The Baby Blizzard

“Cross Creek Ranch. We should be there in another few minutes.”

Tess made no effort to hide her surprise. “Oh. But—”

“Look,” he said sharply. “I’m not wild about taking you there, either. But we need to get in out of this storm while we still can, and mine’s the closest place for miles.”

Tess let a moment of silence pass. “Are you finished?” she asked finally.

His jaw bunched. “Yeah.”

“Good. For the record, going to your place is fine. It’s extremely nice of you to offer, and I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“But—?” He kept his gaze glued to the road as he carefully braked to make a wide left turn, the headlights flashing across a sign that bore the ranch’s name above a stylized carving of a rocking horse.

“When I lived here, this ranch was owned by some people named Langston.”

He shot her a sharp glance as they rumbled across a cattle guard marked at both sides with orange reflectors. Around them, the landscape was hard to make out. The few trees and low-rising hills were nothing more than a series of ebony shadows against a charcoal night shrouded with blowing snow.

He slowed even more as their ride grew bumpier over the graveled drive. “You really used to live around here?”

She sighed at his obvious skepticism. “Yes. At the Double D. Mary Danielson’s my grandmother.” That earned her a single sharp look. “I can’t figure out how I missed the turn for the driveway.”

He was silent. He shifted the automatic transmission into low as the truck slid on a shallow grade. “Maybe,” he said finally, “you weren’t looking in the right place.”

She waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she had to swallow another sigh. “Do you think you could explain that?”

He shrugged. “Your grandma cut a new road a few years back, when she had to redrill the well at Shell Butte. That must’ve been right after I bought out Langston, and that’s been—” he shifted the truck back into regular drive “—seven years ago.”

“Oh.” Even though there was no way she could have known, she felt foolish. Perhaps that was why she was less than enthralled with his next, comment.

“Too bad you don’t bother to come home more often.”

She frowned,. taken aback by his obvious disapproval. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Yeah? Well, it is when I’m stuck with you.”

“Trust me. Just as soon as the storm passes, someone from the Double D will be over to get me.”

He gave her another narrow look. “Your grandma left three days ago for an extended vacation.”

“What?” She felt momentarily disoriented, the way she had when her car began to slide.

“It’s one of those things you’d know about if you kept in touch—or were here because you’d been invited.”

She bit off the instant retort that trembled on her lips. She’d be darned if she’d justify her behavior to him. She wasn’t about to explain that she’d both written and called ahead, stating her intention to visit and supplying the date of her arrival. Or that her grandmother’s departure was the older woman’s oblique reply, an apparent payback for Tess’s own decision to leave ten years ago.

For one thing, she didn’t go around explaining her behavior to rude, disapproving strangers—no matter how compelling they were.

For another, unless she was mistaken, she had a much more pressing problem.

“Damn,” Jack said abruptly.

“What’s the matter?”

“The power’s out.”

Following his gaze, she glanced around as they drove into the ranch yard. Although a pair of dogs had come to attention on the back porch, not a single light glowed in welcome. Not from the pitch-roofed barn with its adjacent corrals, or the covered arena, or the rambling two-story house that looked pretty much the way she remembered it from childhood.

Tess’s heart sank as she realized something more. She wasn’t in the city anymore. Way out here, when the power went, so did the phones, since the two lines shared the same poles.

The icing on the cake. She took a deep breath. “Jack?”

“What?”

“Do you have a wife?”

He stared straight ahead. “Not anymore. Why? You thinking of applying for the job?”

“No.” Tess shook her head, clenching her hands as the pain, previously limited to her lower back, snaked along her sides and wrapped around her middle like an invisible boa constrictor. She gave an involuntary gasp as the painful pressure increased. “I’m in labor.”

Two

Jack didn’t think. He reacted. “No.” He swiveled toward Tess and shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

Her eyes, big and velvety like winter pansies, widened in astonishment. “What?”

“No way.” He shook his head again, adamant. “You’re not having a baby. Not here. Not now. Not with me.”

For the space of one endless, protracted second, she continued to send him that same incredulous look. Then she abruptly crossed her arms above her rounded middle and shifted her gaze to the darkness beyond the windshield. Her mouth—soft, lush, with an undeniable carnality that was all wrong on an expectant mother—flattened dangerously. “All right.”

It was the very last thing he expected. Primed for an argument, he stared blankly at her, struggling to get himself under control. “Good.” He knew he was behaving badly. He told himself he didn’t care. It was better than having her suspect the anxiety her announcement had brought him.

“Here.” She laid his coat down on the section of seat between them. “Thanks for the loan.” She shoved open the door and climbed out.

Jack gaped. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the house. There must be someone there who’ll help.” She slammed the door.

Stunned, he sat frozen in place, his thoughts churning. Hell! What had he ever done to deserve this? One small good deed, one humanitarian be-a-good-citizen gesture, and suddenly he was stuck with a stubborn, unreasonable, overly independent woman who didn’t have the sense to stay out of a snowstorm. A woman who, if she really was in labor, was going to have to rely on him to deliver her baby.

Just the idea made his throat tighten. Memories, ruthlessly suppressed for the past three years, flashed through his mind. He recalled how happy he’d been when Elise told him she was pregnant. It had been enough to make him ignore his uneasiness when she asked him to move into a spare room so that he wouldn’t disturb her rest. It had sustained him through his loneliness when she insisted on moving into Gweneth her last trimester to be closer to the doctor. It had even made it possible for him to swallow his desperate disappointment when he arrived too late for the birth because someone had forgotten to call him. It had all seemed worth it when he finally held his small, precious, perfect son.

Unbidden, an arrow of longing pierced him. The boy would be almost three and a half now, walking, talking, his big green eyes full of questions—

All of sudden Jack realized what he was doing. This wasn’t going to help anyone, he thought savagely, slamming a door on the past. He could rail against fate, he could rehash history, he could sit around feeling sorry for himself indefinitely, but the end result would be the same. The child was gone, forever beyond his reach... and Tess had no one to rely on but him.

He took a calming breath and forced himself to look at the situation dispassionately. Tess’s labor had just started. Chances were, her baby wouldn’t be born for hours, possibly not even until sometime tomorrow. Hell, by the time she was actually ready to deliver, the weather might well have improved, the phone lines might be restored and he could call for help. Once he did, she would no longer be his problem.

In the meantime, all he had to do was provide shelter and a cursory moral support. As long as they both remained calm, there was no reason why they couldn’t get through this like the pair of adults they were. Unless something happened to her, he thought suddenly, as a particularly vicious gust of wind rattled the truck. For example, if she were to slip and fall...