Claiming King's Baby / Wyoming Wedding: Claiming King's Baby

Maggie stared into Justice’s eyes and felt her heart hammer in her chest. Seeing him again was like balm to an open wound. But seeing him hurt tore at her. So she was both relieved and miserable to be here.

Yet how could she have turned down Jefferson’s request that she come to the ranch and help out? Justice was still her husband. Though he probably didn’t realize that. No doubt he’d never even noticed that though he had signed the divorce papers and mailed them to her, she had never filed them with the courts. Naturally, even if he had noticed, Justice would have been too stubborn to call her and find out what was going on.

And as for Maggie? Well, she had had her own reasons for keeping quiet.

Strange. The last time she’d left this ranch, she’d been determined to sever the bond between her and Justice once and for all. But that plan had died soon enough when things had changed. Her life had taken a turn she hadn’t expected. Hadn’t planned for. A rush of something sweet and fulfilling swept through her and Maggie almost smiled. Nothing Justice did or said could make her regret what her life was now.

In fact, that was one of the reasons she’d come to help him, she told herself. Of course she would have come anyway, because she couldn’t bear the thought of Justice being in pain and needing help he didn’t have. But there was more. Maggie had leaped at Jefferson’s request to come to the ranch, because she’d wanted the chance to show her husband what he was missing. To maybe open his stubborn eyes to the possibilities stretched out in front of him.

Now, though, as she stood right in front of him and actually watched a shutter come down over his eyes, effectively blocking her out, she wondered if coming here had been the right thing to do after all.

Still, she was here. And since she was, she would at least get Justice back on his feet.

“So, what’s it going to be, Justice?” she asked. “Going to play the tough, stoic cowboy? Or are you going to cooperate with me?”

“I didn’t ask you to come,” he told her, ignoring his brother standing just a foot or so away.

“Of course you didn’t,” Maggie retorted. “Everyone knows the great Justice King doesn’t need anyone or anything. You’re getting along fine, right?” She straightened up and took a step back. “So why don’t you just get up out of that chair and walk me to the door.”

His features tightened and his eyes flashed dangerously, and just for a second or two Maggie was half afraid he’d try to do just that and end up falling on his face. But the moment passed and he only glared at her. “Fine. You can stay.”

“Wow.” She placed one hand on her chest as if she were sighing in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Justice glowered at her.

Jefferson cleared his throat and drew both of their gazes to him. “Well, then, looks like my work here is done. Justice, try not to be too big of an ass. Maggie,” he said, moving to plant a quick kiss on her forehead, “best of luck.”

Then he left and they were alone.

“Jefferson shouldn’t have called you,” Justice said quietly.

“Who else would he call?” Maggie looked at his white-knuckled grip on the cane he held in his right fist. He was angry, she knew. But more than that, he was frustrated. Her husband wasn’t the kind of man to accept limitations in himself. Having to use a cane to support a weakened leg would gnaw at him. No wonder he was as charming as a mountain lion with its foot caught in a trap.

He blew out a breath. “I could get Mrs. Carey to throw you out.”

Maggie laughed shortly. “She wouldn’t do it. She likes me. Besides, you need me.”

“I don’t need your help or your pity. I can do this on my own.”

A flare of indignation burst into life inside her. “That is so typical, Justice. You go through your life self-sufficient and expecting everyone else to do the same. Do it yourself or don’t do it. That’s your style.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he argued. “A man’s got to stand on his own.”

“Why?” She threw both hands high and let them fall. “Why does it always have to be your way? Why can’t you see that everyone needs someone else at some point?”

“I don’t,” he told her.

“Oh, no, not you. Not Justice King. You never ask for help. Never admit to needing anyone or anything. Heck, you’ve never even said the word please.”

“Why the hell should I?” he demanded.

“You’re a hard man,” Maggie said.

“Best you remember that.”

“Fine. I’ll remember.” She stepped up close to him, helped him up from the chair despite his resistance and when he was standing, looked him dead in the eye and said, “As long as you remember that if you want to get your life back, you’re going to have to take orders from me for a change.”

Late that night Justice lay alone in the bed he used to share with his wife. He was exhausted, in pain and furious. He didn’t want Maggie looking at him and seeing a patient. Yet, all afternoon she’d been with him, taking notes on his progress, telling him what he’d been doing wrong and then massaging his leg muscles with an impersonal competence that tore at him.

Every time she’d touched him, his body had reacted. He hadn’t been able to hide his erection, but she’d ignored it—which infuriated him. It was as if he meant nothing to her. As if this were just a job.

Which it probably was.

Hell, what did he expect? They were divorced.

Grabbing the phone off the nightstand, he stabbed in a number from memory and waited impatiently while it rang. When his brother answered, Justice snapped, “Get her out of my house.”

“No.”

“Damn it, Jefferson,” Justice raged quietly with a quick look at the closed door of his bedroom. For all he knew Maggie or Mrs. Carey was out wandering the hall, and he didn’t want to be overheard. Which was the only thing that kept his voice low. “I don’t want her here. I made my peace with her leaving, and having her here again only makes everything harder.”

“Too bad,” Jefferson shot back. “Justice, you need help whether you want to admit it or not. Maggie’s a great therapist and you know it. She can get you back on your feet if you’ll just swallow your damn pride and do what she tells you.”

Justice hung up on his brother, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Swallow his pride? Hell, his pride was all he had. It had gotten him through some tough times—watching Maggie walk out of his life, for instance—and damned if he was going to let it go now, when he needed it the most.

He scooted off the edge of the bed, too filled with frustration to try to sleep anyway. He could watch the flat-screen television he’d had installed a year ago, but he was too keyed up to sit still for a movie and too pissed off already to watch the news.

Disgusted by the need for it, Justice reached for his cane and pried himself off the mattress, using the thickly carved oak stick for balance. His injured leg ached like a bad tooth, and that only served to feed the irritation already clawing at his insides. Shaking his head, he hobbled toward the window but stopped dead when he heard…something.

Frowning, he turned toward the doorway and the hall beyond. He waited for that noise to come again, and when it did, his scowl deepened. What the hell?

He made his way to the door, flung it open and stood on the threshold, glancing up and down the hallway. The wall sconces were lit, throwing golden light over the narrow, dark red-and-green carpet, which lay like a path down the polished oak floors. The hallway was empty, and yet…

There it was again.

Sounded like a cat mewling. Justice moved toward the sound with slow, uncertain steps. Just one more reason to hate his damn cane and his own leg for betraying him. A few months ago he’d have stalked down this hallway with long strides. Now he was reduced to an ungainly stagger.

He followed the sound to the last door at the end of the hallway. The room Maggie was to stay in while she was on the ranch. At least he’d been able to order that much. He’d wanted her as far from his bedroom as possible to avoid the inevitable temptation.

Outside her door he cocked his head and listened. The house made its usual groaning noises as night settled in and the temperature dropped. Seconds ticked past and then he heard it again. That soft, wailing sound that he couldn’t quite place. Was she crying? Missing him? Regretting coming to the ranch?

He should knock, he told himself. But if he did and she told him to go away, he’d have to. So instead, Justice turned the knob, threw open the door and felt the world fall out from beneath his feet.

Maggie.

Holding a baby.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Hello, Justice. I’d like you to meet Jonas. My son.”