Chapter Six

S omeone had strapped Ledger's emotions onto a rollercoaster. Hell, he wasn't even sure he was buckled in for the ride.

A father.

He'd heard the baby's heartbeat.

Part of him wanted to throw up, while the other part felt like heading straight to Badlands and buying everyone a round of drinks to celebrate.

In the car seat next to him, Demi sat unmoving, her fingers clasped in her lap. He couldn't quit stealing glances at her. The fact that she'd been attacked—right there on the Gracey Ranch, right under their fucking noses, had him ready to load his weapon and hunt down the bastard who'd shoved her.

Now he understood the urgency in his friends to hunt down their enemy and end the conflict. Colton, Hunter and Carver had each dealt with an attack on the women they loved, and while Ledger didn't feel that way about Demi, he did care about her welfare.

The pulsating throb of that swift heartbeat had changed him.

He was going to be a father.

Or he would be if Demi chose to keep the child.

When he pulled into the driveway of her home, she turned her head to look at him, one hand already on the door handle.

He quickly hit the lock button to keep her inside. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Into my house. Thank you for all you did today, Ledger. I know we still need to talk, but I'm exhausted—"

He couldn't hold back the low groan that escaped. "I said I'd take care of you, and I will. Hand over your house keys."

She gaped at him. "Why?"

"I'm getting your things."

"What for?"

"So I can take you back to the ranch with me."

"You can't be serious about that. I'll stay home. I'll rest."

He eyed her. "You can't even stay in the truck without putting up a fight." He held out his palm, and she reluctantly slapped the keys into his palm.

He stared down at the keyring in the shape of a small Labrador Retriever.

"It's my favorite breed. I grew up with one."

He nodded and closed his fingers around the warm metal she'd pulled out of her jeans pocket. "Lock the doors. Don't leave or roll down the windows."

"How would you possibly know what I need to bring with me?"

He plucked up her phone that rested in her lap, making it a point to brush his knuckles across her thigh. Then he punched in his phone number and handed the phone back.

Her jaw dropped.

Before she could give him a tongue lashing, he pressed a fingertip to her chin and gently closed her mouth. Then he climbed out of the truck. "Call my phone right now and walk me through your house."

"Why can't I just go inside!"

"Because you haven't quit yawning since we pulled out of the hospital parking lot. If we go inside, you'll crawl into bed. You're coming with me to the ranch."

He slammed the door and circled to the passenger window. He rapped on it, and she snapped her head around to glare at him.

"Lock the door!"

She gave him the finger—again. But he heard the click of the locks.

Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, he walked up to the front of her house. Aware of all the places a person could hide, he made note of how sturdy the deadbolt on her door was.

She still hadn't called his phone. In the open doorway, he pivoted to look at her.

A second later, his phone buzzed and he placed it on speaker.

"Could you be any bossier?" she demanded.

"Now that's a tone I haven't heard from you before. In my presence you've either been moaning my name or Miss Polite."

She issued a strangled cry. He could almost imagine her golden-brown eyes sparking with anger the same way they sparked with desire when he ducked his head and took one of her nipples in his mouth.

"Are the doors still locked?"

"Yes!"

"Good. Now walk me through your house while I make a sweep of the place."

"Make a sweep? What for?"

"You were attacked, Demi. Anyone could be looking to come back and finish the job."

She sucked in an audible breath.

He left the door open and started through the tidy mudroom, taking in a variety of outerwear for every type of weather hanging on one wall. Underneath it was a row of footwear to match. Slicker and rainboots. Down puffer jacket and snow boots.

He moved into the living room, checked behind furniture and secured every window lock.

"Go into my bedroom. You were in there before."

A flame of desire flickered in his groin. "Yes, I was," he drawled.

"Stop that," she snapped.

He laughed.

"You can't see me but I'm flipping you off right now."

His grin spread.

"Are you sure I can't just come in and get what I need? It would be so much easier."

Her last word came out muffled, like she was stifling a yawn.

"Tell me where to find a bag."

She grunted. "Under the bed."

After checking every closet and corner of the rest of the house, he collected the bag.

"Do you have the bag?" she prompted.

"Yup."

"Okay, you'll find my clothes in the dresser drawer on the top right. Not the left ."

Red flag. What was in the left? He stood in front of the light oak wood unit and reached for the drawer on the left.

"Are you looking only in the right drawer?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then you'll find stacks of clothes. I lay out my clothes for each day of the week. Stuff it all in the bag."

The left drawer was full of scrapbooks and photo albums. On the top was a notebook open to a page. When he pulled it out, he found himself staring at a bucket list.

"Do you see the clothes, Ledger?"

"I'm putting them in the bag right now." He skimmed the list.

Horseback riding in the Grand Canyon

Zip line in the Amazon

White water raft the Colorado River

The list continued along the same vein. From what he could see, the woman carrying his child craved adventure. For the next nine months at least, she'd be sidelined from anything remotely dangerous.

He continued down the list.

Skinny-dipping

Have sex in public

Whoa. The last two he could definitely help her with.

"You're taking too long. I'm coming inside."

"Hold your horses, woman." He set the book in the drawer in the same position he found it in and closed it. When he opened the right drawer, he saw the stacks of clothing.

"You weren't kidding when you said you organize your outfits into piles. There are even bras, panties and socks."

"You don't have to sort through them, Ledger. Just put them in the bag."

"It's impressive. I've seen Navy SEALs with less organization, and we live out of backpacks for weeks."

A beat of silence met his ears. "You're a SEAL ?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Once upon a time." He shoved all her clothes into the bag and carried it to the bathroom. "What else do you need?"

Minutes later, he had everything she asked for, and every window and door in the house was locked. Later, he'd return and set up security cameras around the property. He hated the idea of her staying here alone. In his line of work, he knew that anything could happen, especially to a vulnerable woman.

At least he would be able to watch over her, though he didn't like what an easy target the Gracey Ranch was. He and his men would have to do something about that, and he would be leading that meeting.

When he reached the vehicle, she didn't immediately unlock the door.

Through the window, he stared at her, brow arched.

With an exasperated look, she hit the button and let him in.

After tossing the bag in the back of the truck, he climbed behind the wheel. Skinny-dipping? Sex in public? The questions perched on his lips, but she had dealt with enough for one day. He wanted to get her back to the ranch and settled in so she could put her feet up and rest.

They rode in silence. The sun had sunk behind the mountain, casting long shadows over the landscape. The sky was brushstrokes of gold fading to deep orange.

When he pulled up in front of the new bunkhouse construction, she groaned. "Not the tent city."

"What's the matter?"

"The bunkhouse burned down. You're all sleeping in tents—I saw them out back."

"Not all of us are sleeping in tents."

Her gaze landed on him, and his stomach dipped at just how pretty she was. If he'd gone to Badlands looking for company, he would have walked right up to her and asked her out.

"Where are you sleeping then?"

He held her stare.

She issued another groan. "I knew it! How bad is it?"

"Worse than bad. So much worse."

"Oh god. What did I agree to?"

Hiding a smile, he climbed out of the truck and grabbed her bag. Discreetly keeping guard against more threats, he led her across the thick grass in the direction of the sleeping quarters he'd claimed.

Upon arriving at the Gracey, Colton had shown him around. Ledger had taken one look at the bunkhouse and determined it was too crowded for his liking. After spending months in solitude, the quarters he claimed for himself was a much better fit.

Well…almost better.

They skirted around the canvas tents that several of the ranch hands had erected for themselves. He knew which belonged to which person by how tidy or untidy they were. Zach Webb's tent didn't have a bit of clutter outside of it, and it was neatly zipped up. The others had abandoned paper coffee cups or beer bottles.

When the small shed came into view, Ledger felt Demi's surprise more than saw it. On the exterior, the white paint and big windows appeared to be charming. Inside? Was a disaster, and not because he was a slob.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"I guess you could call it a she-shed. Forest Gracey's momma had it built for her personal use."

"And you're staying in it?"

"Yup." Slate tiles had been laid as a stoop, and Mrs. Gracey had planted roses outside the door. They climbed halfway up a white trellis on the wall.

"It's charming."

He threw open the door. "It's hideous," he said at the same time.

All the artsy, girly, feminine touches of the art studio assaulted his senses.

With a soft gasp, Demi stepped inside. The big windows let a lot of light in the space so the owner had hours of natural light. It showed off the painted flowers in every single corner.

So. Many. Flowers.

And plaster heads. They sat atop shelves and on small tables. On a workbench in the corner. The things gave him the creeps sometimes when he woke at night, and it certainly didn't help him shake off the nightmares that plagued him.

He watched Demi. Slowly, she turned in a circle, drinking everything in. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and spine. Ledger clenched his fist to keep from reaching out and stroking the soft strands.

Then she pivoted into profile, giving him a view of a face far more perfect than any of the art creations. Her skin was back to glowing, a flush of color that could only be pleasure at what she was seeing kissing her cheek. She'd tucked a lock of hair behind the perfect shell of her ear that showcased a small silver stud earring.

When she turned, his gut clenched at the sight of her sweet smile and the light of happiness in her eyes.

"I love it!"

He started to question her sanity, but a knock at the door broke the moment. He turned to Colton, standing in the open doorway.

Every time Ledger saw one of his fellow SEALs out of their military gear and sporting a cowboy hat and boots, it caught him off guard. But the attire suited Colton.

"Can I have a word?"

Ledger nodded, then turned to Demi. "Make yourself comfortable. There's a futon for you to lie down."

Demi waved a hand, absorbed with examining a painting of an abstract cat—made out of purple triangles—curled up in the sunshine.

Ledger and Colton stepped outside, and he closed the door so she couldn't hear their conversation.

Colton faced him. "Wanna tell me why the vet was sleeping in our hay loft?"

The long day suddenly got longer. Colton deserved an explanation. It was the creed of their SEAL team to disclose any and all information.

But he wasn't totally prepared to talk about Demi's condition.

"She was up all night. She was tired."

Colton scrubbed a knuckle across his jaw, creating a scuffing noise. "I've seen her up all night before. What's different?"

Tugging the brim of his own Stetson, Ledger tried to think of a way out of having this talk.

He guessed that he and Demi were cut from a similar cloth—she was avoiding speaking with him too.

"Why is she here? In the shed you sleep in?" Colton demanded.

"Doctor's orders."

Confusion pinched his brows. "The doctor ordered her to move into the she-shed with you? What am I missing?"

He shuffled his feet. "The doctor put her on bedrest."

"For a head injury?"

He met Colton's gaze. There was no help for him.

"For a pregnancy."

Colton's eyes widened. "Yours."

"Yes."

His brows shot higher. "I never thought it would be you who got a woman pregnant. Wolfe, sure. But you don't even like anybody."

He darted a look at the closed door. "I liked her." He swallowed. "Still do."

"Damn, brother. Then I guess I should say congratulations."

He felt that strange potion of elation and nerves knot his stomach. "Thanks. I think."

At Colton's questioning look, he shook his head.

"We're still working things out. Look, keep this under wraps. We're not ready to discuss the matter."

"Sure thing."

The fist clenched at his side was a dead giveaway that Colton had other things on his mind.

"What else happened while I was gone?"

"Two things. We decided it's not safe for the guys to sleep in tents anymore. They're staying in the big house in the guest rooms."

Ledger nodded. "The other thing?"

"We cleared out the stall to see what the guy who attacked Demi was looking for."

He held his breath, chest suddenly constricted.

Colton held his stare as if waiting to see what Ledger might do. Like he was a bomb ticking down the seconds before an explosion.

"We never pull punches with each other, Nox. Just say it."

"Turns out he dropped the knife that he used to cut the horse. It's with the police for fingerprinting."

* * * * *

Demi couldn't recall the last time she got to just lie in bed. If she wasn't up before dawn getting ready to go to a house call, she was coming home after being awake all night on one. Even on weekends, she was on the go. Animals didn't only get sick or injured during business hours. Plus, she had to cram her personal life in, doing laundry, paying the bills and shopping for food.

So waking up to the warm golden glow of the sun on her face and the twitter of birds was a shock.

She bolted upright. "Oh no!" She scrambled for her phone.

A footstep fell next to the futon she was sleeping on. She looked up—right at an expanse of bare chest.

Tanned. Muscled. With a spattering of hair across the pecs that tapered down to a love trail leading into jeans that hung low on a pair of equally muscled hips.

Ledger.

He dropped to the futon with her, crowding her on the narrow mattress. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"No. Where's my phone? I never called my receptionist to tell her that I'm out of commission this week. My office will be filled with—"

He closed his fingers around her upper arms, cutting off her rant. His touch took out a few brain cells too. Suddenly, she couldn't remember her name. And those piano lessons of her youth were a distant memory.

"Calm down, honey. I already called her."

"You—"

He nodded.

Her mouth dried out. He was capable. On top of things.

And muscular.

So hot.

"Well, why didn't you tell me that?"

"Because you passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow. You've been dead to the world for twelve hours, Demi."

She sliced her fingers through what she knew to be very messy hair. She never woke up looking like a beauty queen. Apparently, Ledger did.

Darting a glance at the floor, she took in the thin bedroll he'd spread out next to her and an equally thin blanket cast aside when he'd jumped up to see what was wrong. He didn't appear to have used a pillow at all.

She slid her gaze to several throw pillows she'd hogged all night long. Guilt rushed in.

"Your receptionist said you don't have to worry about a thing. She's handling it all."

Panic shoved the guilt out of her system as easily as she always did for work matters. "Handling it how? What did you tell her is wrong with me?"

There wasn't much room on the futon, and he sat close enough that if she leaned forward a little, she could rest her head on his chest.

He looked her dead in the eyes. "I told her the truth."

Her eyes flew open wide. "What!"

"I told her that you were knocked into a stall wall and the doctor advised you to take it easy all week."

She let out a squeak. "You didn't tell her about the…?"

He shook his head. "When you're ready to get up, the bathroom is stocked with more fancy shampoos and soaps than you can imagine."

Mrs. Gracey had definitely put her personal touch on everything in the art studio. Her creations were not only part of the décor. She also had a collection of delicate floral teacups on a shelf that Demi had seen Ledger glare at when he walked by as if all those tiny flowers personally offended him.

She nodded. "Thank you."

"I've got some work to do. I won't be far away. Someone will have eyes on the shed at all times, but I'd still like you to lock the door."

A small, cold kernel of fear worked its way into her stomach. She'd heard things about pregnancy, but her emotions really were all over the place.

"Thank you." She could use a shower, and the thought of those fancy, scented soaps she never used were alluring. But the warmth of the sun streaming through the big windows relaxed her, and she lay back on the pillows, curled up like a cat in the pool of sun. With a replacement veterinarian that traveled outside the county on her cases, she felt able to take a moment to relax.

Ledger stared at her for a moment before he got off the futon. Lying on her side, she had a fantastic view of him rolling up the blanket and then the bedroll with all the tidiness of the military man he was.

When she propositioned him back in Badlands, she never considered that those muscles had been gained through BUD/s training. She wanted to ask more about his time as a SEAL, but knowing more about him made it less of a one-night stand.

He walked to a small baby blue chair in the corner. On it was an open duffel bag, the dark canvas completely out of place in this feminine space. He reached in and pulled out the shirt on top.

Watching him slip his chiseled arms into the sleeves and stretch the cotton before dragging it over his head, his shoulders, and finally his six-pack abs, was surely illegal.

The space was separated into a main studio which doubled as the bedroom—their shared bedroom now—with a nook that contained a coffeemaker and a tiny sink to fill it from. The bathroom was roomier than Demi would have ever guessed. While it couldn't be called luxury, the hand-painted murals on all the walls made for the same eclectic, feminine vibe as the rest of the place.

Demi's eyes hooded as she watched Ledger disappear into the nook. When he appeared again, he had one of the floral cups in his big fist. No wonder he despised the cups—the delicate handle looked about to snap off in his grip.

"Is that coffee?" Since learning she was pregnant, she had cut way down on the caffeine addiction that fueled her day and night through all conditions.

In a move that shouldn't appear so damn manly, he lowered the cup and leveled her in a look. "Yep. But you shouldn't have any."

As she looked on, he drained the coffee in one steady gulp and returned to the kitchen area. She heard the water run as he washed out the cup.

Then, without a word, he walked to the door, put on his cowboy boots and left.

Okay. That was abrupt. She'd gotten the impression that he wanted to discuss things, and while she still wasn't ready, she'd expected him to ply her with questions about what she was going to do about the baby.

She had seen her baby on that screen. Heard its heartbeat.

She had to keep it now.

A plan formed in her mind. She would tell Ledger that she would do it alone.

Feeling more confident, she went to the shower and enjoyed testing out a few soaps. Several bruises had bloomed on her skin. Nothing she hadn't dealt with before, only she'd never been physically attacked by another human. It left a tang of fear in her mouth.

When she emerged clean and dressed in fresh clothes, her stare landed on Ledger.

He perched on the edge of the futon, elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands. He raised his head and looked at her.

"You're back." Her voice came out raspy.

Something flickered in his eyes. Something far too much like what she'd seen when he was moving inside her.

"I brought you some food." He pointed at the round table in front of the windows.

Today her stomach quickly made up its mind that she could handle food, unlike other days when she could barely swallow a sip of water with a multivitamin. Now she'd need to up that to a prenatal vitamin.

She sank to the chair.

He stood and crossed the room in slow, prowling strides. The strain of denim across his muscled thighs should also be illegal.

She was making a mental list of all the things that should be outlawed about Ledger, when she suddenly realized something.

"I don't even know your last name."

He gave her an impassive look. "It's Bell."

Her stomach gave a little dip. "That's a nice name."

"Thanks." He dragged the other chair out, the legs scraping on the tile floor that still had splatters of paint on it, and plopped into the seat.

"We're going to have that talk now, Demi."

She wasn't getting out of it a minute longer.

His stare pinned hers. She couldn't rip it away if she tried.

Three long heartbeats passed.

She tore her stare away and focused on her plate of food. Fresh fruit, pancakes and a glass of orange juice.

"Thank you for the food."

He gave her a single nod but said nothing.

Nerves gripped her. She was a confident woman, but she'd never discussed a baby with a man before.

She drew her shoulders back and swung her stare to his again. "I'm a strong, independent woman. I don't expect anything from you."

His expression darkened—like thunderclouds scudding across an already threatening sky.

God, he was so hot. Her body didn't want food right now—but it would take an orgasm or five. A knot tightened in her core.

Her pregnancy hormones were really kicking in. She was so horny. Being around this exceptional man wasn't helping her body simmer down either.

She studied his handsome features. It was going to be a cute kid.

"Of course you don't need anything from me." He bit the words off in a slow lazy drawl, but his tone didn't fool her. It was edged with anger. "I already served my purpose to you. I did my part. Aside from you being on bedrest and needing help."

Gathering a deep, fortifying breath, she nodded. "Right."

"And food delivery."

She was starting to feel bad again.

She lifted her chin higher. "I'm going to keep the baby. And raise it myself."

His hard nod was as unexpected as him shoving away from the table. He gained his feet, towering over her. "Get some rest, Demi. I'll check on you later. If you need anything, my number's in your phone."

Turning abruptly, she saw just how fast he could move when he wanted to. In a few strides, he reached the door. The quiet click of it closing resounded louder than if he'd slammed it.