Texas-Sized Trouble. Delores Fossen
would kick his ass. That should do it. He’d found that worked better than divine fear on some people.
“Anyway, I thought you’d want to give Eve a wide berth,” Garrett added. “According to my mom, Eve’s, uh, going through a tough time right now, and she came back for some peace and quiet.”
Lawson mumbled a “Yeah right.”
He didn’t want to speculate what would be a tough time for a rich celebrity who still had hordes of fans. Just the other day he’d seen a tabloid cover at the gas station with a headline about her on-again, off-again romance with her former costar, the turd-wearing Stavros.
“If she wants a wide berth, she’s got it,” Lawson assured his cousin. He tipped his head to the main house. “Want to get started on the schedule?”
“Sure.” But the moment Garrett said that, his phone rang, and he glanced at the screen. “It’s the seller for those new cutting horses. I need to get the file so I can go over the numbers with him.” He headed to the house while he took the call.
Lawson was about to follow him when he heard a strange sound. A moan, as if someone was in pain, and it was coming from inside the guesthouse.
“Eve?” he said, tapping on the door.
No answer.
He got a bad thought though. Maybe the horn-delivering trespasser had broken in and was holding her hostage. Eve might have had demon-fighting skills on the TV set, but he doubted that translated to real life.
When he heard another of those sounds, Lawson tested the doorknob. Locked. So, he used his key and threw open the door, ready to start that ass-whipping, but he didn’t see an ass to whip. That’s because it was dark in the cottage. All the blinds and curtains were drawn, and there wasn’t a single light on in the entire place.
The next sound was considerably louder than the first and was more of a gasp than a moan. Lawson went in, groping for the light switch, but before he could reach it, his feet flew out from underneath him.
His butt hit first, then his elbows and hands before his head smacked into the wall. Hell, he saw stars. The pain radiated from his tailbone all the way to his eyeballs, and even though it’d knocked the breath out of him, he still managed to curse.
“For shit’s sake. What happened?”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
Eve.
He didn’t need to see her to recognize that voice. A real blast from the past to go with the pain that was blasting through him. It had reached his fingers now. And his balls. That was the worst, but he forced himself to a sitting position. Not easily because the floor was wet, and his hand kept slipping when he tried to get a grip.
Eve made another of those sounds. It seemed as if she was also in pain. “Did you slip, too?” he asked.
His vision was blurred, his ears were ringing, but he thought she said no. However, she was moving toward him. Or rather shuffling toward him.
“My water,” she said.
There it was again. One of Vita’s foretold words for the curse. Maybe he had the concussion to go along with it. If so, Vita would be batting three out of four for this latest whammy.
“My water,” Eve repeated.
“Yeah, I got that.” And he picked through the darkness to see her.
The main room was one big living–eating area, and Eve was by the kitchen counter. She was wearing a baggy white nightgown that made her look huge. She’d obviously put on a lot of weight.
Or...
Not.
Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Lawson could see that she was hunched over, her hand splayed on her belly.
Her pregnant belly.
“Please help me,” she said, her voice cracking. “My water broke, and the baby’s coming now.”
SHE WAS DYING. Eve was sure of it.
The pain was knifing through her, and the contractions were so powerful that it felt as if King Kong were squeezing her belly with his hairy fist. Her breathing was too fast. Her heart, racing.
And now she was hallucinating.
Either that or Lawson Granger had indeed slipped in the puddle where her water had broken and was now dying from a head injury. Great. If it wasn’t a hallucination, it meant she’d returned to Wrangler’s Creek after all these years only to cause the death of her old flame.
Her old flame grunted, cursed, and he maneuvered himself onto all fours. So, not dead, just perhaps with critical internal injuries. Of course, anything she was thinking or considering right now could be blown out of proportion because of the god-awful pain that was vising her stomach.
“My water broke,” she managed to say. “And my phone.” She’d dropped it when one of the contractions had hit, and the phone was now scattered all over the stone entryway and hardwood floor.
Eve wouldn’t mention that the reason her water had broken right by the door was because she’d been trying to hear who was talking outside the guesthouse. She’d thought it was another of her fans. Apparently not though.
“This is too soon,” she muttered. “I’m not due for three-and-a-half weeks. A baby shouldn’t come this soon, should it?” Eve knew she sounded frantic, perhaps even crazy, but she couldn’t make herself stop babbling. “Please tell me the baby will be all right.”
Lawson lifted his head, making eye contact with her. Yes, he possibly did have a head injury because he looked dazed.
Oh, God. There was blood.
It was on his head and on the butt of his jeans. Eve saw it while he was still on all fours and trying to get to his feet.
“You’re hurt,” she said, but it was garbled because another contraction hit her. For this one, King Kong had brought one of his friends to help him squeeze her belly. Because Eve had no choice, she dropped to the floor.
She was sinking onto her knees just as Lawson was getting to his. He caught onto the wall, and, grunting and making sounds of pain, he got to his feet. He glanced around as if trying to get his bearings, and he growled out more of that profanity. Some of it had her name in the mix. It definitely wasn’t the sweet tone he’d used when they’d been teenagers and he’d charmed her out of her underpants.
And speaking of underpants, hers were wet from where her water had broken. She was surprised she’d noticed something like that with the pain and with Lawson now looming over her. Since he seemed to have trouble figuring out what to do—possibly a result of his head injury—Eve spelled it out for him.
“Call a damn ambulance!” That was a lot louder and meaner than she’d planned, and she ended it with some of her own profanity. Eve also lay back on the floor.
Lawson shook his head as if to clear it, and he pulled out his phone. It took him a couple of tries to call 911. He poked at the numbers like a drunk man trying to hit a moving target, but he finally got through and requested an ambulance ASAP. When he’d finished that, he sank down next to her.
He did more cursing, followed by some wincing.
“I think you cut your butt,” she told him. “And your head. You might have a concussion.”
Considering that he’d seemed so dazed by everything else she’d said, it surprised Eve when that caused him to groan and mumble, “Vita.”
She knew that name. Vita Banchini. Hard to forget someone like that, but Eve had no idea what Vita had to do with what was going on now. Maybe the woman had put a pain curse on