Chapter 7
seven
Cordy was not expecting news about her birth class partner to spread as fast as it did.
The very next morning at the Swing Inn, Pierce approached her, wide-eyed. “You’re going out with Chance Kessal?”
Cordy set aside the inventory she’d been working on. Orders had to go out this afternoon. She wasn’t scheduled for tonight, so she was working this shift since she needed the money.
“I’m not going out with him.” Cordy tapped the bar for emphasis. “He’s helping me. We’re friends.”
This was better than Pierce thinking Cordy would deliver in the bar, but it still wasn’t good. And how had Pierce heard about Chance already?
“He’s a legend.” Pierce’s voice overflowed with hero worship.
“Right.” Cordy briefly considered telling Pierce that admiring Chance for the notches on his bedpost wasn’t great, but she wouldn’t get through to a seventeen-year-old brain high on testosterone. “He’s my partner for my labor and delivery class.”
Pierce reared back like she’d thrown dirty dishwater in his face. “What? What? That’s a thing? He’s doing that?”
Cordy wanted to rub her forehead in exasperation. So it was cool and good when Pierce thought Chance was sleeping with her, but absolutely horrifying that they would go together to a birth class?
“Weren’t you researching how to deliver babies yourself?” she asked Pierce. “How is this different?”
“Because that is an emergency.” Pierce frowned. “I didn’t even know you could take a regular class. I thought you had to be a doctor.”
“No, this is a class for the person having the baby,” Cordy explained. “So I know what to expect. You take it with a partner, whoever is helping you during the labor.”
“I heard you and Chance were going out.” Pierce clearly wanted her to take back the birth class news and return his hero untarnished. “That… that other thing doesn’t make any sense.” He looked hard at Cordy’s belly. “I thought…”
Pierce turned beet red, then closed his mouth. Cordy could guess what he’d been about to say: I thought Reed was the dad. Is Chance really the dad?
The poor kid might be thoughtless sometimes, but Pierce was a good guy at heart. At least he’d realized he was about to shove his foot into his mouth and stopped before he tasted his toes.
“Chance isn’t the father,” Cordy said gently. “I couldn’t take this class without a partner, and he offered to help me. That’s all.”
Pierce seemed to chew on that. “Huh. That doesn’t seem like something he would ever do.” He lifted his chin, stared at Cordy. “I could have gone with you. Why didn’t you ask me if it was so important?”
Walking into a class with a teenager by her side would have been even worse than the lie she acted out last night. “That’s very kind of you,” Cordy said, “but I know you have homework.” She narrowed her eyes. “Who told you we were going out?”
“Oh, Richie did.” He shrugged one shoulder.
It took Cordy a moment to make the connection. Richie was in Pierce’s math class. Or maybe biology. And he was… Cordy couldn’t connect Richie to anyone else in town further than that. No doubt Chance could have written up a detailed family tree for Richie in no time, though.
“How did Richie hear?”
Pierce looked at her blankly. “I don’t know. I’ll tell him it’s just a friend thing. Honestly, I’m glad. I don’t want Chance to break your heart.”
“Thank you so much,” Cordy said dryly. “I appreciate it.”
Who knew where Richie had heard it from them? The original news had to have come from Jaycee, and then it had gone through an awful game of telephone until it became “Chance and Cordy are sleeping together.” Ugh.
“’Cause, I mean, he can get with any woman he wants.” Pierce was oblivious to her tone. “I’ve gotta learn his secrets.”
Cordy gave in to the urge to rub her forehead. Pierce was sweet but not perceptive.
She wondered what the Saxons might have heard. If it had gotten to Pierce in under twenty-four hours, they’d likely been made aware.
Maybe she should text them, tell them Chance was only helping and nothing more. Get ahead of the gossip, as it were.
But… they would probably simply not respond. She would have no idea if they believed her or not. And did she even owe them an explanation? Her gut told her she didn’t, but she didn’t know how to handle this kind of stuff. Cordy didn’t think her mom had ever met Dad’s parents or vice versa. Her grandparents could pass each other on the street and never know. Heck, they might not even recognize Cordy herself. It wasn’t like she was close to them.
For a moment, the urge to get up and walk out of this place took hold of her. Her legs twitched with it. She wasn’t afraid to leave everything behind—she’d done it before, over and over again.
But she’d promised Reed she would have their baby here. And she was so close to delivering that she couldn’t quit this town yet.
“Pierce,” she said, “did you finish organizing the walk-in? I’m trying to get this inventory done.”
“Yep.” Pierce cocked his finger at her and made a pow noise. “Got that shit banged out in record time.”
That was the other thing about Pierce—he was a hard worker and thorough. If he said it was done, it was done.
“Oh,” Pierce said, still making finger guns, “I saw Glenn pull in a few minutes ago. So watch out for the Boss Man.”
“Great,” Cordy muttered, even though she liked her boss. But he was sure to get in the way, and she wanted to finish this inventory.
When Glenn Wallen walked in a few minutes later, Cordy had a smile for him. Pierce took the chance to disappear into the storeroom.
“Hey, Glenn,” Cordy called out. “How are you?”
She did a double take when she saw Glenn’s expression. His smile stretched from ear to ear, and he was never that happy. Her mouth went dry as a desert.
“I’m good. I’m great.” Glenn set his foot on the rung of a bar stool. He always wore work boots, navy blue uniform pants, and a T-shirt with a construction company logo. As far as Cordy could tell, he’d never worked construction in his life. He certainly never did any fix-it jobs around the bar.
It wasn’t that Glenn was a bad guy—Cordy had worked for much worse—but he wanted people to think he was a great guy without actually doing anything a great guy would. So he came into the bar with his spotless boots, made a lot of suggestions that wouldn’t work, then left again, thinking he’d inspired them to “new heights” or something.
Cordy mostly liked working for him, though. She especially liked that she could live above the bar for cheap.
Glenn’s smile was huge, but he wouldn’t look at her. That wasn’t good.
“Awesome.” Anxiety spiked through her. Cordy had no idea why, but something felt very off. Like Glenn was bringing a storm in behind his sunny smile. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Her boss rapped his knuckles against the bar in his usual routine. It was like he always had to say hello to it. “Yeah, things are great. Really great.” He rapped his knuckles again.
Cordy slowly set down the inventory list. The bad feeling was now a ball of ice sitting in her stomach. If the baby moved, they would kick it. “Oh? What’s up?”
“Justin is coming home.” Glenn’s entire expression lit up even more. “For good this time.”
“Oh, that’s great.” Cordy really meant that. She knew how much Glenn loved his son and missed him. No wonder Glenn was so happy. She rubbed her belly.
Then her hand slowed and stopped right over her belly button as she realized: Justin used to live in the apartment above the bar. And he used to be the main bartender at the Swing Inn.
Just like Cordy.
“When…” She licked her lips. “When is he coming home?”
“In four weeks.” Glenn looked everywhere except at her. “So, uh, he can take over for you when you leave.”
Cordy already hated where this was going. “But I’ll be coming back. It’s maternity leave,” she explained. “I take six weeks off for the baby, then I come back.”
When Glenn finally looked at her, his smile was gone. The blue of his eyes was chilly. “Yeah, but you guys don’t really come back from those things.”
You guys? Cordy barely kept herself from snapping at him. Did he mean all women? Did he think she was lying about wanting to come back?
What did he think she would do for money once the baby was here?
“I am coming back,” she said firmly. “But I’m glad Justin can step in for me while I’m away.”
Glenn knocked his knuckles against the bar again, harder this time. “I’m also giving you your thirty-day notice.”
That bounced off Cordy’s ears. Was he… Did he say… Her stomach fell straight through the floor. “My thirty-day notice?” she croaked. “You mean for my apartment?”
“Yeah. Justin will need a place to stay.” Glenn smiled again, but it was ghastly. “And you can’t have a baby in that place. It’s not safe.”
Everything else inside her was joining her stomach on the floor. Cordy wrapped her arms around her belly instinctively, protecting the baby. Her skin was too cold, her face numb.
“Um.” She had no idea what to say. Glenn could kick her out with thirty days’ notice—it had been in the rental agreement she’d signed. But she’d never thought he’d actually do it.
I’m pregnant. That was something she could say because who the hell tossed out a pregnant woman? Even Glenn had to see that was messed up, which was probably why he refused to look her in the eye.
Even as she tried to process what was happening, a small voice inside said, He’s right, that place isn’t safe for a baby. That was part of why she’d held off baby-proofing for so long—it seemed impossible.
Jaycee and Gareth had a nursery for their baby. Cordy didn’t even technically have her own bedroom. And her apartment was directly over a bar, for heaven’s sake. There would be noise all night—what if the baby couldn’t sleep?
Cordy’s arms tightened around her belly. Glenn was tossing her out of her home and making her feel like a terrible mother at the exact same time. She wanted to cry and scream all at once.
“Okay,” she managed to get out. She wasn’t even entirely sure what she meant. “I’ll… I’ll be out before then.”
Cordy knew she looked like Glenn had just smacked her across the face, but he smiled at her anyway. “Good. Great. You can find a nicer place now. And Justin has a place to go.”
He didn’t care about where she lived—Justin sliding into her apartment was all that concerned Glenn.
Oh God, she’d have to put a new flyer on the bulletin board, begging for a place to rent. The entire town would see and know she wasn’t a fit mother. She had no partner, and soon, she’d have no home.
As for her job… A creeping dread went through her. Justin was taking her job. Glenn might make some noises about keeping it for her, but she already knew he wouldn’t. Justin needed that too, so Cordy had to go.
“I’m so glad for him.” She couldn’t keep all the bitterness out of her voice. “We wouldn’t want Justin out on the street.”
“He’s my boy,” Glenn said. “You’ll understand once that one’s out.” He nodded to her belly.
Maybe she would. But right now Cordy was terrified she’d be both jobless and homeless once that one was out .
Chance’s evening was turning out to be as bad as his day had been.
The shitstorm had started with a busted fence this morning. Your fence is down, and your cows are out were the most dreaded words a cowboy ever heard for a damn good reason.
Most of the herd had escaped into the wooded mountainside, and it had taken several hours to round them up. Fixing the fence took another few hours. All the while Quint had been down in the mouth and snappish, as if Chance were the one responsible for breaking the damn fence.
The final insult came after they’d hauled themselves all the way back to the house and remembered that no one had checked that the water was turned off in that pasture. So they’d had to drive back and turn it off, but not before the water trough was completely flooded.
Then, in the afternoon, Holden had insisted on coming with them to check the remaining fence lines, even though he looked like hell and should have stayed inside. Chance couldn’t stop worrying that the old man might keel over any moment, and Quint had been stuck under his own personal rain cloud. Rye at least had been in a semi-decent mood, but he was so quiet, it wasn’t like he was blowing sunshine up anyone’s ass.
It had been miserable for everyone.
“Well, I’m glad this day is over,” Chance announced to his brothers as they drove back to the house with Holden in the back seat. Quint glared out the front window like the late-afternoon sun was the worst thing he’d ever seen.
“Not over yet,” Rye said from the back. “Still have to make dinner.”
Chance didn’t want to eat yet another meal with them, not when everyone was so irritable, but he supposed he should stay to help cook.
Quint swung around to stare Chance down. “I don’t want to have to do this.”
“Okay then, don’t do whatever it is you were about to.”
His brother’s mouth set in a hard line. “Ruby heard about you and Cordy.”
“So?” Chance shrugged, even though he felt as tetchy as Quint. “I’m helping her out when no one else would. What’s Ruby’s problem with that?”
“She thinks you’re taking advantage, and I need to stop you.” There was a dark look from Quint. “As if I could.”
“If you can’t stop me, why are you bringing it up? And taking advantage how?”
“You’re helping Cordy with the birth class?” Rye asked.
“Yes,” Chance said, probably sharper than he needed to, “and now this entire town has to flap their gums about it.”
“Don’t talk about my wife’s gums,” Quint snapped.
“Wasn’t flapping anything,” Rye said under his breath. “Just curious, was all.”
“I’m sorry I ever implied your wife’s gums ever did anything so awful as to flap,” Chance said with heavy sarcasm. “Please tell Ruby I’m not taking advantage of Cordy, I’m helping her. She needs a partner for this one class. I’m her partner, and that’s it.”
“You don’t do things like that.”
Chance glanced back at Holden, wondering how much of this the old man was getting. His dad stared out the window, acting like he hadn’t heard anything.
“I help my friends,” Chance said from between his teeth.
“She’s the bartender,” Quint said, “not your friend. Ruby’s right to be worried.”
“What the hell? I’m not some predator.”
“Come on, Quint,” Rye said, “that’s not fair.”
They were pulling up to the house, so Chance let it go. If Quint thought Chance was so low he’d break a pregnant woman’s heart, Chance wouldn’t argue. It was all because Ruby was up Quint’s butt, anyway.
“I’m going to start dinner,” Quint said. “Hot dogs and fries.”
Chance paused halfway out of the truck. “You’re eating here?”
“I’m staying the night.”
“Oh,” was all Chance said. No point trying to argue with Quint about his marriage, either.
“You gonna come help?” Quint slammed the truck door behind him.
Chance stayed where he was, halfway out of the cab. His stomach started a low boil that promised to flare into a wicked case of indigestion. The prospect of hopping into his own truck and taking off for home was looking mighty good.
Except they had to feed Holden since the man never had learned how to cook. Holden had been left the sole parent of five kids and hadn’t once tried to turn on a stove. Rye was the one who’d stepped up and figured out the cooking. His food would never win any awards, but none of them had starved yet.
Chance looked at Rye. “Hot dogs? What happened?”
Rye shrugged. “Couldn’t make it to the store this week.”
“Gimme the list,” Chance said. “I’ll make a trip tomorrow.”
Holden was already halfway to the house, oblivious to everything. He might be sober, but he still wasn’t really there with them. Had he heard anything in that truck?
Rye went to catch up with Dad. For a moment, Chance considered bailing—it wasn’t like Quint needed help with some hot dogs. But then he heaved his ass out of the truck and went inside.
Quint was boiling water for the hot dogs when Chance walked into the kitchen. Holden sat stone-faced at the table. No idea where Rye had disappeared to.
“No fries,” Quint said. “And no buns. So it’s plain hot dogs tonight.”
Even Chance’s good temper snapped at that. “Are you kidding me?” If only Rye had said something sooner, they could have handled this. No way did he want to eat butt-naked hot dogs.
Quint shook his head. “It’s fine. Just eat it.”
Holden said nothing. He stared into the middle distance.
A nasty shiver climbed up Chance’s spine. Dad always got that look right before he went on a bad bender. He’d start remembering Mom, he’d start to shut down, and then…
Chance looked at Quint, but he was too busy slamming the package of hot dogs onto the counter. He wasn’t angry about the hot dogs or Chance’s remarks about the dinner—only Ruby could put that expression on Quint’s face.
What the hell was Chance doing here? He looked at Holden and Quint, both of them completely miserable. And over what? Their wives? Their broken hearts?
For a moment, Chance could see the future. Ruby would leave Quint for good one of these days, and his brother would end up exactly like their father. A sad, worn-out drunk, good for nothing but feeling sorry for himself. They’d have the same sallow skin, the same hollowed-out expression. Chance would be helpless to stop Quint, the same way he’d been powerless in the face of Holden’s descent.
Christ, Holden and Quint would probably even go on benders together, expecting Chance to pick up the broken pieces they left in their wake. Same as always. Except this time, Chance would be doing the fixing on his own, without Quint by his side.
Chance couldn’t breathe. He had to get out of this house, away from this ranch, far from this family. The only family he had.
“I’m going out,” Chance said. “To the Swing Inn.”
Quint sent him a look dripping with judgment. Figures that look screamed.
Well, Quint could take his sneers and shove them up his ass. It wasn’t like getting married and settling down had made him happy. And he thought Chance was the one wasting his life?
Chance wouldn’t take what his brother had if you paid him.
“You drink too much,” Holden said.
Chance’s vision went red. He felt his face go slack. You bastard. You drunken, stupid, useless ass, to accuse me of that.
“I only ever have one,” he said carelessly. Let Holden believe that or not. It was true, but Chance didn’t want to make him understand. I only ever have one because of you and how you are. How you and alcohol ruined everything.
“It’s true,” Quint said. “I’ve seen him.”
That made his vision even redder. Chance didn’t need Quint confirming he was a goody-two-shoes. But he smiled through his anger. “Thanks, brother. Tell Rye I said bye. Enjoy your hot dogs.”
Holden muttered something as Chance grabbed his keys and walked out. Chance purposefully ignored whatever Dad was saying. Wasn’t going to be anything worth hearing, anyway.
The roar of the truck engine turning over was a balm to Chance’s ears. The sound of the jukebox playing sad old country songs when he walked into the Swing Inn was even better.
Chance smiled as the familiarity of the place washed over him. This was a much better place to be than that sad old kitchen with his gray father and bitter brother. Everyone here was ready to have fun. That was all he needed.
Irene Ulker was in her usual booth holding court, several of her friends fanned out around her. Excellent. He could always count on Irene to let loose. And it looked like there was someone new with her. A woman about his age, her hand wrapped around a drink, long brown hair brushing her bare shoulders, full breasts outlined by the dark green silk of her shirt, and a small, knowing smile on her face.
Chance smiled. He ought to go over and introduce himself. It was the neighborly thing to do.
Before he did, his gaze slid over to the bar. Something tight wound up in his chest as he searched out who was working.
When Chance saw it was Alan and not Cordy, the tight thing eased. He told himself he was relieved because she shouldn’t be on her feet working all hours. It wasn’t because he didn’t want her to watch him picking up another woman—that wasn’t how things were between them.
There was a pinch of disappointment, too. Since their class, Chance found himself thinking about her at odd moments when his mind went quiet. Cordy would slip in then like she was coming in through the back door.
He could text her to ask how things were going, but he figured that would get her back up. Cordy was independent as hell, which he appreciated—he really did—but he also worried about her.
Chance shook his head. What was he doing? Cordy was fine, probably fast asleep in the apartment upstairs, her noodle dog snoring on the couch.
He had some fun waiting for him. Starting with the group of ladies watching him from across the room.
An hour later, his one beer was sitting in front of him, only half drunk. The woman nestled under his arm—Pansy Lawler—hadn’t noticed, though. She was laughing, flushed, and having a great time. Chance had put all his efforts into making sure she was enjoying herself, thinking it would beat back some of his dark mood. It had always worked before.
It wasn’t working now. He kept the smile on his face and cracked another quick joke, not wanting anyone to know what was going on. The dark, sour mood had gotten its hooks in him but good. It wasn’t going anywhere.
“Oh my God,” Pansy gasped when she caught her breath. “I can’t stop laughing.” Her hand curled over his chest. “This has been great.”
Chance knew what that look of hers meant. She was ready to go home with him and taste everything he was promising her. This was when he ought to ask if she wanted to get out of there and go back to her room at the Charming Bed and Breakfast.
He’d done this dozens of times. It was automatic for him. He was already anticipating how easy it was going to be. Pansy didn’t even live here—he wouldn’t run into her again.
“Yeah,” he said. “Want me to walk you to your car?”
That wasn’t what Chance had meant to say. The night was supposed to go a certain way, the way his one-night stands always went. There was a script, the beats familiar, predictable. He’d spend the night with Pansy, and then his mean mood would be gone. Chance would be satisfied, free, and ready to keep being unencumbered in a family of men destroyed by love. Exactly like he wanted.
This wasn’t working, and he had no idea why not.
“Sure.” Pansy sounded disappointed, but she grabbed her purse. “I’m ready to call it a day. See you tomorrow, Irene.”
Irene waved to Pansy and then gave Chance a stern look. Don’t break my friend’s heart.
As if Chance had ever done that. He knew how to spot someone who would be happy with one night versus someone looking for more. He was careful.
And he wasn’t sleeping with Pansy tonight. He’d come here thinking he would, but he’d lost his appetite. He wasn’t even sure how.
“See you,” he said to Irene and the rest. He cupped Pansy’s elbow and made for the exit. Right before he ducked out the door, he glanced at the bar. The sight of Alan back there made his gut twist, like something wasn’t right.
Chance shook that off as they walked outside.
“I don’t have my car here,” Pansy confessed. “I walked over.”
The Charming Inn was only five minutes away, so it made sense. “I’ll walk you back,” Chance said. He kept his tone light, so she didn’t think he was inviting himself to her room.
“Thanks.” Her tone was husky, inviting. She was gorgeous, too, and only in town for a little while.
Chance ground his teeth. She was perfect, and he wasn’t in the mood. Instead, he felt almost worse than when he’d walked in. This night out was turning out to be totally useless.
“My pleasure,” he said automatically, offering her his arm. As he did, he looked up.
Cordy was watching the two of them from the side of the building, her noodle dog on a leash next to her.
Guilt punched through Chance, although he didn’t even know what he had to be guilty about. And what was Cordy doing out by herself so late? Star Crossed Springs was a safe place, but still, anything could happen. With Cordy living alone, no one might know until too late.
“Evening,” he said to Cordy. He wanted to tell her to get back inside. He really wanted to march her up those stairs himself and make sure she was safe in her little apartment.
Chance wanted to be inside her front door when Cordy locked it for the night.
The realization had his expression going slack. Son of a bitch. He’d come out tonight to lose himself in someone and it turned out the only woman he wanted was Cordy. Who he absolutely couldn’t have.
Cordy inclined her head, her expression cool as the night air.
“Hi.” Pansy waved from under his arm. “I love your dog. What’s his name?”
Cordy immediately softened. “Thanks. This is Iggy. He’s the best boy ever.”
“Aww.” Pansy leaned into Chance’s side, her balance wobbly. “He is.” She looked up at Chance. “It’s so cute here, with people walking their dogs in the middle of the night.”
Pansy set her hand right in the middle of his chest. Cordy’s gaze flicked to it, then back to Chance’s face.
Cordy’s expression was knowing. Up to your old tricks. She wasn’t jealous or judgmental. More like she didn’t expect any better from him.
Chance put on his most charming smile, the one that reached his eyes after long years of practice. So she thought this was all he was capable of? Where the hell did Cordelia Johnson get off looking at him like that? All right, maybe his lifestyle wasn’t the kind that invited in kids and a marriage and a family and all that, but neither did hers when it came right down to it. He understood why she was trying to be that person—her baby had to come before everything—but she didn’t have to expect it of him.
“Very cute,” Chance agreed. “You ready to head back?”
“Sure.” Pansy wriggled her fingers at Cordy. “So nice to meet you.”
Chance nodded to Cordy, never quite meeting her eyes. But as he walked away, he felt Cordy’s gaze on him, as real and physical as the weight of Pansy’s hand curled into his chest.