Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Went home,” I say gruffly. And she’s probably never coming back.
“What’s the story with you two?” Chance asks.
“No story.” Not any longer, anyway.
“Now that’s a damned lie.” Austin sips his drink. “You’d have to be blind not to see something’s up with you two.”
“Where’s Carly?”
“Nice subject change,” Austin says. “She went out to the kennels to check on Duchess and the pups.”
“So speak freely.” Chance puts his feet on the coffee table. “It’s just us guys.”
“Want me to do your nails now or straighten your hair?”
He glares.
I glare back. “Got nothing to say. Except I’ll have some of that good stuff.” I point to his drink.
“Is your arm broken?” Chance scoffs. “Get it yourself.”
The bottle is on the coffee table, but I walk to the bar to retrieve a glass. I return to the couch, plunk my ass down, and pour half a finger of scotch.
“That’s all you want?” Austin asks.
“I’m not much of a drinker.” I want to get shit-faced, but that’s not going to solve anything.
“The right woman can turn any man into a drinker for the night,” Austin says. “Spill it.”
“Nothing to spill.”
“Have it your way.” Austin finishes his scotch and rises. “I’m going to go to the kennels and see if Carly wants to take a walk.”
“A walk back to your bedroom?” Chance says.
Austin laughs, shaking his head as he ambles toward the back door.
I take a small sip of the scotch. I like Chance, but I’m closer to Austin. Which is ridiculous because I don’t know either one of them from Adam. But Austin and I are in the same boat. We were both uprooted from our lives and forced to come out here to bumfuck Montana. For Chance, nothing changed—except having two older brothers to boss around, which he genuinely seems to love doing. My aches have aches.
I sit silently, nursing the drink, until—
“She’s a nice girl. Sadie.” Chance sips his drink.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know her that well. She just moved here a little over a year ago. I first met her at the pool hall. She plays a mean game.”
“Great.” Just what I need, to know more about Sadie. The woman who clearly hates my guts. I don’t blame her because…shit. Rhonda and her fucking text.
“She might be there now.” Chance cuts into my thoughts. “Over at Mikey’s. Do you play?”
“Pool? I’m okay.”
Which is damned lie. I’m great at pool. My mother’s third husband was a pool shark and he taught me everything he knew. Applied geometry, he called it. Lloyd was the one husband of hers I liked and who liked me. He made a good living as an architect, and on the weekends, he cleaned up playing pool. Except the one time he got out-hustled and lost a bundle. Mom showed him the door after that…but not before she took him to the cleaners.
“Feel like heading into town?” he asks.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Just one beer before dinner and a finger of scotch, which is nothing for my size. I’m good.”
“I’ve got to make a call.”
“Suit yourself.”
Except Sadie might be there…
But no. I have to call Rhonda and get this shit figured out. We had sex, but it’s been a while. Months. She didn’t say how pregnant she is, an important detail.
Hell, I should have done it as soon as I got the text. The first one. Then Sadie wouldn’t have seen it and my life wouldn’t be a clusterfuck right now.
I rise. “Maybe another time.”
Once I’m in the privacy of my bedroom, I make the dreaded call.
“Hello?”
“Rhonda?”
“Yeah. Hi, Miles.”
“I got your text.”
“And it took you this long to call back?”
“Yeah, it did. You kind of dropped a bomb on me.”
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you about it.”
“I know, but we are long over and I never expected…this. Besides, I’m suddenly a rancher, and then…” I plunk down onto my bed. “It’s a long story.”
“I heard. The short story is I’m pregnant. What do we do about it?”
I sigh. I can’t do anything about it. The child is growing in her body, so it’s her choice, but I sure as hell can make sure it’s mine before I think about anything.
“How far along are you?”
“Four months.”
I run the numbers in my head.
I breathe out a sigh of relief.
Then I get angry.
Yeah, Rhonda and I hooked up, but there was snow on the ground. I remember that because I left my coat behind and it was fucking freezing. It rarely snow in New York after March. That means the baby’s not mine.
“You going to say anything?” she asks.
“Yeah, just a minute.” I walk to my desk and sit down in front of my computer. I type in “paternity test in early pregnancy.”
“Yes!” I say, louder than I mean to.
“Yes, what?”
“Sorry. We can do a non-invasive paternity test. A simple blood draw for you and a cheek swab for me.”