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He walked to the gate, swung it open, then climbed back in his pickup and reversed it onto the road. As soon as Sloan drove through the opening, he got out and closed the gate while she waited for him.
Trey followed her taillights all the way back to The Homestead and held the front door open for her. “I can’t decide what I’m looking forward to the most,” Sloan declared as she walked by, “hot shower or food. I’m starving.”
Trey had no opportunity to respond even if he had been so inclined. Seconds after they walked in, the entire family descended on them. Never breaking stride, Trey continued straight to the staircase, leaving Sloan to field all their questions.
The hat came off the minute he entered the master suite. He gave it a fling at the couch in their newly redecorated sitting room and walked straight into the bedroom, pushed by a nameless anger.
In short order he stripped out of his trail-stained clothes and stepped into the spacious new shower. He scrubbed away the day’s caked grit and sweat with rough impatience and emerged from the shower in no better mood than when he had stepped under the spray.
With a towel wrapped around his middle and his wet hair finger-combed into a semblance of order, Trey padded into the bedroom just as Sloan entered it, still toting the camera case. His glance flicked over her.
“The shower’s yours.” He continued on his way to the tall bureau.
“Thanks,” Sloan murmured absently and set the camera case on a chair cushion, then slipped off her cap and shook loose her hair. “Your mother just told me that she was getting ready to organize a search party to look for me. I never realized everybody was so concerned when I didn’t show up at dinner time.”
“We’ve had experience with people getting lost before.”
She gave him a look of mild reproof. “I wasn’t lost, Trey. I just took a wrong turn.”
He turned from the underwear drawer, eyeing her with cool challenge. “You not only didn’t know where you were going, but you didn’t know where you were. If that isn’t lost, what do you call it?”
Stung by the sharp bite of his voice, Sloan glared at him in annoyance. “That isn’t true. I knew where I was going. Cat gave me directions. And I can assure you I would have made my way back if that tire hadn’t gone flat.”
“That’s all that matters to you, isn’t it?” Temper claimed him, rooting him to the spot. “You don’t give a damn about who might have been worrying about you.”
“Of course I do. How can you say that?” Sloan stiffened in indignation.
“Actions speak louder than words. I noticed you managed to pack all your camera equipment.” He flung a hand in the direction of the case. “Yet you forgot to take your phone.”
“You make it sound deliberate. I told you it was an oversight. Why are you so angry?” she demanded in frustration, upset and confused by his attack.
“Why?” The word exploded from him, and Trey had to make a conscious effort to rein in his anger. But it lay tight in his voice. “It couldn’t be because you took off—with no good idea of where you were going—and ended up in the wrong place. And what do you do? You go driving across broken country—by yourself—without a soul knowing where you are. You ended up with only a flat tire, but you could just as easily have rolled the truck and been knocked unconscious or worse. And God only knows where-all you went with that camera. You could have been snakebit or stepped in a prairie-dog hole and broken a leg. Do you have any idea how long it might have taken us to find you?”
“But it didn’t. I’m fine. So stop yelling at me!” Her voice broke on the last as tears blurred her vision. Turning away, she hurriedly wiped them from her eyes, furious with herself for crying. She tilted her head back, opening her eyes wide in an attempt to keep the tears from reforming and muttered in a spate of self-pity, “Why did I ever think I wanted to have your baby?”
At first she didn’t hear the almost soundless tread of his bare feet. By the time Sloan sensed his presence, Trey was already behind her, his fingers encircling her upper arm and squaring her around to face him.
“What did you just say?” His gaze bored into her, a dark, doubting scowl on his face.
Struggling to control her emotions, Sloan pushed the words out, almost with defiance. “I said I’m pregnant.”
“You’re…” He never finished it. The scowl lines were smoothed away, as a look of stunned wonder claimed his hard features. “Are you—?” he hesitated and started again, “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. It’s my body.” Anger wasn’t something she could let go of as easily as he had.
“A baby.” A smile broke across his face, softening all its hard angles. A breath later, he let out an exultant whoop and caught Sloan under her arms, lifting her high in the air and swinging her in a half-circle.
Sloan clutched at his shoulders for balance. “Trey Calder, you put me down.” But his joy was much too contagious for her to remain angry with him any longer.
He let her toes touch the floor but kept an arm firmly around her, holding her close while he cupped a hand to her face, a look of inexpressible tenderness and pride in his eyes. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.” His thumb wiped away the wet track of a tear on her cheek. “A baby. You and me.” That grin reappeared. “How long have you known?”
“I’ve suspected it for close to a couple weeks,” Sloan admitted, feeling a bit smug and pleased with herself. “But I only found out for sure this morning.”
“You’ve already been to a doctor,” he said with some surprise. “When?”
“I haven’t seen one yet, but…I went to the dispensary this morning and got one of those test kits. Liz assured me they were ninety-percent accurate.”
Holding her like this, seeing her sun-streaked hair gleaming in the room’s light and her lips lying softly together, Trey felt all his acute hungers revive. The look of her, the feel of her churned the depths of his emotions. The heat of something rash burned him. Trey worked to hold it in check as he nuzzled the smoothness of her cheek.
