Page 82 of Cowboy

“What’s going on?” I ask, my stomach flipping as there’s no way Scarlett could have gotten to that old tree. There’s no discernible driving path leading to it, and walking would have been dangerous in her condition plus with the weather. “What did you do?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Blade, you have half a second to speak.”

“It’s a secret. A surprise.”

“It’s also fucking snowy and she’s pregnant,” I remind him.

“She’s at the tree waiting for you.”

“I’m thirteen minutes late,” I snap. She had to have left when I didn’t show. “Why is she there?”

“I can’t say, but she’s probably still there. She couldn’t leave.”

I press her number again on my phone, waiting on her response, and see red despite the whiteness swirling around us. She doesn’t answer again. “What do you mean she can’t leave?”

Blade swallows. “Well, the generator is kind of connected to the tree from the back of the truck and—”

“What the fuck?” I snap, swiping my cap off my head and running gloved fingers over my hair. “I need to get up there. Where’s your truck?” The plow is on the front of Blade’s truck as he was given the responsibility to clear the drive and the lane in my absence. Blade’s head turns, looking away from me. “I need the plow to get up there.”

“Well, it’s . . . actually . . . it’s already there.”

“What?” I bark again. Glancing down at my phone, I press her number one more time with no success, as Blade explains. “I plowed a path for her and left the truck.”

“You left a pregnant woman in a snowstorm?” I glare at my brother, completely flabbergasted by this action.

“She said she’d be fine. You’d be there soon enough, and everything would be better.”

Hissing his name, I turn for my truck. “Get in,” I snap over my shoulder, demanding he come with me because if I get stuck, I’m going to need his help to get out of the rut. Blade follows my quick pace, climbing into my truck at the same time I do.

“Start talking,” I demand, wanting to know just what the hell Scarlett intended to do with a generator, a plow truck, and that old tree.

“No way. She’d have my balls if I tell you anything.”

“I’m going to have your balls if you don’t talk.”

“No offense, Bull, but I’m more afraid of Scarlett.” I’d chuckle at his response if I wasn’t so angry as well as anxious. This is not a good scenario. With Scarlett due in two weeks, I can’t believe she’d put the baby at risk. I can’t believe she’d do something to herself.

Too upset to consider all the bad things that could happen to her, I peel down the lane, the truck fishtailing a bit on the freshly fallen snow.

“If anything happens to her—” I hiss.

“Nothing’s going to happen.” Suddenly, he doesn’t sound so sure as the truck struggles for traction on the slowly mounting snowfall.

“Blade,” I growl. He doesn’t answer, tipping his head into his hand as his arm perches on the passenger door. As we turn in the direction of the tree, lights illuminate the dark up ahead. “What the hell?”

Risking a quick glance at Blade, he smiles to himself.

“It’s a surprise,” he whispers, and before me, it certainly is.

27

Birth Plans

Scarlett

I’d been sitting in the warm truck ever since Blade left me. The plan was for him to plow the path, and I’d follow in my car, which he’d drive back to the house. But as time passed, and Bull wasn’t answering my text, I stepped out of the truck to pace. It’s cold, but I’m sweating with nerves. I’m also cramping a bit, and the doctor had told me walking can rid me of false contractions. I’m two weeks away from my due date, and my hand rubs over my tightening belly.