have noticed the iciness of her fingers even through his gloves, because before she’d stepped onto the ground, he’d taken them off his hands and put them on hers. They were toasty warm inside, and she nearly whimpered with gratitude.

He walked sideways up the side of the ditch, holding on to both of her hands to help her do the same. Unfortunately the boots that she’d so happily put on her feet when she set out that morning had smooth leather soles, not exactly conducive to gaining traction on a snowy incline. She slipped a few times and no doubt would have fallen if not for his support. When she finally made it to level ground, he picked her up—scooping her off her feet as if she weighed nothing—and carried her to the passenger side of his truck. She was too startled to protest, and all too conscious of the extra twenty-nine pounds that she was carrying—and now he was carrying. But when he settled her gently on the seat, he didn’t even seem winded.

He drove up the laneway, parked beside the house. When he inserted his key into the lock, she heard a cacophony of excited barking from the other side of the door.

“You have dogs?”

“Just one.” Her rescuer shook his head as the frantic yips continued. “We just got home. I let him out of the truck at the end of the driveway when I saw your vehicle, and he raced ahead to the house to come in through the doggy door, as he always does. And every day when I put my key in the lock, he acts as if it’s been days rather than minutes since he last saw me.”

“They don’t have much of a concept of time, do they?”

“Except for dinnertime,” he noted dryly. “He never forgets that one.”

He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. But before Julie could take a step forward, there was a tri-colored whirlwind of fur and energy weaving between her feet.

“Einstein, sit.”

The dog immediately plopped his butt on the snow-covered porch right beside her boots and looked up with shiny, dark eyes, and his master scooped him up to give her a clear path through the door.

“Oh, he’s just a little guy. And absolutely the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“He’s cute,” the doctor agreed. “And he hasn’t met anyone he doesn’t immediately love, but sometimes he’s too stubborn for his own good.”

She slipped her boots off inside the door, and when he put the puppy down again, it immediately attacked her toes with an enthusiastic tongue and gentle nips of his little teeth.

“Einstein, no!”

The pup dropped his head and looked up, his eyes filled with so much hurt and remorse, Julie couldn’t help but laugh.

The doctor looked at her with a slightly embarrassed shrug. “He’s got some kind of foot fetish. I’m not having a lot of luck in trying to curb it.”

“No worries, my feet are too numb to feel much, anyway.”

“Come on.” He took her arm and guided her down the hall and into what she guessed was a family room. The floor was a dark glossy hardwood and the walls were painted a rich hunter-green, set off by the wide white trim and cove moldings. There was a chocolate leather sectional and a matching armchair facing a gorgeous stone fireplace flanked by tall, narrow windows. The lamps on the mission-style side tables were already illuminated, but as he stepped through the wide, arched doorway, he hit another switch on the wall and flames came to life in the firebox.

“You should warm up quickly in here,” he told her. “I converted to gas a few years ago. As much as I love the smell of a real wood fire, I prefer the convenience of having heat and flame at the flick of a switch.”

“You have a beautiful home,” Julie told him. And, it seemed to her, a big home, making her wonder if he had a wife and kids to help fill it. She hadn’t seen a ring on his finger, but she knew that didn’t prove anything.

“I like it,” he said easily.

She moved closer to the fireplace, drawn by the flickering flames and the tempting warmth. “Do you live here alone?”

“Me and Daphne and Einstein,” he clarified.

She was reassured by this revelation that she wouldn’t actually be alone with a stranger. “Daphne’s your...wife?”

“No.”

He responded quickly—so quickly she couldn’t help but smile. The immediate and predictable denial was that of a perennial bachelor with absolutely no desire to change his status.

“Daphne’s a three-year-old blue Burmese, and not very sociable. Unlike Einstein, you’ll only see her if she decides you’re worthy of her presence.”

Which meant that they were alone—except for a cat and a dog. But he was a doctor, and the emergency operator had vouched for him, and she had to stop being wary of everyone just because her experience with Elliott had caused her to doubt her own judgment. “It’s a big house for one man and two pets,” she noted.

“Believe me, it felt a lot smaller when I had to share it with two brothers.”

“You grew up here?”

He nodded. “Born and raised and lived my whole life in Pinehurst, in this house. Well, I wasn’t actually born in this house—my mother wanted to do things more traditionally and give birth in the hospital.”

“That was my plan, too,” she admitted.

“Sliding into a ditch and going into labor during an unexpected snowstorm was a spur-of-the-moment decision?” he teased.

“I’m not in labor,” she said again. “My baby isn’t due for another two weeks and first babies are almost never early.”

“Almost isn’t the same as never,” he told her, and pushed the oversize leather chair closer to the fire so that she could sit down.

When she lowered herself into the seat, he sat cross-legged on the floor facing her and lifted her feet into his lap. “Your feet are like ice,” he noted.

She was startled by the boldness of the move and felt as if she should protest—but only until he started to rub her toes between his hands, then she closed her eyes and nearly moaned with pleasure.

In fact, she probably did make some kind of noise, because Einstein bounded over, eager to play with her feet, too. But one sharp look from his master had him curling up on the rug in front of the fire.

“Don’t you own winter boots or a proper coat?” the doctor asked her.

“Of course I do, but it wasn’t snowing when I started out this morning.”

“Started out from where?”

“Cleveland,” she admitted.

“Then you obviously did a lot of driving today.”

“About seven hours.”

“Heading back to Boston?”

She eyed him warily. “What makes you think I’m going to Boston?”

“I saw the Massachusetts plates on your car, and there’s just a hint of a Boston accent in your voice.”

“I wasn’t planning on going any further than Pinehurst today,” she said, deliberately not confirming nor denying his assumption. Then, because she’d rather be asking questions than answering them, she said, “Is Luke short for Lukas?”

“It is.” He set down the first foot and picked up the second one.

“I’ve been researching baby names,” Julie told him. “Lukas means bringer of light.”

And she thought the name suited him, not just because he’d rescued her—bringing her hope if not necessarily light—but because it was strong and masculine.

“Have you narrowed down your choices?”

She nodded.

“Any hints?”

She shook her head, then gasped when the pain ripped through her again.

Luke released her foot and laid his hands on the curve of her belly. She tried to remember everything she’d read about Braxton Hicks and how to distinguish those false contractions from real labor, but in the moment, she was lucky she remembered to breathe through the pain.