Ethan flattened his palms over his face and speared his fingers into his hair. He’d attended Sarah Ashley’s Valentine’s Day wedding after he’d received a series of manic texts from the bride saying she was having doubts. He’d tried to ignore her, but what if she was the one for him? When he’d arrived at the church, after another flurry of anxious texts from Sarah Ashley, Grace had blocked him from seeing the bride and told him it was past time to let Sarah Ashley go. That her sister was well and truly in love. That the match was perfect. Suddenly, Ethan had begun to think there was something perfect about Grace.
With one question, he interrupted Grace’s extensive list of reasons that Sarah Ashley and her fiancé were meant to be together: Did Sarah Ashley’s fiancé treat her well? Grace had blinked and answered: very well. And that had been enough. Ethan had sat in the back row for the ceremony. His gaze hadn’t lingered on the bride and what he’d lost, but rather, it strayed too many times to a certain maid of honor, making him wonder what he’d missed.
It was only during the reception, when the champagne corks had popped, that Ethan approached Grace. And yes, maybe Grace had given a sweet, funny toast to her sister and new husband that won over the guests. And yes, maybe Grace had looked like a goddess in her sleek formal gown. And yes, he’d danced her into a dark corner and...
The next thing he knew it was the following morning and he was on his own. He’d been trying to forget that moment ever since.
* * *
WITH HER BABY’S heartbeat echoing in her heart, a picture of her ultrasound resting in her pocket and her due date entered on her calendar, Grace Gardner drove toward her family’s store, Brewster Ranch Supply, determined to get through the workday without vomiting. She was equally determined this would be the week she called Ethan Blackwell to tell him about the baby. One phone call couldn’t be that hard, could it?
She rolled to a stop at the only light in town. It seemed the light spent more time on red than green, as if daring the locals to spot the seven differences between the downtown of today and that of a decade ago. Grace could find only one.
The morning after her night with Ethan she’d sat at this red light smiling and feeling slightly delirious.
The delirium had passed, along with the stutter in her heart, when the positive pink stripes had appeared on the pregnancy test. Somehow, she’d kept her smile in place, even though Grandma Brewster had warned her in high school that being pregnant was nothing to celebrate. But Grace wasn’t a teenager with hormones and a crush. She was an adult with an accounting degree and soon she’d have her own business. More important, she had a baby plan.
Pushing her glasses up on her nose, Grace blurted out, “Ethan, I’m your baby.” She tapped her forehead on the steering wheel and muttered, “Having your baby. Your kid. Child. Baby.” Her sigh was loud and long and she shook out her arms, lifted her chin. “Ethan, I’m having your baby so—”
A horn blared behind her. And then another. Her practice conversation concluded, Grace accelerated through the light and parked in a stall behind her family’s store. She weaved through the storage area to her makeshift office. Her father’s burst of laughter from the front had her changing directions.
Perhaps a hug from her dad would bolster her confidence to finally contact Ethan.
Grace pushed through the swinging door that connected the storage area to the store proper and gripped the nearest shelf to keep her knees from buckling. She could forget the phone call. It hadn’t been her father’s laughter calling to her after all. It’d been Ethan Blackwell’s.
A flush swept over her skin. She would’ve blamed it on morning sickness if not for the familiar blue eyes zeroing in on her over her mother’s head.
The same blue eyes that had never wavered when she’d talked about herself and her dreams that night in the hotel bar while her sister’s reception continued down the hall. The same blue eyes that had cataloged every detail about her while she’d been wrapped in his strong embrace. The same blue eyes she wished for her baby.
“Perfect timing, Gracie.” Her father smacked the counter. “Look who wandered in and asked to see you.”
Grace squeezed the shelf, the way her heart seemed to be squeezing inside her chest. Ethan might’ve asked to see her, but she wasn’t starring in one of her sister’s romantic fantasies. “Is there something you needed, Ethan?” Like my heart.
Grace chastised herself. Her heart wasn’t going to be part of any conversation with Ethan. Ever. She hadn’t earned the title of most levelheaded Gardner sister on a whim.
“Is there someplace we can talk in private?” Ethan asked.
“Take Ethan to your office.” Her mother guided Ethan around the counter to the employees-only side. “When the two of you finish, Ethan, we can talk about the feed inventory and the reorder.”
“Sarah Ashley handles the inventory now, Mom.” Grace searched the storefront for her older sister.
“Your sister had a thing,” her mother said evasively.
Sarah Ashley was just like her younger sister, Nicole Marie. The two always had a thing when work was to be done.
“I have a thing too,” Grace said. “A call that starts in fifteen minutes.”
“A call? Oh, Grace.” Her mom waved her hand toward the front door. “We deal with our customers in person like we’ve always done. Whoever needs to call you can easily come on down to the store to talk to you and then buy some impulse merchandise.” The hand wave shot toward a display of marked-down Easter chocolate.
Grace pulled out a peppermint candy from her pocket to keep her mouth from spilling secrets she wasn’t ready to share. Her caller wasn’t a Brewster customer, so there was no reason to encourage Isaac James Sr. to visit the store.
Mr. James owned IJ Farms on the way to Billings and needed tax advice. Grace intended for her advice to transition into Isaac hiring her as his new accountant. Grace crunched the candy into pieces and glanced at Ethan. “My office is over here.”
Grace dropped her purse on the small desk in her makeshift office. She shared the crammed retail space with pig feed, goat kid milk replacer and alfalfa pellets. At least, she had a door that closed and locked. Not that she’d had a reason to lock herself in yet.
But having Ethan in here with her made the already minimal breathing space shrink until Grace swore they were both holding their breath to conserve oxygen. It wasn’t long before she inhaled, deep and long, to prove to herself that she could handle the hurdles of the big wide world, including Ethan Blackwell.
Ethan shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, rocked back on his boot heels and rushed to speak. “Grace, I know I shouldn’t ask for your help, but I need it. Big E’s motor home has hit the road, the heifers are going into heat, Helen and Pete Rivers retired and the books are total chaos.”
Grace popped another peppermint in her mouth and tried to translate Ethan’s fragments. Nothing she’d heard hinted that he was there to resume where they’d left off three months prior. Not that she wanted that. She just wanted him to know about the baby.
Now was her chance. Her turn to talk. Her turn to confess.
Grandma Brewster had always told Grace that the fork in the road had to stab her to get her to move. Or, in this case, speak. She’d swear the sharp twinge in her chest felt eerily close to the jab of a fork’s tines. And she could swear she heard her late grandma Brewster’s boisterous laugh. If only she could find her voice instead of her inner mouse. “How exactly can I help you?” And how exactly do you want to learn about your child?
“I can’t figure out the ranch books.” Ethan stepped forward. “I was hoping for your expertise.”
Her expertise. Not her heart. “You want me to work on the Blackwell Ranch’s accounting.”
“We’ll