“I’ll be fine,” she gasped, failing to suppress the shudder that tore through her. “Just give me a minute.”
She moaned and bit her bottom lip until her contraction eased. Again, she wondered how much time she had left.
He removed his hand and gave her a hard look. “Lady, I’ve had a really bad day. This is not the time to argue.”
Sara didn’t want to be one of those women who screamed and said ugly things during labor. Despite that, she had an urge to shout at the man who acted as if she was responsible for his lousy day. “You can leave. I don’t need your help.”
He clamped his mouth shut, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Look, that baby’s in a hurry. You’re not driving.”
Apprehension swept over her. “But I need to get to the hospital.”
“Right,” he said, his irritation evident. “Guess I’ll have to take you.” With that, he lifted her in his arms as if she weighed no more than a puff of smoke.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and noticed a scar on his stubborn chin, which lent a rugged edge to his angular features. Despite his gruffness, the concern she glimpsed in his eyes made her misgivings scatter in the cold breeze.
The muscles in his arms bunched as he held her against his chest, leaving her feeling more secure than she thought possible. More secure than she should feel. She had an inexplicable urge to lean her head against his wide shoulder, let him take care of her, just for a little while. But she would never trust another man. Not when she was always the one left behind with her pain.
She shoved her hair from her face, unsettled by her reaction to him. “Everybody knows a first baby takes longer. I’m sure I’ll be fine. So, if you’ll put me down, I’ll be on my way.”
The hard look he gave her dissolved whatever hope she’d clung to that he might leave. “I said I’d get you to the hospital. And I will.” Though the fire of impatience burned in his eyes, his words came out soft and gentle, almost a whisper. That, along with the touch of his calloused palm on her arm, brought a sense of calm that surprised her.
Sara shook her head. She didn’t want his help, but another contraction came upon her. She closed her eyes and tried to bear the agony in silence. Her head fell against his shoulder. She gritted her teeth against the searing pain and moaned.
He braced a knee on the front bumper of her car and cradled her in his arms. His chin settled against the top of her head. “Relax. Listen to my voice. Trust me, it will help.”
But she couldn’t trust him. Not when the last man she’d believed in had left her shattered and hurting…and all alone with his unborn child.
She clenched her eyes tighter against the sting of tears threatening and told herself to be strong, to send him away. The man stroked her arm, and she found herself trying to focus on his touch instead of the hell she was going through.
“Listen to me. Have you ever seen a foal being born?” His whispered words washed over her, and she tried to concentrate on what he was saying. “They come out all nose and legs and stuff. It’s as natural as anything. Mama doesn’t need any help. Nature has a way of taking care of everything. It’s going to be all right.” After a long moment, he asked, “Has your contraction ended?”
Sara opened her eyes, only then realizing her pain had eased. She’d been distracted by the tranquilizing warmth of his voice and had let him take control. The fact that she’d let down her guard enough to allow what she’d sworn no man would ever again do irritated her. “Yes, thank you. You can put me down now.”
He pulled her even tighter against his muscled chest and continued around her car.
Sara recognized the time had passed for getting herself to the hospital. She didn’t want to feel helpless, to need any man. Still, there was something about this man that made her think maybe things would be okay. For now.
When they reached the passenger’s door, he paused, his gaze capturing hers. He frowned at her again, and she found herself wondering if he ever smiled.
A sudden wave of nausea hit. Sara swallowed hard. “Wait. I’m going to throw up.” She expected him to put her down. Instead, he held her tighter, giving her the time she needed.
Sara clamped her eyes shut and gulped air until the urge to be sick eased. “Okay. I—I think it’s going away.”
“Then, let’s get you to the hospital.”
This stranger worried her. He’d stormed into her life, full of dark looks and bad temper, and taken over—like the father of her unborn child who’d run out on her.
When he caught the door handle, a sudden uneasiness filled her. “Wait,” she sputtered. “I don’t know you. I can’t let you in my car.”
“I’m not a criminal,” he said, his voice tinged with impatience. “I’m Dr. Cal Tucker. Want to see some I.D.?”
Though she wasn’t thrilled with the tone of his voice or bossy attitude, she shook her head. He was a man, but more than that, he was a doctor. Everything would be all right.
He struggled with the door that hadn’t opened since Thanksgiving. He put his foot against the car and shifted Sara so that he held her in one arm against his chest. With another yank, the door opened, and he maneuvered her into the passenger’s seat, leaning inside the car to hook her seat belt. He turned his head, his face a hair’s breadth from hers. “How’s that?”
Sara swallowed hard and nodded, incapable of speech as the next pain seized her. She sucked in air and checked her watch.
He cursed under his breath, closed the door and raced around the car. Through a haze of pain, she watched him wrestle with the seat until it finally slid all the way back, then tuck his long legs into the cramped space. Even with the seat pushed back, his knees pressed against the dashboard.
Cal glanced toward her as he turned the key in the ignition and pushed on the gas pedal. “What hospital?”
She couldn’t make a sound for a minute, then set her jaw against the pain. “Mercy Hospital.”
When the motor caught, he eased out the clutch. “Hang on.” Her car backfired, coughed, then started forward.
He drove in silence, his movements sure and confident, which only made Sara feel more out of control.
Frustrated at the turn of events, she told herself she shouldn’t blame Cal Tucker. It wasn’t his fault she’d gotten pregnant or that her ex-fiancé, Gary, had demanded she get an abortion, or even that he’d walked out after she’d refused. Just remembering how he’d wanted her to dispose of their baby made her shiver.
“You cold?” Without waiting for her answer, Cal turned the heater up a notch higher as if he knew what was best for her.
Sara pushed the memories away and really noticed the man beside her. “Where have you been, all dressed up?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he shifted gears. “A wedding.”
“Yeah, whose?” Sara caught the edge of the seat as another contraction started.
Cal tore the bow tie from around his neck and shoved it in the pocket of the black tuxedo jacket before undoing the top button of his starched shirt. “Mine,” he said in a gruff voice.
Sara forced herself to concentrate on the conversation. “I hate to point this out to you, Dr. Tucker, but you seem to have lost your bride.”
The look he gave her rivaled the Texas sun in July. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” Sara said through clenched teeth as the pain worsened. “What happened?”
Cal’s long fingers tightened around the gearshift, and the perpetual frown he wore deepened. “Last-minute change of plans.”