and her older brother Ethan... Oh, how Lizzie had looked forward to those visits he’d made three times a year to see his sister.
Until it had all ended with nothing but empty promises and long, lonely days without her best friend.
So when he’d appeared like a dream six months ago at a rodeo they were both attending, she couldn’t shake off the chance to see him again and spend some time together.
“Lizzie? How are you?”
She pulled herself back from the thick morass of memories and unfulfilled wants. “Good. I’m good.”
“You look good—” He broke off before he added, “But you always look good. No one I’ve ever met has green eyes quite like yours.”
She stilled, the bacon popping and crackling, as she braced herself for what she had to do. Flipping off the stove, she moved the bacon to the back burner and turned around and looked her fill.
Her gaze roamed, hungry, over the sandy-brown hair she knew was the texture of unrefined cotton. On down over the broad shoulders that seemed custom-made for a woman’s hands. And then over the broad chest that was banded in thick sinew, from the hard swath of his pectorals on down to the ridges of muscle that framed his stomach.
The man was a vision, and the sweet boy she’d had a crush on had grown into a formidable man.
Get it together, Elizabeth Marie. Stop ogling him and tell the man the reason you’re here.
Yet even as that steely voice—the one that had pushed her through college and on into becoming the youngest loan officer at her bank—whispered to her to just come out with it, she couldn’t help but indulge the woman’s need that had her stopping for a moment. It was rude to stare—hadn’t one of her foster mothers taught her that?—but she couldn’t quite help herself.
She’d look her fill, because after this morning things would never again be the same.
And as Ethan’s gaze traveled its own path, over her face, a tentative smile quirking his lips, she knew the moment when something else registered.
Knew the moment that smile faltered when he caught sight of the very clear bump that had replaced her normally flat stomach.
“Lizzie? What—”
A loud popping sound pulled her from the moment and Lizzie turned on a hard exhalation. “Oh, no!”
Even though she’d moved it off the heat, the bacon had continued cooking in the oil and had gone crisp to the point of burning.
“Let me.” Ethan moved into her space, gently pushing her aside as he grabbed the thick cast iron off the stove. He tilted the pan over a pie plate she’d already set aside, layered with paper towels to absorb the grease.
And as she watched the bacon slide from the skillet, the grease that had cooked out sliding along with it, Lizzie felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.
Clamping a hand over her mouth, she ran toward the mudroom and prayed she’d make it to the back door in time.
* * *
One moment he was staring into eyes of the most vivid green, fresh as a spring day, and imagining things he most definitely should not be imagining. Then his mind had taken an entirely different tack as his gaze settled on her stomach.
And then Ethan was watching Lizzie Conner race out of his kitchen as though Satan’s hounds were nipping at her heels.
He slammed the skillet back on the stove, then raced after her. What in the blazing hell was going on?
Ethan heard the hard slam of the back screen door and the distinctive sounds of retching just as he came upon the entryway. As clear as a bell, Doc Peters’s words screamed through his mind.
Babies are a tough thing. They’re natural but not normal.
“Lizzie!” He pushed through the door, his mind whirling with a thousand thoughts, all louder than the cicadas in August.
But the thought that screamed the loudest was to get to her.
He closed the short distance between the door and the bushes that rimmed his back patio and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her as she leaned forward once more. He kept one hand on her arm while the other gathered the thick, curly strands of her hair into a firm hold.
“Shh. It’s all right.”
Heat suffused her cheeks, and he felt the same warmth radiating from her slim shoulders as he pulled her close. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, no.” The words came out in a mix of half squeak and half moan as she straightened. “Oh, Ethan. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
Those slim shoulders straightened right up and she pulled out of his hold. The soft strands of her hair slipped through his fingers, and he was surprised at how bereft he felt when nothing but cold morning air took their place.
“What’s going on, Lizzie?”
Pregnancy is a natural state, but it’s hard on the body.
Those damn words continued to taunt him, the unspoken truth hovering between them more powerful than the tornadoes that whipped through Texas in spring.
“Can we go back inside?” Her lips quivered, and he quickly shrugged out of the old sweatshirt he’d shoved on the night before.
“Layer up. It’s only February.”
He took her hand and pulled her toward the house. Something in his chest turned over when she dragged the ratty old Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt on over her head, her stomach pressed against the material of the sweatshirt she already wore. She was a slender thing, tall and willowy, but even with another thick layer of material covering her torso, her stomach still bore a definitive bump.
It was no trick of the morning light through his back windows. Nor was it some fanciful play of imagination after a long night without sleep.
The flat stomach he’d explored on a sensual journey one lonely night was nowhere in evidence. And after living with a head full of erotic visions for six agonizing months, he knew damn well his memory wasn’t the least bit faulty.
He’d explored every inch of Lizzie Conner’s body. Had tasted every soft dip and expanse of her skin. Had buried himself deep inside her, allowing every one of the long, lonely years they’d held in common to fade away in the joy of being together.
Ethan stopped himself, pushing away the sharp tang of awareness that made him want things he had resolved never to have.
The scent of bacon still lit up the kitchen, and he shot a concerned glance at her. “Do you need me to throw out breakfast?”
“No!” She shook her head before wrapping her hands tight around herself. “No, I’m fine now.”
“Why don’t we go into the living room. It’ll keep for a few more minutes.”
“Drain it first. Please. It was—” She broke off, swallowing hard. “The grease was what turned my stomach. If you don’t drain it, we can’t eat it later. I just need to slip to your powder room for a quick minute.”
He directed her down the hall, then did as she’d asked with breakfast. He snatched up one of the slices as he patted the rest dry with paper towels, knowing full well he needed a heck of a lot more fortification than a few pieces of bacon.
But a man took what he could get.
And braced himself for the news he was going to be a father.
* * *
Lizzie ignored the pale face that stared back at her from the mirror and deftly swished her mouth out with water. She’d thought she was past tossing her cookies after the first trimester, but there were still some things with food that sneaked up and caught her unawares.
Now