Triplets For The Texan. Janice Maynard
or seven pounds. Her cheekbones stood out sharply, as did her collarbone.
He touched the spot beneath her ear. “They put motion-sickness patches on you in the hospital. I’ll change those out as necessary.”
“Is it safe?” Her fingers moved restlessly, pleating the sheet.
He frowned. “A hell of a lot safer than collapsing from dehydration. You were in a bad way, Simone.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“You hate depending on other people for help, don’t you?”
“I don’t like to take help from you.” Tears welled in her beautiful eyes, making them sparkle.
He sat down again, telling himself he had to be the professional in this situation. “I owe you this much, don’t you think?”
“For what?” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
“For taking your advice and going to Africa.” He couldn’t help the fact that the words sounded accusatory. When it had become clear that he and Simone were crazy about each other, he had offered to linger in Royal for a few years until she got her ad agency off the ground. He’d assumed she would jump at the offer. Instead, she had broken up with him. She’d insisted she didn’t want to stand in the way of his doing something so important.
Bitter and disillusioned, he had realized that Simone didn’t love him the way he loved her. While he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her behind, she had cut him loose and bid him a cheerful farewell.
“I did the right thing,” she said stubbornly. “You had a mission to fulfill.”
“And what did you have, Simone?” Suddenly, he felt like a beast for harassing her. She looked fragile enough to shatter. “Forget I said that,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. It’s not important.”
Without warning, a noise from the front of the house had his head jerking up. Surely no one would barge in uninvited. But he had forgotten about Naomi. The style guru/TV star was as much a force of nature as Simone, though in a different package.
Naomi burst into the bedroom, wild-eyed. She barely glanced at Hutch. “Good lord, Simone. What the heck is going on? I just saw you a few days ago. What happened?”
Hutch moved toward the door. “I’ll leave you two ladies alone.”
Simone held up the hand that wasn’t tethered to an IV. “No. Don’t go, Hutch. You might as well both hear this at once.”
Naomi turned to frown at him. “I didn’t know you were back in town. Made yourself at home, didn’t you? I fail to see why you’re in this house. You hurt her enough the first time around. I’m here now. You can leave.”
Simone tried to sit up. “Hush, Naomi. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Ignore her, Hutch. You know how dramatic she can be.”
Naomi’s teeth-clenched smile promised retribution. She sat down on the side of the bed, careful not to jostle Simone. “Fine. What don’t I know?”
Hutch positioned himself at Simone’s elbow. “You don’t have to do this now, Simone. You’re weak and sick.” He worried about her state of mind.
She shot him a look that held a soupçon of her usual fire. “I’m not an invalid.” Reaching for Naomi’s hand, she twined their fingers. “Don’t be mad. I didn’t want to steal Cecelia’s thunder the other night. I’m pregnant, too. And apparently not handling it nearly as well as our newly engaged friend.”
The self-derision on her face hurt Hutch. “It’s not a contest,” he said.
Naomi gaped. “You’re pregnant?” She glared at Hutch.
He held up his hands. “Don’t look at me.”
“Then who?” Naomi seemed genuinely befuddled.
Maybe Simone had been telling the truth about not having a man in her life. That shouldn’t have pleased him so much. Simone tried to sit up again, and again, he shook his head. “Too soon. Stay put.”
“Fine. Anyone ever tell you you worry too much?” She transferred her attention to her shell-shocked friend. “I wanted to have a baby, Naomi. And I didn’t want to wait. So I used a sperm donor.”
“A sperm donor...” Naomi repeated the words slowly.
“Don’t look so stunned,” Simone pleaded. “It’s a perfectly acceptable thing to do.”
“But it’s not something the Simone I know would do.”
Hutch saw Simone’s bottom lip tremble. “That’s enough, Naomi,” he said. “This has been a rough day for her.”
“Sorry,” she groaned. “What’s the matter with her?”
“She’s suffering from extreme morning sickness.”
“I’m right here,” Simone snapped. “And I don’t know why they call it morning sickness. It lasts the whole damn day.”
He and Naomi looked at each other, trying not to laugh. Hutch lifted a shoulder, edging toward the door. “I really do have some phone calls to make.” He looked at Naomi. “Shout if you need me.”
In the kitchen, he prowled restlessly. Neither of the phone calls was urgent, but he had needed some space to clear his head. He already regretted his impulsive decision to take on Simone’s crisis. The odd thing was, she was the one who usually jumped without looking. There was a time when he had admired her joie de vivre and her impulsive spirit.
He’d been the older one, the stick-in-the-mud. He’d often wondered if that was why she broke up with him. Perhaps his overly conscientious approach to life had struck her as boring and pedantic.
It didn’t matter now. If they hadn’t had anything in common five years ago, that was even more true now. Hopefully, her nausea would soon settle down and he could go back to pretending she was just another pregnant woman.
* * *
Simone looked at Naomi. “Help me sit up, please.”
Naomi frowned. “Hutch said that wasn’t a good idea.”
“Are you kidding me? Since when are you in the Troy Hutchinson fan club?”
“I didn’t say I was a fan, but the man’s a brilliant doctor, and you, my girl, look like something out of a zombie movie.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Despite her protests, Naomi stood up and grabbed extra pillows to put behind Simone. “Satisfied?”
Simone closed her eyes. “I’ll be satisfied when I can eat a milk shake and a cheeseburger without puking.”
“Can I get you anything?” Naomi hovered.
“No. Thank you.” Unexpected tears stung her eyes. “I feel so stupid.”
Naomi chuckled. “Well, you should. If anybody was going to knock you up, it should have been that Greek god doctor of yours.”
“He’s not my doctor,” Simone said automatically. “And besides, we’re not anything to each other.”
“Which explains why I found him in bed with you.”
“Don’t be dramatic. He wasn’t in my bed. He was sitting on my bed. There’s a big difference.”
“Not from where I’m standing.”
“For God’s sake, let it go, Naomi. Hutch and I were over a long time ago. And besides, even if I had the slightest interest in rekindling that flame—which I don’t—what man wants to be father to some other guy’s triplets?”
Naomi gaped. The look of total consternation on her face might have been funny if Simone hadn’t felt so wretched. “Triplets?” she said,