Chapter 20
Tessa
Five Months Pregnant
Fitz:
Morning
Me:
Hey there, cowboy
Fitz:
Are you getting enough sleep?
Me:
Not great. Apparently, a dinner of tomatoes, spicy Doritos, and lemonade isn’t the best idea
Fitz:
I’m sending you a proper dinner tonight. You taking your prenatals?
Me:
Yes. And you don’t have to send dinner. I’ll do better
Fitz:
Do better
Every day starts with a check-in about how I’ve slept and ends with Fitz asking about my day. He never tells me about his, even when I prod. The problem is that I don’t know enough about his life to know what to ask.
Me:
How’re the crops doing?
Fitz:
Nothing new to report
Me:
Did you take Dolly out?
Fitz:
Every day like clockwork
With time, maybe he’ll open up. Or not. Getting to know each other is part of our arrangement, but I guess sharing his dreams and inner demons isn’t. I try to see that as a benefit to our co-parenting relationship. Simple, clear boundaries. No worries about romantic entanglements.
That is, until I drive up to the ranch and see Fitz in a cowboy hat, hip-hugging denim, and a worn chambray shirt. The sight of his muscled frame and rugged, handsome face under the brim of his hat ignites a fizzy flight of butterflies in my belly.
And when he hugs me and I take in his pine and salty scent, I want to mount him and lick his neck.
Pregnancy hormones are no joke.
I’ve barely seen him in passing when I’ve come up to the ranch to meet with the architect and file plans with the planning office, so this is our first real chunk of time together.
Our first friend date. I’m a little nervous to spend the afternoon with Fitz.
Even though it always feels so easy with him, there’s so much we still don’t know about each other.
What if, after he gets to know me, he doesn’t like me?
But when I find him sitting on his porch waiting for me with a sweet iced tea in his hands, all worry disappears. He looks so comfortable that it makes me comfortable.
“How was the drive?” His jeans stretch over his strong thighs, and his iced tea glints in the sunlight. I feel thirsty, but I think I just want to drink him.
“Easy. Quick.”
“Good.”
He leads me through his house to a sweeping back porch.
The view from there is stunning, highlighting the symmetry of the fruit orchards stretching for acres and the lush gardens immediately behind the house.
Unlike my ramshackle place, his ranch gleams in the sun with its freshly painted trim, manicured lawns, neat flower beds, orderly paddocks, and the scent of lavender drifting in the air.
A stone path leads to the barn, and I have no doubt Fitz had a hand in designing the flow from the gardens to the work area with tidy benches and gardening tools.
“This is so beautiful,” I say.
“Glad you like it.” Fitz tries to suppress a smile, but I see his pride. His eyes roam over my face, landing on my lips. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. My pulse quickens, and I feel warm.
“You look beautiful. Pregnancy agrees with you,” he says. It feels like a compliment but also like something a mother might say.
I swallow down a flicker of desire. “Thank you.”
He looks at me a moment longer, but then his gaze returns to the landscape splayed out in front of us like a watercolor painting.
“Thought you might like some inspiration. Your place could look like this. Takes some work—a lot of work—but you’ll get there.”
I laugh. “I think you’re overestimating me. I kill houseplants.”
“Shh, don’t say that in front of the garden down there.” He points at the perfect rows of native flowers.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it,” I tell the plants.
“There we go. Baby steps.”
“Is that what we’re doing today, cowboy? Gardening?”
The only thing he told me about today's proposed date was that I should come dressed in a comfortable outfit that included long pants, preferably jeans. That didn't give me too many clues about what we'd be doing, but I decided I could live in suspense for the time being.
Now I want to know.
“You told me that summer camp of yours didn't have horses, but it's never too late to learn to ride,” he says.
I immediately panic, heart pounding. My chest feels tight. It was one thing when Fitz heaved me onto his horse when my ankle was hurt. He was doing the steering, and I sat there like dead weight, clinging to him and appreciative of his arms around me.
But if he's proposing that I get on a large animal and go galloping through the pastures, we are not communicating very well.
“Hold on there, Tex,” I say. “I love that you have a way with horses, and I can sit here and brush Dolly all day long, but I don't know if I need to learn to ride.” I'm saying it as though I'm offering him a way out, but we both know the truth. I’m scared out of my wits.
I can only hope he’ll see my logic. After all, he doesn't want to be in charge of chasing me down when my horse goes crazy because I don't know what I'm doing. Plus, I’m pregnant, so I can play that card, right? Safety first.
But he offers me another one of those smiles that has a way of turning my insides to jelly.
“I’ve got you, Duchess. I'm going to put you on Cleo. She’s the gentlest horse I have, and she’s the perfect horse to carry precious cargo.”
I put my hand on my belly. “You’re sweet.”
“So is Cleo. She's an old girl but very reliable, knows these roads, and she would not hurt a fly. She's also pretty darn slow, so you don't have anything to worry about.”
“Okay…” I chew on my lip, deciding what to do. I know that if I really object, Fitz won’t have me do anything that makes me uncomfortable.
But I trust this man. At every moment in his presence, he’s made me feel genuinely cared for. I need to set a good example for our future child and learn to keep an open mind, so the decision is made.
“Fine,” I say. “Saddle her up. Is that what you're supposed to say?”
He chuckles. “She's already saddled and ready to go. All you need to do is hop on, and we'll go for a nice ride. I need to drive the cattle down the ridge, so we’ll do that first, and then hit the trails.”
“Drive them, like, in your truck?” I look behind us at the truck which I’m pretty sure couldn’t fit a cow inside.
He laughs. “Yes, I drive and they run alongside just like in all the greatest Westerns.” His eyes dance, more amused than mocking, and I realize my mistake. My face blazes with embarrassment.
“Why do I feel like you’re going to give me crap for that forever?”
“Naw, just maybe a decade.”
I grit my teeth and follow him out to the paddock, where, sure enough, he has a beautiful gray horse ready for me, and I see that Dolly is carrying bags hanging behind the saddle that weren’t there the last time.
“What's in the packs?” I ask.
I glance down at my jeans, which Callie approved as “tight enough to be flattering but not trying too hard” and the plaid shirt I chose with care. I told myself I just didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb on a ranch, but I may have been trying to impress Fitz a little bit.
“It’s a surprise.” Fitz hands me a carrot, his fingers brushing mine as I take it. I use it as a sort of peace offering for Cleo, hoping we have an understanding. “I'll give you as many carrots as you want as long as you don't throw me off your back,” I tell her.
She blows air out of her nose and snaps the carrot out of my hand, crunching it with her big teeth that make her look like she's smiling. I feed her one more, stalling because her sheer size makes me nervous.
I really am a city girl. But the sweetness of this animal and Fitz’s enthusiasm are impossible to resist.
“Okay, okay. You win. I’ll ride.”
Fitz tugs me in with an arm around my waist and kisses my temple.
I try to ignore the jolt of awareness it sets off each time he touches me.
Those feelings have no place in the kind of partnership we agreed on.
The partnership I insisted on because I’m still focused on my goals.
The one Fitz wants because he doesn’t do relationships.
“Put your foot in here.” Fitz holds one of the stirrups straight so I can put my foot in place, and then he helps hoist me over the top of the saddle. He keeps his hand on my thigh to steady me, and again, I try to ignore the way his touch heats my body by five degrees.
Every. Damn. Time.
Sitting atop Cleo, I'm way higher than I expected, but watching Fitz fuss to make everything perfect and safe, I feel slightly less terrified.
Nevertheless, my thighs grip the poor horse for dear life, and I white-knuckle the horn of the saddle.
“If you thought it was irresponsible for me to climb up a tiny hill of dirt while pregnant, how does this make sense?” My laugh is hollow.
Fitz drops his hand to my leg and rubs soothing circles before patting me like he patted the horse earlier.
He gives me that easy smile that could convince a jury to rule him innocent without a trial.
“This is the safest place our baby could be. That’s how sure I am of this horse. And that’s how much faith I have in your ability to conquer your fear.”
“That makes one of us.” But his confidence boosts my own enough to feel more comfortable up here as Fitz gives me a short lesson on how to hold the reins.
“I’ll take the lead on Dolly, and your horse will follow obediently. You really don’t have to do anything but enjoy the scenery. Give a little tug on the reins if you want Cleo to go slower, and dig in your heel if you want her to speed up.”
I don't plan on digging in with my heel at all because that seems unfair to a pretty animal who's giving me a ride, but I don't tell him that.
When Fitz swings his leg over Dolly, I can't help the little zing in my chest at how rugged and strong he looks. Our baby’s going to have a hot cowboy for a dad. He may roll his eyes every time I call him a cowboy, but that’s what he is to me, looking right at home and comfortable on a horse.