Four.
Maci
Duke talked me back into his truck—well, more like demanded it. Then insisted he take me down the road to a grocery store where a bottle of water isn’t the same price as a whole case. Thankfully, they were open for another ten minutes, giving me enough time to grab a case of water, a bundle of bananas, and a bag of chips.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, following me with the case of water in hand as I push us back into the chilly motel room.
I set my purse and grocery bag on the table with a sigh. “I’m fine.”
“You keep saying that,” he grinds out in clear frustration.
This guy is too much.
What does he expect me to say? That: No, I’m not fine. Yes, I am hungry. Or maybe he’d like to know how I’ve never felt more alone in my life than I do right now.
The very thought is enough to make me burst into tears.
“Hey, you all right?” he asks, closing the space between us in two long strides as I turn away.
When he lays a gentle hand on my back, I quickly wipe away the useless tears on his overly large, hoodie sleeves. When he took this off to give it to me, I was torn between pouncing on the man or drooling senseless. The way his tattered white T-shirt underneath started to ride up, exposing a set of thick, taut muscles patched with dark hair on his abdomen leading into the deepest V cut I’ve ever seen.
I bet he could—Stop it, Maci.
These damn pregnancy hormones. I swear it’s turning me into some harlot. Not that that’s a bad thing, of course.
I blow out an exaggerated breath in an attempt to reel my emotions in check.
“Do you know anyone in Montana?” His voice is low, comforting, and filled with concern. When I turn to him, he’s watching me. Sharp brown eyes appearing almost caramel in the soft glow from the nearby lamp.
“No,” I confess.
He nods, pulling out his wallet and fishing out a business card. “The second number is my personal cell. Send me a text now so I have your number, and I’ll give you a call first thing Monday morning.” He slips the card between my fingers as I get my phone to do as he says. “If you need anything—and I mean, anything—you call me. Got it?”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. The stern tone of his voice doesn’t match the kindness behind his eyes. “Yes, sir,” I tease.
He shakes his head with a crooked grin. “I’m serious, Maci.”
Warmth spreads throughout my body. From my toes to my fingertips, I’m acutely aware of how close he is to me right now. “I know.”
Seemingly satisfied with my response, Duke stalks over to the heater, smacking it again for good measure. “Well, at least it’s blowing out something. You sure you’ll be all right here?” he asks for the second time tonight, and I’m starting to get the impression he’s reluctant to leave at all.
“Yes,” I say. “And if I’m not, I know this bossy mechanic. I’m sure I could call him if I need anything.” Oh, lord, I’m flirting with this guy.
His grin widens. “Sounds like a stand-up guy.”
I shrug. “I don’t know, he’s pretty bossy so far.”
He chuckles deeply, gesturing behind him with a jerk of his thumb. “All right, well, I’ll let you get some rest.” He points at my phone in hand. “Make sure you call that bossy mechanic if you need anything.”
I smile. “I will.”
When he leaves, I lock the door behind him and go to the window to tug the curtains closed, then pause. Duke hops in his truck, his gaze lifting to bore into me with an unreadable expression.
I suck in a breath and give a little awkward wave before closing the curtains.
I can’t believe I just flirted with him. When all he did was be a complete gentleman, not a serial killer in the slightest, and here I am—hormonal and horny—wishing he’d toss me on this creaky motel bed and have his way with me.
I need to get it together.
I put a few things away before taking a long, hot shower then change into a pair of pajama pants, two pairs of socks, and another long sleeve. I reach for Duke’s hoodie then hesitate, deciding against wearing it to bed.
I turn off the lights and flick on the TV to curl up under the covers. Shivering at the cold chill everything has on it, I wait for my body heat to do its job as my mind starts to rattle through the too-few options I have going forward.
I slip a hand out from my huddled mess of stiff sheets and a sorry excuse for a comforter to grab my phone. I swipe through, clicking on the schedule I made for myself, and realize I should be starting my new job one week from today. Except…if Duke is right, there’s no way I’ll make it there on time.
And I begged for the opportunity to open a yoga studio at their local fitness center. They gave it to me on the condition it was a short-term lease to prove I’d be a welcome addition to their business. Who knows what they’ll say now if I can’t meet the deadline…
Have I mentioned I’m on the unlucky streak of a lifetime?
I jump, my phone startling me with a text.
Duke: Hey, just checking in.
I smile.
Me: All good here. Did you make it home okay?
Duke: Yeah.
Duke: It’s getting pretty nasty out. If you lose power or think you need to head anywhere, let me know, and I’ll come get you.
Me: Do you offer this kind of service to all your customers?
Duke: Only you.
I bite my lip, snuggling down as I prepare to send off another message when—
Duke: Let me know if you need anything. Night.
I frown. I shouldn’t be disappointed, I have no reason to be, and yet…I am. With another heavy sigh, I plug my phone in and turn off the TV to curl up in the hopes I’ll be able to get some much-needed sleep without the image of a certain bossy mechanic in mind.
Between my shivering, the stiff bed, and the rattling heater—it’s a wonder I was able to get two hours of sleep before two men started banging on my door at 7:00 AM sharp. They’re supposed to be fixing the heater—or so they claim—but I haven’t seen them do much of anything besides argue about what’s wrong with the dang thing.
It’s now after nine, and I’m curled up on the ice-cold linoleum floor of the bathroom, praying for my stomach to settle long enough so I can get dressed and walk to the diner Duke mentioned yesterday. Unfortunately, it’s not looking good.
I clutch the bowl of the toilet as morning sickness takes control of my body for the fifth time. Starting the day off right, it seems. Ugh.
“Hey—”
“What’s up—”
“Where is—”
Broken bits of conversation filter through the thin walls, and from the sounds of it, the two repairmen have called for reinforcements. How many men does it take to fix a motel-grade heater?
I snort.
One of the voices gets louder and almost…familiar? I strain my ears to listen.
“Maci?” A heavy fist bangs on the door, shaking the frame. I jolt. “Maci, it’s me, Duke. Open up.”
What’s he doing here? Oh, no. Did something happen to my car? I knew we shouldn’t have left it unlocked and vulnerable like he said.
I carefully scoot toward the door and reach up. The door swings inward, and Duke’s gaze scans the tiny bathroom faster than I can blink before it settles on me at his feet. I can only imagine how pitiful I appear in my current state: hair tossed up on top of my head, zero makeup to cover the massive bags under my eyes I’m surely sporting, and pale—I bet I’m as pale as printer paper—with the stiff, ugly motel comforter wrapped loosely around me.
Yup. Lookin’ like a solid twenty bucks right about now.
“Morning,” I say, paining a smile.
His heavy brow furrows into deep concern as he crouches, assessing me. “What the hell are you doing on the floor?” he asks, the rough back of his hand coming to rest on my forehead as if I’m a sick child. “You don’t look so good. Did you throw up again?”
I huff out a laugh. “Gee, thanks.”
“We tried to tell her to leave,” one of the repairmen shouts, speaking out of turn. Doesn’t he know this is an A and B conversation?
Duke’s jaw tightens, his focus solely on me. “Why didn’t you call me?”
I tilt my head in confusion. Is he mad at me? “Why would I? You said only if I needed something.”
“Yeah, and your lips are blue, Maci,” he bites out. “You’re cold as ice and from the looks of it, I should be taking you to the hospital.” He stands, gently pressing the door open farther as he steps into my space. “Come on.” He reaches for me like he’s about to hoist me up by my underarms.
I swat him away. “I don’t need a hospital.”
“She’s been barfin’ in there all morning,” another moron calls out unhelpfully.
Can no one mind their own business around here?
Duke’s gaze darkens. “We’re going,” he grits, picking me up and off the floor with ease despite an extra swat to his chest. “I’ll help you get ready. What do you—”
“Duke,” I hiss under my breath, “I don’t need a doctor.”
“Yes, you do,” he growls.
“No, I don’t,” I growl back.
“Something is clearly wrong,” he says, his eyes darting over me, the room, the toilet.
“I’m—” The words lodge in my throat. I haven’t told anyone about my, um, situation. To be blunt, no one besides my doctor back in Oklahoma knows I’m pregnant. I never had the chance to tell my family or friends before everything blew up in my face. And the only person I did tell…well, he’s dead.
Not exactly on a winning streak for announcements.
Duke eases the door shut behind him. “If you’re worried about going alone, I’ll stay with you,” he says softly with so much sincerity I believe him.
I shake my head. “It’s not that…”
“Hospitals are scary, I get it,” he adds, trying a different angle as he tugs the comforter up and off the floor to wrap tighter around me. “This one time, my brother Levi super-glued his boxers on his head—well, I think Butch might have done it to him, but that’s beside the point.”
“Duke.” I smile, laying a hand on his arm. “I’m not afraid of hospitals or doctors, I just don’t need one.”
“This isn’t normal, Maci.” He frowns, searching my face for an answer. “Do you think it’s food poisoning? Stress? It could be the flu…”
“Duke.”
“…you’re probably dehydrated. I can run to the store, get you some Pedialyte.”
“Duke.”
“My mom is a nurse; I’ll call her and—”
“I’m pregnant.” The words are out before I can stop them, and I gasp at my outburst. The sound echoes in the tight, unwelcoming location. My heart hammers in my chest as I watch his frozen, shell-shocked face.
At least he isn’t yelling.
And why would he? I shouldn’t care what this man-stranger-whoever thinks about my pregnancy. It’s mine, not his.
“You’re…” His hand rubs over his brow and down the side of his scruffy face then over his mouth. “That explains a lot.”
I bite my lip and nod, averting my eyes out of…shame? Embarrassment? Guilt? It’s anyone’s guess. “Yup.”
His frame expands on a deep breath, and I’m acutely aware of how intimidating he is in his same attire as last night—with a new black hoodie in place of the one he lent me. All rugged and strong, he exudes masculinity, and I feel very, very small under his intense scrutiny.
I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking.
“What do you need from me?”
That’s…unexpected. I’m not sure I follow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, how am I supposed to help you,” he says, sounding so vulnerable it makes my heart ache. “I can’t leave you here…like this. It’s a damn meat locker in your room. Not that it’s much better in here by any means. You were sick last night, and you have been all morning. You’re here all by yourself, and now you tell me you’re…ya know.” Boy, do I know. “I won’t leave you.”
His last four words have me in a chokehold.
He didn’t mean it like that, you thirsty woman. It doesn’t matter how he meant it, I needed to hear it all the same. Whether it’s the last month catching up to me or the flood of hormones my body’s tirelessly creating, I burst into tears on the spot.
Duke guides me into his strong embrace without a word, and I cling to him like the sad sack I am. He shushes me in a soft, deep tone that has me melting. “It’s all right, doll.”
A broken, choked laugh escapes me, and I lean away, wiping my damp face on the comforter then promptly cringe at the action. He grabs a tissue from the counter and hands it to me. “Thank you,” I sniffle. “Sorry, I’m not usually like this.”
He leans back against the door, watching me with those avid eyes that don’t seem to miss a thing. “I figured that.” He grins. “Hormones and whatnot. They say it makes a woman crazy.”
My gaze snaps to him with a glare. “I am not crazy.”
Hormonal, yes. Crazy? No.
He chuckles, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “I never said you were,” he says, eyeing me as I shuffle closer to the sink. “Did you eat yet?”
I shake my head, splashing water on my face and dabbing it dry with a fresh towel. “No, I’ve been in here since those repair guys got here at seven.”
In the reflection of the mirror, Duke’s expression goes from playful to sour in point-two seconds. I turn to him. “What?”
“Wait here,” he grunts, spinning on his heel and whipping the door open with more force than I would. He storms out without another word. I close the door with a light click behind him. Okay…
Shouting ensues from outside the door, and it doesn’t take long for me to realize Duke’s kicking out the repairmen with some seriously heated threats. Like ‘endangering the welfare’ of…me, I suppose.
“You let her sit there freezing for over two fucking hours!”
“Hey, man, we’re just trying to do our job here.”
“Get the fuck out. Now.” Duke’s tone is downright violent. It sends an all-too-pleasant shiver between my thighs that I can’t help if I cared to try. And I don’t.
The heavy slam of the outer door rattles the flimsy bathroom one. I turn the knob slowly and peer out with caution. Duke is in the middle of the room, cleaning up the several screws and worn panels the two men removed from the heater.
“Is it safe to come out?” I ask teasingly, except the look Duke gives me is anything but lighthearted.
He picks up the small pieces and kicks the rest to the side. “Do whatever you gotta do to get ready,” he says. “I’ll go talk to someone at the front desk about getting this taken care of. Then we’ll head to breakfast.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond otherwise before he’s out the door—where a dusting of snow has drifted in to layer the flat, rough carpeting in white ice. I stand there for a minute, a bit confused and a tad more conflicted on following his lead—or should I say, orders—before my stomach gurgles in pain, and I remember, I’m eating for two.
And Duke’s company over a blueberry muffin or three does sound tempting.