Texas-Sized Trouble. Barb Han
“Fine.” Faith stomped so hard the earth should’ve cracked. The only thing that did was Ryder’s face, in a grin. She still had that same fierce determination.
As soon as she took her seat and slammed the truck door closed, she whirled on him. “I hope this means you have a plan, because you just blew the only lead we have so far.”
“I didn’t but you almost did,” he said, keeping that wry grin intact as he turned the key in the ignition. The engine fired up.
“Me?” She was so angry the word came out in a high-pitched croak. “You’re joking, right?”
“Never been more serious.” He navigated the pickup through the one-lane street. “And you should calm down. Getting upset can’t be good for...it.” He motioned toward her belly, not really sure what to call the baby yet.
“Well, then, you’re going to have to explain everything to me as if I’m a two-year-old because I don’t understand,” she said, dodging his baby comment.
Downtown Braxton, Texas, had a post office, a diner, a bank and a city hall. The diner was across the street from city hall and anchored an otherwise empty strip center. Ryder parked, fed the meter and then opened Faith’s door for her.
“You still haven’t told me what we’re doing here,” she said, taking his hand.
He ignored the frisson of heat where their fingers touched. Sexual chemistry wasn’t the problem between them, never had been. Trust was, and it appeared to be an issue on both sides. As for him, there’d be no way to get around her deception and build any kind of bond. Yes, he was still angry at her, and that was why he didn’t want to think about the attraction he felt or anything else that didn’t directly impact finding Nicholas.
“She’ll come and then she’ll be ready to talk,” he said. “She needs a minute to come to terms with the fact that you care.”
“How do you know that?” Faith didn’t bother to hide her frustration; angry lines creased her forehead.
“Curiosity will get the best of her. She loves him. I could see it in her eyes. She wants to find him as much as we do, and we planted the seed that we’re concerned,” he clarified.
“I hope you’re right,” she said.
“She’s also proud. She might not take care of him the way you would but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him. He might be the only family she has and she won’t let go easily,” he clarified.
“Celeste didn’t get what she wanted from my dad. I figured she was just using him, maybe even got pregnant on purpose hoping for a free ride. But she kept Nicholas and has been bringing him up ever since even though my dad was a jerk and refused to pay support,” she said thoughtfully.
He didn’t address the irony of that idea given their current situation, and she acknowledged that she was thinking the same thing with a quick flash of her eyes toward him. It was a good sign that she’d calmed down and could think through the situation clearly. Faith was smart.
“Oh, no.” She suddenly stopped at the diner door, turned and ran toward the trash can.
“What is it?” he asked.
“This isn’t good.” She bent over and clutched her stomach. “I feel awful.”
“Is it the baby?” Her expression made him worry that something might be truly wrong. A feeling of panic struck his chest faster than stray lightning and he was caught off guard by the jolt of fear that came with thinking something serious might be wrong.
“What can I do?” he asked as she emptied her stomach. He followed her and held her hair back from her face, helpless to offer any real comfort. He could see that her cheeks were flushed. The back of her neck was hot to the touch despite the frigid temps, so he swept her hair off her neck to cool her down, offering what little support he could.
“Sorry,” she said before emptying another round into the trash can.
“Don’t apologize for being sick. What do you need?” Watching her retch over a garbage bin made him wish he could do something to make it better. Anything besides just keep her neck cool. He’d never felt so useless in his life.
When she was finished, she glanced up at him looking embarrassed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I should’ve skipped that cup of decaf I had this morning on an empty stomach.” She leaned against a brick pillar next to the garbage can for support. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes. It’s probably just nerves.”
She looked at him and must’ve seen the panic in his eyes.
“Promise. It’ll pass. I went through worse than this in those first few months,” she said.
“Hold on.” He retrieved a bottle of water from the cab of his truck, unscrewed the lid and handed it to her. “Maybe this’ll help.”
She rinsed her mouth out before wetting a cloth and dabbing it on her face. “That’s much better, actually. Thank you.”
He shouldn’t feel such a strong sense of satisfaction. He needed to be stockpiling reserves against that dam he’d built, tossing bags of sand against it for reinforcement, because seeing the way she looked a few moments ago had threatened to put a crack in a wall he couldn’t afford to break.
An old two-door hatchback buzzed into the parking spot on the other side of Ryder’s truck with Celeste behind the wheel.
“You’re sure you’re better?” he asked Faith, relieved that her color was returning.
“Yeah. Much. The cold weather is helping.”
“Let’s get inside before she sees us out here and takes off. We have a better chance of getting her to open up if she can’t easily hop into her car if you say anything to frustrate her.”
Faith shot him a severe look.
“Hey, I’m just making sure she doesn’t slam the door in our face again,” he said, taking her arm. Holding on to her was a bad idea, especially while she seemed so vulnerable. He ignored the hammering against the fault line of the dam wall and the way his pulse picked up as he guided her inside the diner, chalking his reaction up to residual sexual chemistry. Even through her coat he felt the sizzle between them. “Table for two.”
The place had about twenty tables in a dining space to the left and a counter with bar stools for quick service on his right. There were plenty of windows at the front and only a few customers. Most of whom were spread around at tables in the back.
“Sit anywhere you like,” a waitress said from behind the counter. She was filling an old-fashioned soda glass from a spout.
Ryder motioned toward a booth in front near the half wall of windows, farthest away from anyone else in the hopes that Celeste would feel more comfortable talking. As it was, she looked ready to turn tail and run, and he couldn’t afford to lose his only lead. Faith was right earlier. They would circle back to talk to neighbors. He didn’t expect to net much since no one had come outside to check on why the dogs were barking earlier. Even if someone had peeked from behind a curtain, they wouldn’t talk. Celeste’s was a neighborhood that minded its own business.
Faith took off her coat and laid it across the booth before taking a seat. Ryder didn’t bother to remove his jacket.
The two of them had just sat down and gotten comfortable when Celeste walked inside. She made eye contact with Ryder almost immediately and he could see just how tentative her trust in either of them was. It didn’t matter. She was there. And he’d dealt with enough injured and spooked animals over the years to know it was in his and Faith’s best interest to tread lightly.
Celeste