“I have a utility vehicle with a cart attached. If you see something you like while we’re out, you can just let me know and I’ll use the cart to pick it up for you later.”
“That would be great.” She had planned to simply use the day for inspiration in creating her own tree for the children’s ward, but she appreciated the offer of bringing some pieces home with her. “Thank you.”
They started down a worn path between the house and barns. Ruby remained close to Vaughn’s side even though she wasn’t on a leash. The golden retriever didn’t dart off to examine butterflies or sniff interesting fence posts. Clearly, the dog was tightly bonded to Vaughn.
Abigail enjoyed walking with them both as they entered a wooded area on the southern side of the ranch. Part of her delight was being in nature, something she missed in her downtown bungalow. With the earthy scents of green and growing vegetation around them, she breathed deeper, her fingers trailing over tree trunks and brushing against mossy logs. But another aspect of her pleasure had to do with Vaughn’s very male presence beside her. His warmth and strength. The simple consideration he showed for her when he lifted a low sapling branch out of her way or pointed out a rocky patch in the terrain.
“I didn’t get to ask you something the other day.” Vaughn held out his hand to her to help her across a rivulet.
She accepted his offer, squeezing his fingers for balance as she hopped over the water, his touch making her far too aware of him. “What’s that? After our first meeting, I can’t imagine you holding back on any question you wanted to pose,” she teased lightly, telling herself not to let the brush of his fingers affect her.
“Are you seeing anyone?” He stopped beside her, his boot cracking a twig underfoot as he pivoted to look at her, his hand still holding hers.
Everything inside her stilled. Because with that question, he was making it clear that she hadn’t misread the signals he’d sent. If she hadn’t been expecting a baby, maybe this could lead to something more. Something special.
Her heart thudded so hard he probably felt it in his hand where her palm grazed his. Staring up into his eyes, she allowed herself a flash of if-only thoughts, where this moment would play out differently.
And then, she forced herself back to reality.
“No. I am definitely not.” With a resolute shake of her head, she stepped back, disentangling their fingers with more than a little regret. “But my life is about to get very complicated, Vaughn, because I’m five months pregnant.”
* * *
Too stunned to hide his shock, Vaughn dropped his gaze to her slim figure. She wore three-quarter-length yoga pants and a blue-and-white floral blouse that covered her midsection. Now that he thought back on it, all the times they’d met she’d been wearing loose tops or, like the other day, her artist’s smock.
He’d just assumed she was single when he didn’t see a ring and felt—thought he felt—the sparks between them. Damn. Damn. Damn. He knew it was rude to stare and, belatedly, he forced his eyes to meet hers.
“I had no idea.” He shook his head, feeling like a first-rate idiot as a bird whistled and circled overhead. Ruby pressed against his leg, her head lightly nudging his knee. “I never would have guessed—”
“Well, I haven’t made a habit of advertising it yet since I’m still trying to come to terms with what this pregnancy means for me.” Abigail rubbed one hand over her other arm as if to ward off a chill, even though the day bordered on being hot. “Would you mind if we keep walking?”
“Sure.” He nodded, his hand scratching Ruby’s head automatically as they stalked deeper into the woodland portion of the ranch. “You’re not...with the baby’s father?”
She shook her head. “I’m not even sure he’s alive.” Her words were halting. Troubled. Then, as she slanted a look his way, something fierce lit her dark eyes. “But even if he is, he won’t be a part of my child’s life.”
“He won’t?” Vaughn knew she might not have a legal say in that since the father could sue for paternal rights. If Vaughn had a child, he would move heaven and earth to make sure he had a role in the baby’s life.
Not that he would ever be a father after the way his world had changed forever. Besides, from the vehemence in her voice he suspected it wasn’t the right moment to speculate about possible legal action involving her baby.
“Are you close with anyone in the Texas Cattleman’s Club?” she asked, surprising him with the quick turn of conversation. Her tone was different now. Confiding. Confidential.
How sad that he felt like they were getting closer on the same day she pulled away. He still couldn’t believe the woman he was so attracted to was carrying another man’s child. He was too shocked at the news to figure out how he felt about that.
“I’m not active, but my father still is.” His dad had asked him to stop by the club more than once since his return from Afghanistan.
His parents didn’t really understand how hard he battled the PTSD, or that Vaughn didn’t socialize more than strictly necessary. He pointed to a turn in the path through the woods, silently showing Abigail the way while she continued.
“Then you might know—and your father most likely already knows—that Rich Lowell was impersonating Will Sanders before the imposter faked Will’s death.”
Vaughn had heard rumblings, but not the full story. Will Sanders was a man who had it all—including a prestigious family with deep roots in Royal, and with the Texas Cattleman’s Club. He owned one of the largest ranches in Royal in addition to being CEO of Spark Energy Solutions, an energy company with ties to oil, gas and solar.
Or at least, he was CEO. Before his supposed death eight weeks ago.
“I heard something about Will Sanders walking into his own funeral this spring, but the story was too incredible to believe.” Vaughn wondered how Abigail knew about it. The story hadn’t been in the local news outlets even though Will Sanders was a high-profile member of the community.
And then, he understood. Abigail wasn’t a member of the TCC. So if she knew about the FBI investigation that was allegedly probing into the impersonation and embezzlement schemes of a man posing as Will Sanders, it could only mean she’d been questioned. Or was close to one of the main parties under investigation.
She halted beside him, her brows lifted, as if fully expecting he would have put the pieces together.
He stroked the top of Ruby’s head, taking comfort from her presence when he should probably be offering support to Abigail. “Is the man who pretended to be Will Sanders the father of your child?” he asked.
The hum of summer insects in the meadow nearby penetrated the woods, filling the air with a rising, buzzing sound, an ominous underscore to his question.
“Yes.” The terse reply communicated a wealth of resentment.
Or was it something more complicated than that? He couldn’t read her expression, but there was a plethora of emotions there.
“I’m so damn sorry.” He spotted a place he’d wanted to show her, where a fallen log made a mossy seat beside a rushing brook. No doubt, this day wasn’t going to be the kind of prelude to romance he’d hoped for, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t still drawn to the compelling woman beside him. He took her hand again, craving the feel of her in spite of everything. “Come sit for a minute.”
“I don’t regret this baby for a moment,” she confided as she followed him toward the creek. “But I hate that I won’t have a happy story to share with my child about his or her father. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Abigail’s artist’s gaze seemed to take in every detail as he led her under a low-hanging branch to show her the bend