Montana Mistletoe Baby by Patricia Johns

Author:Patricia Johns
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

When Barrie arrived at the barn, another two heifers were ill besides the one Curtis knew about. Barrie’s work was cut out for her. One of the original calves had taken a turn for the worse, and Barrie set the calf up with more heat and an extra shot of antibiotics. One of the goat’s kids wasn’t getting enough milk, so they bottle-fed the little thing. By the time Barrie had finished in the Porter barn, the sun had set and her whole body ached.

She’d been thinking about Curtis’s words in the truck that morning. She’d never realized what he’d been feeling back then, but it was still hard to pity him. He’d left, and that had ended everything. He could have talked to her—actually put those feelings out there! He could have explained his position. They could have gone for couple’s counseling. Anything! Walking away wasn’t the only option. She hadn’t backed him into a corner, and in her defense, she’d had something to offer to their relationship, too, if he’d only stopped to look. Their marriage wasn’t about him taking care of her. It was about two people loving each other and going after their dreams. Both of them. Not just him.

But his question had been plaguing her: had she trusted him to take care of her? If she had to be utterly honest, the answer was no. She hadn’t. She’d wanted to stay in Hope because while she loved Curtis, she needed the security of her home and family close by. He’d been right—she’d wanted more than he was offering, and she was afraid to take her eyes off the shore.

Barrie followed Curtis out of the barn into evening twilight. A sliver of a moon hung low, and the strongest of the stars were but pinpricks on the gray velvet of the sky. In the west, the horizon still glowed red.

Her feet and back ached, and Barrie felt like her body was betraying her. If this was how her body handled a pregnancy at five months, what was it going to be like at eight or nine? She put a hand into the small of her back and straightened.

“You okay?” Curtis tossed a plastic bag of salt blocks into the back of his pickup truck.

“Fine.”

“Yeah, you don’t look fine,” he said. “Come on, I’ll drive you home. Thanks for all of this today.”

“It’s my job,” she said.

“And I’m still grateful.” He arched an eyebrow.

Barrie smiled, then shook her head. “You’re welcome.”

Curtis pulled open the passenger side door, then headed around to the driver’s side. Apparently he’d learned not to offer any more hands up, but she secretly appreciated the gesture of the opened door. The baby moved inside her as she hoisted herself up into the cab with a sigh. She slammed the door shut and stretched her legs out, giving her feet a much-needed rest.

“Can I get you a burger or something?” he asked.

She was hungry—there was no denying that—but her body was sore and all she wanted was to get back to the house.

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